#read dead redemption fluff

[lacaptaine]

Summer Scribblin'

DISCLAIMER: I MAY HAVE TAGGED IT AS ARTHUR WITH READER BUT IT ISN'T ROMANCE, JUST FLUFF, AND CUTE FAMILY LIKE DYNAMIC. THANKS.

Hello, this is my first contribution to fandom ever and like; I barely write. Just so you know, I am no writer, unless I feel like it. I needed to however get this idea out of my system, because I believe Arthur deserves to feel a little happy for a moment. I'm leaving a link to ao3, but there's also a tumblr text version below. : )

Arthur Morgan has a soft spot for children, change my mind.

WORD COUNT: 2,391

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SUMMARY: He may be a terrible man; until a child comes along. That's where his heart melts, paternal instincts kicking in rather immediately. With that, we see the Outlaw finding himself enjoying the presence of a peculiar youngling, who doesn't seem to speak much.

Humid was the air on this land, almost like one would jump into a pot of boilin' stew. It almost felt impossible to breathe at times, many of 'em outlaws seekin' shelter under the confines of tree leaves, some optin' for minimum amount of layers to cover their bodies. Terrible damn weather.

One of 'em outlaws, 'spite the rather unpleasant conditions, still decided to sit in here and scrawled like an angry, bad man that he can be, his large hand holdin' his pen in a tight grip, its tip runnin' in quick strokes. His brows were pulled down, creating a fresh pairs of wrinkles on his sweaty forehead. One of the fellow members of his gang, whose mouth ain't ever stopped runnin', had a lot of things to say 'bout today's action in the town, criticising his alleged lack of backbone. Fuckin' moron; one who'd rather come in 'n watch everyone's brains splatter all over the walls, at times leaving one wondering whether the numbers matter to him only in terms of money, or with the numbers in question being 'bout casualities. The higher the amount for both, the better he felt, one would assume. The cowboy's fingers stroked over slicked strands of blonde hair as he sighed deeply. He ain't got the patience for the bastard, and he's come to realise that it is indeed better for the sake of keepin' it together if he'd ignore him. After all, at the end of the day, the moron's gettin' real kick out of it. He's just a waste of breath, waste of space, waste of mind, waste of food, waste of... 

Alright, maybe he will focus on appreciating the wildlife, instead. 

After he was done with givin' his frustrations a little outlet, rather than a bullet to the previously mentioned fella's head, he turned the page, and opted for drawing, a particular hare catching the man's attention. It didn't move, so it proved to be a perfect opportunity for him to drown in the world of, uh... bunnies. It's better than causin' more fuss.

Not so long later, a gentle padding of boots against the ground reached the man's trained ears; however, suspecting that it's just one of the gang members passin' by, he didn't bother lookin' up, having found nothing close to eagerness for conversation. At some moment, soft footfall stilled on the grass, right next to him, what he assumed could be someone waitin' for him to speak.

'What is it?' he inquires, rugged voice rasping out, in a manner which one might find threatening, blue eyes remaining set straight on the paper in front of him. The answer, however, has never been granted to him, deepening the scowl on his face. Leaving the questions hangin' in the air was always a lil' bit of a burden. 'Whaddya-'

With a turn of his head, his sight is welcomed by a particular person, a new... rather small member of their gang, leaving cowboy's face scribbled with bewilderment. She stood there, her height barely reaching past his reclined form, her facial structure being an epitome of innocence. Tiny hands clasped right in front of herself, her head bowed like one of a fawn's. 

'If that ain't... hey,' he greeted, having cleared his throat. 'I, uh... You want somethin'?' The outlaw fixed his expression almost immediately, opting to give a child a smile which oozed warmth and safety, almost forgetting 'bout whatever the hell's been on his mind just a second ago. He wouldn't want to scare the youngling with a a mean look; 'specially since he was able to see her own cheeks roundin' up into a bashful smile itself. She couldn't have been livin' here on this earth for longer than five years, though he cannot tell with them kids. What he knows is that the man has a special set of behaviours reserved for small folks like her, and that the poor thing needs friendly faces to get accustomed to. He is a terrible man, one that kills, one that beats people up and robs the hell outta 'em, but he didn't have the heart to just be another mean bastard when it came to children.

There's a case of her peculiarity that everyone's been rackin' their brains about. First, the kid didn't speak. No one was able to come up with the reason; she seemed to hear just fine, although she merely responded with a glance; if she bothered sparing one, which brings another aspect. It could always been 'bout the fact that she were a little one, nevertheless, eye contact proved to be challenging for her; her gaze always averting as soon as someone returned her own. It left several members wondering about the history behind this quiet girl, other than the tragic circumstances surrounding her discovery. For now, they opted to making the child feel like at home. She hadn't got anyone else to turn towards, with the The Outlaw finding the lost youngling alongside the Leader of the gang a few months back. Her wailing, and a couple of lifeless bodies were enough backstory for them to come to a conclusion that the poor child was utterly alone in this harsh world.

With that, the man suddenly realised that it is the first time he's able to see the colour of her eyes, the curious lookers taking in the sight of a journal in his hands; more specifically, scribbles he had done a few days back when he was on his journey through the forests of West Elizabeth; as the pages turned when he wasn't holding them in place. He always had it with him, this journal; something about the world around him capturing his interest everytime, with paper providing space for his thoughts, or even doin' as much as letting him capture quickly what he had seen. Interestingly shaped trees, wonderfully coloured flowers, animals; funny lookin' or not, always ended up finding their own place in his journal. It ain't like he shared it with anyone, it was after all so personal to the man. A child, however, was enamoured by little drawings he did, fascinated by the details of a wild hare on a page, her tiny mouth slightly open. With one last glance at the man, she hesitatantly took a step towards him, with an expectant gaze, her finger pointed towards the small patch of grass next to him. 

'You, uh...' The Cowboy repeats her gesture awkwardly. '... Wanna sit with me?' No response aside from an endearing tilt of her head, as if he were lookin' at a pup. He found himself unable to resist a gentle laugh, even if he were quite unsure of how to go on about with this one. Something 'bout this youngling just had him in her tiny grasp; that much was clear. She needed someone to make her feel safe, having her childhood ruined in such a cruel manner. Warmth washed over him; because it truly is the first since she were able to hold the eye contact with him, as if she were finally opening herself up. 'Alright, come here, Lil' one.'

Perhaps, it will be best if he were to repeat himself, that's for sure. In an inviting manner his large hand moved, tapping it against the green ground next to him, the seat she eagerly took. 

'Ah... Look at you, comin' outta your shell, yeah?' He encouraged further, with the toddler glancing up at the man's face once more, with a small giggle. Then what follows... Silence. As usual. A nod of his head, and he thinks for a moment, feeling her stare on him. "What should he do?", he wonders, scratching his rough chin as he tries to think of ways he could entertain the child... While she ran tiny fingers over the clean sheet of paper, as if she found the texture rather fascinating. Ah, well, it... it's his... Well, private belonging or whatever, but it ain't like the kid will steal his journal and run away with it, no. She is very polite when she makes a bashful gesture of her hand, as if to ask him if she may hold it, if she can use the sheets of paper, and something about it just melts his cold heart, devoid of any kindness, or so, as he likes to believe...

'Here you go,' he said simply, the journal traversing through his hands to her own, because for how long can he resist his paternal instinct, the one he thought had died a long time ago? He's a bad man, he thinks. The youngling skips over the pages with words, a natural instinct to be more drawn towards the pictures of flowers he'd made.

'My, a real connoisseur of art,' the man laughed, but the girl haven't looked up at him, her eyes observing the sketch of a deer with intrigue. 'Not like I'm, uh... any artist or somethin'...' He was a tad awkward, that's for damn sure. He was a rugged outlaw after all, a terrible man, robber and a killer of the worst sort. Seein' small folk like her just makes him... Wonder what makes a little pup like her want to hang around with him. 

After a moment, the child looks up at him with a bashful look on her face, almost apologetic in a way. Her hand slightly raised to her face, tapping her finger against it. Oh.

Suddenly, it all makes sense now. 

The outlaw cleared his throat; right.

She ran into an empty page, rubbing her round nose with fingers deep in thought, before her eyes peeked into the pen in his hand, gaze that the Outlaw followed with utmost attention. He didn't know what to think, it ain't like... Ah, those damn children. 

'Wanna, uh... draw? Scribble a little?' His speech was slow, giving her the time to observe the movements of his lips. The pen was raised, its tip drawing circles in the air, while he pointed at the journal in the child's hand. Trying his best to make an attempt at finding a different way to speak and help her understand his intentions, past the verbal communication, he saw the child next to him lighting up all of sudden, a reaction that got him smilin'. Smilin' to a point where his cheeks hurt. She perked up, like little, baby deer, and it took all his strength to not melt as her tiny fingers took the extended pen out of his large hand.

This precious thing was overjoyed, that much he could see. It's like the pen transferred an energy that's been waitin' for its release since the day she was born. The child doodled, using the simplest shapes to portray different creations of nature. A big tree on the left, with a sizeable flower that reached half of its height; a smiling cat with three whiskers on each side of its muzzle, probably havin' in mind a feline that she may have seen at some point in her life; equally just as big, and a little house. The Outlaw, normally, wouldn't have it within him to just let someone scribble all over his belonging, but god damn it. It's a child. Ain't like they got much paper lyin' around for free use. If that means seein' a the little duckling happy, so be it...

The man saw a red squirrel running right in front of them, stoppin' every once in a while to check the surroundings. And of course, he didn't have the heart to stop the little artist in the heat of her passion, but he couldn't let the opportunity for her to see the curious animal just pass! He nudged the girl gently, just on her arm, and pointed at the rodent that tried to jump over the tree. It took her a moment, her eyes being squinted in focus, before relaxing when she saw it. 

'Look'at it go, almost as tiny as you!' The man laughed gently, lookin' down at her once more, seein' that she's already traced the lines which resemble the squirrel; the girl havin' made sure to emphasize long ears and fluffy tail. The animal on the paper was almost as huge as the cat next to it. He's a bad man, and yet, he couldn't resist the smile that's been plastered on his face for a good few minutes now. She may not have been as expressive as other children he'd see, but when the baby giggled, when her lips curled up, or even when she did as much as she scrunched her nose in focus; warmth washed over his cold, cold and, once again, cold heart. It's like the girl melted it, and stole it, the precious little thing she was, paternal instincts resurfacing within him once more.

And then; just like that, he saw a sketch, and his eyes widened slightly. On a page he sees a drawing of a person... A man with a beard, a hat on his head, with a scarf wrapped aroung his neck, and the widest damn smile on his face, like the one of a fool's. The Outlaw wiped his mustache, taking into his hands the journal she had extended to him, with that expectant look on her face. She waited for that nod of approval, needing it more than anything at this moment; an approval that he, this rugged man, granted. Of course, he knew who that fella on the page was; it were him, or, how the toddler saw him as. A big fella with a hat, who smiles at her widely. He wasn't an outlaw to her, or a goddamn cowboy. To the girl, he was just a nice man who let her draw in his journal, who kept her safe from dangers of cruel world, which took her childhood. Possibly the first person she had approached on her own ever since she found herself in the gang. 

And that is something he couldn't wrap his head around. How is it possible, that he; a person so terrible as he is, was the one that this kid somehow wasn't threatened by?

And god, why was he smiling so much? He cannot tell. 

What he can tell, however, he hasn't done that for so long. 

And that her own smile, he wants to protect. 

[appalachiancowboy99]

After Dark

Arthur Morgan x CurvyFem!Reader Established relationship, high honor, grumpy Arthur in desperate need of release, 18+, MDNI (Minors DO NOT ENTER)

Arthur comes back to camp later than usual, with nothing but a bad disposition and a desperate need to release his pent-up frustrations.

Warnings: longer read, sexual content (oral, unprotected p in v, rough sex), mentions of violence, mentions of anger, and dabbles in sensual fluff.

Gif by: @sunwingsunset

A/N: Thank you so much to @photo1030 for not only being my sounding board in the never-ending chaos that is my writing process but also for being such a wonderful friend through it all. So grateful for you, don't know what I'd do without ya, C! <3 Thank you so much to @rivetingrosie4 for being an inspiration for my little works and being so supportive of my creative endeavors, not to mention the kind generosity of your friendship! Forever grateful for to have met you! @tortureddpoett I'm so excited to explore this budding friendship with you! Thank you so much for showing so much excitement for my work, IT MAKES ME EXCITED (EEP!). It means an absolute ton to me <3 @mr-inkslinger your friendship has been an absolute delight to explore! Thank you for posting that toe-curling smut that always has me giggling and kicking my feet! So happy to have met ya! And thank each and every single one of you for liking my first drabble and expressing interest in this next one. I'm so sorry it's taken me forever to publish this post, but hopefully, the next ones won't take me as long. I'll forever be grateful for your patience and kindness <3 But now, enough of my babbling, y'all enjoy yourselves with this one- I know I did ;)

Fuck. From the second he opened his eyes, he knew that the day was going to be fucking awful; his neck had a crick in it, his head was pounding from what little sleep he’s received over the last few nights, and now he had to trudge back out into the goddamn muggy heat to work. One disaster after another had piled up; everything that could have gone wrong, went so terribly awry that he wound up farther away from camp than he originally intended and managed to add a solid fifteen-dollar bounty to the mounting collection resting atop his head. Dutch had sent him out on a wild goose chase, following a lead from Micah that, of course, ended up being a complete waste of time. And that meant he was coming back to camp empty-handed, which almost certainly meant he'd be on the receiving end of another one of Dutch's lectures on the endless responsibilities placed upon his shoulders. He dreaded it, wanted to avoid spiraling down another conversation that would end in Dutch questioning his faith in the ever-evolving plan he’s found himself working on these days.

As if he needed any of that horseshit tonight. All he wanted was a moment of peace and quiet, a chance to catch his breath after the disaster of a day he'd just had, but instead, he was headed back to camp with nothing but bruises, a bloody lip, and a bad disposition to show for his efforts. Trees and other bits of scenery whipped by in a blur as Arthur spurred his horse onward, his surroundings melting together into a muddy mess of shapes cast by moonlight. He passed through New Hanover, his furious pace leading him down the familiar roads of Lemoyne, reaching the clearing outside of camp. Lenny and John are the first to spot Arthur approaching the thicket of trees disguising Clemens Point's main entrance. “Hey, who goes there?” Lenny’s voice echoes through the forest, bouncing off the thicket until it reaches Arthur’s ears.

“‘S me.” Arthur grunts out through gritted teeth, clearly not in the mood for any chit-chat. Even underneath the shadow of leaves and limbs, the scowl etched upon his face is easily distinguishable, a clear sign for anyone with any common sense to give him a wide berth for the rest of the night. Lenny and John, both, had a pretty good idea of what might happen when Arthur steps foot into camp and they don't want any part of it. As a result, they give each other a little knowing glance and stay in the treeline, preferring to avoid the impending shitstorm and let Dutch or Hosea deal with it instead. He strides past them in a fit of frustration, dismounting his mare with a jerky movement before she's even come to a complete stop. Kieran spots him and hesitantly approaches. That poor fool. "H-Hey, Mr. Morgan. Would ya like me to unsaddle the 'ol gal here?" Kieran's question was nothing more than an innocent query, but his expression turned the young man into a nervous wreck. If looks could kill, Arthur’s certainly could; his steely eyes are set ablaze with annoyance and irritation as he casts a hateful glance in Kieran's direction. Even Kieran knew better than to talk to Arthur when he was in this state, knowing that it would only lead to suffering at the hands of his unbridled wrath. Kieran’s eyes immediately darted to his feet, desperate to avoid Arthur’s icy gaze as his fingers trembled with the frayed ends of rope in his hands. Quickly as to not start any trouble for himself, Kieran took hold of the mare's reigns and led her away to the field of horses, putting as much distance between himself and Arthur as he could. A slight pang of guilt runs through him when he sees the way that Kieran high-tailed it out of his line of sight. He doesn't want to be harsh to the boy, he's been a useful asset to the gang, but his temper is just too far gone for him to muster up an apology. As fast as the angering thoughts snapping through his mind, Arthur turns on his heels and storms into camp in search of Dutch. His boots furiously hit the grass and reddened Lemoyne dirt as he passes by a few of the wandering eyes from those still awake at this late hour. Charles casts him a wary glance, and so does Sadie, but neither of them cares to look long enough to entertain what's about to happen. He passes by his own wagon and heads straight to Dutch's tent. Dutch is nowhere to be seen, yet the lamp light inside casts its soft golden glow upon the closed canvas flaps of the tent, indicating that he might be inside. Not wasting any more time than he has to, Arthur approaches the tent, not bothering to stop and think until it's too late. His hand raises, readying to peel back the canvas flap, when all of a sudden he hears the sweet amorous sounds of lovemaking echo through the night air.  Molly’s sweet voice gasps out between each movement of their squeaking cot, calling out for Dutch as the unmistakable sound of skin slapping skin penetrates through the thin canvas walls, revealing exactly what’s occupying Dutch’s time tonight.

“Oh, Dutch. Don’t stop,” she encourages through strained, unabashed moans of pleasure. Dutch’s deep, husky voice murmurs back something unintelligible, but the increased squeaking of their bed and the filthy little noises coming from Molly are a clear indicator that Arthur should be stepping away to give them some privacy. Embarrassment washes over him, causing a faint rosy flush to heat his face and bloom across his cheeks. For once, he's grateful for the distraction from his current frustration. On most nights, he'd find comfort in your presence, seeking you out to vent his grievances as a distraction from the ever-present aggravation that seemingly follows him around these days. But tonight, he just wants to retreat to his tent, away from everything and everyone, to try to calm down before he says or does something he regrets.

He strides past the dying campfires and tables that are askew from daily camp activities, and his mind tirelessly races from thought to thought, stealing his attention away from his surroundings. If Arthur had even bothered to look, he would have spotted your sleeping form laid out upon his bed the moment he stepped inside. You had been waiting for him all evening. After working yourself to the bone doing laundry, dinner prep, and other camp chores for Ms. Grimshaw all day long, you wandered your way over to Arthur’s tent in search of a quiet place to sit. Part of you wished to find him seated right there on his cot, wanting to simply have a conversation with the man who has stolen your heart, but to your disappointment, he wasn’t anywhere to be found. So, you waited for him.. And waited until the very idea of waiting became too tiresome and you unknowingly fell asleep.

Sneaking away from the gang for private talks with him has been one of your favorite things to do since you joined the gang so long ago. Y'all have always had a knack for avoiding the company of others. But somehow in the midst of squirreling yourselves away, both of you have come to find that you'd prefer being alone together. Eventually, this led to many nights where Arthur would seek you out just to speak his mind, allowing you to see the world through his eyes for a short while. You have not only embraced Arthur's thoughts, but in doing so, you have captured his heart all the same. If it weren't for you, he's certain he'd have lost his damn sanity long ago.

Arthur takes that dusty old gambler's hat off his head and runs his fingers through his hair, taking a moment to calm himself down. His eyes glance over the things laid out upon his bedside table before catching a glimpse of your figure awash by the pale moonlight in his periphery. Your hair is sprawled out over the small blanket you've rolled up into a makeshift pillow; curls flowing like a roaring waterfall, laying a mess, and finally free from the bun that was atop your head earlier in the day. His eyes rake over your voluptuous figure, noting every dip and curve from your plump waist and hips to the ample swell of your breast hidden by a layer of clothing. The moment his mind registers that your presence isn't a dream, his eyes soften and his mind no longer races with anger. You are his peace, the only thing in this world that he cherishes above all else. 

Sighing softly, he finally discards his hat from his hand and places it onto his nightstand before working off his worn leather jacket and satchel, resting them on the back of the chair nearest his shaving mirror. And while he's on his feet, he takes the time to carefully roll down the canvas walls of his tent, unraveling them with the quiet precision of a mouse, and securing them in a few simple knots to hide you two away from the world.

It's quite dark by the time he wanders over to the cot, dark enough not to notice himself brush against your legs as he takes a seat on the edge of the old creaking bed. The familiar, welcomed-warmth of his body pressing against your shins rouses you from your restful slumber. Your eyes flutter open to find his figure perched next to you, shrouded in a darkness so thick that you are sure you're still dreaming. His head and broad shoulders are slumped over as he begins working off his dusty boots, caked with remnants of mud and manure.

"Hmm... Arthur?" Your voice floats through the quiet darkness, laden with fatigue and clearly carrying the lassitude of someone who could fall back asleep at the drop of a hat.

He quickly glances over his shoulder at the sound of your voice, his eyes already adjusted enough to the shadows to see your tired face staring back at him with confusion. He silently curses himself for waking you. "Shhh, Darlin'. Don't wake up on my account. I'll be done in just a minute," Arthur lightly grunts out the last word as he struggles to remove his right boot.

Even in your own weary state, the exhaustion in his tone isn't lost on you. Thinking it best to rouse yourself as quickly as possible to free up his bed for him, you sit yourself up and will yourself awake with a slight stretch. "'S okay. You need rest more 'n me."

"No. You was restin' 'fore I got here. Go 'head and lay back down." He isn't having any of your courtesy tonight. He's worn out, far too tired to argue with you about whether or not it's appropriate for you to share his bed for the night.

The rest of the gang, aside from John, Abigail, Susan, and Hosea know nothing about the true nature of y'all's relationship. Although, the rest of the girls have picked up on the changes you've brought about in Arthur since your arrival so long ago now. Seeing him get all soft and doey-eyed at you over these last few weeks has most definitely tipped them off about what y'all really get up to when you're out running errands together. But they catch wind of you sleeping in his tent tonight, it will all but confirm their suspicions. And yet, you just can't bring yourself to move from the comfort of Arthur's cot with him sitting so close to you.

"What time is it?" The question falls from your lips, carried on the soft currents of a gentle breeze pushing through the tent flaps. Fine sinewy muscles flex beneath his shirt as he leans over to work off his other boot and you are powerless to admire the shape of his body beneath.

A muffled grunt escapes his mouth the moment he finally frees his aching feet from the confines of his boots, "Late," he simply replies.

You take a deep, cleansing breath, allowing the tranquility of the night to settle around you like a soft, comforting blanket. Outside these walls, no sounds of chatter or lively activity can be heard, aside from the gentle hum of crickets by the riverbank and the faint sounds of a squeaking cot stopping abruptly. The gang is unusually quiet, the air filled with repose now that Arthur's returned safely to you. Only a few stragglers tend to the campfires, their focus solely on themselves, interested in anything beyond the flickering flames; not even the sounds of Dutch and Molly or Arthur's irritation can disrupt the peaceful bubble encompassing Clemen's Point tonight.

The plush heel of your palm rubs over one of your eyes as you flit them toward the tent entrance, watching how the wind slightly ruffles the bottom of the canvas. It's only then that you realize that Arthur has tied down the walls for privacy on your account. Normally, he wouldn't bother setting up the walls before collapsing on the cot for a few restless hours of sleep. But tonight, he's gone out of his way to ensure your comfort. Your heart couldn't feel any more full of love for this man by your side, a man who puts your well-being above all else, even above his own. Never did you think that love would have been like this for you: sitting in the comfortable silence of privacy for lovers when that luxury is rarely afforded for women like you. But despite your gratitude for his thoughtfulness, a pang of guilt gnaws at you knowing he made the extra effort while you took up residence in his bed, a cot that's barely big enough for the two of you given your plump frame.

In an attempt to make up for taking up so much space, you roll yourself forward along the thin mattress and quickly slide past him, crawling toward the foot of his bed where his trunk of clothing is kept. You've decided to give him his space for the night, even though in your heart, you'd prefer to stay. Before your foot even slides off the trunk to touch the soft grass below, you're reminded of John stopping by Arthur's tent earlier in the day.

Through a half yawn, you speak, not giving Arthur the chance to catch-on to where you're headed, "'Fore I forget: John stopped by while you was out."

Arthur slightly leans back as his fingertips mindlessly fumble with the buckle of his gun belt. The slight clicking of the metal rings out as he works to remove the clunky accessory from his body. His strong back brushes against you as he moves with the comfortable ease he's come to enjoy over these last few weeks of secretly being yours.

"What about it?" His concentration is split half between himself and the presence of your body behind him.

Your words don't register in his mind until he's completely removed the belt from his body. He figures it was that stagecoach job he reluctantly handed off to John; it had completely slipped from his mind until this very moment, much like yourself. The cool metal filigree atop his trunk moves under your feet as you rest them just shy of slipping off its edge, causing the hazy memory to play out behind your tired eyes.

-

You were just settling yourself in, resting your weary body on the edge of Arthur's cot, just as you're doing now. Little beads of sweat accumulated on your forehead from working out in the intensity of Lemoyne's miserably humid heat. Grimshaw had you and the rest of the women working on camp chores, which you hadn't complained of, since it usually occupies the time until Arthur's usual return. However, the day was far too hot for you to not complain about the harsh conditions she had y'all in. Eventually, evening came and you were finally finished with the laundry, allowing you a moment's rest to seek out the comfort of Arthur's cot.

In the midst of wiping your brow down with one of his neckerchiefs you'd secretly swiped, the hard thump of boots hitting grass caught your attention. You'd anticipated Arthur's arrival, but something didn't feel quite right. The boots didn't move with Arthur's measured stride; they scuffed the grass and dirt, signaling a different, but familiar presence. The moment you look up, you spot John standing at the entrance of the tent, not at all surprised to see you sitting upon his cot as if it were your own.

For a brief moment, his brow furrowed in a mix of frustration and exhaustion. It was as if he was caught between the two warring emotions, each pulling him equally. Clearly, he expected Arthur to be back already.

"He not back yet?" The gruffness of his voice has you believe the former, rather than the latter.

"Not yet," you say in kind, hoping to ease some of his burden. "Was you needin' him for somethin'?"

John did and the news certainly wasn't going to sit well with Arthur at all.

-

When the thoughts finally coalesce within your fatigued mind, you internally grimace knowing that Arthur isn't going to like the reality of the situation. Gentleness has always been your strong suit, especially when it came to dealing with half of the bull-headed men in camp. So, you lace your words with the softest tone you can manage, "Said it weren't as much as y'all had planned on: about fifty-dollars tied up in what little him 'n Charles found."

And you were right. The news doesn't sit well with him at all. All of the compiled frustration of working a nothing-lead and now knowing that the other job didn't pay well either boils beneath the surface of his skin until he explodes like a whistling kettle. Preventing himself from lashing out at you, Arthur kicks his boot toward the other side of the tent, knocking it into the chair. The loud thunk of its sole hitting wood claps harshly and causes you to flinch, startling you fully awake from the suddenness of noise and his movement.

"Every goddamn day it's some shit," he spits through his teeth.

Although you know he'd never intentionally hurt you, the anger in his voice sends a cold shiver down your spine and your stomach flips and churns in knots. Usually, you'd blame yourself, reprimanding your big mouth for even opening up to mention something that you knew wouldn't bode well for his weary mind. But you're in too much of a shock to even consider self-deprecation as an option. Your wide eyes search through the darkness, watching the shadowed outline of the man you love heave in a deep breath to steal his nerves. His shoulders slump forward and head hangs low as he rests his elbows on his knees, utterly defeated from the compiled anger and exhaustion coursing through him.

It's at this moment that you remember the job Dutch sent him on earlier in the day; Arthur didn't want to go and had very little sleep after working on yet another lead that barely got them anywhere. If it had been left up to you, you would've made Arthur stay right here in this bed to get some rest like he deserves. You would've taken care of him so tenderly, but, as usual, what Dutch wanted would have far outweighed any of your concerns. You've learned to recognize the pattern of these situations by now, and given Arthur's aggression, assuming that today's job didn't go quite as planned would be hitting the nail right on its head. You test the waters with a quiet question, "Lead didn't pan out today, did it?"

The soft shake of Arthur's head, coupled with the shadow of his palm running over his face tells you all that you need to know: no, it hadn't gotten him any farther than where he had started. Another useless effort. Your heart aches watching him struggle with so much weight on his shoulders. No matter how strong Arthur might be, he's just a man struggling to carry his own burdens, let alone everyone else's. Ever since settling down here, Dutch has placed so much responsibility on him that you've wanted to scold the man for even mentioning Arthur's name in passing. He's worked himself thin and thread-bare, barely having any time for himself outside of the time he spends on the road traveling from place to place at Dutch's convenience.

Empathy for the man that you've fallen in love with so long ago breaks your heart, aching in desperation to relieve some of his pain. Instead of walking away, keeping to yourself, and silently shouldering any of the blame for setting him off, you choose to stay the night. Despite knowing full well that the girls will have their gossip circulating by morning, Arthur's needs are far more important than any snickering comment or playful jest that'll inevitably come your way.

You scoot back where you were and lean toward him with less apprehension than what your words had suggested. Resting your delicate palm between the broad expanse of his shoulders, you feel him tense at the soft slip of your tender touch over his shirt. The tips of your fingers glide over his shoulder and silently take purchase on the taut muscle there. With a gentle, yet firm pull, you coax Arthur back toward you.

"C'mere. Lean back 'n talk to me..." Your dulcet tone pierces through his irritation, encouraging him to rest in your awaiting arms.

Arthur slowly reclines back, allowing himself to unwind in your embrace as his much larger body sits snugly against your plump bosom. Relaxing doesn't come easy for him. Hell, you'd be surprised if it had, given the high tensions between him and Micah these days or the tiresome back and forth between the two rival families in Rhodes. He has every right to be terse and tensed up like a snake ready to strike, but you aim to comfort him even if that means you risk getting bit. Silence hangs in the air between you, aside from the gentle breaths and the occasional strained grunt catching in the back of his throat while he struggles to get comfortable against you, due to the remaining stress insisting on clinging to his tired body. Your loving hands splay out over the firm expanse of his chest, feeling the steady and reassuring thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms as you try your best to soothe your brooding lover. It's as if your mere presence cracks away at the anger lingering in the stiff tendons and taut plains of muscle along his torso until he relents and finally lets go. His body relaxes back into you as if he were sinking into the plush, luxurious drapery and bedding found in the finest hotels of Saint Denis; much like the bedding of the room he'd paid for the very same night he had whisked you away to bed you properly for your very first time.

He's silent for a long while, almost reluctant to burden you with his troubles. So, you take it up on yourself to start the conversation by spilling what had happened to you earlier in the day, thinking it might earn a laugh or two, "Well, I'm sure my day weren't as rough as your'n," you hum. "But I did fall off the dock, landing my hind-end right in that water."

The image would usually cause a humorous snort to escape him, but the irritation still bristling at his nerves prevents him from reacting with anything else other than a huff of annoyance, "I told ya to watch your footin' out there. Ain't no use to nobody if you get yourself drowned."

Fortunately, as he chides you his words begin to lack much of the anger from moments ago. But you sigh softly anyways, relenting to his incessant need to protect you from life's dangers, despite being able to handle your own, "I know, I know..."

With a few buttons of that old blue work shirt popped open by your deft fingers, the smallest opening there is just big enough to slip your hand inside and rest it up on the soft but wiry hairs at the very center of his chest. "You shoulda seen me, though," you murmur as you lean down toward his ear, lowering your tone as you press your cheek to the side of his head. "Was drenched head to toe, clothes clingin' to me like feathers on a wet chicken."

He sulks, trying to stay mad at anything and everything he can to give into the bristling anger at the back of his mind, but he can't. No, not when he can clearly envision you all soaked and surprised from falling into that cold lake. A faint smile curls up the corners of his lips and then, just as he almost chuckles, he clears his throat, holding his laugh back. However, you catch on far too quickly for him to play it off so easily.

You gasp softly in mock surprise as if offended by the idea of him laughing at you, "Arthur Morgan. Are you laughin' at me?"

That's when his temperament breaks, giving way to the huff of laughter rumbling through his chest. "I ain't laughin' atchu, per say..." he counters. "Just maybe at the thought of what ya mighta looked like comin' up outta that water: madder 'n hell, hair clingin' to your head," and as if to illustrate his point, Arthur reaches his hand backward and turns his head to try and catch a glimpse of you in the thick shadows, barely making your face distinguishable to his eyes, as he brushes his fingertips over the bits of hair clinging to your forehead from the muggy heat.

Though you narrow your eyes in mock annoyance, you lean into his calloused fingertips, accepting the gentleness of his touch while a giggle of your own creeps up into your throat, "Oh? Is 'at so? Maybe next time I find you out on that dock, I'll think 'bout pushin' ya in 'n lettin' you see how it feels."

He huffs out a skeptical breath and raises an eyebrow at the very thought of you even trying something like that with him. It'd be a futile effort and one that you truly wouldn't consider without the clear consequence of him pulling you right down with him.

And just as soon as the laughter came, it was gone again, replaced instead with a comfortable silence that settles between you two once more, giving him some space to think about what's happened to himself today. Long before the days of your arrival, Arthur would keep to himself and dwell on the ever-present burdens troubling his mind, brooding for hours. But with you, he feels a safety that men like him are rarely afforded.

"Well, if ya think fallin' in Flat Iron's bad..." he continues, "Try goin' halfway 'cross the state lookin' for a man that don't exist. Then when ya find someplace to get a drink, ya end up catchin' a few stray hits from some drunken bastard."

A soft gasp enters your lungs at the revelation. Another fight? You lean over his shoulder, reaching to take his scarred chin into your hand. It's hard to see through the inky-black darkness of the night, but even in the haziness, your eyes can make out the bruising along his jaw, the harsh scrapes of knuckles cutting over his cheek, and the jagged cut on his upper lip. It isn't a rare sight to have him come back battered and bruised by some job from time to time, but that still doesn't quell the uneasiness in your heart at him going through such pain and aggravation.

Your eyebrows furrow in sympathy for your rugged cowboy, eyes softening to match as you breathe out, "Oh, Arthur."

He's quick to dismiss your concern with a soft sigh, pulling away from you to lean forward and distract himself from your sympathetic gaze, "Ah, don'tchu go 'n worry yourself over me none, Darlin'."

Being fussed over or thought of so tenderly still isn't something he's used to; he's shown you that time and time again. But it never deters you from trying to make things better, to make things easier on him however you can. Whatever turmoil Arthur's got rolling about in his mind is far from the usual and it takes patience to understand; a patience that he finds only you can give.

You reach your hand out toward him. The delicate ends of your fingertips reach up to brush over the nape of his sun-kissed neck, grazing over the ends of his slightly overgrown hair, silently making a note to yourself that you'll trim it for him tomorrow. His body shuffles slightly backward, leaning in to accept your touch while he slips off his suspenders: pulling them down his shoulders heavy with burden, before taking his time to unbutton that tattered old work shirt you're so used to seeing around his muscular frame.

"'Sides..." he starts. "I did have some good that came from today."

"What's 'at?" you hum softly with a lilt of dryness. "Hittin' that feller back?"

He can't help the chuckle rising in his throat at the dry sarcasm touching your words. Arthur shakes his head softly, "Nah, Darlin', " the last word strains from his lips as he rises to his feet with a groan, leaving the safe comfort of your touch as he stands to undo his pants.

He glances over his shoulder, peering down at you through the darkness with a smirk curling up at the right corner of his mouth. Watching as your sweet eyes follow his every movement, Arthur turns to face you, allowing you to gaze at him as he slowly pushes the brass button through the eyelet at the top of his riding pants. The fabric opens effortlessly, revealing the red cloth of his union suit underneath. The sight of him before you, suspenders hanging loosely on either side of his long legs and his pants aching to be peeled from his strong form has your lips parted in awe at the man standing mere inches away from you.

He continues from just seconds before, "Seein' you laid out on my bed, purdy as a dream."

After stepping out of his pants now crumpled around his ankles, Arthur lowers one knee upon the cot nearest your thighs. He leans over you, using his thick fingers to tilt your chin upward, meeting his crystalline eyes. "Was one helluva sight I could get used to seein'."

The low timbre of his voice sends a shockwave of desire straight through your heart and into the aching pit of your stomach. Your lips draw up into a shy smile, and a faint dusting of pink envelops your cheeks just like the moment you'd first professed your feelings for him under that canopy of trees he led you through so blindly. Although it hasn't been long since that fateful night, the closeness of your relationship has escalated so quickly that your head and heart dizzy at the mere mention of his name.

Arthur's calloused thumb brushes over the supple swell of your bottom lip, enticing you to part them just for him. You comply, of course, unable to resist how a ghost of his touch makes you so pliant beneath him. And when he leans down to meet your lips with his own, your heart swells with tender affection. Those warm, slightly chapped, but pleasantly plush lips are heady as they connect with a passion that stokes the burning coals of desire in the very base of your core.

"Been waitin' to use that one for a while, hmm?" You hum contently while blindly guiding your hands toward the flare of muscle encasing his ribs. God, how you could worship this man and never tire of feeling how warm, how strong he is beneath your palms.

"Depends. It workin'?" He murmurs, smirking cockily against your lips.

Your mind begins to spin as the calloused pad of his thumb dips from your chin and swipes over your jawline. His fingers splay out over the side of your neck, fingertips gripping you with tender passion to hold you in place. He could easily break you, bend you with his finger and thumb as if you were nothing more than a twig beneath his rough and weathered hands. Never have you felt so small and fragile, always knowing in your heart that you took up much more room than other women. But, when you're with Arthur, he makes you feel as delicate as the petals on a beautiful flower, something so precious and worth loving; it's so much more than you'd ever experienced in your whole life. He touches you so tenderly as if you were made from nothing more than ash, a veritable pile of matter waiting to slip through his fingers at any moment.

You want to hum your praises to your lover, to let him know exactly how much you've wanted this, how much you've missed him, how well he's kissing you, touching you... But you can't. There are no words. He's stolen them from you, drawing all the air out of your lungs with his lips, leaving you gasping for the air coated in his divine masculine scent: sweet tobacco, wood ash, and mossy earth. He encompasses you, wrapping one arm around your waist as he pulls you close to his body, all the while shuffling himself forward to join you on the small cot. Your back presses against the hard wooden frame of the wagon making up the other half of his tent. He presses against you, holding you close to his strong body as he slides his right hand from your jaw, trailing it down over the soft skin of your neck, and down to your chest, where he heatedly palms your breast hidden just beneath your blouse. To have him touch you like this, like a man frenzied and dying for a taste of intimacy, has your head spinning and your heart on the verge of exploding if it hadn't already; for all you know, you could've died the moment his lips crashed into yours, and all that's left is a heaven you'd only dreamt of.

A low growl of appreciation rumbles through his chest for the plumpness of your body. Most men do not know the fine pleasures that extra curves on a woman can bring. But Arthur sure does. And oh how he worships your full figure, despite your opinions about yourself. His large, calloused palm shifts his attention to your other breast, kneading you tenderly while his lips work from your mouth, and instead, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses over your jawline and supple neck.

His name is a breathless sigh across your trembling lips as you allow your hands to explore his body in return. Touching over the large expanse of his torso and gliding your fingertips over the worn fabric of his union suit, you desperately search for the button that would bare him wholly to you. In the time it takes you to undo one of his buttons, his skilled fingers undo two of yours. Button after button unthreads upon both of your bodies, though his hands are much quicker at ridding you of your layers, leaving them strewn about on the ground until he's stripped you down and laid you beneath him in nothing more than your chemise and bloomers to conceal your decency. Arthur then crawls over you, his movements deliberate and enticingly slow as he cages you in with his hands pressed into the thin mattress on either side of your head. Shadows danced and shifted restlessly, playing tricks on your perception as you try to focus on what little of Arthur you could see through the haziness, making the absence of light feel alive. To feel him above you like this has your stomach in knots, tightening with a firey passion that's ready to snap at any given moment. Hearts are pounding, thrumming wildly against your ribcages like birds desperate to escape the confines of your chests. You hear it, hear how his breath shutters with each wild thump of his heart, and you feel it in his breath as it puffs over your cheek. He's losing himself to you and you him, slipping so quickly that rational thinking is no longer of use. You need him and he needs you.

The flaps of his union suit hang loosely from his body, allowing your hands to reach in and press flat over his heated skin. He shivers slightly at the contact, his muscles tensing and flexing beneath the tender meeting of your palms placed upon his scarred, goose-pimpled flesh. Your fingertips ghost over a scar on the right side of his ribcage, causing your face to crinkle with sorrow for what hardship your lover, this great outlaw, has had to endure in his lifetime. The damaged tissue is the result of a nasty fight he had as a young man: when someone stabbed him with the broken end of a beer bottle; they had aimed to kill him, but he had survived. The spot still aches with the memory of Hosea digging out the shards of broken glass from the angry, bloodied wound. But somehow, the way your delicate touch brushes over that old scar with such love and care causes the outlaw's skin to tingle, and his cock to ache with the pride of knowing that you love him so.

He takes his time with you here, laid out beneath him like a perfect little thing he's captured and kept safe by hiding you away in the privacy of his tent. After the day he's had, he wants to savor every bit of loveliness he's blessed with in your presence, so he can't rush this with you, not now. Arthur takes his time admiring you, letting his eyes rake over what he's able to see, and feeling what he cannot. Leaning down close enough to your face to capture that seductive glint in your glittering, lust-blown eyes, Arthur searches for any change within them as he maneuvers his right hand away from the mattress to trail along your sensitive flesh. The rough pads of his fingers ghost over your thigh, caressing the plump deposit of flesh along your middle, snaking up over your collarbones, and over your neck in search of your delicate face before sealing your mouth with his own in a kiss so tender you whimper from the initial contact.

Shivers of anticipation roll through him as your body responds to his touch: back arching off the bed, hands pulling on the nape of his neck to hold him down and assure that his lips won't leave yours, and the way your bloomer-clad hips roll upward in search of some much-needed friction. God how he could spend hours with you like this, letting his hands roam over your body to make you shiver and plead for any ounce of affection that he can give you. Your needy state is only exacerbated by the slight tremble in your thighs as he snakes his hands down over the pillowy flesh, seeking out the waistband of your bloomers. Ridding you of the cloth separating your pussy from his line of sight is an easy feat: the clad, slightly damp undergarment peels away from your plump hips with ease at the help of his precision; the Lemoyne heat causes the clothing to stick to your slightly dampened skin, but dammit if the temperature pales in comparison to how heated Arthur makes you feel. He tosses them down onto the ground, and places his hands upon your knees, spreading them apart as he sits above you to admire the feeling of your plump body beneath him.

His hand is unhurried and exacting, gently brushing his calloused knuckles down over your inner thigh, then lightly petting them over your soaked need covered by a soft thatch of hair. He can't see you fully, but that does nothing to stop his mind from envisioning how your cunt glistens with slick, all for him. The moment he presses his fingertips to your seam, parting you with the practiced precision of a lover, he lets a low, ragged breath escape his nose in appreciation for how wet you are. You shiver and instinctively try to close your knees from the pleasant surprise of his touch, and fuck does it feel good to have him brush over your folds like that.

"Always so ready, ain'tchya?" He murmurs, a teasing lilt to his voice as he takes his time in savoring the feeling of your slick upon his fingertips.

Your hips involuntarily twitch, bucking upward into his hand, seeking out his fingertips to make him swirl them over your aching little clit. You want him to touch you right where you need him, feel him right on that little spot upon that nub of nerves that makes your mind swirl and your body careen into a blissful orgasm. But he doesn't give that to you, not yet. He wants to work you over slowly, savoring every little sound he can draw out of those pretty lips. You're far too shy to answer him directly, instead favoring to cover your face with your forearms as he takes pleasure in taunting you like this. But the moment his fingertips threaten to part your folds, you let out a delicate little noise, someplace between a whine and a prayer to let him know that you're in no mood to endure his teasing tonight, "Arthur... Please."

Oh, how he loves to hear the sound of you begging; he's already half-hard at the idea of you wanting his touch, let alone hearing how desperate you are for it. He answers your prayer with a long, smooth stroke of his thumb parting your puffy, wet folds. You keen at how just a simple touch causes your stomach to flutter and your slit to clench around nothing at all. Your thighs, thick with strength, covered by a layer of squishy softness, part for him, relaxing lazily as he guides his thumb over each of your labia.

It was nearly impossible to get you to lay like this for him a few weeks ago; you'd been concerned about the unsightly appearance of your inner thighs: scarred over with dimples and imperfections, as well as the slight discoloration of having them rub together after so many years of being a larger woman. Most women that you've seen naked, don't have the same ailments upon their bodies as you have on yours. Just the other day when bathing with some of the girls in the lake, you'd noticed that even on Karen's body, a woman closer to your size, still didn't have the scars or discoloration across her skin in the same way that you have. And that night that Arthur had you laid out for him for the very first time, he'd noticed that apprehension in you, taking it as having second thoughts. But once you had explained how you felt about your own body, he hadn't even given the idea a single thought; his own body is mauled up, covered in old and ugly scars, and carrying more than three colors from all his time spent out in the sun. So, he couldn't have cared less about some scars, a little extra hair, weight, or even the discoloration over your thighs. What he did care about, however, was making sure that you felt loved in spite of it all. And now, it feels no different. To have you spread your legs for him like this, without a single worry holding you back, is a goddamn treat.

Fuck how good it feels to have the soft press of his thumb tease over your cunt, tracing the delicate path between your weeping entrance, to your swelling bud with a pressure so teasing and light that you squirm to feel more. Your plush lips tuck between your teeth to hold back any sounds that give away what you two are doing in here after dark, but it's useless; the lewd sounds of his thumb circling over your clit echo throughout the tent: a dead giveaway to anyone that dare walk by. Holding your breath like this isn't easy, not when the pounding of your heart echoes in your ears and your chest feels as if it's being seared from the inside out. A ragged gasp finally inhales through your nostrils, desperately trying to fulfill your body's need for air when you can no longer restrain your breaths.

He huffs out a low chuckle in amusement at the state he has you in: clearly desperate and in need to have your clit rubbed just the way you like it.

"Hmm.. Hear that?" He rasps out before going silent, letting you hear the sounds of your own slick being spread over your soaked cunt. He only continues when he finally reaches your clit, circling over the throbbing little nerve-ending to make you sigh out in pleasure for him. "So goddamn wet. All for me."

In a blur of movements, Arthur's chapped lips and teeth skim over your knee, slowly working their way down over your inner thighs. He nips at you, earning a few little squeaks and giggles until he kisses over your plump mound. His thumbs take hold of either side of your cunt, spreading you open to let the night air hit your wet skin. It's pleasant like this, to feel yourself spread out beneath him like a meal ready to be devoured and dammit if he ain't starved for a taste. Being eaten out has quickly become one of your favorite acts of intimacy in recent weeks; his tongue is so skilled at finding spots on you, making you come so deliciously, that most days it's all you've been able to think about. Hell, it's all you're thinking about now as his head sinks down to your core and his hot breath fans out over your aching need. His tongue slips out of that perfect mouth and flattens out over your seam, lapping at you once to earn him that little sigh of pleasure escaping your throat.

Your hands immediately seek out his head, combing through his slightly sweat-dampened hair as he swirls the blunt tip of his tongue over your clit.

"A-Agh, Arthur.. N-Not so fast," you whine out in protest, yet your hips bucking up into his mouth says otherwise. But he relents, nonetheless, giving you a moment of reprieve before he delves back in at the same pace.

He's aiming to make you cum quick and hard: slithering his tongue over your clit with the precision of knowing exactly what side and spot makes you writhe beneath him. Just left and then a little upward beneath that little hood of skin and he has you singing for him. Explicitves roll off your tongue one after another in between sweet little sounds that praise him for what effort he's putting in just for you. To hear you, feel you crumble beneath him like this is better than any robbery or score he gets out on the road. But just before he lets you come, he pulls his head back slightly and puffs cool air over your clit, making you whine.

"Shh.. Shh.. 'M gonna let ya cum, Darlin'. Don'tchu worry 'bout that none. 'M gonna take real good care of ya," he hums lowly as his lips and bristly scruff brush over your quivering inner thighs.

His promise isn't far off from fulfillment, not when he sinks his tongue into your heat and presses his opened mouth over the entirety of your cunt. He sucks hard, feeling your walls constrict around the wriggling muscle of his tongue as he laps inside your spongey center. Your thighs tremble with need as he fucks you with his mouth and slurps up your slick, drinking in as much of you as he can and relishing the tangy sweetness of your delectable taste. You throw your head back against the rolled-up blanket you had been using as a pillow earlier in the night, all while he eats you out like a man who's desperate to consume you.

But the aching throb of his cock, constricted by the thin fabric of his union suit, is far too angry for him to ignore. He's got to have you, now.

As he shuffles back up to his knees, leaving your cunt longing to cum on his tongue, you flutter your eyes open and snap your head up to try and catch a glimpse of what he's doing. Clearly, you ain't pleased with him teasing you like this, but when you feel his fervent movements, you realize that he's trying to work off his union suit. He wastes no time it peeling it away from his torso, but the moment he starts to tug it down his thighs, allowing his weeping cock to spring free, he nearly topples over and just about slams head-first into your body. Thankfully, he catches himself in the knick of time, grunting out a few curses as he grows impatient with his incapability to slide that damn fabric off his legs.

Amid his struggle to bare himself, you can't hide the giggle creeping up your throat as he curses under his breath, frustrated with how the fabric insists on clinging to his muscular legs. You help him slide the old red union suit off his body by digging your heels against the back of his thighs and pushing it down the long length of his legs until it reaches his ankles. The undergarment hangs loosely off his feet, causing him to kick it haphazardly off the side of the bed, letting it fall onto his trunk to skirt down on the grass below.

The instant his turgid length brushes over your inner thigh it twitches with the anticipation of feeling your tight, wet walls clamped around him, milking every drop of spend nestled away in his balls; spend that he so desperately wishes he could drain right inside of you. For now, however, just a single brush of your fingertips against him is enough. He has to hold his breath as he guides your delicate palm over his velvety shaft to stroke the needy ache away; if he isn't careful, he'd cum just like this. He hisses, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth as your fingers wrap around him and your thumb seeks out the weeping slit of his blunt tip. Arthur is, by no means, a small man: his legs are long, torso strong and wide, feet and hands are like bear paws, and his cock.. God, his cock is big. You could use both of your hands to stroke him and still, there'd be enough room for his tip to be entirely untouched. But you make sure as you stroke him with one hand, you pay extra attention to his tip, smearing his drooling precum over as much of him as you can, even down to the dark and wiry curls along his base and balls.

He's trying so hard to hold himself back, but with each tender pass of your thumb over that sweet spot along the underside of his tip, the last remnants of his patience crack away. You feel him crumbling like this, crumbling into a frenzied mess of low-hummed breaths and grunts through gritted teeth, and you fucking love it. Before you can even think about the desire roaring in the cavernous pit of your stomach, aching to be quelled, he smashes his lips into yours so hard that you're sure one of you is bleeding. The pain of his busted lip splitting back open is an angry reminder of the frustration still lingering at the back of his mind; he's as tensed up, pent-up, as a taut rope ready to snap.

With a quick movement, he swats your hand away, preventing you from jacking him into a fast climax. Then, in one swift motion, he grabs hold of your thighs and forcefully yanks you toward him, making the round swell of your plump ass plant firmly against the hard front of his strong body. Your thighs spread out, squishing over and conforming to the contour of his hips, the intimate contact leaving you both ragged and breathless. Your heart drums a frantic rhythm in your ears, drowning out all other thoughts and sensations that belong to you alone. It's as if your mind has descended into a tangled web of strangled noises and glorious sensations that only Arthur seems able to untangle or soothe. The faint outline of his body nestled between your thighs is a constant reminder that nothing beyond this moment, beyond him hidden away with you inside of this tent, matters.

The hard length of his turgid pride parts your folds, gliding over the slick thatch of curls usually concealing your cunt from his eyes, but with his sight hindered, he can explore every single nook, roll, and crevice without you shying away. His weight bares down on you as he holds your legs into the crook of his arms, nearly bending you in half as he drags his cock over your seam. It feels so good like this, even though you can hardly breathe with the thickness of your thighs pressing against your already plump stomach, but when the tip of his cock knocks into your clit, it makes the strained pain well worth it. The back of your hand flies over your mouth as he continues on like this, pleasuring himself and you with each agonizingly slow thrust. Hearing your ragged, strangled half-breaths, he releases your thighs, leaving them to splay out lazily on either side of his hips as he leans down to steal a tender kiss.

Upon breaking his lips away from yours, the low hum of his voice finds its way through the haziness of your lust-broken mind as he murmurs against the shell of your ear, "Gonna take ya just like this..."

Chapped lips skim over your jawline and trail to your lips, where he gives you another tender kiss filled with gentle affection: polar opposite to the rough sex-driven outlaw you've gotten a taste of tonight, but aligning perfectly with the man you fell in love with all those years ago. Scraped knuckles skim against your slick heat as he slips his hand in between you both and presses flat over the thick, dark curls at the base of his throbbing length. His fingers spread wide over his pubic bone, holding his cock between his middle and ring finger, stiffening himself outward to seek out your clenched entrance. With a slight pullback of his hips, he guides himself to your slit, catching right on the taut muscle before pressing forward and splitting you open.

A soft cry hums in the back of your throat and he shushes you so tenderly, sliding his hands over your knees and down your shins to soothe the ache he knows you're feeling. You're so fucking tight, hardly different from the first night he took you and bedded you properly back at the Saint's Hotel. It nearly shatters him when your walls flutter around him, squeezing and pulling him in inch by inch as if you were carved out just for him to sink into. He stills only for a short moment, letting you feel him nestled up against your cervix before he slides himself out and enters you again with a sharp snap of his hips. Lingering anger and frustration from the shit day he's had still pulsates at the back of his mind, desperate to be released as the tension in his body rises.

The tight walls of your cunt clench onto him for dear life as jolts of pleasure and pain rack through your body.

Behind the shield of your palm, you cry out, "A-Agh, Arthur!"

You're trying your best to be quiet, to still your ragged breaths and hide your whimpers, but he's making it incredibly difficult. Each slow drag of his cock coming out of you with a satisfying pop, only to pierce you with a hard roll of his hips, sends you reeling. You're seeing stars, shaking from the pleasurable burn of the passionate fire he's stirring within you. Strong hands grip your hips, keeping you still as his thrusts guide you into a steady rhythm that makes the old wooden frame creak and groan with every subtle and sharp movement that your bodies make. Being discreet has left his mind entirely, no longer concerned with what sounds are coming out of his tent as he fucks you good and proper. No, he couldn't care less when the sounds of your slick pussy squelches as he presses himself flush against you and groans against the pulse point of your neck.

"Don't want ya hidin' them purdy sounds, Darlin'. Let 'em out for me," he grunts out between slow but hard thrusts.

Usually, intimacy like this is savored in the shaking breaths and whispered little sounds only audible to your ears, but tonight... Tonight Arthur is something else entirely. Primal. A damn, dirty outlaw. You love this new view of him, but you can't allow yourself to let the others hear. What if someone were walking by? Or Hosea or Dutch hear you two going at it? You wouldn't be able to look at them for a week! But he doesn't give you much choice in the matter: snaking his hand down between your bodies, his muscular forearm presses against your plush belly while his thumb immediately finds your clit.

"O-Oh, God," you whine as the pad of his thumb circles over you, followed by his name dripping off your tongue like the sweetest honey. "At's it... Such a good girl takin' me so deep. Mmm.. Gonna cum 'round me ain'tchu? Gonna give me a real good one, baby?"

God damn him if his mouth ain't filthy. The way he croons out those little praises and words of encouragement has your climax building faster than you ever could have anticipated. And the swirling of his thumb? It has you shaking, whining, pleading, practically begging for your release as he talks you through it, "C'mon, Darlin'... I feel ya squeezin' me real tight," he praises, "'At's it. Focus on me."

With one more swipe of his thumb over your sensitive clit and his cock hitting that sweet spot right against your cervix, you're tensing, digging your heels into the thin mattress, and cumming around him so hard that you see white. It takes everything in you not to scream, but the strangled sound coming out of you is loud enough to warrant some head-turning if anyone were awake. The moment your walls flutter and start milking him, he falls forward and drops down onto his elbows to cage you in. His thrusts are relentless as he takes his anger out on you in this way, using every movement of his body to release the bristling anger clutching onto his mind like a damn vice grip. No matter how fervent and frenzied, he's still careful not to hurt you, always thinking about how good he's making you feel while chasing his own release.

Arthur isn't a man of many words, but when you're gripped around him like this, clutching him with your arms, legs, and your fluttering pussy, he is downright mouthy. "Oh, such a good girl for listenin' to me. Shh.. Shh. I gotchu, baby. I gotchu."

His mouth hovers over yours, claiming your lips as he kisses you hard and possessively. Moans spill out of you, traveling through the expanse of his throat until it hums within his chest and he echoes one back. To talk like this with him, in a language only two lovers could understand, is far more intimate and pleasurable than anyone could ever know. Arthur is yours and you are his, no ownership or proprietary claim, but just the pleasant knowledge that both of you choose to love each other is enough.

With a few more rolls of his hips, he's nearing his own orgasm: length twitching and engorging as his balls tighten. In desperation, he quickly climbs off of you and pulls his cock out from your core. His right hand tightens into a fist around himself, and although you can't see it, you hear the lewd, effortless slide of his hand vigorously pumping over his tip like his life depends on cumming for you.

Finally, his orgasm hits him, working its way out of his tightened balls and spurting over your plump mound and belly. If he could see his spend on you like this, it'd be enough to make him cum all over again. But both of you are far too exhausted to even consider that so soon. You're still shaking, panting heavily as he lowers himself down onto you, not caring that his sticky spend is now covering the front of his body as well, as your sweaty bodies come down from such an enormous height.

His touch traces a slow, deliberate path down your leg until his fingertips reach the softness of your hip, where he gives your flesh a gentle but firm grasp. Reveling in the smoothness of your skin and the feel of your curvy form beneath his palm, he lets out a slow exhale through his nose. The heat of his breath spills over your neck and shoulder, doubled by the heavy breaths leaving his lips as he lazily peppers your clammy skin with kisses.

After a long stretch of quiet spent nestled into his hair, breathing in the comforting remnants of campfire intermingled with his musky scent, your breathing finally begins to steady. Slowly, your senses return to you one by one, like pieces of a puzzle falling back into place. Shock and disbelief jolt through your entire being as it finally hits you how easily he manipulated your body with his own strength and skill as a lover. You'd heard of men being rough with women, but never did you think it could be this pleasurable.

Your voice finally cuts through the relative silence, carrying a deep sense of satisfaction and astonishment with it, "Wh-here in the hell did that come from?"

An amused chuckle rumbles inside his chest, slightly huffing out of his nose as he slightly pushes himself off of you to gauge your reaction, "Reckon I were a little pent up. Why? You like it?"

To say you liked it was an understatement, but you'd like anything as long as Arthur were right there with you to experience it just the same. While his right hand slides up over the plump contours of your body, appreciatively grabbing at the plushness of your stomach and breasts, he lovingly brushes a few stray strands of hair off your forehead stuck there by the sweat covering your body. You hum softly in agreement to his question, deciding that you did enjoy this different side of him you hadn't respected, despite his rough exterior.

"Mhmm.. 'S always good with you," the loving words you murmur cling to his heart and earn you a pleasant kiss that tastes like the remnants of his busted lip.

As his lips trail back down over your jawline, his beard delightfully scratches over your sensitive skin, causing you to hum in appreciation for him loving you like a man who worships the very ground you walk upon. Your own body follows his lead, fingertips glide down the entire length of his back, tracing the contour of muscle that hint at the immense strength lurking beneath. You can't help but marvel at his shape, this man you love so dearly, and how his body was molded for love and carved from such a hard life. While your fingertips glide across his muscled frame, you can feel the subtle shift of his body as he adjusts himself on top of you, notricebly more relaxed than before: a clear testamanet to the calming eddect your touch has on him.

Curiosity peaked, you murmur, "You relaxed now?" as your fingertips idly trace the two little dimples that grace the base of his spine, just above the firm and muscular curve of his ass.

An amused smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, obviously enjoying the path your fingertips are carving out over his back. He'd never admit it, but he loves it when you grab him unabashedly, palming his ass like he so often does to you. The warmth of his cock brushing over your leg, hardening much faster than he expected for a man his age, tells you all you need to know.

He agrees with you, humming softly against your chest as he inches himself down to where his mouth hovers over the plump swell of your breasts, "Thinkin' that we just might need a little more time for relaxin', don'tchu?"

A/N: Big thanks for the divider from @saradika-graphics and the beautiful gif from @sunwingsunset, please go send them some love for their work! <3

Other creators that expressed interest and drew inspiration from: @subpopizzy , @cassietrn , @coltermorning , @redwritr, @zae-heeyyy, @twola , @amorgansgal

Please do go check all the blogs I tagged! You surely won't be disappointed!

As always, sending my love - M. <3

[zae-heeyyy]

Recalcitrance

Summary: You and Ms. Grimshaw just can't get along. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader Word Count: 1,763 Tags: fluff, kissing, high honor Arthur Warnings: camp violence, angry Arthur, suggestive themes

a/n: I have mixed feelings about Grimshaw. I think she's a very enigmatic character. Still, based on interactions I've seen with her, I feel this isn't too far off. These always end up super long for some reason. Idk how that keeps happening. Anyway, I hope you enjoy; thanks for reading!

recalcitrance: resistance to authority or guidance, often characterized by defiance or disobedience. It implies a refusal to comply with rules or expectations, despite attempts to persuade or control.

You and Abigail Roberts went way, way back. Working girls stuck to a code; part of that code was looking out for each other and ensuring you returned after one of your "shifts." Abigail ran away for a while, leaving you to assume she'd met a rich man and settled down.

When you met her again, she introduced you to Dutch Van Der Linde and company; you fell in with them shortly after. Since then, you constantly scrubbed blood from clothes, slept on the ground, and ate whatever game Pearson could find for the stew. Many girls you knew would never trade that life for this one, but you had a family to return to, even if they weren't the most conventional. And amidst it all, you'd found something you didn't think possible for you. 

You were drawn to Arthur Morgan instantly. The little things spoke volumes for you—how he checked on you in passing, the moments spent playing dominos together, and his overall politeness towards you. The bar was in hell, but he treated you so differently than any man ever had. Arthur's dumb cowboy act didn't fool you for a second, and you were captivated by him.

After one too many inadvertent shoulder grazes and incidental hand touches, the chemistry between you had become undeniable. Following a game of dominos he let you win, the stocky man asked you to take a walk with him. You weren't too far away from camp before you found yourself pressed against a tree by him in a heated kiss. So many thoughts swirled around your head. You were in the middle of nowhere; it was pitch black, and you were being hunted by the law, yet there against that tree was the safest you'd felt in a long time. 

Then, on another fateful night, you were alone with him at the campfire while everybody else had settled down. A sly smirk crossed his face, and he scooted closer to you, grabbing and kissing your hand. You giggled, maintaining eye contact as he kissed up your arm, gradually, a low groan escaping him. One thing led to another, and he guided you into his tent. You let him have you, and you, him. 

It was then, when you were on the brink of your climax, half-lidded eyes staring upward into his, that you finally understood what people meant by lovemaking. When it was all over, you got up to leave out of habit, but he drew you back into his arms and asked you to stay.

Since then, you've been his girl, and he made sure everybody knew, always kissing you before he left for a job, settling you into his lap at the poker table, or sneaking you away from your chores to spend time with him. You saw each other for what you were, not the labels that had been applied to you. And you loved him so much.

For the first time in a long time, your life was good. Well, mostly, except you hadn't quite mastered the life of navigating Ms. Grimshaw. Over the almost year you'd known her, she was rarely nice to you. She seemed more tame when Arthur was around, but he wasn't today.

By noon, you had gotten sick of hearing her voice, and she seemed more ornery than usual. The nagging was constant: do this, don't do that, do this faster, do this slower. You wished she'd shut the hell up and leave you alone. Just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, you saw her speed-walking towards you.

You were sitting, about to light a cigarette, when she approached, red-faced, huffing, and talking fast, "There you are," she started, putting a finger in your face. "Sitting around like always. I have had it with you!" You stood quickly out of instinct and opened your mouth to speak, but she cut you off. "You're useless around here, so why don't you go into town and start selling yourself again. At least then you'd finally be carrying your weight!" 

Her words stung like branding, making your heart race and your eyes sting. The few people left at camp had gone quiet. Mary-Beth looked on nervously while Karen was glaring at the older woman. Your heart pounded in your ears, and you spoke faster than your brain could process.

"All you're good for is being an ugly, hateful bitch." As soon as the words left your mouth, she swung on you. It was a backhanded slap that stung and broke the barrier that was holding back your tears. You recoiled, holding your stinging face.

"Know your place, girl, before you end up somewhere worse than on your back. Now get!" She pointed towards the edge of camp.

"Screw you," you said, quickly wiping away a falling tear, "I'd rather fuck every man in town before I keep letting myself be treated like this." You stepped up to her, " Want me to leave? Well, I'm goin."

And you did. You collected what little belongings you had into a bag and charged out of camp, eyes forward and your head held high. Tilly and Mary-Beth tried to stop you, but you marched down the dirt path until they couldn't see you anymore.

"Look what you gone and did you old hag," Karen spat, "Oh, just wait til Mr. Morgan gets back. Bet you won't be so high and mighty then." 

Arthur didn't ride in until sunset; he searched for you before even getting off his horse. His face fell confused by your absence, and just as he was about to inquire, Mary-Beth and Tilly approached. He knew instantly that something was wrong.

"What, what is it?" His eyes searched theirs. They looked at each other, silently debating who'd break the news to him. It was Tilly who stepped forward, putting a calming hand on Arthur's arm. She talked low and cautious, "Arthur, she—her and Ms. Grimshaw—they—" She was cut off by Karen and Ms. Grimshaw beelining towards them.

Karen's voice boomed, speech slurred. "Go ahead, tell 'em." She waved her beer-clutching hand between Arthur and Ms. Grimshaw, defiantly meeting Susan's gaze before tearing her eyes away to meet Arthur's. "That wench Grimshaw smacked her across the face and ran her out!"

Clenching his fist involuntarily, he leaned into Karen, talking low and steady. "The hell are you talking 'bout?" His chest was rising and falling quickly now.

Ms. Grimshaw stood resolute and waved him off. "This doesn't concern you, Mr. Morgan. This is my camp, and these are my girls and my rules," she finished, arms crossed, staring at Arthur.

Stepping close, he imposed his broad figure on Ms. Grimshaw, flashing a smile that was anything but inviting. He took on a tone he rarely used with the women.

"Oh, Susan, that's where me and you disagree. This may very well be your camp, and you can make up all the rules you want, but she's my girl." His face had straightened into a scowl by the time he finished.

"Well, I'll—" she began incredulously, hands still on her hips, but Arthur threw up a halting finger.

"Look, Ms. Grimshaw, I respect how you run this camp, but that girl, she's off limits. Now, I'm gonna find her and bring her back, and you can raise all the hell you want, but if you lay a finger on her again—" 

"Arthur..." Tilly cut in warningly. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned away, ending his conversation with Susan. "Where'd she go?" he asked no one and everyone at the same time, speed walking to his horse.

"She took off down the road," Mary-Beth called out, but his horse was already kicking up dirt. Riding as fast as he could, he reached the nearest town at record speed. He hitched the horse outside the train station, forcing the doors open with his shoulder. The place went quiet, everybody focusing on the sudden disturbance. Arthur ignored the looks he was getting, scanning faces for yours. Spotting you took no time, and you stood as soon as you recognized him. He rushed to you, taking your hands in his; concern riddled his face— a rare sight. Guilt washed over you as you looked up into his eyes; you opened your mouth to speak, but he started before you.

"You alright?" he asked, looking you up and down. Dirt had stained the hem of your skirt, and your eyes were tired; his frown grew as he looked you over. You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your head to his chest and nodding.

"Wasn't gonna go, just needed to get away for a while," you murmured into his chest. Rubbing your back soothingly, he exhaled with soft, relieved laughter. One arm still around you, he gently tilted your head to meet his gaze with his free one.

"Don't you go walking out on us. Least without tellin' me first."

You agreed with a quick bob of your head, and he pulled your chin in towards his, kissing you on the mouth. He withdrew and gestured to the bench you'd risen from earlier; you both sat. Arthur wrapped a big arm around you, and you buried your face into his shoulder.

"That woman hates me," you grumbled with a pout. Arthur squeezed you closer, and a faint grin formed on his lips.

"Nah, she never liked any girl I brought around. Give her more time." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "It's all outta love, I think," he concluded. You huffed at that, disbelieving.

"She got a funny way of showing it."

"Sure," he chuckled again. He sat for another minute before gently nudging you off his shoulder. Grabbing your bag and standing, he asked, "So you gonna come back with me?"

You tried to sulk but couldn't when he was standing there waiting patiently with his hand out. You finally relented. 

"Fine, but I ain't just gonna take it next time," you declared, taking his hand. A big smile stretched across his face. 

"You ain't gotta do nothing you don't wanna. If any of those fools have a problem with it, send 'em to me." You made your way out of the train station, hand in hand. You paused, gazing at him with a quirked eyebrow.

"I can handle myself just fine, Arthur Morgan." Another chuckle built up in him as he threw your bag on the horse. He turned to kiss the top of your head before grabbing you by the waist and lifting you up on the horse.

"I know, darlin'."

[bimrsadler]

hello, i was wondering if you were down and vibing to do some tired and sleepy arthur sneaking into f!readers bed late late at night after being away from camp for a long time? ty!

Goodnight and Goodmorning

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female reader

Word count: 1,000

Warnings/tags: fluff, high honor Arthur, mutual pining, first kiss

Notes: I absolutely vibe with it! Since you didn’t specify I went ahead and just made it good ol’ fluff, if you had more in mind like smut (or if anyone wants a smutty part 2) feel free to let me know!

ETA: part 2 is here

Sleep didn’t come easy for you when Arthur was gone, not for lack of trying. Tossing and turning, the emptiness beside you and the constant worry of if he was safe kept rest at bay. You wondered if he was somewhere in the The Heartlands under the stars, worrying the same about you.

There was a mutual desire that hadn’t been spoken aloud. Arthur was surprisingly shy for a man of action, you found, and you didn’t want to push him because of this. It happened naturally in moments of solitude away from the others, around the fire when neither of you could sleep, on the outskirts of camp when you found excuses to run into each other. It became more with your head on his shoulder as you drifted off against a tree, his hands on yours as he taught you to shoot even though you already knew how.

Eventually you found your way to his bed on a cold night. Diverging to head to your own tents your gazes lingered and walking slowed; finally hinting to Arthur that there was no harm in wanting company. It was endearing to watch as he stammered a nervous, “I ’spose,” placing a gentle hand on the small of your back.

For a man who kept company at arms length most of the time, he held you close that night. Reassurance was needed before he felt comfortable of course, wanting to hear that you were okay with it multiple times over.

“Promise I won’t do anything untoward.” He must have said that and other iterations of it at least five times before you placed his arm around your waist yourself and confided how much you trusted him.

And it was true. Though Arthur was intimidating, angry and tough as nails; he always made you feel safe. You’d been around “gentlemen” who were perfect on paper but predators behind closed doors.

You’d been in the company of many lecherous and pushy men — some even in the gang, but Arthur? He would put them in their place and apologize to you with their blood on his knuckles.

You always missed his presence in camp but it was a far worse struggle now that you shared a connection.

Drifting in and out the time of night was indiscernible each time you briefly woke, the sound of chatter and guitar steadily replaced by crickets and the dying fire.

As the night wore on the familiar feeling of Arthur’s rugged hands on your bare shoulder roused a fluttering jolt in your stomach. It took his shifting weight behind you and warm chest against your back to convince you you weren’t dreaming.

Peering back the faint moonlight breaking through the canvas revealed Arthur gazing down at you with a grin. “M’sorry, didn’t mean to wake ya.”

“Was worried you weren’t coming back, big guy,” you murmured only half-joking, voice heavy with sleep.

“I’ll always come back darlin’, just hopefully a little sooner nex’time.” He pulled flush to him, “now try’n get some more sleep.”

“Gonna hold you to that,” you stretched underneath his bulky arms with a yawn.

The unexpected feeling of Arthur’s lips pressed gently to your temple made a warmth blossom in your chest, spreading to the rest of your pining body.

Slowly rolling over to be face to face you saw an anxious expression highlighted by bruises and cuts along Arthur’s cheekbones. “I missed ya sweetheart,” he admitted softly while rubbing his thumb delicately along your shoulder.

You inquired worryingly with a gesture towards his face, “what happened?”

“Eh, weren’t nothin’.” He shrugged, brushing it off as usual.

“Sure looks like something.” Propping yourself up on your elbows you reciprocated the comfort and allowed your lips to meet Arthur’s skin for the first time. Lightly wetting them you pressed gentle kisses to each bruise, his breath hitching before he let it out in one long, relieved sigh.

He looked at you with a reverence that was almost overwhelming, how a man as rough and wild as him could radiate such softness for you.

“Guess I needed that, thank you.”

“Maybe you need a proper one Mr. Morgan?”

“Huh?” Arthur’s eyes darted, not quite catching on as you smirked with anticipation. “A proper wh—oh!”

Blushing at the realization that you meant a proper kiss, he swallowed hard. “Well uh, if that’s somethin’ you wanna give me…I’d be a damned fool to say no.”

Brushing a lock of hair off his brow, you leaned in and parted you lips for his. Arthur met you the rest of the way and locked them tenderly, staying still together to savor the moment.

He moved back slightly to peer down at you for any sign of hesitation — finding none of course. Cupping the side of your head with his sizable hand he pulled you close for long, languid kisses, accentuated by his tongue gingerly meeting yours.

The moment was soft and sweet and everything you never thought you’d have with Arthur Morgan. The light whimpers with smiles in between, the ever so subtle urging of your hips wanting more but unsure of how far to take it. It could have easily been a dream you’d had in days past.

As Arthur slowed he pressed his forehead to yours with eyes closed, peaceful and unworried. “This is the only place I wanna be right now…”

Gently adjusting you to lay on your back, Arthur tucked the blankets around you before resting his head on your chest and draping his arm across your midsection.

“Let’s sleep darlin’, we’ll take our time in the mornin’ too…”

It was a gift to know Arthur was this comfortable with you. He wanted to talk to people, to let his guard down and be vulnerable. You were sure he wouldn’t admit it and hadn’t noticed that you had noticed, but it was clear as day in his quieter moments.

Whatever happened on whatever mission Dutch had sent him on, he was battered and tired. If Arthur made you feel safe then you could be his safe haven too.

Running your nails along the expanse of his back and broad shoulders, you watched his head rise and fall with your breaths as he drifted off. The warmth of his skin on yours meant you were sure to follow suit, relieved to have him back and looking forward to what the morning might bring.

[moonxknightx]

𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 --- Arthur Morgan x F!Reader ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 --- Fluff :) ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌 --- RDR ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 --- None! Established Relationship ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 --- You and Arthur take a day for yourselves after working your asses off for the gang.

“ARE YOU ALRIGHT THERE DARLIN’?” Asked Arthur while looking over his shoulder to see you leaning against his back while your arms are around his waist.

“Mhm i’m fine.” You murmured while nuzzling even closer against Arthur’s back.

Arthur chuckled while turning back to focus on the road, leading his horse along the small sand path in front of him.

“Are you comfortable?” He asked after a while. “Yes honey.” You smiled softly while looking over Arthur’s shoulder to see where you were currently riding.

“Are we almost there?” You asked, making Arthur chuckle. “Almost sweetheart.” He smiled while shaking his heart slightly.

“Always so impatient.” Murmured Arthur under his breath. “Hey i heard that.” You scoffed while playfully hitting his back.

“Oh i’m sorry ma’am.” Joked Arthur while giving your hands which were still around his waist, a little squeeze.

You and Arthur were currently on your way to one of your favorite hangout spots on his horse. After both of you worked your asses off for the gang for the past couple of weeks, you two realized it was time the two of you relaxed a little. Especially after it’s been a month of having any quality time with one another.

So, when Dutch decided to give you both a day off, you and Arthur almost immediately decided to go out of camp to a small lake nearby, to just relax with one another.

You were responsible for the food and Arthur was responsible for well…just getting the two of you to the lake.

Before the two of you left this morning, you packed a small lunch basket with various sorts of snacks, strawberries, bread, chocolate, two slices of cake, some candy and a bottle of wine. You also grabbed a blanket for you and Arthur to sit on. This day was going to be perfect. You were sure of it.

Arthur hummed a nice little melody while turning the horse to his right, leading you two towards the lake which was in fact, already in front of you.

“We’re here hon.” Arthur said while his horse came to a halt. “Really?” Your excited voice spoke from behind his back.

You looked over Arthur’s shoulder to see a beautiful blue lake with tall grass and flowers around it.

“It’s beautiful.” You sighed happily while trying to get off Arthur’s horse. “Hey!” Arthur said while quickly wrapping his arm around your waist, helping you down.

“Thank you.” You smiled sheepishly before twirling around, appreciating the beautiful view and sunny weather.

Arthur could not help but smile while looking at you. You looked absolutely beautiful. He would look at you for days if he could.

“Are you coming cowboy?” You smiled while grabbing the lunch basket. “Yeah i’m coming.” Chuckled Arthur while sliding down his horse.

“Let me get that for you.” He smiled while taking the basket from your grip. Arthur held the basket in his left hand and took hold of your hand with the other.

Together, the two of you walked towards the tall grass near the lake. You soon found the perfect place to settle and grabbed the blanket out of the basket. Arthur watched how you splayed the blanket on the grass before settling down on it.

“What are you waiting for?” You smiled, noticing how Arthur was staring at you. Arthur was quickly pulled back to reality by your voice and cleared his throat. He carefully put the basket down before sitting down himself.

“I missed this.” You murmured while shuffling closer to Arthur. “Me too.” Arthur sighed softly while spreading his legs so you could sit between them.

Soon you were settled between Arthur’s legs while leaning against his chest. “You look beautiful today darlin’.” Arthur complimented before kissing your cheek.

“Thank you honey. You look quite good yourself.” You smiled slightly. Arthur rolled his eyes playfully. He was never really good at accepting any kind of compliment or praise, so usually he just rolled his eyes at the comments or pretended to not hear them.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me Mister Morgan.” You laughed while pointing your chin towards the sky so you could look at your man.

Arthur’s lips curled up in a shy smile before leaning down to place a small peck on your lips.

“I love you Arthur Morgan.” You sighed happily, making Arthur blush. “And i love you sweetheart.” He smiled while tracing your skin.

“We should do this more often.” You said while staring ahead of you, enjoying the sun. “If only Dutch would let us.” Arthur mumbled, reaching for the basket.

You watched how he opened the basket and pulled out the first snack, Strawberries.

“You want one ma’am?” Arthur smiled down at you. You nodded excitedly and watched how Arthur opened the small box which contained the fruit.

Arthur fetched a strawberry from the box and held in front of you. He watched how you took a bite from it before quickly popping the other half in his own mouth.

“Hey!” You called while turning around to face Arthur. “What is the problem miss?” Arthur smirked while looking at you.

“That was mine.” You said while putting on your best pouting face. Arthur couldn’t help but laugh before grabbing his cowboy hat from his head to place it on your head.

“Adorable.” Arthur gave you a wink, causing you to roll your eyes before lunging forward, wrapping your arms around his neck while Arthur pulled you onto his lap.

“You want more strawberries?” Arthur asked, stroking your back while you completely relaxed. “Yes.”

Artur smiled while grabbing another strawberry. He held in front of your mouth and in no time, the strawberry was gone. “It is so good.” You sighed while Arthur popped one into his own mouth.

“I agree.” Arthur replied before rummaging through the other contents of the basket.

“What do you want now?” Arthur asked while you leaned your head against his shoulder. “Cake?” Your sweet voice said. “An amazing choice.” Chuckled Arthur, grabbing the two pieces of cake out of the basket.

~

“I think i ate too much darlin’.” Grunted Arthur while looking up at the beautiful blue sky. The two of you were currently lying down on the blanket, Arthur on his back and you on your side with one leg swung over Arthur’s waist.

“You think so?” You smiled while gently touching Arthur’s cheek. Arthur grunted again, tightening his grip on your body while closing his eyes.

“You did eat a lot honey.” You almost whispered. Arthur opened his eyes just to roll them, causing you to scoff.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me mister!” You said while nudging his shoulder. “Oh I apologize ma’am.” Arthur chuckled. He moved his hands down to your hips and lifted you easily onto his lap.

You both stared into each other’s eyes for a moment. Just admiring the presence of the other. God you loved spending time with Arthur. He always made you feel so relaxed and happy.

“What are you thinkin’ about mhm?” Arthur’s low voice spoke. A small smile crept onto your face while shrugging. “Just happy to be here with you.”

Arthur’s lips moved up in a smile before pulling you down so he could kiss you. The moment your lips touched his, you wrapped your hands around his neck to pull him closer if that was even possible. Arthur chuckled against your lips before moving both of your bodies up, so he was sitting on the blanket with you still on his lap.

“I love you sweetheart.” Mumbled Arthur against your lips. You pulled away from his touch and gently moved your hand through his hair. “I love you too cowboy.”

Arthur couldn’t help but laugh before he used his strength to get back to his feet with you still wrapped around him.

“Arthur what are you doing?” You asked, noticing Arthur was moving towards the lake. “Nothin’.” He smirked while kicking off his boots on the grass.

“Arthur…” You warned slowly. Arthur just ignored you and took your boots off as well, throwing them next to his.

“You are not going to throw me in there, Morgan.” You warned again. Arthur just smiled while his feet came in contact with the blue water.

“Arthur i’m wearing clothes!” You tried to stop him from doing whatever he was trying to do, but it didn’t help.

“I have spare clothes in my satchel.” Arthur murmured while stepping deeper into the waist.

“Yeah for you! Not for me.” You said immediately. “Then you will wear some of my clothes okay? I know you like wearing them.” Arthur chuckled.

You rolled your eyes and embraced yourself for the feeling of the cold water against your skin.

“Are you ready girl?” Arthur asked with a sly smile on his face. You shook your head, causing Arthur to laugh.

Within seconds both of your bodies were completely in the lake, and both of your clothes completely drained.

“I hate you!” You hissed, feeling the cold water against your skin while swimming away from Arthur, splashing some water onto his face.

“Hey get back here!” Arthur laughed, quickly swimming after you. “We could’ve at last taken off our clothes.” You said once Arthur caught up with you.

“Now where is the fun in that?” Arthur teased while wrapping his arms around your waist while you wrapped you legs around his.

“You are going to pay for my new clothes.” You said, trying to sound angry. Unfortunately you failed miserably as a small smile appeared on your face.

“Or darlin’, you could just let them dry.” Arthur smiled while holding up his shoulders. “Mhm i like the other option better, Morgan.” You smiled.

Arthur made an “ah” noise before leaning down to kiss you. “Then i will buy some new clothes, okay?” Arthur asked while giving your hips a little squeeze. You hummed, resting your chin on Arthur’s shoulder.

“I like spending quality time with you.” You murmured. Arthur’s lips curled up in a smile while he softly patted your back. “Me too sweetheart, me too.”

“If only Dutch would give it to us more.” You sighed. Arthur sighed while looking across the water. One day you and him will leave the gang, leave all the criminality and other things behind to start a normal life somewhere else. Maybe in a small house near town, or maybe a cabin in the forest? Or near a lake? It didn’t matter to Arthur. The only thing that truly mattered to him was getting you and him out of here before it was to late. And he was certainly that he would succeed at that.

[mrm0rgansw0man]

Can I request something real quick?

Arthur founds out he has a daughter but she’s living in the streets type orphan…

i got WAYY too into this story lol i hope you enjoyy!! Xx

i took a little bit of creative liberty with this one and it was just a blast to write

Daughter of Legend

"She looks just like you, Arthur!" Dutch said, elbowing Arthur arm and wiggling his eyebrows.

"There's no way..." Arthur mumbled, his voice sounded distant. His mind was somewhere else.

"Arthur! We need to go talk to her at least. I mean, look at the girl!"

"Oh fine!" Arthur grumbled. There was no way. She couldn't be..unless... No... Wait... Oh god-

"Hey! Why don't you men jus' take a picture of me if yer' gonna keep starin'! Piss off!"

That voice pulled Arthur from his thoughts, and drew a laugh from Dutch.

"So sorry, little Miss!" Dutch said, raising his hands in the air. "We just-"

"No! Men like you only want one thing from a girl like me- and you can't have it! You friends with the men who came after me the other night? If you come any closer I'll scream!" The girl spat. And fucking god it just broke Arthur's heart. Was it really her?

"Honey.. we're not here to hurt you. Promise." Arthur said, looking the girl in the eyes. Icy blue, just like his. "I jus'..."

"You..." The girl started, cautiously making her way towards Arthur. The southern drawl of her voice sounding all too familiar. "Do I... Are you...?"

"Is your name Victoria...?" Arthur asked softly, his voice raw with emotion but also full of hope.

The girl's eyes welled up with tears, her mouth was agape. Dutch had taken a step back, watching in awe from a distance. Now he understood why Arthur had reacted the way he did.

The girl nodded viciously. She knew who she was talking too, but she couldn't dare believe it to be true. Because what if it wasn't him? Even though she knew it was.

"Victoria Morgan..? Is that your name?" Arthur breathed out. Was is real?

"Yes!" Victoria cried, covering her mouth with her palms. She shook her head viciously. This was real, this was happening. It wasn't just a hopeful daydream she allowed herself to indulge in anymore. Her whole body shook the fore of her sobs, she began to fall forawrd.

Arthur ran forward, catching his little girl in his arms.

"Daddy!" Victoria sobbed, she wrapped her arms around her father and sobbed into his chest. Not even his strong and secure arms wrapping around her could calm her. "Oh it's you it's you I thought you forgot about me! I thought you left! I couldn't find you! Dad!"

Victoria wailed. A sound so painful and raw, it was barley contained by Arthur chest. He silently wept, a steady stream of tears flowing down his face.

"Oh my sweet baby girl.." Arthur said shakily. He cradled Victoria's head in his hands. Just like when she was a baby. It quieted her down a bit, just like when she was a baby. "I looked so hard for you and yer' Mama.... So so hard baby.."

"She's dead daddy..." Victoria whispered. "I- I-"

"Shhh Shhh honey it's okay." Arthur said softly. "You don't need to tell me nothin' now. I'm with you now. I'm never lettin' you outta my sight again."

"I've been so scared.. I tried to find you, for years daddy. I needed you so bad." Victoria whispered.

"Look at me." Arthur said, pulling away from Victoria slightly and holding her face so he could look her in the eyes. "You will never leave my side again. I'm gon' protect you. 'M here now, you just try and forget everythin' that happened to you over all these years. I'm gonna take care of you now."

"Nothin' else matters now that I'm by your side?" Victoria said with a sad laugh. Arthur returned the laugh. He used to say that same thing to Victoria when he'd come back to visit her injured. To stop her from worrying.

"That's right baby, that's right." Arthur said, using his thumbs to wipe away Victoria's stray tears.

"Arthur.." Dutch started, not really sure what to say. "Go..go get your little girl back to camp. I'll finish everything up here. But we need to talk when I get back."

Arthur nodded gratefully. Victoria ignored anyone and anything that wasn't her father, feeling safe in his arms but still stuck in that constant mode of survival and terror.

"I never though I'd see your pretty face again." Arthur said with a light chuckle. "You've grown t'be such a beautiful young woman.. I'm s' sorry I couldn't have been here to watch it happen."

"It's okay." VIctoria said with a smile. "It wasn't by choice, on either of our parts."

"Mhm." Arthur nodded. He smoothed down the ruffled bits of his daughters honey blonde hair. "You're 15 now, god there's so much I need to tell you. S'much we need to talk about.. C'mon. Let's get you home."

Arthur scooped up Victoria in his arms, and made his way over to his horse. He got Victoria settled before climbing on behind her. Neither of them could believe this was real.

"I never thought I'd see you again..." Victoria said softly. Arthur took one arm off the reins and squeezed his daughter in a hug. "Your Arthur Morgan? The gunslinger? And was that Dutch Van Der Linde?"

"That's right honey." Arthur chuckled. "I forget last time I saw ya' you were too young to know I had a name other than 'daddy.' "

"I only knew your last name, cause I heard mama call you Mr. Morgan a few times." Victoria said with a sigh. "I never even knew her name...."

"Eliza." Arthur said softly. Victoria nodded, though she didn't speak. He understood, I mean, what was there to say?

"When she.. y'know. She knew the people were comin'. She sent me out the back door, told me to run straight into the woods near the house. To get in deep, and told me not 'to come back, to wait there for her. She never came to get me. I stayed hidden till the next mornin' before I went back to the house and found her."

Arthur let out a deep and heavy sigh. Sweet Eliza, murdered. Gone. Dead. Her last act was to protect their daughter. God the woman she was. Arthur could shoot himself in the foot, if only he had done things differently.

"Do you know who they were?" Arthur asked quietly. Victoria sighed, running her hands through her hair as she began to think back to that horrible day.

"I remember her sayin' something about a bunch of 'Irish bastards' but that's 'bout it." Victoria said, so casually. If only she knew the information she had just given to her father.

Arthur's head swam, he couldn't hear anything other than the pounding of his heart in his ears.

Irish bastards.

Irish fucking bastards.

O'Driscolls.

a/n: will definitly be doing a part two of this! i get wayyy to invested in these requests and drabbles lol Xx

[hysnukun]

hey red dead circle, looking for help... obsession gone bad and truly worrying, i'm now starting to delve headfirst into writing rdr2 fanfics and i'm a stickler for writing dialogue as accurately as possible. i'm not a native english speaker and i've been taught and have written in british english for like, 10 years, so the jump to writing western cowboys in 1899 is BIG.

SO do any of you have any trusted and accurate resources to old west speech where i could find tips for grammar and words, etc. speech? online dictionaries that i could use?

[obsessedwrhys]

Ladies with gentlehands, I need help on choosing which fic to work on first so I will let you decide. I'm indecisive and can't fully concentrate so I need someone to pick for me. I'll start doing the fic with the most votes and the rest will come in order.

[yuitoru]

𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐌 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 - 𝐒.𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

🌀 — streamerbf! satoru gojo x fem! reader | 🌀 ft — fluff, angst(?) | 🌀 cw — swearing, satoru cant pull to save his life, mentions of death threats |

s.gojo streamer!au - the first time you make an (accidental) appearance on satoru's live stream

"that guy is definitely cheating!!" satoru groaned in frustration as he ran his hands through his fluffy white hair, grimacing down at the now loading screen in front of him. the neon lights from his monitor shone onto his face, the brightness clearly way too high but he always refused to change it - as he squinted to read the influx of comments in the live comments of his stream, a certain few caught his eye.

fushtoji : 'this guy actually sucks.'

kamo_choso : 'dead game tbh'

a small scowl almost instantly formed on his face, his eyes narrowed as he stared dead at the screen. "firstly, i do not suck! that was one bad round!! and second, fortnite is not a dead game. its in its redemption arc and you know it," satoru huffed, his face resembling a pouty toddler. he spun in his chair to look over to where you where sprawled out on his bed, scrolling through your phone. "can you believe this?? my own viewers are bullying me!!"

meg_gumi : 'oh great hes talking to himself.'

yuujiii : 'is someone there?'

"i am not talking to myself! fucking hell, whats with everyone taking the piss out of me today..." satoru said with a sigh, looking over at you with a pout. "babyyyy, make them stop..!!" he whined, dramatically hanging his head in his hands. you laughed softly, sending him a small smile before going back to your phone - however, your laugh had been just audible enough for it to be picked up by satoru’s mic, resulting in a rapid increase in his live chat comments.

user19899 : ‘wait is someone acc there??’

phantom08 : ‘it sounded like a girl..’

fushtoji : ‘dont tell me this guy actually has a gf.’

satoru glared at his camera before groaning and rolling his eyes, a whiny tone in his voice as he huffed. "why is it so hard for you all to believe that i have a girlfriend??! honestly im hurt..."

ryokuna : 'negative rizz.'

"i dont see why youre talking after your girlfriend just broke up with you, sukuna!" satoru mocked, sticking his tongue out before spinning back around on his chair to face you again. he opened his arms for you to come cuddle him, as one of his hands reached towards his keyboard to disable the camera. you slid off of his bed and walked towards him, before sitting down on his lap and cuddling into his chest. satoru pressed an attack of kisses against the top of your head, his hands roaming up and down your back. what the two of you were unaware of was the fact that satoru hadnt turned off his camera, instead only muting the stream, meaning that both your face and the way you were curled up in his arms were visible to the entire stream - over 20k people, at least.

fushtoji : 'oh shit he does actually have a gf.'

gojoswhore : 'WHAT NO WAY'

meg_gumi : 'this guy out of everyone???'

the two of you stayed how you were, completely oblivious to the fact that your relationship had just been exposed to his whole fanbase, and that the news would practically spread like wildfire. after a few minutes, you shuffled a bit in satoru's arms, trying to get comfortable, but his monitor caught the corner of your eye, causing your face to drop in shock. satoru followed your gaze, eventually locking with his own eyes from his screen, as he realised what had just happened. he scrambled forwards to cover your face and turn off his camera, letting out a groan as he looked at you.

"shit, baby, 'm so sorry.. i honestly didnt realise," he sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. he knew that you would eventually be shown on camera to meet his fans, but not this soon, and not like this. you two had just been shown in a private moment - something that satoru didnt want his audience to see. he looked up at you with an apologetic expression, before gently pressing a kiss to your forehead.

the chats had already started rolling in, with thousands of people commenting on your relationship, your appearance... it felt awful, like the entire world was now watching every single one of your movements and all having their own things to say about it. you couldnt have been on camera for more than a minute or two, but the chat was flooded with people's thoughts.

user38384 : 'shes pretty, but nothing special tbh'

kikio001 : 'kinda expected more from gojo'

miko3 : 'i think shes rly pretty, whats w the hate???'

mods had already started stepping in and removing the rude commenters, but the damage had already been done. people had seen your face for the first time, and were assuming all sorts of things about you. satoru noticed your downcast expression, and leaned forward to reach his keyboard, before unmuting himself, not bothering to turn the camera back on.

"if you are already commenting shit about my girlfriend, who you dont even know, and wont get to know the way i do, then youre honestly just a pathetic excuse for a human. show some more damn respect, its not hard to be a good person," and he ended the stream right there. wiping away any stray tears that had collected in your eyes, satoru smiled down at you before lifting you into his arms and standing from his chair, before carrying you back towards his bed and setting you down. he quickly slipped under the duvet with you, bringing your body into his chest as he sighed softly. "dont worry, baby.. ill sort this all out, okay? you dont have to ever come back onto the stream if you dont want to. i love you, pretty."

his gentle words, as well as his soft embrace, slowly lured you into your exhaustion - you were on the brink of sleep when you felt satoru press a feather-light kiss to your head, and that was the last thing you remembered before you fell asleep, completely safe and protected from all the harsh comments in satoru's arms, and that was the way that it would always be.

© yuitoru™ — dont copy, plagiarise, repost, modify and/or translate my works

[immajustvibehere]

Amidst a Crashing World (1/5)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

summary: You had left the gang about a year ago. There were many reasons as to why, but that you had received a rather gruff rejection from the man you loved was definitely on that list. Now, Arthur appears in front of your little cabin with an interesting demand.

tags for this series: fluff, little bit of angst, no-tb-Arthur, literally your love redemption, maybe smut (but probably not), slow burn (but I mean how slow can a story really burn in five chapters?)

Link to my Masterlist

1600 words, less than 10 minutes reading time

It had been a year since you had last seen him. He was one of the reasons why you had decided to leave the gang. Because it had become unbearable to be around the man you had feelings for. The man you had confessed those feelings to and the man who had rejected you. It had been an uncomfortable moment, to say the least. Dutch had been talking about a bigger score for a while now and the mission had only been a few days away. You had approached Arthur who had been seated near a campfire with Hosea and Reverend, deep in a seemingly serious but one-sided conversation.

"May I talk to you for a moment?", you had pleaded. Your hands had been shaking. You had been aware: every score the boys went on held the possibility of never seeing them again. And you had felt brave that day. Brave enough to finally confess that you had feelings for this man. He was kind enough and caring towards you. He never was someone to express affection too openly so you hoped...that even if he did not feel entirely the same, he might be open to get to know you better and give you a chance.

"Sure", Arthur had grunted, a little groggily and stood up. You had walked a few steps away from Reverend and Hosea, just far enough to make give them the impression that this was supposed to be a private conversation. Quickly, but precisely and not without a certain shake in your voice, you let Arthur know that you liked him. More than the normal amount at least.

You peaked through your curtains to watch this very man dismount from his horse and caringly fix its reins next to the one of your horse, which was barely acknowledging the visitor.

For a moment, Arthur had just stared. Then he had shifted awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck with a warm but stifled chuckle escaping his throat.

"Yer joking, aren't ya?", he mumbled as he nervously peeked back to Hosea and Reverend, who hadn’t exactly given you attention during this ordeal. When Arthur had caught your dead-serious face and how you swallowed after he had said those words, he knew that you, in fact, hadn’t been joking.

"I- ehr...I don't see ya like that, I'm sorry", he had stumbled over his words. His voice hadn’t been upbeat or hopeful, not even apologetic or friendly. No, the longer you had turned those words over in your mind afterwards, you heard how bitter, how disappointed, and somewhat accusatory he sounded. He had turned around and had walked back to his log, shaking his head, chuckling coldly.

Arthur's hand plunged into his jacket, and he pulled out a wrinkly, yellowy paper that he unfolded. As he held the paper in one hand, a grin flitted across his face, before he took a breath and started loudly:

"I'm looking for the fierce, the ferocious....", Arthur stopped and plucked a ripe tomato from its stem. You had been growing this beautiful tomato plant right next to the gate that separated your garden from the path that travellers commonly used. But Arthur was the first one who had the audacity to help himself. Then he went on: "The downright awful degenerate y/n. Supposedly, she robbed a stagecoach and left the driver in a condition that left much to desire...She has fled to find refuge from her abhorrent, ginormous bounty of 15 proud dollars!"

Arthur had a shit-eating big grin on his face when you finally pushed the door to your little cabin open. He popped the tomato into his mouth, savouring the taste as he watched you step into the light and lean against the door frame.  

"That you?", Arthur asked indistinctly with his mouth full, quick to catch some tomato juice with his sleeve as it escaped the corner of his mouth. He held up the bounty poster that showed the most unflattering sketch of your features that you had ever seen.

"I look myself in the mirror quite often, but I've never seen this creature staring back", you joked as you nodded at the sketch. You were still unsure what his sudden appearance at your doorstep was supposed to mean.

Arthur shrugged and sarcastically answered: "I really think they did ya justice. Have you seen the pictures going round of me?"

You had. They weren't nearly as bad as the one he held up of you. But they did paint him more cruel than he looked right now. Honestly, knowing him better, all you can see is an actually soft man which might look big and scary when he swings his gun around, but now, as he took his hat off, he looked harmless. The afternoon sun nearly blinded him as he looked at you, but he deemed the gesture necessary to be polite, apparently.

"Yer trying to take me in for a 15 dollar bounty?", you asked and crossed your arms.

"Don't want'a sound rude but that's barely worth it...", Arthur smiled, "No I ehrm...was close by. A farmer down that way told me you was living here. I helped him fix a wheel on his waggon."

"Sure...", you mumbled suspiciously. There was no way you would have naturally come up in this conversation.

"'s been a while...", Arthur commented.

"Yeah. More than a year. Took me this long to figure out how it'd bear fruit", you pointed at the tomato plant Arthur had stolen from.

Shamelessly, he plugged another one and ate it, "They're good."

"I know", you sighed. You had given up and moved aside to let the man into your cabin.

It was a humble little place. Just big enough to fit a table, three chairs, a bed, a stove and a cupboard. Arthur noticed the rifle that leaned next to the bed, the few books that were scattered on the table and finally his eyes fell on a couple of sketches you had pinned onto the wall. After leaving the gang, you had tried your luck with drawing. Yes, it was a way to remember Arthur, because though you haven't seen many of his drawings, you knew he sketched everything he laid his eyes on.

For a moment, you hoped that Arthur would comment on your sketches. There was one of a doe that you were particularly proud of, but Arthur just briefly scanned them before turning his attention back to you.

"Nice little cabin ya got here...killed the fella that lived in it before or...?", Arthur suggested, his eyes falling on a little hole in the roof that needed fixing and the bedframe which was uneven and brittle.

You almost laughed at the suggestion: "No. It belongs to an old lady who went to live with her sister in the city. She gave me the cabin to look out for, until her grandson is old enough to live in it."

"Oh", Arthur commented, fidgeting with his hat.

You had spent months trying to forget this man. You were sure you'd never see him again, not if you could have helped it. You were glad about leaving your affiliations with the van der Linde gang behind. However, this had never been the official deal. The deal had been that you could roam for a while, figure yourself out and then join back. You never did. And now you had a sour feeling as to why this man was currently scanning your backyard through the window.

"Why are you here?", you asked, your tone serious.

"It's good to see you again", Arthur light-heartedly said. It almost sounded like a joke.

"Arthur", you warned him.

"Lot has happened since you left...", Arthur said, still wandering around in this cabin as if he was scanning the small territory, "we lost some people in Blackwater...Mac and Davey...Jenny..."

You knew about Mac. It was reported in the newspaper, but when Arthur mentioned Jenny, your jaw dropped. You felt a sort of anger flare up. You had gotten along well with Jenny. She was a kind and funny girl and you had considered her a friend.

"How did- Why...How did this even happen?!", you grumbled, "Jenny wasn't someone who would be in the midst of a fight. Hell, she knew how to handle a gun, but-"

"I know", Arthur interrupted, "couple weeks ago we lost Sean, too."

"Why are you here, Arthur? And why are you telling me this?"

"Wanted to see how you've been doing...", he shrugged, but his demeanour changed when you opened a drawer. You didn't even need to pull out the gun before Arthur stopped with the sugarcoating.

"Dutch wants you back."

Hell, this didn't sound like a suggestion. It was more like a threat. Arthur was here to collect you. Not for a 15-dollar bounty, but for Dutch. Because he had lost too many people and now you needed to jump in. Also, every bit of hope you held close to your heart, that Arthur...that there was a tiny bit of him that wanted to see you. That he really wondered how you had been doing.

It died with those words. It stung.

"Get out", you demanded.

"Y/N-"

"Arthur, I'm not coming back."

"Dutch-"

"I don't care. I don't give a fuck what Dutch wants", you yelled, slowly pulling the gun out, "Honestly, you have some nerve showing up with this request."

Then, you had to laugh. Laugh at the absurdity of it and laugh because you were hurt. The laughter helped to supress the tears, for now.

"Ya ain't gonna shoot me, sweetheart", Arthur said knowingly, putting his hat back on and slowly backing out towards the door, arms still raised because he didn't want to give you the impression that he'd draw on you.

"Don't flatter yourself", you said, slowly walking towards him to make him move out of your house, "I wouldn't shoot your pretty face, but I can put holes in other parts of your body and it would hurt enough."

You felt bold, cocked the gun and aimed at his leg.

"Y/N..."

"Tell Dutch you didn't find me. Tell him I'm dead. Tell him I forced you to draw on me and you shot me...I honestly don't care. I'm not going back. I'm not...canon fodder for a cause I don't believe in anymore", you stated, your eyes fixed on Arthur. He might just notice that tears pricked your eyes, there was a hint of concern in his features.

When he opened his mouth, you were quick to interrupt him: "If you care for me just the tiniest fucking bit...yer gonna fuck off right now and not come back."

You thought about how he'd answer, 'I don't see ya like that', lasso you and drag you back into whatever hole the gang was hiding at the moment, but instead, he tipped his hat, turned around and mounted his horse.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Next chapter: here

I never have the nerve to keep a consistent taglist, but here are some tags for people who said they might be interested in that sort of story:

@pinkiemme @loveheartarthur @lonesome-ranger @twola @shiokitsune @hugthedragon @missredemption @kakashiislut @thewalkingdead1463

If you want to be tagged, please comment under this post if you want to be included to the taglist for this story OR any fic I post in future.

Special thanks to @little-honeypie 'cause we've been cooking that story up together <3

[captain-joongz]

Abraxas; Masterlist

Pairing: mafia boss!Min Yoongi x police office!reader

Genre: humour, angst, investigation themes, dark themes, enemies to lovers, slowburn, eventual smut, some fluff

Summary: My downfall ended up being a story in three acts. The introduction, the seduction, the damnation.

Or; Young and fresh out of police academy, I set out to take down one of the biggest gangs in Seoul. I didn't expect the whirlwind my life would become after meeting the one and only Min Yoongi. Caught between two worlds, it was hard to say whether I was pulled down or returned where I always belonged.

Current word count: cca 78k

Warnings: dark themes, talks of illegal activities, murder, sexism in the workplace, brief reader x OC, eventual smut, innacurate description of police work, some slight stalking (reader tailing Yoongi), each individual chapter will have its own warnings

A/N: welcome to my new and very first series! I will attempt to update this every month, so it's done quicker. Hope you enjoy your reading, don't be shy and feel free to interact!

Taglist is open! Let me know if you wanna be added ^^

Act 1;

Ch. 1 | Interlude I. | Ch. 2.1 | Ch. 2.2 | Ch. 3 (I'll try to aim the release at the end of August!) | Interlude II. | Ch. 4 | Interlude III.

"That which is spoken by God-the-Sun is life; that which is spoken by the Devil is death; Abraxas speaketh that hallowed and accursed word, which is life and death at the same time. Abraxas begetteth truth and lying, good and evil, light and darkness in the same word and in the same act. Wherefore is Abraxas terrible."

- 3rd sermon, Seven Sermons to the Dead, Carl Jung

The First Companion | An Old Friend | Boy Warrior |

Act 2;

TBA

"The bird fights its way out of the egg. The egg is the world. Who would be born must first destroy a world. The bird flies to God. That God's name is Abraxas."

- Demian: The Story of Emil Sinclair's Youth, Hermann Hesse

The Prodigal Son | Enemy of an Enemy is a Friend | The Golden Maknae |

Act 3;

TBA

"It is splendid as the lion in the instant he striketh down his victim. It is beautiful as a day of spring. It is the great Pan himself and also the small one. It is Priapos.

It is the monster of the under-world, a thousand-armed polyp, coiled knot of winged serpents, frenzy.

It is abundance that seeketh union with emptiness. It is holy begetting. It is love and love’s murder. It is the saint and his betrayer. It is the brightest light of day and the darkest night of madness.

To look upon it, is blindness. To know it, is sickness. To worship it, is death. To fear it, is wisdom. To resist it not, is redemption.

It is the delight of the earth and the cruelty of the heavens. Before it there is no question and no reply.

That is the terrible Abraxas."

- 3rd sermon, Seven Sermons to the Dead, Carl Jung

Epilogue

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

Apr 27th

~*~

1. For a ficfinder: I lost an NSFW oneshot and cannot find it no matter what I search.

So it was set during Cloud Recesses era and Wangxian had gotten together at some point before the fic, and the fic itself is about wx being caught having sex in the library by SMS, except he's being a gross voyeur and getting off on that without wx's permission.

They catch him in the act and when sms tries to say that they'll end up punished when he says what happened, LWJ went and said something like "Even if I'm punished, you'll be punished worse cuz I'm clan and you're just an outer desciple."

And that's about all I remember 😅 Thanks in advance!

FOUND! divulgences by ataraxistence (Not Rated, 2k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fluff and Humor, Love Confessions)

~*~

2. For fic finder: I am looking for a canon-era fic where WWX is a mermaid-type creature. He is injured and taken to Cloud Recesses to heal and everyone there is very respectful of him (he is a godly creature, maybe?). However he is kidnapped and he is tortured so that he will cry pearls. I can’t remember if this is the whole fic or if that kidnapping scene is just one chapter in a larger story. Sound familiar to anyone? Thank you!

FOUND? melt away (in your arms) by saccharinings (M, 32k, WangXian, Siren WWX, Prince LWJ, Fluff, Inspired by Legend of the Blue Sea (TV), The Little Mermaid Fusion, Mermaid WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, Amnesia, with a twist ;), Hopeful Ending)

FOUND?🔒Secrets of Yunmeng's Lotus Lakes by Cy_an_Blue (G, 73k, WangXian, One-Sided SuXian, Omega WWX, Mermaid WWX, Cultivator LWJ, teenage WWX, teenage LWJ, No War AU, Non-Traditional A/B/O Dynamics Falling In Love, Getting Together, Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Awkwardness, Injury Recovery, accidental injury, Accidental Stabbing, Cultivation Accidents, Near Death Experiences, waterborne abyss, Kidnapping, Non-Explicit Torture, Mentions of major injury, Fluff, Attempted Sexual Assault, Courtship, Courting Rituals)

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3. Hello, I am looking for a fic in AO3 that I have read this past few months but I'm having a hard time finding it again. It was about before Jin Ling's One Month Celebration, where Wei Wuxian died and the Wen Remnants were devastated and don't know how to explain this to the rest. During this, from what I remember reading this Jiang Yanli and the others are planning on reconciling with Wei Wuxian and Lan Wanji asked his brother for encouragement in confessing to Wei Wuxian and permission in marrying him - also asking Lan Xichen for a forehead ribbon. But they don't know it is already too late since Wei Wuxian is already dead. I will appreciate the help in finding this Fic. Thank you. @mythiquefonceephenix

FOUND? To Offer a Heart by WhiteCrane (M, 111k, wangxian, major character death, Sad WWX, Hurt WWX, YLLZ WWX, soft wangxian, Cinnamon Roll WN, WWX Whump, WQ is a good sister, WN is a good brother, everybody loves wwx, yunmeng siblings, Triggers, Suicidal Thoughts, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst with a Happy Ending, Taking care of WWX, Give WWX a break, Canon Divergence, Disturbing Themes, Changing Perspectives, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Grief/Mourning, Temporary Character Death, Getting Together, Redemption, Sibling Bonding, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Brother-Sister Relationships, Parent-Child Relationship, Sad and Sweet, Tragedy, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF JYL, BAMF WQ, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Everyone Needs A Hug, WIP)

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4. Hello!

I’m looking for a modern au fic where Wei Ying comes back as Mo Xuanyu and is married to Lan Zhan. I think Lan Zhan had married Mo Xuanyu to help him get away from his family but they didn’t actually have a relationship so Wei Ying comes in and tries to pretend that he knows what’s going on and pretends to be Mo Xuanyu but Lan Zhan immediately knows something is up. I think I remember a scene where Lan Xichen was against the marriage but sees how happy Wei Ying is making Lan Zhan and is okay with it? I think Lan Zhan might have been a professor in it and Wei Ying started taking classes at the university or maybe he started some other kind of hobby thing, I just remember him trying to find ways to fill his time. This has been bothering me that I can’t find it, I’ve been searching all the tags and my own bookmarks, any help is appreciated! @sepaea

FOUND? Write It on My Neck by diamondbruise (E, 23k, WangXian, A/B/O Dynamics, Transmigration, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Fake Marriage, Falling In Love, Jealousy, Happy Ending, Anal Sex, Spanking, usual wangxian cnc elements, Misunderstandings

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5. Hey, I need some help with finding a fic, if possible. All I remember is that Wei YIng time travels back in time and find himself at the Discussion Conference. Before he can do anything, he ascends as a god and can't leave heaven. However, after receiving the prays of friends and family, he escapes heaven and lands back on earth before jumping into Lan Zhan's arms. I also think it was a one-shot. Thank you!

FOUND?🔒Mixed Blessings by mondengel (Not Rated, 1k, WangXian, god AU, Humor)

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6. I really need help finding a fic I read on AO3 years ago, so I'll try listing the important things i remember! Basically, Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze survive, but Cangse gets very injured in her legs after the attack and is unable to walk after that. Wei Ying is haunted by some ghost, and later on it's revealed that to be the future Wei Wuxian. Meng Yao's mother lives, and she becomes a teacher in the Jiang Sect. XY and XXC are both Baoshan Sanren's disciples and they leave the mountain. @subaro

FOUND? Building a home by R95irth (T, 586k, WCZ/CS, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-it, Angst with a happy ending, Family fluff)

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7. Hey I'm looking for a fic where wei wuxian gets badly injured I think when wen ning is brought back and like he's paralysed and then eventually dies. So song lan takes a letter to Jin lings one month celebration and everyone realizes how bad they messed up. I remember that a-yuan was crying a lot and calling Lan Wangji father? Anyway wei wuxian dies and the cultivation world over the next 13 years collects pieces of his soul to put it back together and summon him? Thank you for the help @mybestfriendisacinnamonroll

FOUND? I'm pretty sure this is the deleted "When I'm Gone" by qiankun_pouch. The archive link was . I could only find this Google Drive link. / I think 7 may have been deleted. Iirc it involved wwx dying by his own hand and maybe destroying the seal too?

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8. can you help me find a fic? i remember only a specific part; it was a conversation between what i think was a maybe rogue, disciple era wwx and possibly lqr about demons, and how the correct response wasn't to kill them on sight because some people turned into demons when they didn't want to, so it was best to get a feel for the situation before making a judgement, and how wwx was both surprised and also comforted by that response

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9. For a FicFinder: there's a modern AU where WWX gets a text from Wen Qing while he's at dinner with the Jiang family. She's having a family emergency; WWX and his friends and siblings all go across the country to help her re-build her family house. It's short and soft and ends with them building a dock over the local lake. It's NOT the one where WWX is trans and thinks LWJ is dating JYL. (That one's great, just not the story I've lost.) @songscloset

FOUND! the ship sways but the heart is steady by taizi (T, 9k, JC & WWX, WangXian, Modern AU, Established Relationship, Families of Choice, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Past Child Abuse, Protective JC, Soft WangXian)

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10. Hello!! First time doing this but I'm looking for a fic that I think is JC centric with JC and JL fluff. There was this specific scene where JC found a way to walk/run on water, same with JL, and JC managed to find a way to allow Fairy to join as well. I know wangxian was in it but I don't remember any pairings or other scenes. Hope you guys are well! ^^ @fng095

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11. hi there! I’m looking for a modern au! fic where lz and wy are best friends and were gonna go out to do something but it was storming outside. then they start getting intimate and losing each other’s firsts. oh! and lxc is also in the house. thank you!!!

FOUND? blue matter by verseau (E, 5k, WangXian, PWP, Tickling, Loss of Virginity, Bottom WWX)

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12. Hello, I am new here! But I have been trying to find this one fic, that I read a while back and am not sure if it was deleted or not. I think it was a time travel fix-it of sorts. All I remember is that WangXian got together either before or during the war with the Wens and after a battle or on their way to a battle, they are passive through a burnt down village where WWX senses or hears the call of a Fierce Corpse and calls to it. It is severely burnt, like chard black, burnt and it is carrying a bundle. It turns out to be LSZ as a baby. WWX realized that the corpse, a'Yuan's birth mother, was so worried for him that even after her horrific death her Fierce Corpse protected her son.

WWX promises her that he and LWJ would raise him and keep him safe, allowing her to pass on. As they leave WWX says that LSZ feels like he is theirs, and LWJ agrees that he is now theirs. I think it was a WIP or that it got completed not long after I read it originally, but for the life of me, I cannot recall the name or anything outside of this scene. I think it wasn't very nice to JWY/JC, but I could be very wrong about this...

Please help me? Thank you! I also wouldn't mind some nice time travel fix-it fics or even just WangXian getting their sht together much sooner recommendations if you find them. @rhygserene

FOUND? And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami (M, 139k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Time Travel, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Healing, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, BAMF JYL, Getting Together)

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13. Hi! I'm looking for a fic that I read long ago. From what I can remember is that the lan found out that yzy has been abusing wwx and he was sent to cloud recesses so that he can recover. The scene that stuck in my head is that when wwx is taking a walk with lqr, wwx saw a fox and its kits and like a little child, wwx pulled on lqr sleeve for attention. That's all I could remember. I hope you can help me to find it. Thank you in advance! @mayuchi96

FOUND!🔒 The Second Hand Unwinds by trulywicked (E, 56k, WangXian, JYL/JZX, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, Not JC Friendly, Not Yunmeng Jiang Sect Friendly, Not Jiāng Family Friendly, Not YZY Friendly, Time Travelling LWJ, Protective LWJ, Fluff, Minor Angst, Minor Character Death, JGS is his own warning, Wooing, LWJ is romantic af, Inventor WWX, Genius WWX, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Protective Gusu Lan Sect, Supportive LXC, Good Uncle LQR, WWX Protection Squad) it's locked to the archive so you have to be logged in to read, the scene with WWX tugging on LQR's sleeve happens in chapter 3

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14. Hello! So some years ago I've read a fic that made me experience some bad shit, so I promptly forgot about it, but now my friends are asking to drop the link and I can't find it anymore :( It was post-canon, WWX dies, so LWJ goes mad and massacres almost everyone in CR, then goes to Jingshi and stays there hugging the body (also kills his uncle when he comes there) There's time travel involved, and LWJ helps his past self, teaches him all he knows about WY, after that sorta dies? Pls help! @j-aime-vodker

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15. I'm looking for a modern with magic kind of fic. LWJ is slightly estranged from his fam because he's really into reconstructing the song of clarity (long lost) through a research study with a bunch of students who can't cultivate too well. A-yuan and WWX move into his apt bldg, and LWJ teaches A-yuan how to play qin. WWX plays xiao. LXC is sect leader. It was really touching, I remember a specific scene with LWJ giving A-yuan his childhood qin. Any leads?

FOUND? Hear a song this deeply by so_shhy (T, 87k, WangXian, Modern Cultivation, Kind of academia AU, Music, Kid Fic, Canon-Typical Violence, Action/Adventure, canon-typical JGY behaviour, Original Character(s), Slow Burn, Fluff and Angst, we love us some tragic backstory, Happy Ending, for wangxian at least, [slaps fic] this baby can fit so much plot in it)

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16. Looking for an untamed story.

Wei Wuxian is a YouTuber that bakes and the first chapter is him putting a cupcake in a locker at a train station for a viewer. Lan Zhan is a musician amd is hold a concert with a meal. Wen Chao is meant to be running the Kitchen but Wei Wuxian helps out but doesn’t want Lan Zhan to know die to a misunderstanding in the past.

They get together and create a cooking/baking area plus music room @nikkiwhitecraft

FOUND! i swim in hollow lakes carved from memories by spookykingdomstarlight (T, 154k, WangXian, LXC/JGY, Modern, Coffee Shops & Cafés, Music, Baking, Social Media, Misunderstandings, Consequences of Fake Dating Schemes, Flashbacks, Vlogger WWX, Professional Musician LWJ, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mistakes, Pining, Matchmaking, Romance, Illnesses, Slow Burn, POV Multiple, Second Chances)

~*~

17. Hello! For the fic finder: I've been trying to rediscover a fic where lwj finds out wwx is engaged in sex work during burial mounds era to get by. I specifically recall that it's a chance encounter between the two of them. they run into one another in an inn in yiling, I believe right as wwx is finishing up with a client. he proceeds to bait lwj by asking if he'd like a round. I'm starting to suspect it may have been deleted, but thank you for any help!

FOUND? I Can't Contain These Demons' Hands by flipfloppandas (M, 5k, WangXian, WWX/Other(s), WWX/WC, Rape/Non-Con, Prostitution, Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, non-graphic/implied pedophilia, those tags do not apply to wangxian, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergence, at least at the end, Angst with a Happy Ending)

FOUND? Tender by Deastar (E, 20k, WangXian, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Sex Work, (not between the main characters), love in the time of income inequality, Canon Divergence, Hopeful Ending, Gūsū Lán Forehead Ribbon)

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18. Hi I was hoping you could help me find a wangxian fic. All I remember of it - lan wangji is receiving his 33 lashes when wei Wuxian comes to save him ( he didn't die or came back to life can't remember), but due to lan wangji being hurt. Wei wuxian destroys the cultivation world, I also remember Yanli being alive and I think Zixuan. It was on ao3. Sorry if that's not enough info, please could you help

FOUND? the fire and the forest by androids_fighting93 (T, 15k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Not Everyone Dies AU, Resentful Energy, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, WWX Lives, Suicidal Ideation) is similar to the request but doesn't match exactly (WWX arrives after the whipping is finished and doesn't destroy the cultivation world)

FOUND? An arrow to the heart by IsilmeLasgalen (T, 47k, WangXian, SongXiao, XuanLi, ZhuiYi, LQY/NMJ, XiSang, A-qing/OYZZ, BSSR/LY, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, YLLZ WWX, WWX Lives, BAMF JYL, Protective WWX, Good Parents LWJ and WWX, Married WangXian Have Children, JGS "falls" down the stairs, Bad Parents JFM and YZY, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, JYL Lives, JZX Lives, Protective WN, Implied/Referenced Abuse, POV Multiple, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Cultivation Sect Politics)

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19. Hi! looking for a fic i read awhile ago amd got lost in my history but it was about LWJ And WWX getting married but Jin Guangshan didnt believe their marriage was real so he had jin disciples go to the jingshi on their wedding night to see if they actually do anything so WWX and LWJ proceed to have really loud sex just to spite him @yesibest

FOUND? debt of a knife by iliacquer (E, 13k, WangXian, Fantasy AU, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, Warlord!LWJ, Forced Marriage, faked dubcon, safe sane consensual noncon kink, gendered language for horny purposes, Mercenary!WWX, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, But Only a Little Bit, Pain Kink, Consensual Non-Consent)

FOUND?🔒 Set Me Free by jiejieaini (E, 15k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, frankencanon, Fake Marriage, Marriage Proposal, First Kiss, First Time, First Time Bottoming, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Suicidal Thoughts, Illnesses, Chronic Pain, Parenthood, Weddings, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Golden Core Reveal, Angst with a Happy Ending) there's a scene similar to what was described near the end

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20. Thanks for all the hard work you do!!

I'm looking for a fic that has wei wuxian and jin zixuan summoned being summoned and they work together.

FOUND? The Tales of Despereaux by stiltonbasket (T, 51k, WIP, wangxian, canon divergence, WWX summoned by QS, additional warnings in author's note when applicable) If rosethornewrites is right and WWX is summoned by Qin Su then it could also be the chapters 1-23 in "The Tales of Despereaux" by stiltonbasket.

~*~

[teojira]

[ᴍᴏɴꜱᴛᴇʀ ᴡʜᴏ ᴀᴛᴇ ᴀ ꜱᴛᴀʀ]

ᴛᴇᴏᴊɪʀᴀ (ᴇꜱᴛ 2ᴋ24)

《Introduction》 +

《! Please read me !》

¤ Hi! My name is Teddy and this blog as it says on the tin, is a multifandom blog! I'm into a wide range of characters and interests, so I'm sure I have something that'll strike your fancy!

¤ This is an 18+ blog. This is to keep me and you safe should you be a minor. Please stay away! I can't police you, but use common sense.

¤ I will not deal with discourse here, don't like what I write or who I write for? Block me and move on, I don't care.

¤ I am a woman person of color, no hatred towards ANY group is tolerated here. It will end in an IP address block.

¤ My interests fluctuates alot, I have severe adhd and some characters will get special treatment depending on which mood I am in!

¤ I'm always down to chat and make conversation but please remember I'm human and I have a job outside of tumblr, this is just a hobby for me! Please be kind and understanding.

《RULES/GUIDELINES》

¤ Every character I will write romantic ideas for must be of age. Any minor will ONLY be platonic. (Exception being the tmnt brothers, they are aged up accordingly.)

¤I write comfort, fluff, angst, pretty much anything tbh.

¤ My own rule of thumb is that if a furry character is sentient, can consent and is of age, and speaks/thinks/acts like a human, it is akin to monster loving. (Harkness scale pretty much). I don't care for your take on it, block me if you disagree!

¤ I will not write nsfw if you are on anon, your age must be somewhere on your blog. I will delete it from my askbox.

¤ A please and a thank you go a long way!

¤ I usually write with she/her pronouns or gender neutral pronouns.

¤ I am not looking for critique, this is all for fun. This is a heavy boundary, I will block if you do this.

¤ NSFW will be tagged accordingly so you can black list, if I forget to tag something, kindly let me know. I am not responsible for your experience beyond that, act accordingly if I write something you don't like.

¤ Please include some details with your requests, such as character and a general idea on what you'd like me to write! Please don't write an essay in my ask box.

¤ Things I will not write: Pregnancy, Underage, harder kinks (Scat/Noncon/vore/piss), Character harming reader physically, Parenthood, character x character.

Not sure if I write something? Just shoot me a text!

¤ Do NOT share my writing anywhere else (Quotev, Ao3, wattpad, Tiktok). A Simple reblog is appreciated here and only on tumblr.

¤ Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! It's nice to know something I wrote was loved!

And finally what we've all been waiting for, put your hands together for the :

《 Fandoms I write for》

Genshin impact

Honkai Star rail

Transformers

Tmnt

Monsterverse (platonic only for the Kaijus)

Planet of the apes (remake) (NO nsfw)

My hero academia (Dabi and Tomura only)

Demon slayer

Overwatch

Twisted wonderland

Devil may cry

Apex legends (Revenant only)

Fire emblem three houses

Puss in boots: the last wish (Death only)

Stranger things (Eddie Munson only)

Red dead redemption 2

The Wolf among us (Bigby only)

Five nights at freddys: Security Breach

Sonic (platonic for everyone except Shadow)

DC comics/ DCEU

Horror icons/slashers

Countless other video game characters probably lmao.

Though I write for many fandoms, I'm more comfortable with specific characters so I'll let you know if I'm comfortable enough to write for them!

Don't see a character you're sweet on? No worries, shoot me a text and I'll see if I know anything about them to whip something up for ya!

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏᴏɴ!

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

[zae-heeyyy]

Resumption

Summary: You and Arthur revisit the past. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader Word Count: 1,362 Tags: fluff, kissing, high honor Arthur

A/n: This is an anon request gone off the rails because I can't write less than 1000 words for some reason 😅. I hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading!

P.S I understand and respect Mary, so I hope I did her justice here.

Resumption: The act of starting something again after it has been paused or interrupted. It implies a continuation of an activity, process, or state that was temporarily halted.

Traveling with your found family brought you back to this place you had long tried to forget. All that time ago, you left without much of a choice, pushing you straight into the clutches of the Van Der Linde gang. While the landscape had changed a bit, the people hadn't. Despite you remembering their faces, no one truly recognized yours.

You didn't blame them; you tried hard to forget them all, but being so close to everything again brought painful memories to the surface. This country somberly reminded you of loved ones passed on, desperate acts of survival, and a heartbreak that left you wanting to burn it all to the ground. You thought you could handle a simple supply run, but the longer you stayed in town, the harder you had to fight the affliction coming to a boil within you.

But every time you wanted to flee, the presence of a broad-shouldered, fearless cowboy kept you grounded. Arthur had sensed your uneasiness the second you hit town and made it his mission to protect you. You felt his touch for every minute of your trip, him keeping a hand on the small of your back as you gathered supplies and ordered from the catalog. He only turned his back on you to load the wagon while you hovered nearby.

A stagecoach stopped abruptly at the train station across the road. You didn't think much of it until you caught sight of a woman with child being helped out the side of the coach. She was clad in the fanciest day dress you'd ever seen, and her grandiloquent hat probably cost more than every piece of clothing you owned. Your body reacted before your mind did, your stomach dropping to the lowest pits of your being and your heart's rhythm multiplying by two.

The memory of her had engrained itself in you, etched deep in your brain. Yet, her role in your past was unclear at the moment, too clouded by the whirlwind of your life for you to put your finger on it. Arthur noticed your forlornness, stopping his task to look between you and the woman now disappearing into the train station.

"You alright? You know her?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but as the carriage drove away, it revealed a man in a dapper suit carrying luggage, his face no older than the day you left. You jolted like someone had doused you in cold water. Arthur came to the rescue, putting a calming, steadying hand on your back, but you were too distracted by the man you almost married once to notice. The phantom from your past blinked slowly with sad eyes, then turned his back and followed the woman inside.

Her identity gelled in your memory finally; she was the high-society woman he left you for. A time ago, your eyes would've shined with tears, but besides the initial shock of seeing ghosts, you felt a whole lot of nothing.

"You okay?" Arthur asked, breaking you from your trance. You were because you knew you'd never have to experience such heartbreak again. You just nodded, wanting to get as far away from this place as possible.

After things settled down for the night, Arthur whisked you away to a hilltop clearing, starting a fire and throwing a relaxed arm around you. He popped open a bottle of whiskey, had a sip, and passed it to you. His uneasy glance felt hot on your cheek, and you knew what was coming.

Scratching his beard, he spoke, unsure of himself, "so, that feller earlier…" His voice trailed off, the courage he had to ask leaving him as quickly as it came. Arthur hadn't pressed the issue of the brief encounter in town, trying hard to give you space. But his insecurity had gotten the best of him. You took a long swig from the glass bottle and shook your head, focusing on the ground.

"Somebody I really cared about once. Not so much anymore."

He didn't respond for a while, searching for the right words; he chuckled then settled on them, "he seemed real polished." You appreciated Arthur's mockery for once, his toothy grin lightening the mood.

"Oh, he is." You paused, eyes still focused down, eyebrows crinkling together. "Back then, I was doing what I could to survive, doing some things I'm not proud of, but he saw me. He saw me for me for me, invited me into his home, and cared for me.

Arthur scooted in closer, squeezing you into him. Talking about the past wasn't something either of you did much of. Yet, here you were, trusting him to carry some of the weight with you. It all left him feeling grateful and undeserving. You continued, "his daddy was a banker, and he follwed in his footsteps. They had money, a lot of it. His folks didn't think I was good enough, and then he made his choice. Found a girl who was more up to his standards, I guess. I loved him, and I thought he loved me. And maybe he did, but not enough."

You exhaled big when it all came out. Arthur laughed dryly, his eyes clouded over and focused off into the distance.

"I know all about that." You passed the whiskey back to him, and he accepted the silent cue, ready for his turn to open up.

"Had a girl that loved me once, Mary." The camp girls had whispered her name here and there, and even Grimshaw had commented that she liked you better than the last one. Many stories were told about her, and you weren't sure which ones were exaggerated for dramatic effect. None of it mattered, though. You trusted Arthur more than you'd ever trusted anybody and loved him enough to not only think of yourself in his rare moment of vulnerability.

"She was a fine woman. I can't bring myself to say anything bad about her, but her family, though…" he drew out a long, low whistle and started talking again. "I couldn't change, and well, maybe she did love me, but it just wasn't enough for us, either."

You took your turn to comfort him now, shifting positions to put your arms around his torso and lay your head on his chest. He hugged you back, resting his chin on your head.

"Didn't think love was for me. Was okay with that for a while. Then.—" vibrations from his chest tickled your ear as he laughed, "then Hosea and Dutch met this spitfire in the saloon and brought her back to camp. Said she was counting cards and scamming drunk fellers out of their money. The girl didn't even own a pair of shoes, but damn, was she sharp as a razor, and gorgeous. After a while, she had me thinking a lot about love again."

All that desperation seemed eons away now. Before Hosea and Dutch came along, you didn't know how you'd survive. Survival was the only thing on your mind; you didn't have time for anything else. Then, you met Arthur and knew it would all be alright again. Pulling away, you raised an eyebrow at him, grinning because you already knew the answer to the question you were about to ask.

"If that Mary girl came calling, would you go back?"

He grabbed you by the chin and spoke before he pulled your lips to his, "Hush woman. Can't you see I'm trying to be romantic? Yer my woman and yer stuck with me now. Ain't nobody for me, but you."

You kissed him for a long while, feeling his lips curving upwards. You pulled away and saw that all-so-familiar shit-eating grin creeping up on his face.

"What is it now, Arthur Morgan?"

"A banker, really?" he'd asked, his chipped tooth flashing under his lips, "I'm gonna try real hard not to hold that against you."

And then you threw your head back and laughed. Nobody made you laugh as hard as he did. And nobody else’s lips, hands, or body moved so perfectly in sync with yours. You were made for each other; you knew that for certain.

[moeitsu]

♡The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee♡

(Arthur Morgan x OC) Masterlist

Hey cowboys!

Below is where you'll find all the chapters to my Red Dead Redemption fanfic, I will keep it updated as I continue to post more chapters. But in the meantime, I wanted to make things a little more organized and easier for you to navigate.

Whether you just started reading, or if you've been keeping up with the story since the beginning. I want to thank you! This started as a little side project to keep me busy during my down time at work, but it's turned into something I'm really passionate and proud of! So thank you for all the support <3

!!Please be aware this fic is explicit. As it contains blood/violence, as well as other adult themes!!

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

->-> Ao3 

->-> Wattpad

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.

Story Tags: Widowed, Original Character(s), High-Honor!Arthur Morgan, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby!Arthur Morgan, Canon Divergence, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Sex, Eventual Romance, Emotional Sex, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Touch-Starved, Sexual Tension, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Infant Death, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Torture, Blood and Violence, Survivor Guilt, Aftermath of Torture, Caretaking, Injury Recovery, Period-Typical Racism, Anxiety, Self-Hatred, Night Terrors, Emotional Constipation, Self-Doubt, Men Crying, Bathing/Washing, Sweet/Hot, Romantic Angst, Romantic Fluff

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Ch 1 - The Years Creep Slowly By Kate becomes entangled in a heist with two strangers, Hosea and Arthur, forging an unexpected bond amidst their criminal endeavor. Ch 2 - The Snow Is On The Grass Again A fisher of men and A strange encounter. Ch 3 - The Suns Low Down The Sky Welcome to Horseshoe Overlook Ch 4 - The Frost Gleams Where The Flowers Have Been It's time to collect a debt. Ch 5 - My Heart Beats On As Warmly Now A well deserved hunt with Charles, met with an unexpected surprise back at camp... Ch 6 - As When The Summer Days Were Nigh The battle begins, and the past is revealed. Ch 7 - The Sun Can Never Dip So Low Kate is not immune to the dangers of the land. No matter how much she loved it, the land will never love her back. Ch 8 - Or Down Affections Cloudless Sky A blissful sunny day after a long hard night. Ch 9 - A Hundred Months Have Passed Kate and Arthur share a tender moment in the quiet of the night. Ch 10 - Since Last I Held That Hand In Mine The Course of True Love and other Revelations Ch 11 - And Felt The Pulse Beat Fast Arthur and Hosea share meaningful conversation after a night of advertising some moonshine. Meanwhile Kate finds herself involved in a dubious mission with John and the boys. She patches up Arthur as the day ends with an air of unspoken desire. Ch 12 - Though Mine Beat Faster Far Than Thine - Part 1 Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called sons of God in a world that is ugly with violence and hate. Ch 13 - Though Mine Beat Faster Far Than Thine - Part 2 Arthur’s life is ebbing out like the tide. Kate must work quickly and diligently to reverse the cruel hands of fate. She is aided by the help of an unexpected ally. Ch 14 - A Hundred Months ‘Twas Flowery May As Kate navigates Arthur’s recovery, she discovers that true strength lies within her trusted companions, finding relief in their unwavering support during the trials of his healing journey. Ch 15 - When Up The Hilly Slope We Climbed Arthur struggles to adjust to his new disabilities. Meanwhile Kate finds a job outside of camp for them, providing a few days respite and some much needed alone time. Arthur finally reveals his feelings. Ch 16 - The Past Is The Eternal Past Kate and Arthur welcome a new life into the world. The scene brings back tender memories of Arthur's past, he finally finds the courage to open up to her about his family. Ch 17 - To Watch The Dying of The Day Say, isn't it strange? I am still me, and you are still you. In this place. Isn't it strange how people can change? From strangers to friends, friends into lovers. To strangers again. Ch 18 - To Hear the Distant Church Bells Chime The gang finds a new hideout at Shady Belle, just outside the heart of the new modern America. With Jack still missing, Kate and Arthur must work together to find him. Amidst the tension, Arthur confides in Kate about his deepest regrets. Ch 19 - We Loved Each Other Then The Gilded Cage. Kate and Arthur attend an exclusive garden party hosted by the Mayor of Saint Denis. As the night progresses, their mutual desire intensifies.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━ If you're interested in reading about my OC, I linked the Kate McCanon Lore here :) As well as her Face and Voice Claim here <3 About me!

[joseline-woodhouse]

I still enjoy reading Nevermore and I am looking forward to the new chapters but I have lost my hype for it over the past couple of months. Here is why

(a short constructive criticism on story telling and how the narrative is undermining itself right now)

I don't mean to salt anyone's apples, so if you already know you won't like reading this, maybe move on.

We are now at the season finale of this battle royale love story, which to me raises the question "why is everyone alive still, despite everyone's best attempts?". Don't get me wrong. I do not promote fridging here. One should never kill off a character without a very good reason.

The problem is not that the story "isn't edgy enough", the problem is that this story has very early built on the premise of being a battle royale kind of story, a kind of story to which the loss of characters is essential. When I say "why isn't anyone dead yet?" I mean to point out how the story is undermining its own narrative.

The entire drama, all the conflict of the story has been built on the fact that people will die. If we take this away, then the drama and the conflicts appear shallow. Even if the characters are in an objectively dangerous situation, pointing guns at each other, the situation doesn't feel dramatic if I as the reader keep seeing everyone get out of these situations, no matter how hopeless. It's a "don't tell the reader, show the reader" kind of situation. And the problem goes deeper when we look at the conflicts.

The entire conflict between Lenore and Annabel Lee is that Annabel Lee might kill one of Lenore's friends. If these friends all appear to have plot armour, what should I as a reader be worried about here? I already feel pretty confident that the conflict will resolve itself, if things keep up this way.

All the characters still being alive is a problem, because it makes it feel like the obstacles will resolve themselves eventually. There is no thrill of how a dangerous event will affect the story, the characters or their relationships, if the dangerous event appears to be just a speed bump rather than a cross road between several paths of the plot.

Taking a look at the current conflict between Morella and Ada for example: will they be friends again? Probably. If Ada realises she's been acting terribly and genuinely appears to regret it and works on the issue, why would Morella still hold a grudge? Ada is easily redeemable here. What if Duke had died? Or what if he made it out but there had been a casualty? It's one thing to apologise for handling a plate carelessly, it is an entirely different thing to apologise for a broken plate. The plate can and will not be repaired. It is still broken after you have apologised. There would be no telling if Ada and Morella would ever get along again. Certainly Ada would need to do a lot more than to genuinely apologise and to admit her mistake, promising to not do it again for any chance of redemption and even then things may never go back to how they were before. These things are important to fill a story with genuine stakes and drama.

A battle royale kind of story requires characters being planned out and put into the story specifically to die at a certain point, in a certain way, with careful consideration how this will affect everything and everyone else. And I just don't feel like this happened. Since even the hatable side villain Montresor is still alive and kicking after all what happened, I feel like there is a solid plan to keep everyone alive, for they are needed later in the story. Since no one died thus far, I doubt that any of the introduced characters have been written to die eventually (though someone might die at the very end of the story, this is not mutually exclusive). And it is kind of a little too late to add characters to kill off later at this point.

I still enjoy Nevermore. But I enjoy it for the fluff. Since all the drama appears to be self resolving right now, I no longer feel like the story is offering me much more at the time.