#save him arthur morgan you're his only hope

[blanche-elizabeth-devereaux]

Albert Mason is the kinda guy who thinks he's rescuing a stray dog but then it turns out to be a wolf pup

[sexy-sapphic-sorcerer]

1: Magic is a Metaphor < 2: Morgana is a Lesbian < 3: Merlin is Gay > 4: Arthur is Bi

Again with the whole metaphor thing, Merlin's entire character is about having to hide his identity and wishing that he could be free to be himself so that he wouldn't have to lie about how much Arthur means to him. So that's all very gay, but he's also just very queer-coded generally. There are so many jokes about him being more effeminate or wearing women's clothing, most notably in this episode where he dresses in full drag and then takes the opportunity to shamelessly flirt with Arthur. Unhinged.

Basically every other character seems to just assume that he's gay, at least towards the end, because Gaius and Arthur are in utter disbelief that Merlin would be 'seeing a girl'. And of course he isn't, he's actually sneaking around with that druid guy, leading Arthur to question how courting a girl would leave him 'walking with a limp.'

I also think it's very interesting how often Merlin has to pretend to be attracted to women to avoid people discovering his secret, like with Gwen in Series 1 or Morgana in Series 2. Or this scene, where Gwen and Merlin are the only people not affected by the Lamia's seduction charm and they're trying to figure out why. And Merlin says, 'it doesn't affect you because you're a woman'. And firstly, Gwen is like, 'so what?' So, bisexual queen. And then Merlin says, "it only affects men," and Gwen says, "so then why haven't you fallen under her spell?" And Merlin is just like, 'oh shit, I don't know. I can't think of any reason why I wouldn't be seduced by a woman.'

Now, you might be saying, "but Merlin is attracted to women! what about that one female love interest he had for literally one episode who immediately died?" Oh, you mean:

I'm sorry to all of the Freylin shippers out there, but this was so clearly just the writers' last-ditch attempt to make Merlin straight. If you think about it, Freya also 'has magic' if you catch my drift, and that is the only thing that she and Merlin have in common, and the only thing that they talk about. And if you look at their dialogue out of context, it really doesn't seem like it's magic that they're talking about. It's just gay/lesbian solidarity. Also, never forget when Colin Morgan accidentally referred to Merlin's potential love interests as "him or her." So who else could he have been thinking of?

Merlin definitely had a crush on Lancelot. From the moment that they first meet, he just keeps going on about, 'omg, isn't Lancelot so strong and brave and chivalrous? God, I hope he becomes a knight, he would look so good in a suit of armour.' And then he says to Gwen, completely unprompted, "so just for the sake of argument– Arthur or Lancelot?" Why are you thinking about that Merlin? Then that scene ends with Merlin and Lancelot getting drunk and stumbling home together and waking up the next morning having shared Merlin's single bed. So take from that what you will. I don't necessarily think that anything happened between them, not because I think Lancelot is straight, don't get it twisted, just because I think he's a fucking virgin.

But certified pansexual manwhore Gwaine on the other hand, oh they definitely fucked. And it's a very similar situation to Lancelot, Merlin's only flirting technique is just to find some buff guy who's just saved his life and be like, 'oh my god what can I possibly do to repay you? Maybe you could come back to my place and I could tend to your wounds and then we could go down to the tavern, have a few drinks'.

And it works. Merlin literally used his job as apprentice physician to the Knights of the Round Table as his own personal Grindr, and i love that for him. But, of course, these are just side hoes to Merlin's main bitch, Arthur.

You can deny everything else that I've said, but you cannot deny that Merlin was in love with Arthur. And don't even try to say, 'but it's just because it was his destiny'. Because, yeah, like that's any less gay. They're two sides of the same coin, destined to be together, Merlin 'uses magic only for Arthur'. Come on.

Also, it's pretty clear that Merlin cares about Arthur more than he cares about his destiny, throughout the entire show. But it culminates in this scene in series five where, because of very contrived plot reasons, Arthur has to choose between legalizing magic and saving the life of Mordred. And Merlin convinces Arthur not to legalise magic so that he will let Mordred die. He literally enables the genocide of his own people and condemns himself to a lifetime of suffering just on the off chance that he can spend a bit more time with Arthur.

And if that isn't heartbreaking enough, of course, every action that Merlin makes only confirms Arthur's fate. And after he very platonically dies in Merlin's arms, as dudebros do, what does Merlin do? does he go back to Camelot and live a full happy heterosexual life? Of course not. No, he spends the next one and a half thousand years just waiting at Arthur's resting place, waiting for the day that Arthur will be resurrected and they can be together again. What the fuck kind of Greek tragedy, Achilles and Patroclus level shit is that? That is fucking gay.

[wizard-on-whales]

Whiskey and Tea (Arthur Morgan x f!reader)

No warnings just fluff

Word Count - 1500

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Arthur Morgan was a powerhouse of a man, but even those needed to rest now and then. But the thought of that seemed to escape not only his understanding but also several other members of the gangs as well. You watched as he came in and out of camp at all times of the day. He was always out fetching things for others and hardly ever got time to himself. The second he did usually ended in Miss. Grimshaw or Dutch hassling him for being lazy or someone asking him for a favor. Even after everything Arthur had done for everyone, he could hardly get a second of peace. 

You were sitting at the fire, your hands occupied with the piece of wood you were attempting to carve into a figure for Jack. Arthur had been in camp for a few hours, busying himself with chores others avoided, like carrying the haybales or fetching water for the wash station. Finally, he decided to sit across from you at the fire. Arthur watched the flames burn, the embers swirling into the sky, mixing with the colors of the oncoming dusk. His shoulders slumped with exhaustion, and the heavy bags under his eyes made you question when he had last slept. He let out a noticeable sigh and wiped his hand over his face, rubbing his eyes slightly. The dance of the fire and soft lullaby from Javier's guitar seemed to be rocking him to sleep. Not long after he sat down, Dutch decided to waltz up to him, a plan clearly in mind. 

“Come on, Arthur, get that man of action back! Get out there and do something! I've got a lead you can check out for me.” You felt anger rise in your chest, and your hands clutched the carving in your hand tightly, your knuckles turning white. You had to physically hold back from chucking the object at Dutches head. Arthur hesitated for a moment before sighing and getting up from his spot, not wanting to disappoint his halfway father figure. 

“Sure, what is it?” Arthur listened to Dutch rattle off whatever idea he had as the two of them walked away from the fire. After they were done speaking, Arthur marched towards his horse, stopping to brush her off first. Before he could mount and head off, your own idea formed. 

You hadn't been with the gang long, only a few months. Dutch and Arthur had been the ones who found you tied up in a cabin in the freezing mountains of the grizzlies. Bounty hunting was a risky job. You knew that and were willing to take the risks, but you also know you made a mistake going after Colm. The Van Der Lindes luckily went after him only a few days after you and attacked the camp they had set up in an abandoned town, finding you in the process. Despite Arthur saving you, the two of you had hardly spoken. But it didn't take much observing to realize Arthur wasn’t exactly the chatty type. 

“Arthur!” You called out, watching him turn your way, “Leaving so soon?”

“Yeah,” He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck and adjusted his hat, “Dutch asked me to help him with something.” 

“Well, before you run off, could you help me with something first?” Arthur thought about it before putting the brush in his hand back down.

“I suppose, whatchu need, girl?” Instead of answering him, you smiled happily and walked off in the opposite direction, hoping he'd follow. Which, of course, like a lost puppy, he did. You marched right through the front doors of Shady Bell, up the old, rotting stairs, and into Arthur's room, “Why we goin’ to my room? We gonna need ammo or somethin’?

“Or something,” You walked up to his bed and sat on the edge, patting the spot next to you. He gave you a dazed look, tilting his head quizzically, but compiled and sat down. 

“You know…I ain't a good therapist if you're wanton’ to talk about somethin’,” He rubbed his sweaty palms across the fabric covering his knees. 

“I ain't here to talk, Arthur,” You brought your hands up to his shoulders, your fingers slowly massaging the tight muscles hiding under his clothes. He tensed at first but quickly relaxed under your touch, “You're always running off doin’ things for people, but you never give yourself time to relax. I ‘bout shot Dutch when he came up to you at the fire.”

“So you dont really want nothin’?” Arthur didn't look at you but instead closed his eyes and leaned in closer to you. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and felt his breath catch in his throat. Arthur had found you exceptionally attractive from the second he laid eyes on you. And he had spent the last few months avoiding you because of it. He knew trying to speak to you would mean flushed cheeks and unclear sentences, so he kept to himself. But now, here you were, sitting on his bed, giving him a massage, and he was too damn tired to feel flustered or to really realize what was happening. 

“I do want somethin’... I want you to relax and get some sleep for once in your goddamn life. Take your vest off,” Arthur didn't say anything in response but did as he was told and took the vest off. He could feel your fingers working at the tight knots better now that it was just the thin fabric of his shirt left. The two of you sat in silence for a while as your hands traveled up and down his back, occasionally stopping just to scratch your nails across it. You could tell Arthur was slowly nodding off. 

“Darlin’?” You say sweetly, pulling him out of his trance. He just hummed in response, “You wanna lay down?”

Arthur nodded and stretched before finally opening his eyes and looking at you. You gave him a soft smile and reached up, pulling his hat off before setting it on the small table he had next to his bed and lying down. You patted your chest, offering it as a pillow, which he gladly accepted and laid down. One of your hands rubbed his back, and the other made its way into his hair. You played with it softly, making it a little messier than it already was. Arthur's breathing got heavier soon after laying down, and you could hear quiet snores rising from him. You smiled to yourself and kissed the top of his head before closing your eyes and dozing off. 

Sometime during the night, your position changed. Arthur's arm now hung heavily over your middle, pressing your back flush against his solid chest. You stirred slightly, trying to blink the sun out of your eyes as you remembered where you were. You could still hear Arthur's quiet breathing behind you, so you assumed he wasn't awake yet. The moment was peaceful. With Arthur's soft sounds, the comforting arm safely holding you, and the songs from birds flowing in through the broken window. You sighed contently and rubbed the lingering sleep out of your eyes before feeling Arthur pull you closer. 

“Good mornin’,” Arthur's voice was still laced with sleep, making it deeper than normal. You felt your heart jump and your face warm. Although you had admitted to yourself that Arthur was attractive, you had pushed down any other thought of the man. He had been your friend, ally, and nothing more. But the security of his grasp and the sound of his voice made it hard to push your feelings down. It made you crave something more. 

“Morning,” You turned in his arms so that you were no longer facing the room but facing him. His caramel hair was tousled, and his eyes were heavy, not from lack of sleep but from what was still lingering. He gave you the softest smile, revealing more of his true colors to you. Not some big rough outlaw, not the camp workhorse, but a man who just needs a little love. You smiled back, admiring the beauty of his eyes. The sunbeams shining through the window hit them just right, making them look like the sea. You reached up to push a few stray hairs out of his face, “Did you finally get some sleep, cowboy?”

“I did, thanks to you,” He returned the favor and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, “I guess I should help you out more often.” You laughed slightly, resting your hand on his face, scratching his beard. He closed his eyes and hummed in appreciation. 

“And I guess I should ask for your help more often,” It was Arthur's turn to let out a small chuckle, and without thinking, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. He quickly realized what he had done and pulled back as fast as he had leaned forward. His eyes widdened as he released his grip and sat up, scratching the back of his head. 

“I-Im sorry I wasn't thinkin’...I guess I-,” Arthur stumbled over his words, you cut him off by kissing him again. He stiffened for a second but melted into your touch. He tasted like whiskey and cigarettes, you tasted like honey and tea.

[cowboydisaster]

Closer

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 4.4k

summary: You reveal a secret about your sexual preferences to Arthur when liquor has loosened your lips. Later and sober, he brings it up again, and you find yourself in ecstasy with the idea of being edged.

a/n: I wrote this in one day. idk where it came from, sorry not sorry. High honor Arthur loves consent and so do i, here we go!

warnings: nsfw, 18+, smut, minors dni (edging, receiving oral, vaginal sex, you get the idea)

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow

Arthur has opted not to drink tonight. Just a week ago he had taken Lenny to the saloon for a quiet night out, and woken up a day later in jail. He doesn't feel like drinking for a long while. You on the other hand, have had your fill and then some. Sean had been safely returned home earlier in the day, and Hosea had come back with a wagon full of liquor to celebrate. At this point, Arthur has lost count of the number of times you and John have passed the whiskey crate around the fire. Arthur chuckles as you sing along to Javier's song, glancing at him every once in a while. You've been staring at Arthur in between the lyrics, and there's a blaze in your eyes, a heat in your gaze that tells him exactly what you're thinking about. 

Javier's song crescendos to an end, and everyone laughs, hooping and hollering, except for you. You instead are staring at Arthur, biting your lip lightly before leaning down to the whiskey crate, pulling a bottle from it and holding it in your hands as if it's.. something else. You're driving him mad, especially as you squeeze your thighs together, unbuttoning the first few buttons of your shirt, just to get rid of the heat, of course. 

Arthur tries to keep his eyes off you, because your relationship is pretty new and you've only slept together a handful of times. Though they ended up on his list of best nights, he feels it would be a disservice to eye you like this, especially with your drunken state. 

He can't help it though, and some sweat runs down his temple as he rearranges himself to lessen the strain of his cock pressing up against his jeans. Your cleavage is kept hidden from him by your shirt, but the open buttons reveal the beginning of the swell of your breasts, and he wants nothing more than to kiss the sweet flesh there. 

The times you've laid with him you were a bit shy, nervously covering certain areas of your body with your hands. Usually he has to reassure you, coax you from your shell a bit to remove you from your self consciousness. That feeling is gone now. The alcohol has made you brave, bold as you trail your fingers from your knee to your thigh. It's just subtle enough to drive him mad, but anyone else who didn't know your intentions would think nothing of it. Arthur squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, thinking of anything to get his erection to go down. He opens his eyes when he feels your hand on his, and you start pulling him away from the fire. 

"Come on, cowboy." You tease, pulling him towards his covered wagon. Your voice is slurred with drunkenness, and your steps are stumbling. It's then that Arthur realizes just how drunk you are. 

"You tired?" Arthur asks as you pull him into his tent. He's hoping you'll say yes, because he can't give you this tonight, not until you're sober. It would be a disservice to you, not to mention that he's sober, and it would feel wrong. 

"Nope." You whisper, turning towards him with sparkling, half-lidded eyes. Then you lean up and intertwine your fingers into his hair, kissing him. It's drunk and sloppy, but Arthur isn't complaining. Your lips taste like whiskey as you devour him, saving no room for delicacy or the coy demeanor you usually have. Your lips slot against his breathily and with hunger as you press yourself up against him. You can feel his hardness pressing into your hip, twitching as you release his hair with one hand to undo the buttons of your blouse. 

You shove him back lightly, and he lies down on the bed, looking up to you. He concludes that something has taken over you, it must have with the way your actions have flipped from coy to bold. He loves you so much, he wants you, but he can't do this, not while you're drunk. Then you're sitting on top of him. Your blouse is gone, and your jeans have been unzipped the whole way down, leaving nothing to desire because you haven't worn any underclothes. This in itself causes Arthur to curse, and his skin blazes with a burn that only you can create and quell. You're looking down to him, panting. Your pupils are blown, and messy waves fall around your face. You look like some goddess, something divine that he doesn't deserve, surely. His cock aches in his jeans and if something doesn't happen soon, he's going to embarrass himself greatly. 

"Sweetheart-" Arthur is cut off by his own groan as you smile, grinding yourself against his hips. His head tosses back as he thrusts his hips up against you, and you've never been more proud than now, watching him under you. You lean down to kiss his lips again, but you stop, just inches away from his face. He hesitates, breathing hotly as you stare at his lips, then up to his eyes.

"T-take me, Arthur." You whisper, kissing his lips while intertwining your tongues before pulling away again. A clarity pokes through the fog of alcohol as you look into his eyes again. 

"I want you to draw it out. I want you all night, over and over, and over again." You whimper, leaning down to kiss his neck. Arthur can't tell if he's ascended to the heavens or if this is real. He's not sure where his sweet, shy girl has gone, or how she's been replaced by this wanton dominatrix, but he isn't complaining. You kiss up to his earlobe, grinding yourself against him again, moaning in his ear at the slight friction. Then, lips pressed against his ear, you whisper. 

"You know that moment? That moment when you're so close that even the smallest touch will send you over the edge?" 

Arthur nods lightly, losing his composure while his hands grip your hips tightly. 

"That's the best part." 

Arthur's eyes slip closed and he groans. You're so foul-mouthed while drunk, and it's delirious, something he never knew could be so damn attractive. 

"Take me there. Take me there, Arthur and torture me." You beg, just a breath in his ear. 

"Christ alive, sweetheart." Arthur groans, never having seen you so… unhinged. Drunkenness has loosened your lips, and your limbs, and it's then that he remembers his promise to himself. 

You're drunk, and he's not. Having you like this right now would be taking advantage of you. He wants to give you everything you could ever ask for and then some, but only when you're sober. His length throbs against his jeans, and as much as he wants to have you right now, he can't. He could never forgive himself if you woke up upset with him. With a sigh, and a bittersweet smile, Arthur looks up to your lust driven eyes. 

"I can't." Arthur states apologetically, peeling your warm, beautiful body from his. You pull back from him with a shocked expression, and your eyebrows string together forming a tight little crease that he wishes to wipe away from your worried face. His features soften sadly at your expression, and his thumb rubs against your cheek.

"What?" You ask, confused, and a little embarrassed. You hadn't expected him to reject you. Although you'd never ask him to partake if he doesn't want to, you're still a little hurt that he's pushing you away. Suddenly some of the anxiety seeps through into your drunken state, and you wonder if it's your body, or your alcohol ridden lips that have caused him to push you away. You blush, embarrassed, but Arthur only takes your hand in his own, encasing it.

"I'm sorry darlin, I can't. You can't hardly stand up right now, let alone make decisions like this one. N' we're still new to this. I don't want you wakin' up tomorrow, sober, and regrettin this." He whispers, brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear. Despite all that he's just said, your foggy brain fixates on three little insignificant words. 

"Y-you dont… You don't want me?" You sigh, hurt and tired and seeing double. Arthur can only chuckle on account of how wrong you are. But whatever altered state of mind you're in that could convince you that he somehow doesn't want you is exactly why he can't go through with this. 

"Oh I want you, alright. But you ain't in the state of mind to be acceptin' that invitation right now." Arthur explains, and you feel a weight slip off your shoulders. 

"Oh." You nod, disappointed, and aching for his touch. But nonetheless, you trust his judgment, even if you don't understand it right now. Sighing, you lay down flat on him, chest to chest. He wraps his arms around you, pressing kisses up to your forehead. It's then that you realize how tired you are, and the way the room seems to spin a little. A question raises itself in your lips, and you prop your chin on his chest to look down at him. 

"But you do want me right?" You ask, just checking. You're not exactly sure what you've just talked about, or what happened. And you're already falling asleep as Arthur answers.

"Yes, darlin." Arthur chuckles, sliding you off of him so that he can lay with you properly. You fall in line with him, back pressed against his chest as he spoons you. 

"Hey, Arthur?" You mumble, eyes closed as you breathe slower and slower, relaxing into his arms. 

"Sweetheart, go to sleep."  Arthur mumbles, one arm snaking around your waist whilst the other lies under your head. 

"Okay but just one thing." You implore, turning around in his arms so that you can nuzzle into his toasty warm chest. Arthur huffs, amused, and so in love that it aches in his bones.

"Go on." 

"Can we try again?" You ask, pressing a chaste kiss to his neck. 

"Yes, we can try again if you want, but first you gotta go to sleep." Arthur chuckles, rubbing his hand up and down your back. You're satisfied enough with that, and you nuzzle into him again with a drunken smile on your lips. 

— — — — 

Two nights later, your hangover is gone. You'd spent the previous day aching, throwing up and sleeping for the most part. Arthur had stayed with you all day, taking care of you. You were grateful, but a little frustrated that he wouldn't let you do anything. Tonight is better, and you lie in bed, unable to sleep. Arthur has been snoring behind you for some time now, but you can't stop thinking about the party. Mostly because you don't remember it. You'd woken up in Arthur's bed, shirtless with your pants completely unzipped, hungover. But you have no recollection, besides what Arthur told you. He had assured you that nothing happened, not that you would have minded. You're just wondering if you made a fool out of yourself, or embarrassed yourself in some way. You sigh, sitting up in bed.

 You can't help but look down at Arthur and his unworried, sleeping expression. With a warm, loving smile, you lean down and press a little kiss to his cheek. Arthur startles, eyes blinking open quickly as he looks up at you. He's shocked for a moment, then worried as he quickly leans up on his elbows.

"Darlin? What's wrong? Why're you up?" He asks, sitting up fully. You feel awful, never meaning to have woken him up. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." You mumble as he pulls you towards his chest, enveloping you into his arms. 

"S'okay, what's goin' on?" 

Arthur's arms are so warm, so big, you could be swallowed up by them entirely and remain content. 

"I just can't believe how much I drank the other night." You sigh, shaking your head in horror. Arthur nods, chuckling lightly as you pull away from him. He takes both of your hands in his own and holds them in his lap. 

"Yeah me neither." Arthur swallows thickly, looking up to you with a question. "You uh- you remember anything you said to me that night?" Arthur asks, and your skin goes pale. 

"No. Oh no, what did I say?" You ask, afraid you'd hurt his feelings or said something you shouldn't have. You wince, dipping your head as you await his response. Arthur pulls your chin up with his finger, coaxing you to meet his eyes as you shiver. 

"Practically jumped me, darlin. Put on quite a show, then you asked me to 'take you, all night long' and the kicker, you asked me to edge you. In fact, you said it was the best part. Asked me to 'take you there n' torture you', if I remember correctly." Arthur says nonchalantly, and you recoil. You're horrified by what you've said, and though it's all true, you can't believe you spoke it so plainly, so early into your relationship. 

"Oh, that's embarrassing, Arthur I'm so sorry." You wince, head falling into your hands. 

Instead of judging you, or mocking you, Arthur lightly pulls you towards him. His lips find the crook of your neck, and he starts kissing there, slow and patient and hot. Your breathing quickens, and you crane your neck to give him better access. Your heart races, you still can't believe he's here, he's yours. He lightly pulls some of your skin between his teeth, and it hurts in the best way as you yelp.  He runs his tongue over the spot to soothe it.

Then, one of his hands snakes up your shirt, and he teases your breasts as you moan. His lips move right against your ear as he whispers. 

"Is it..? The best part?" Arthur asks right against your ear. You blush, not wanting to respond from the embarrassment. He pulls away, cocking his head at your silence.

"Darlin, don't get shy on me now." Arthur chuckles, watching with an intensity as you bite your lip, smirking at him. 

"Yes, it’s the best part. For me anyway, I know it's different for everyone.” You whisper, and then squeak as Arthur quickly pushes you down against the bed, towering over you. Arthurs fingers trail up your hips, you're not wearing anything under your chemise and he growls. He pulls the chemise over your arms and tosses it down on the floor, smirking at the little gasps that leave you. Towering above you, Arthur takes a moment to drink you in. He’s seen you like this before, but only on a few occasions.

“Y’know,” Arthur says, stopping to press a kiss to your breast, “I did make you a promise.” Arthur whispers on your skin. Your hands tangle into his hair as you arch your back, searching for more of his lips against you. 

“And what’s that promise?” You exhale, wrapping your legs around him. Arthur moves downwards, and your breath hitches in your throat.  

“Promised you we’d try it.” He says, and your pupils dilate. Your legs loosen some, faltering around him as you sit up on your elbows. Arthur stands up from the bed, smirking down at you while pulling his clothes off quickly. 

“Ain’t gonna be too comfortable with these on.” He explains gruffly, before crawling back on the bed and leaning over you. A piece of his hair falls down, dangling over your face that you brush behind his ear to better see him. 

“Just remember, you asked for this. Beg all you want darlin, I’m takin’ my time.” He growls, and you shudder underneath him. He rests between your knees, spreading them while latching on to your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. 

Arthur wasn’t exaggerating. He starts painfully slow, kissing your hip and thumbing your thigh. He presses love bites on the inside of your thighs, and you whimper, bucking your hips upwards to try and get him where you need him. 

“Patience.” Arthur growls, the soft flesh of your thigh in between his lips. After a few moments more, you’re squirming, sweating and whining for his touch between your legs. One of his hands reaches up to flick at your nipple slowly, and your back arches. 

“Arthur, please, please touch me already.” You whine, hips fidgeting as he runs his finger featherlight over your lower lips. He has to stop and gather his control from the way you whine his name, fidgeting and arching underneath him. But after a deep breath he gives you what you want.

Arthur leans in to you, and you feel his nose brush against your heat as he just lightly brushes his tongue over your already sensitive clit. You gasp, clenching your muscles as he releases. 

“Oh, Arthur come on, please.” You whimper, and he smirks with satisfaction. His fingers run down your opening, and he stops, groaning when he feels how wet you are. His cock is pressing hard into his mattress, but he ignores it, focusing on you. A finger teases your entrance, and then ever so slowly sinks in to you. He doesn’t move it, watching as you buck your hips to get something. 

“Like I said, you asked for this.” Arthur says, curling his finger just a tiny bit before slipping it out. 

“Fu- I know!” You sort of yell, pulling an amused chuckle out of Arthur. You’re somewhere in between mad and pleased with yourself for suggesting this, but Arthur has no plans on rushing that decision. 

“Yeah, you like this. Don't Cha' sweetheart?” Arthur observes, watching as your hands grip at the sheets when he slips two fingers back in, curling them slowly. 

“God- please go faster Arthur.” 

“Nuh uh, not gonna happen, darlin.” Arthur states before lightly flicking your clit with his tongue, stopping as soon as you start to moan. You cry out, frustrated, gripping his hair, and the sheets and anything as your abdomen clenches and you try to find friction against something. And then in a heartbeat, his lips are on your clit, suctioning and flicking and it’s heavenly. Your back lifts from the mattress as you moan, covering your mouth to keep the Van der Linde’s from hearing you. 

“Oh, like that, Oh my god Arthur-” You moan, bucking your hips against his face as he curls his fingers in you, hitting all of your sweet spots at the same time. No ones ever touched you like this, and he’s turned you into a whimpering, moaning mess. This is just as addicting for him as it is for you, and when he feels your hips start to buck and the clenching of your walls around his fingers, he knows you’re close. It's risky to keep pushing you, but he goes just a few seconds longer, drawing out your ecstasy. You’re stepping over the edge of a cliff, just ready to fall, and then Arthur pulls you back, slipping his fingers out of you and releasing your clit.

“No no no no no, Arthur, no please.” You whimper and cry, feeling so empty from the lack of him. 

“Darlin, I’m sorry. You asked for this.” Arthur mumbles, feeling bad for torturing you like this, but he knows the release will be worth it. He doesn't leave you feeling empty for long, and soon his thumb is rubbing tight, slow circles over your clit. With his mouth unoccupied, he keeps his thumb on your clit, leaning over you. 

“That feel good, darlin?” Arthur asks, watching the way your face slips into pure ecstasy when his fingers stop and continue to touch you. He chuckles lightly, deep in his chest, “Yeah it does, look atcha.” 

Your nails dig into his forearm, feeling the flexing of his muscles as he works at your clit, touching you just right. He leans down to your chest, taking a nipple into his mouth and nipping it, flicking his tongue over the hard peak. You gasp, breaths loud and quick as you feel yourself closing in on an orgasm. You’re in that spot, when it's just about to hit and the heavenly way your body shudders and moans signals so to Arthur. 

“Right here, this what you like darlin? Feelin’ like this?” Arthur asks, watching as you nod, face drawn up as you gasp. Arthur presses a chaste kiss to your chest, stilling the rhythm of his fingers. You cry out in frustration. You were so close, and in the absence of his fingers a few tears drip down your face as you cry out.

“I can’t- I can’t take much more Arthur, please, please!” You whimper, shuddering underneath him, so fragile that a simple brush of skin could push you over the edge that he just will not grant you. Your core aches for release, your mind clouded with the fog of so much pressure that it blurs your vision. He’s going to make you pass out.

He parts your legs again, but this time settles his hips between them. Gasping and panting, you dig your heels into him, needing him in you so desperately that you can scream. Slowly, he pushes himself in just past the tip, groaning at how drenched you are. He’s had plenty of time to wind you up, and a mess of slick is on your thighs, him and the bed, it's a mess.

“Shit sweetheart.” Arthur huffs, leaning down on his elbows to kiss your forehead. Your arms wrap around to his back, and you pull him down to you, leaving red marks on his shoulders. 

“Move, Arthur, I need you to move.” 

And oh, he does. 

Arthur groans, sliding in fully. He takes a breath before slowly pulling the rest of the way out. He sets a steady pace, rolling his hips into you so slow and hard that every thrust hits your cervix and you gasp from the pleasure of it all. You grip onto him, digging your nails into his back as you lift your hips to meet his. You’re so close, teetering, but you try to keep your reactions muted so he doesn’t stop. Arthur’s eyes are on you, watching as your breasts bounce with every thrust, and the way your face is drawn up as you bite your lip so hard it starts to bleed. He smirks, knowing exactly what you’re keeping from him. 

“That’s my good girl, takin’ me so good. So beautiful.” Arthur murmur, hands planted on either side of your head. He picks up his pace, just a bit, thrusting into you fast enough that you barely have enough time to recover from him hitting your sweet spot before he's coming back into you again. 

“Oh, Arthur!” You moan, unable to hold it back anymore. 

“That's it sweetheart, let it go, you can have it.” Arthur growls, feeling a tightening in his abdomen.

“Oh, Fuck, Arthur, Oh please don’t stop-” You pant, and Arthur smiles at your foul mouth, something only liquor can pull out of you, and his touch apparently.

His hand reaches down in between your bodies, raking over your clit just enough for it to send you over the edge finally. A strew of gasps, moans and curses fall from your swollen lips as your abdomen clenches, your walls constricting around Arthur with every thrust of his. It's unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, and you actually scream. Your usual waves of pleasure have been replaced by a tsunami, and all you can do is gasp and pull Arthur closer to you. Arthur is barely hanging on at this point, fighting with everything he has to let you finish before he does. But you look so damn beautiful, grabbing him everywhere and yelling his name out in between strangled moans. Your toes curl, and your thighs clench around his waist so tightly that he struggles to keep pace. 

“Easy, that's my girl, you’re alright.” Arthur coos, still pounding into you as you start to come down. You can already feel the ache in your hips as they slow from bucking against Arthur hastily. You whimper, returning from your heightened state just as Arthur groans deeply a few times. His hands clench tightly around the pillows by your head as he slips out of you just in time. Panting for the breath that you’ve been holding, you reach up to run your fingers through his stubble, watching the way his face draws up and he gasps and groans, spilling his seed over your stomach. Exhausted, he rests his forehead against your own. 

“Holy shit, Arthur.” You breathe out, chuckling lightly at how quickly the whole situation played out. There's a residual ache in your thighs, hips and stomach, and a few bruises on your hips from Arthur’s hands. 

“You were right.” Arthur mumbles, arms shaking from holding himself up above you. He kisses your hair before he stands up, grabbing a rag from his bedside table. Slowly, he walks back to the bed, covered in a sheen of sweat. He wipes you up carefully, cleaning up his mess completely. Then he quickly changes the sheets, tossing the old ones in a pile that you’ll clean tomorrow, god forbid they go to one of the other girls. Once everything is settled, Arthur climbs into bed first, leaving room for you. With a small, tired smile, you lay your head on his chest, intertwining your legs together. 

“Reckon I should get you drunk more often if you’re gonna keep havin’ ideas like this one.” Arthur huffs, running his fingers up and down your spine. 

“It seems so.” You mumble, smiling.  Your hand runs through his chest hair, and you’re so glad to just be with him that part of you wishes you never had to sleep. But alas, your tired, sore body wins over quicker than you would have liked, and your sleepy eyes slip shut. Arthur doesn’t last much longer than you, and shortly the two of you are cuddled up together, equally parts comfortable and satisfied.

[tnt-kokoo]

See you again

Arthur Morgan × fem!reader

(this is part two of Savior)

summary: Nearly 2 months later, you were in the news paper as well as a symbol of a futuristic movement, that proved you were as hood as any man in your work field as a biologist. But... somehow you didn't feel complete, so you went back to the only place that you knew you'd find him.

warnings: can't write accents, wrote it pretty rushed so idk if it's good, got lazy at the end icl, I don't really like writing endings so I hope that it's alright how I ended this one (even if this is technically still kinda an open ending)

AN: @hairinurbutt I hope you like it, sorry if it doesn't met your expectations 🙏

The trains final call to get off was heared as you carefully stepped down the stairs to enter the familiar town called Valentine.

Not far from here, you met a man called Arthur Morgan, who not only saved you but helped you get your notebook, filled with your work, back.

In hopes you see him again, you visited the nearest town to find him.

He helped you reach your dreams and be known amongst the biologists but, you just felt lonely. Then you remembered how much fun you had in your short period of time with the over 6 foot tall guy.

You just so dearly hoped you'd see him again.

____________________________________________

Now looking around, it seemed way too early for your search to start. Barely anyone outside.

So therefore, you choose to eat breakfast in the bar you found. As you entered, you could see the bar keeper cleaning the tables and another man sitting a bit further away. Neither noticed you until the doors closed, the bar keeper asked "Can I help you?"

"Do you serve food?"

With a nod, he walked back to the counter and started preparing you something fresh. As you waited you couldn't help but ask, "Excuse me, do you know a guy that's like a bit over 6 foot, strong, like dark-ish blond hair?"

The barkeeper then deadpanned at the vague description, while the guy a few tables away heared and started to wonder as he recognizes your face....

Your food was bought to you as the barkeeper continued his work and suddenly, the chair in front of you was moved to accompany the guy that originally sat a few tables away.

He had dark shoulder long hair and very visible scars on the side of his face.

"Tell me more about the guy you're searchin' " he said.

"Well, like I said, tall, dark blond, like green-blue eyes-"

"What was his name?" He asked more impatiently.

"Arthur Morgan?" You answered, wondering if he knew your friend.

"So it's you! You're that girl that also got mauled by wolf's, huh?"

"....Huh"

The stranger you've never met knew about that incident?

Just who was he? Does he maybe know where Arthur was??

"And you are who?" You questioned him as he told you he was called 'John Marston'. The guy also told you about how Arthur told him alot about you, Arthur also wondering if you'd ever come back.

"So why 're you back here? Thought Arthur said you were famous or so?"

"Oh! I wouldn't say famous but-" you mumbled but then changed the topic to the other part of his sentence, "Yea, I am back to look for Arthur, if I am honest." shyly you admitted.

"Y'know what! I'll bring him to you! Meet up back here in this saloon at sunset!" He proudly decided.

____________________________________________

'I read through the news today again,

I still can't belive how far that girl made it. I am happy for her.

But still, I wonder if she still thinks about me like I think about her.."

With that, Arthur closed about the 20th page that was about you. Sure, he may seem a bit too foolish to write so much about you, a girl he met for a short while and had to let go even in a much shorter amount of time, but he for sure knew, that someone like you was a one-in-a-million.

"Arthur!" He looked up to see Abigail, "Have you seen John??" She worryingly asked.

"Sorry but I-"

"Arthur!" A family voice boasted through the camp as many looked at John getting of his horse and walking fast to his somewhat brother and wife.

"John! Where have you been??" The women asked worried as well as mad seeing that after being gone the whole day without saying anything, he goes to Arthur first.

The scar faced man looked at his wife and gave her a kiss on the cheek, "I've been in Valentine, was in the saloon this morning as I met someone interesting." He chuckled towards the other man.

Arthur instead did not seem to want to play the guessing game and just sighs and hoped John would just say who he met with.

"Uh so- As I was saying, I met with.. What was her name?" Abigail was now beyond confused on why he spend a day away with a girl.

"The girl you always talk and write about! That biologist!!"

Weights seem to pull Arthurs heart further down as he was sure John was talking about you.

"Y/n?" "Yea! That girl."

Now Artbur wasn't sure how to feel. Sure he was happy you were back but why? And would you like to see him again?

The women between the 3 now understood what was going on as she starts to feel excitement fill her body for Arthur. She knew how much of an affect you had on her tall friend.

"Arthur! Get your best clothes ready!!" Abigail yells as she hurries away to search for stuff.

Not long after, she came back to the two boys who just stared at her while she held a bar of soap and a shaving knife.

____________________________________________

3 hours passed as Abigail has scolded Arthur to wash himself clean. A little later, Artbur was forced to trim his beard atleast and meanwhile, John was laughing at his friend. Little Jack came by as well to sit and watch Arthur shave and question what was going on, Abigail only explained it, saying 'he's getting ready to meet someone important again'.

Now ready, he made his way to the horses and saddled up his own horse.

____________________________________________

Arriving in Valentine, he got off his horse and tied it to a pole.

He made his way to the Saloon that John told him, you'd be waiting in.

'It doesn't feel right just yet...' Arthur thought as he secretly ripped a flower from the side of the ground and walked further to the Saloon.

'Much better'

Walking through the doors, he looked around, seeing people sitting and standing everywhere. It was packed with people. Rich people as well. But Arthur Morgan completely forgot about that part of his life as his eyes only searched for you amongst the crowd.

His eyes stopped at what he thought to be the most beautiful girl.

You were finally here again, for him!

"Miss, I've heard you've been askin' around for me?"

The voice behind you scared you and made you jump just slightly. You realized who it belonged to and instantly shoot up from your chair to hug him.

He was so shocked by the sudden hug but couldn't help but use his roughed up hand, to pull you closer to him.

Parting from the hug, Arthur gave you a pretty flower and you felt like you could finally say what you've been wanting to say for so long now,

"I've found you again Arthur."

The smile you showed his was the one you shower him the first time he has met you.

'Just as beautiful as I remember'

Both of you took a seat and began talking, knowing that neither of you wanted the night to end by still being just friends.

[abugsjournal]

A Cowboy's Cup of Coffee ☕

Arthur Morgan x male reader

Summary: This first chapter is mostly just introductions and getting to know our main character! Also hinting at mutual attraction. The real plot starts soon 👀

Content Warning: internalized homophobia (sort of?)

Chapter 1: The Handsome Stranger

Y/N's POV

     You wake up before the roosters sleeping in the local farms can wake up the rest of the town. You used to rely on them to wake you up but after a couple of months rising before the sun, it became routine. As the owner of the only café in Valentine, part of your job is waking up before everyone else and having coffee ready for them by the time they roll out of bed and make their way to you, still rubbing the sleep from their eyes as they order. Coffee is 5 cents per cup, and for an extra 3 cents you add a fresh baked pastry to go with the drink. You bake a different pastry for each day of the week. On Saturdays you make mini strawberry shortcakes, on Mondays you make blueberry muffins, and on Tuesdays you make peach turnovers (your absolute favorite). Your little café is closed on Sundays, you won't get any business while everyone is at church anyways.

     Today is Saturday and you're feeling particularly nostalgic. You remember how you were surprised by the news of your beloved uncle's passing, and even more surprised by the amount of money he left you in his will. He never had children of his own so you were the closest thing he had to a son. As a child you spent your free afternoons helping him run his butchers shop. You only helped at the register since all the meat and blood made you squeamish.

     Along with his life savings you also inherited his mismatched collection of coffee mugs and tea cups. That's what inspired the name for your business; The Collector's Café. You scavenged every estate sale you came across for cups, silverware, plates, chairs, and tables. No two pieces of furniture or dishes were the same. You found a vacant building in a small growing town named Valentine. Full of cattle ranchers and folks with big dreams. You hoped to fuel those dreams with coffee. You spent the remainder of your inheritance on the deed to the building, an oven, a few French presses, and your first order of coffee beans and baking ingredients.

     Two years later, here you are, unlocking your doors at five a.m. Within minutes you're greeting your regulars, as tired as they are loyal, and getting started on their usual orders. It's the busiest day of the week but it passes by without incident. You close up shop at two in the afternoon and finish up with your cleaning and other closing tasks by four. During your walk home you take a short detour through the nearby woods to unwind. It's the middle of spring and the native wildflowers are in full bloom. However, it's not the flowers that catch your eye. Peering into the center of a bright orange flower, you find a ladybug.

     Growing up you were always the shortest boy in your class and more often than not you were teased for it, so you developed a soft spot for the small creatures that were overlooked (or squished) by others. You pull out your sketchbook from your worn leather satchel and begin to draw what you see. You usually save drawing for your day off, but the little creature in front of you is just too precious to leave undocumented.

     After you finish walking home you eat dinner and quickly fall into a comfortable sleep, knowing tomorrow is you day off.

     You spend your Sunday morning tending to the house chores you neglected throughout the week. In the afternoon you stock up on groceries and supplies for the café. You spend the rest of your free time out in the woods drawing every little insect you can find. Before you know it the sun begins to set and you know it's time to turn in for the night.

     The roosters begin to caw as you pull your first batch of blueberry muffins out of the oven and set them on a rack to cool. As you unlock your doors and flip your sign to "OPEN" you can hear hooves and boots squelching through the muddy path through town. As the sun rises high enough to send warm beams of light through the windows, your usual group of regulars walk in, each greeting you with  a sleepy grunt or a gravely "Mornin',". Trailing at the end of the usual morning rush you see a new face. He walks in confidently but when you look into his eyes you can see something else, he looks lost. Maybe he's new in town?

     As he approaches the counter you try to make him feel welcome, "Good morning friend, welcome to The Collector's Café! It's not often I see a new face, especially this early, what's your name?"

     Shocked by your level of energy at such an early hour, the stranger takes a second to answer, "Arthur Morgan."

     "That's a fine name Mr. Morgan. I'm Y/N, nice to meet ya!" You smile as you take in the man's features. He's nearly six inches taller than you. Brown hair curls around the rim of his hat and back of his neck and matching stubble covers his jaw and chin. He has a strong nose that looks like it's been broken more than once, suntanned  skin, and the most piercing blue eyes you've ever seen. In the light coming in from the windows you can see they aren't just blue, they have a ring of green around the pupil that bleeds into the blue irises and for a split second you are drowning in them. You blink and remember you're supposed to be running a business. Clearing your throat, you ground yourself, "Now how can I help you?"

     Arthur's eyes wander from your face to the hand written menu propped up on the counter. "I'll have a coffee. Black."

     "Lovely choice, anything else?" You watch him narrow his eyes, still reading over the menu.

      After mulling it over in his mind, he replies, "Add one of them blueberry muffins too." He begins fishing out change from his pocket and drops eight cents into your hand.

     "Thank you Mr. Morgan! Go pick out a seat and I'll bring everything to your table in a moment."

     Arthur nods and begins looking around the eclectic café he finds himself in. He finds a seat in the back corner, a comfortable red chair next to a round oak table.

     You pull a still steaming muffin off the cooling rack and place it on a dainty plate decorated with ivy leaves around the rim. You fill a yellow mug from the freshest brewed batch of coffee and make your way over to Arthur, gently placing his order on the table in front of him. "There you are, holler at me if you need a refill!"

     "Thank you mister." He replies, looking up at you from under the brim of his hat.

     You think he might be a man of few words, or maybe just shy. You're already busy clearing tables as Arthur takes his first sip. You glance in his direction between each table, watching to see if he enjoys what you've made. New customers always make you feel a little nervous, the same nervousness you felt the day you opened your café. Thankfully, you see his eyes go wide as he takes a bite of the muffin, a slight smile forming at the corners of his mouth. You let out a small sigh of relief and return to your work, feeling a swell of pride in your chest.

     You're washing cups behind the counter when Arthur gets up to leave. "Have a nice day!" You call as he heads out the door. He silently tips his hat towards you and then he's gone. When you go to clear the table he was sitting at you notice that not a drop of coffee is left in the mug, and there's hardly any crumbs on the plate. It always warms your heart knowing your customers enjoyed their treat.

     The rest of the day flies by you. As you drift off you find yourself wondering if you'll see the handsome stranger again.

Arthur's POV

     You wake up to the sounds of the rest of the gang starting their days. You groan as you sit up, not looking forward to the tasks that will be given to you as soon as you exit your tent. Hopefully it won't be too bad, you're still worn out from setting up camp. You only just settled in this spot outside of Valentine and Dutch said we should lay low for a while. You get dressed and get your hair semi-decent before stepping outside.

     Javier and Hosea are sitting by the fire drinking coffee. "Bout time you woke up," Hosea greets you as you sit down to join them, "Dutch has been looking for you."

     "Won't kill him to wait one more minute." You pour yourself a cup of coffee and take a large swig. Your face involuntarily contorts in disgust as you swallow and you promptly dump out the rest, thinking about how much better the coffee tasted at the café you discovered while exploring the town yesterday. You make a mental note to go back after finishing up with whatever Dutch has planned for you.

     Walking over to his tent you see Dutch open his arms, the day's first cigar between his teeth, "Arthur! There you are," He throws an arm around your shoulders, "Would you mind escorting our lovely ladies into town today? They will not quit pestering me about it and I think it's about time we started gathering some intel."

     "Sure, I'm up for babysitting." You smirk at your own remark, entertaining yourself as you often do with your sarcasm.

     Dutch laughs and pats you on the back, "That's my boy! Hear that ladies?" You hear a chorus of excited giggles and turn to see Karen, Tilly, and Mary-Beth practically skipping towards the wagon. You can't help but smile at their giddiness as they chat and sing the entire ride into town.

     After hitching the horses you all split up. Luckily you weren't given anything specific to do in town other than making sure the girls stay out of trouble and making sure they get home safe, so you head right to the café, eager to get your caffeine fix for the day.

     Pushing open the door you hear a small bell ring above your head. "Hey Mr. Morgan!" Y/N smiles at you as the smell of coffee and peaches washes over you, "Back for more already?"

     You chuckle at how formally he addresses you, "Hey Y/N, you can drop all the 'Mr. Morgan' nonsense, Arthur is just fine."

     "Oh, okay! Well what can I do for you, Arthur?" As you look down at the barista you notice his eyes are the same deep brown color as the coffee he serves, perfectly matching his hair. His skin, despite being freckled, is almost as pale as cream.

     "I'll have a black coffee please, and do you have any more of those muffins?" You peek into the display case but you don't see any.

     "I'm all out of muffins, but I do have peach turnovers!" You must have looked as disappointed as you felt, the barista quickly adds, "I promise these are just as good! They're actually my favorite."

     Since your mouth has been watering since you walked in, you cave in and decide to try one, "Alright alright I'm convinced," You slide eight cents across the counter but Y/N slides three cents back towards you. You raise an eyebrow at him, suddenly doubting your ability to count without coffee in your system.

     "Go sit down, breakfast is on me today." He winks at you and starts preparing your order.

     Shocked by his kindness, it takes you a moment to remember your manners, "Thanks Y/N." You make your way to the same corner table you sat at yesterday. The café is full of customers, all happily chatting with Y/N as he weaves between tables clearing dishes and refilling mugs. You're surprised at how quickly he has your order ready. The cup of coffee is steaming and it warms your face as you bring the mug to your lips. After drinking the dirt water the rest of the gang calls coffee for so many years, you forgot what good coffee tastes like. You take a bite of the peach turnover, it's somehow better than the muffin you had yesterday! As the flaky crust softly crunches between your teeth and you bite into the juicy sliced peaches inside, you can see why these are Y/N's favorite.

     You continue watching him as he works. Everyone that walks in gets greeted with the same warm smile and he seems to know exactly how everyone likes their coffee without having to ask. After the majority of folks finish their drinks and file out, Y/N picks up the cups and plates and returns to wipe each table off with a rag.  He places his left hand down on a particularly long table and bends forward slightly to wipe down the edge against the wall. Your eyes travel from his shoulders and down his back. You can't help but stare at his slender waist and how his jeans hug his hips.

     Suddenly, as if he can feel your eyes on him, Y/N stands up and snaps his head in your direction. You feel your cheeks flush warm with shame, you lower your eyes and quickly finish the last of your coffee. Y/N glides over to you, "Need a refill?" Despite being taller than him, you suddenly feel very small with how he's looking down at you in your chair. Is the smile on his face playful? You're too wrapped up in your own embarrassment to know for sure.

      "Ah, no thanks," You can't stand his stare any longer and abruptly stand up, "I think it's about time I head out." Avoiding meeting his eyes you quickly walk past him and towards he door.

     "Oh, alright. See you round Arthur." You feel Y/N's gaze follow you as you go. You walk back towards the wagon, trying to shake the image of the barista's blue jeans from your mind. The girls are already there waiting for you. You silently ready the horses and climb into the wagon.

     "What have you been up to, Arthur?" Tilly asks as she climbs into the back seat.

     "Not much, just had some actually decent coffee," Not wanting to think about how the rest of your morning went, you quickly change the subject, "Did y'all hear anything useful?"

     "Oh yes," Karen interjects, "We'll tell you all about it when we get back to camp."

     The ride back is quiet, the afternoon sun through the trees dappling your path in shade. Upon arriving, you quickly look for something to do and settle on chopping wood for tonight's fire, hoping no one bothers you during the meditative task.

     After dinner you retreat to your tent, tossing and turning restlessly in your cot, unable to take your mind off of how Y/N was looking at you earlier after he caught you staring. You thought he would have gotten upset with you, but you were met with a smile. You think you saw a hint of mischief in his eyes but you quickly convince yourself you imagined it.

     You fall asleep cursing yourself for eyeing him the same way you would eye a woman.

//

Thank you so much for reading! This is my first time writing a fic and I can already tell I have a lot to learn. I'm open to constructive criticism, all I ask is that you're nice about it lol let me know what you think about it so far!

Chapter 2

Taglist: @photo1030

[goodmorgan]

Perfect Strangers

Chapter 2: A Debt To Repay

(Chapter 1)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

Series Summary: When a stranger appears at your homestead to steal from you, you set out to help him instead. What follows is a reckless relationship with potentially dangerous outcomes.

Chapter Summary: When Arthur keeps his promise and returns, he's determined to repay his debt to you in more than one way.

Word Count: 5.4K

Tags: NSFW. MDNI. 18+. Smut, Porn With Plot, Oral Sex (f! receiving), Fingering, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Infidelity, Arthur gives reader a pet name

AO3 Link

A/N: The chapter has spoilers for the first one obvs. For the sake of the story, I have given reader a last name. However, Arthur decides to give her a pet name all of his own...

"To my dearest wife, Mrs. Brooks,

I hope my letter finds you in agreeable health and blithe spirit. I am fortunate to write this in the same state of body and mind.

I am writing to inform you that my return home from Annesburg has been regrettably delayed again. Mr. Jameson has instructed me to remain as bookkeeper for the upcoming months, expressing modest satisfaction with my employment. I do not know yet when I’ll be able to visit you.

I hear whispers that the head bookkeeper, Mr. Muller, my superior, might be retiring by the end of this year, which would make me a potential candidate for his position. I plan on proving my worth in the meantime so that I might be given preferential treatment when the time comes for his replacement. I would like to discuss this in greater detail with you on our next meeting.

Business is flourishing despite minor mishaps at the mine hindering our profit. The papers have callously depicted the pristine working conditions of our miners, whom I assure you are treated and provided for in the most respectable manner. Please refrain from reading such worthless gossip and know I am secure from bodily or spiritual harm.

Mr. Jameson has generously provided compensation for postponing my visit. I trust that you will able to retrieve it at the Valentine Savings Bank, like on previous occasions. Please be mindful to spend it wisely and sparingly.

I bid you farewell with the optimism that we will see each other very soon. In the meantime, I'll see you in my most tender dreams.

Be well and let bygones be just that.

Your doting husband,

Stanley Oliver Brooks"

It has always struck you as appropriate that your husband's initials are S.O.B.

You can't think of a more fitting term for him, even after the last letter he sent, his words leaving you again sick to your stomach as you reread them. While you sigh of relief for his foreseeable absence in the next few months, you're disgusted by his artificial affection and concern for you. If only the man of his letters were real.

You close shut the drawer containing his correspondence with a thud, hearing your wedding ring clang inside. You haven't worn it in months, preferring to not wear a constant reminder of him on you.

You go into the kitchen to find something useful you can do, keeping your mind and hands busy with toil usually helps forget him. You decide to bake a pie with the rest of the apples you have left.

You reach for the flour in your cupboard when you hear the distant sound of horses approaching, making you turn around sharply, grabbing the shotgun by the door. It's now a mechanical instinct for you, having done it hundreds of times since you've lived out here alone. Nothing has passed during that time to upset the peaceful life you lead, so you mostly do it out of precaution. The only major cause of concern happened a few days back when you saw a strange man wander into your front yard, picking one of your apples. Luckily, he was the best thing that happened to you in a long time.

You don't dare risk your luck again so you step out onto the porch quickly, getting ready to ward off any intruder. It's only when you have him in your line of sight that you see the approaching target.

It's Arthur Morgan. At last.

It has been five whole days since he left with your mare Amber. His promise to return hanged in the air since like the sun rays that get you up in the morning, sweet and inviting. You would have never imagined you'd miss someone this much, let alone someone you only knew for a few spellbinding hours.

The man you met intimately last week is now riding a powerful brown stallion, an adequate choice for him, both of them equally imposing to the eye. Amber gallops by their side appearing smaller but just as graceful and well-kept, her golden coat shining in the morning sun. Arthur slows down both horses to a trot as he enters your front yard, letting out an "Easy now" as he pulls on the reins. The closer he gets to you, the better you can see the quiet tender smile on his lips, one too unseemly for such a big man riding such a big horse.

Arthur looks much improved since the last and only time you saw him, now wearing clean clothes that highlight his threatening physique. A polished, perhaps new, slightly too tight, blue shirt brings out his eyes as they shimmer under the shadow of his familiar hat. The bruises on his face have almost healed and you can see the scar on his chin more clearly now that he has trimmed his beard. The satchel you gave him is still draping the same shoulder he hung it on and an impressive gun belt sits on his hips, two heavy weapons anchoring him. Your eyes can barely register all of this as you keep ogling his scene-stealing smile.

"You greet everyone with that shotgun of yours or just me?" he quips from atop his horse as he prepares to dismount. Hearing the soothing lilt of his voice again fills you with unabashed joy.

"Just men I have over for dinner. Or men who take my horse. Or both."

Arthur lets out a few chuckles as he stomps on the ground, heading towards the rails of your porch to hitch his horse. You head toward Amber, petting her forehead to say hello and she neighs back, saying she missed you too. You give her some more attention before you feel Arthur standing behind you, waiting his turn to get your sweet attention too.

"Was she a good girl?" you ask him when you finally turn around and meet his enigmatic gaze, his face barely a few inches from yours. His smile seems to be stuck in place.

"Yeah, she's a swell ride. Didn't work her too hard, I promise."

"And who's that?" You nod towards the brown stallion now grazing your lawn.

"That's Titus. He's new. Still a little jumpy."

"Well, I'm sure you'll tame him in no time."

"Yeah, I'll get him there."

When your spoken conversation halts, your unspoken one continues as you keep eyeing each other. There's a magnetic push forcing you together, an invisible pull holding you apart. Small wrinkles appear and dissolve on your faces as fleeting hints of your nervousness. Your heartbeats are a little faster than their resting rates. Your eyelashes suddenly work overtime. The breeze cools your sweaty temples as you both sway in place, waiting to see who will make the first move, who will be the one to break off the impasse. Make or break. Push and pull. A seductive stalemate.

"How’ve you been?" Like a hesitant player with a winning hand, you fold.

"Just fine. Better. Alive, thanks to you."

"I'm glad." You feel your cheeks move to form an unstoppable smile.

"I've come to repay my debt, as a matter of fact."

"Oh, really?" You pretend to have forgotten all about it, like it hasn't occupied your mind every single waking hour for the past few days. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

"I have something in mind. But first I'm gonna need your help with something.”

You watch as he moves back to his horse and you follow him, hitching Amber next to Titus. Arthur removes a brown bag from one of his saddlebags. "Here, hold this." It's heavier than you expected. He moves to the other side of the horse to retrieve a smaller bag. "Grab this one too.” You steady yourself as he hands it to you and you start to struggle with the weight of both bags. "Get those inside, would ya?"

“Mr. Morgan, what is this?"

"Just get them inside. I'll show ya."

You're already climbing the stairs to head inside when Arthur finally unropes the big package that was stowed on the back of his horse. By the way he holds it, it seems even heavier.

When you finally place the two bags down on your kitchen counter, Arthur's already right behind you, setting down the package next to the bags. He opens one of them and reaches inside, handing you a potato the size of his fist.

"Thought I'd bring back some things you might need. To replace all the food I ate the other day."

You watch as he starts to empty the bag on the counter, first reaching for potatoes, carrots and onions and then for handfuls of green beans and peas. He retrieves a few shucked corncobs, some turnips. You peek inside the other bag to see that it has a few loaves of bread.

"Now, the only thing I didn't get you was apples, but I figured you might still have a few of those."

"This is too much." You finally express your surprise.

"Well, I did eat too much."

"Not this much, no!"

"It's nothing, really. Why don't you open up the rest for me and I'll get the game I hunted?"

You watch him leave before you finally open the big boxed package. Laying on top you find a few red tins of biscuits and half a dozen chocolate bars. You lift them to find cans of coffee, beans, peaches and salmon. You spot the neck of a bottle of whiskey, an expensive kind by the look of it. A small wheel of cheese is stuck in a corner.

You're still deep in astonishment when you see him walk back in, a couple of rabbits hanging from one hand and a duck from the other. You can't help but laugh at the image. "You steal a grocer on the way over here or something? How much do you think I eat?"

"Just trying to make sure I do right by you, miss. Don't want you thinking I'm so kind of grifter."

"But I didn't give you any chocolate. Or biscuits!" You raise one of the tins in incredulity.

"Oh, that's something I thought you deserved."

Your heart flutters at his words. "Well, you better be staying for dinner because there's no way I can eat this all by myself!" It's only when the words are out of your mouth that you realize how eager you are to replicate the other night.

"I'd be happy to." He accepts your invitation without a fuss. There’s a certain easefulness in your conversation now that you're better acquainted and you both know your attraction is mutual. It doesn’t surprise you that he says yes.

You look back to the goods now cluttering your counter and wonder if you have space in your cupboards to keep it all.

"I was actually hoping you'd let me borrow some of your tools, so I can settle my debt like I promised."

You turn around surprised once again. "Isn't this the repayment you had in mind?" You gesture toward the supplies on the counter.

"No, ma'am. I was thinking I could help you fix your stable. I went to get Amber the other day and I saw that some of the walls need mending and the roof needs fixing. I'd be happy to do it if you let me."

You've been meaning to hire someone to do that for months. It's touching that Arthur noticed and wants to help you out. You don't see a reason not to let him.

"That would be fine, Mr. Morgan. I have some tools here." You reach for your toolbox under the kitchen sink. "There's more of them somewhere in the stable. I'm sure you can find them. Are you sure you don't mind? I don't want to impose."

He takes the toolbox as you hand it to him. "I'm more than happy to help, miss." He gives you a reassuring smile. "I'll get started right away if you don't mind."

“Sure. I'll fix us some lunch later. I'll come to get you when it's ready."

"Thank you." He nods politely before he excuses himself and you watch through the kitchen window as he stops to pat Titus before heading to the stable out back.

You are now stuck with the ordeal of putting away all of the food Arthur brought, rearranging the cupboards to fit it all. You smile as you store the biscuits and the bars on a shelf, wondering what kind of man brings so much chocolate to repay a lady. Something I thought you deserved, he said. But it's not just chocolate, it's a whole array of goods, including meats he took time to hunt and skin to purposely bring to you. You realize he's been thinking of you as much as you've been thinking about him, even though a week ago you were just complete strangers. Your thoughts are interrupted once you hear sudden loud rhythmic hammering outside, the continuing of Arthur's restitution.

Everything is in its place once you remember you were going to bake an apple pie before you were so delightfully interrupted. You think it's an even better idea now that Arthur is staying over for dinner. And lunch. Somehow you've captivated him enough to spend the whole day here with you. You hope he'll be spending the night too.

It gets harder to focus on the pie as you recall the night of intimacy the two of you spent the other day. Your chest rises and your breath hisses at the thought that you might be repeating it tonight. As you mix and mold the dough on your steady hands, you think of his large ones caressing you once again, first through your clothes and then on your skin, leaving his mark again on your faltering hips as he gives into you for the second time. You'll be sure to ask him to let you finish around him first this time, the idea having plagued you since then.

The oven is already hot once you absentmindedly finish assembling the pie, the apples now carefully stuffed inside the crust. As it bakes, you get working on lunch, made with some of the ingredients Arthur brought, a simple soup with plenty of potatoes and some sandwiches. You remove the pie from the oven and leave it to cool on the window sill before you go call Arthur for your meal.

When you reach the stable you find him crouched on top of the roof, nailing down some pieces of wood to cover a hole. He’s working shirtless and the late morning sun is making him sweat profusely, deepening his permanent tan. He’s so focused on his task he doesn’t see you approach. “Mr. Morgan, lunch is ready!”

Your voice is loud enough to make him turn to see you. “I’ll be right in, miss.”

When you’re nearly back at the house, you watch from afar as he climbs down the ladder, reaching for a bucket of water to refresh himself, scrubbing off the sweat with a damp rag. You leave when you see him buttoning his shirt, tucking it into his pants, priming himself for another meal with you.

By the time he gets inside, you’re already serving two bowls of steaming hot soup. “This looks mighty fine, miss.” He gives you a satisfied grin before he stops in his tracks and turns around to peek inside the kitchen, having caught the smell of your freshly baked treat. “Is that pie?”

“Yes, it’s cooling so you’re going to have to wait for dinner, I’m afraid.”

“I look forward to it.” He sits down on the same chair he did last time, just as anxious to dig in as five days ago. But this time he’s not as hungry, so he engages in lively conversation with you.

He mostly tells you what’s new in Valentine, curious happenings that have gone down in the past few weeks, things he’s heard around town and seen in the papers. He even gossips with you about a well-known cattle rancher caught having an affair with the butcher’s wife. The story seems to delight him immensely since apparently they ended up slimed in the rancher’s own pigpen in the middle of the town.

You would find the story amusing if it didn’t remind you that you too are a wife with your own infidelity now. The idea of ending up in a pigpen after being exposed for your transgression seems incredibly bleak. You busy yourself with the dishes to dispel the thought from your mind.

But when Arthur raises from his chair, letting out a long sustained breath, stretching out his enormous body inside your small cottage, you are reacquainted with the lust you have for the man. As you recall the intimate actions that make up your infidelity, your first thought is to wonder how soon you will be able repeat them. The hope that it will be tonight makes you weak with excitement. Maybe ending up in a pigpen isn’t so bad.

“Well, I best get back to it if I’m gonna finish today.” He stops before he crosses the threshold, returning his hat to his place. “The food was very tasty, miss. Thank you.” You both smile briefly at each other.

While he resumes fixing the stable, you return to your chores until you are suddenly left drowsy by the afternoon heat, deciding to rest your eyes for a moment in the comfort of your sofa, the sound of Arthur’s hammer lulling you to sleep.

It's late afternoon when you wake from your nap and you notice how quiet it is, the hammering having stopped. You figure it’s best to go see if Arthur needs any help, bringing with you a pitcher of lemonade to refresh him from a sunny day’s hard labor.

You find him still working inside the stable, his shirt, hat and gun belt hanging on the hooks where you keep some ropes. This time he hears you approach with the pitcher and two glasses in hand.

“Thought you might be thirsty, Mr. Morgan. Got you something to drink.”

“That’s very kind of you, miss. Just give me a second.”

You watch as he picks up a few bales of hay on the other side of the stable and he places them on top of the others, finishing setting them up in a neat pyramid by where you’re standing.

"I think that about does it,” he says.

You survey the small stable as you notice the impressive result of his craftsmanship, every hole now covered and every wooden board now in its place. He even went to the trouble of tidying up the space, neatly arranging everything to make it more functional. It looks like a brand new stable.

You serve him a glass of lemonade as he joins you. “The stable looks wonderful, Mr. Morgan. I’ve never seen it so tidy!”

“I’m glad you like it.” He sits down on a bale as he finally rests for the day, sipping half a glass in just a few gulps.

You serve yourself and put down the pitcher, sitting on a nearby stool, continuing to admire his handiwork. Amber will surely enjoy living here again, you think. It takes only a few seconds before your eyes circle back to where Arthur is and you notice he’s staring at you. You stare right back.

There’s a slight breeze coming in from the windows but neither of you is swaying in place now, sitting perfectly still as you observe the other. You are once again victims of a push and pull, a make or break. That goddamn seductive stalemate.

Except this time, it’s him that breaks. “Come here.” Arthur’s voice suddenly sounds deeper as he sets his glass on the floor, his other hand reaching out for you. You leave your own glass on the stool as you hold out to touch his palm.

When he finally holds you in his hand, you feel yourself being pulled closer to him, forcefully landing on his lap. Your faces remain somber as you’re now close enough to inspect each other’s irises, continuing that wordless exchange you’ve been having all day. The standoff ends when Arthur chases your lips with his, finally free to crash into each other like you’ve been so hungry to do. Nothing about it is tender as the kisses you share turn ravenous, no longer restricted by the pretense of propriety. You have slept together, after all.

It takes a while until both of you are satisfied, decreasing the intensity of each kiss as you pause to look at each other’s eyes, basking in the glow of being wanted so deeply by the other. Soon his warm lips rub against yours more softly, delicately even, and his tongue stops chasing yours. He settles down by placing short pecks on your chin and jaw, as you gently caress his back and neck. You remain in his embrace as you lean your forehead onto his and he gently removes loose strands of hair from your cheeks.

"I'm sorry I was selfish the other night,” he murmurs. You respond to his apology by lifting your head in confusion. “I was in such a hurry I didn't let you finish first." The fact that he cares about it makes you ache with renewed desire.

"That's ok. It looked like you needed it more than I did.” You pause as he reaches quickly for your lips again. “And, boy, did I need it!” He lets out a few soft chuckles in that drawl of his.

His gaze is suddenly serious. "Let me make it up to you."

“Now?”

He nods. “Now.”

He reaches for the warmth of your thighs underneath your skirt, the ones he’s been fondling this whole time. He squeezes them tightly a few times before he suddenly pulls at your drawers and slides a hand inside, reaching your core with a couple of fingers. You feel them slide between your folds and rub the spot where your slick is. “Good, you’re already wet.” You feel a jolt of ecstasy through your entire body at the brief maneuver so when he removes his hands from you it feels physically devastating and you let out a small whimper.

“I’m gonna take care of you, don’t worry. Just take off your clothes for me, would ya?” Arthur suddenly reaches for his glass of lemonade.

“Here?”

He nods. “Here.”

It’s a rather odd moment when you realize that somehow you trust this semi-stranger, barely-acquaintance drifter completely. He’s asking you to get naked for him in the middle of your stable, in broad daylight, and yet you don’t even bat an eye. You’re quick to grant his wish as you start unbuttoning your simple blouse, soon exposing your chemise to him as he takes a few sips of his drink. You drop your top on the floor as you get up from Arthur’s lap to remove your skirt and throw your drawers to the side, with only one piece of clothing left to remove.

Arthur rises from his seat and soon hovers over you to plant another kiss, this one more forceful as he parts your lips with his, slippery from the lemonade. He lingers a while before retreating, forcing himself apart from you to swoop up your chemise as it passes between your bodies. He takes a moment to look down at you and you’re very aware that you are now standing there naked and barefoot. “You’re so beautiful.” He sees you wince at his compliment. “Really, you are.” He softly caresses the side of your arms before leaning in for another demanding kiss and you feel your bare breasts touching his bare chest, his warmth enveloping you as you shiver from his touch and the light breeze entering the stable.

He lets go of your mouth to plant sensual kisses on your jaw, slithering steadily down your neck, quickly reaching your collarbone. He then trails further down as he reaches one of your breasts, lingering his tongue on your nipple, making you steady yourself on his shoulders. He slides further down to your belly, then to your navel, stopping just as he hits your mound, planting soft kisses there. His last one is right above your parting of the folds, making your whole body shudder. He gets up again to look you in the eyes. “So beautiful.” A final kiss lands on your upper lips.

He pauses before he asks his next question. “You have any neighbors, miss?”

You are completely surrounded by the woods. There isn’t another soul for miles. “No, why?"

"In case you get loud."

You watch in place as he goes to retrieve his shirt and for a moment you think he’s going to get dressed. Then he heads to the bales of hay he had been sitting on, unfurling his shirt on top. He grabs your hand and beckons you: “Sit.” You’re confused by his intentions and it shows. “Sit here, come on.” He pats the fabric of his shirt, tugging your hand with his other one. You slowly do so, still not understanding what he wants.

Once you sit down, your bare ass lying on top of Arthur’s shirt, you follow his lead and he grabs both your knees gently, making you turn to the side. You watch as he suddenly kneels himself down in front of you, moving his hands down to your calfs, lifting your legs up. Without any warning he starts pecking one of your knees, placing the other on his shoulder. “You gonna be loud for me, beautiful?” His beard lightly scratches you as he switches legs. “You gonna be loud while you come around my mouth?”

His words make you inhale sharply as you realize what he’s going to do to you.

“Is that a yes, miss?”

You nod, shaking with anticipation. “Yes.”

He pulls your body closer to him, positioning your hips at the edge of the bale, making you lean on your elbows, fully lying on the comfort of his shirt.

His light kissing on your legs starts out feeling like gentle tickling but soon becomes sensual smears as he starts working on your inner thighs. The kisses then get longer and bolder as he closes in on the meeting of your thighs, forcing you to breathe more heavily. He starts using more tongue too, which increases the feeling wildly. By the time he reaches the apex of your thigh, you’re completely dizzy with his teasing, involuntarily closing your eyes as your breath hitches.

“Christ, darling, I haven’t even sucked you yet.”

You watch as Arthur lowers his face once more, a smirk disappearing behind the shape of your mound. He kisses the bridge between your thigh and your slit, which distracts you from his other hand as it sneakily reaches the meeting of your folds. He parts them slowly with a single finger, starting at the top of the clit and only stopping at the bottom of your entrance. You let out a prolonged loud moan, which makes him raise his head, watching your face as he then slides the same finger all the way back up, smearing your slick along its path. You get louder as he pauses directly on your clit, swirling it a few times. After so much teasing, having direct contact is so intense that your head finally hits the hay.

The reaction suddenly feels premature once you finally feel him start what he’s set out to do. Arthur lowers his head again, only this time his lips land right on yours, circling your clit in the gentlest kiss of the afternoon. Your whole body shakes at his subdued but blinding touch.

The coil inside your lower abdomen starts to wind as you feel the tip of his tongue make direct contact with your bud, its surface now angled perfectly to drive you wild. He continues the motion even as you writhe under him, now clutching his hair to ground yourself, your legs pressing his body down onto you as your back begins to curve. Rather than pull away from your tight embrace, he sinks deeper into you, holding your hips steady from their bucking as he continues to lap you lewdly, the sound only muffled by your own salacious moaning. His tongue is relentless in his pursuit of your pleasure and you think you won’t last very long.

The obscenity of the moment is not lost on you, as you lift your head momentarily to see what is happening. There is a tall handsome cowboy down on his knees for you, using his whole mouth to draw from you the most perverted noises, on the verge of making you crumble to the most erotic thing anyone has ever done for you. In the middle of your stable, of all places. You thank the heavens you don’t have any neighbors. You thank the devil for keeping your husband away.

And then you feel two of his fingers enter you.

You settle your head down again as you become a complete mess under him, too far gone to care about keeping it together, especially now that he rubs the sweet spot inside you. You’re barely able to discern that his free hand has now reached his pants but you hear the sound of his buckle opening. Finally free from his constraints, he strokes himself a few times and you feel him vibrate on top of you as he finds some needed relief. Despite this, his tongue and his fingers never let up, working you mercilessly. You soon feel moans of pleasure leave his mouth, reverberating directly on your core, a feeling too lascivious for you. That’s when you finally come undone.

Your whole body convulses as you experience the greatest climax you’ve ever had, feeling the waves of pleasure reach every inch of your body, maybe your soul. As you come, your core pushes upward against Arthur’s face, telling him to stop, but he does not relent, continuing his lapping, wringing every ounce of ecstasy out of you. You’re beyond overwhelmed as you moan uncontrollably, your hips sinking and rising erratically, your hands still pulling his hair. After a few moments, he begins to slow his licking, removing his fingers from you, placing his hands on your forearms, giving you smooth caresses as he helps you come down from your high. When you’re a little more tamed, he removes his mouth completely.

“That sure was loud, miss.”

You’re so wrung out by the orgasm you barely hear him, nor do you feel when one of his hands leaves your arm. When you’re more grounded, still reeling from the aftershocks, you’re delighted to hear he has resumed touching himself. By the increasingly loud panting, he sounds to be close already. You don’t lift your spinning head until your curiosity finally defeats your exhaustion. You watch as he pumps his cock with his mouth open, eyes closed, on the verge of toppling over. His beard still glistens with some of your wetness.

When you’re strong enough to lift yourself on your elbows he hears you stir, prompting his eyes open. The gaze he gives is one riddled with lust, accompanied by a brief licking of his lips as he sets a faster pace. You continue to gawk at him, which is all it takes for him to unravel, making him grunt deeply as his spend begins to land on the ground by his knees.

You wait for him to finish his release before you tease him. “You know, you’re not so quiet yourself, mister.”

He laughs lightheartedly as he rises from his knees, tucking his cock inside his underpants, pulling his pants up before he sits down next to you by your hips, still catching his breath. He softly caresses the side of your belly with one of his thumbs. “How was that, miss?”

"I think you’ve repaid your debt in full, Mr. Morgan.”

He bends down to kiss your lips lightly as you both giggle, shining in your shared postcoital bliss. “The name’s Arthur, miss.”

"Well, the name’s Y/N, Arthur.”

“I like ‘miss’ better. It suits you.” He lowers his lips again, this time reaching for your neck.

“You ever heard a ‘miss’ scream like that for you?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I might’ve heard louder than you.” He moves his thumb to teasingly play with one of your nipples.

“I very much doubt that.”

“Well, you can always prove me wrong.” Arthur hovers over your lips threateningly. “Besides, the day ain’t over yet, missy.”

You smile at his new pet name for you. It's certainly better than being called Mrs.

-

A/N: I already have most of the remaining chapters planned out, so hopefully the rest will be published a little faster. Chapter 3 coming soon with the rest of the day!

[herbatalover]

Hello, hope your having a good day/night?

I dont know if your still taking requests but if you are could I request HH Arthur Morgan x LH Male S/O

A/N: I'm sick, so I might write more fanfics now. Hopefully you'll enjoy <3 I'm sorry if it's not what you had in mind!

HH Arthur Morgan x LH Male Reader

"Crazy bastard"

You were sitting by the fire late at night, drowning your sorrows in some whiskey. It was the usual time where dark thoughts came over you. You were a bad man. A horrible one. You lived a bad life. Not by choice... You had to adapt to the life you were thrown into.

Taken in by a strange couple and their unruly son when you were just a kid. Saved from getting shop by an angry shop lifter. What an interesting day.

"Hand them over boy..." The man growled at you. You hugged the two cans of beans closer to you, glaring at him. You were desperate, starving. You didn't know how to use a gun, how to hunt, so you had to steal. This time however, you got unlucky.

"Piss off" you hissed at him. The man looked furious, pulling a gun out, pointing at you. You froze, feeling like a caged animal. Nowhere to go, getting killed over some food... Not exactly how you wanted to die. Your pa would be disappointed.

No, he'd be disappointed if you gave up. You won't. You held the cans tighter, only raising one hand slowly. The man watched you, hoping you'll pass the cans over to him, and instead was greeted with a middle finger. You gave him a grin.

"I am not dying yet partner" you pushed down the fear, getting ready for a bullet. If you're going to die, then at least with some honor.

There was a gunshot.

But the bullet never came. Instead, the man fell on his knees, wide eye, blood slowly leaving his mouth. He fell on the ground, face first. You looked at him confused before noticing a hole in the back of his head. There was a quiet chuckle behind him.

"Nice work Arthur" said a black haired man, you soon-to-be leader, walking over the man, approaching you. "Now who do we have here?"

From that day on you joined Dutch's boys, becoming their second son. You grew close with Arthur, akward conversation turning into late night talks. But, it wasn't a family you hoped for.

You killed many people. Men, women, children sometimes too. Robbed people, both wealthy and poor. Became an errand boy, especially when Herr Strauss joined, having to go around collecting debts. Beating the crying people who begged for mercy.

You were there when the Backwater mess happened. When John got brought back from being torn apart by wolves. When they brought the woman, Mrs. Adler and the "not O'Driscoll" in. When they brought Sean back home.

And now you were stuck near Rhodes, staring at the fire, thinking how your life would look if you'd try to be a good man. If you tried to behave. If you didn't stole those damn beans.

You got up, sighing heavily, feeling the alcohol go into your blood. You headed over to your tent, passing Dutch. You could've stayed quiet, but something pushed you to open your mouth.

"There he is... When are we going to Tahiti, boss?" You scoffed at him, only to get a confused look. You narrowed your eyes "we both know you plan is bullshit, so how about you tell everyone the truth that we're fucked?" You growled. Dutch, now turning irritated turned to you.

"Cut it out, son. I get you're stressed, but we don't need that right now."

"oh I ain't stressed... I'm just seeing clearly" you grinned, but got yanked away to the side. You blinked confused and turned to yell at whoever grabbed you, until you realized it was your beloved Arthur Morgan.

"What are you doing Y/N?" He frowned and looked at Dutch with a sigh "he's been drinking again.... Don't mind him. You'll work it out, you always do" he nodded to him, pulling you away. You rolled your eyes, pushing him away, yet going in the same direction he was pulling you to - his tent.

"Why do you have to lick everyone's ass?" You muttered, walking in. Arthur frowned, following you.

"We're in a tough situation, no need to steer up more commotion" he walked closer to you. You turned to him, glaring at him.

"Of course, because you're the high and mighty Arthur 'Perfect Son' Morgan, aren't you?!"

He looked at you surprised. To be honest, you yourself wasn't quite sure where that came from.

You loved him. He was the love of your life, you'd never hurt him. But you were jealous. Jealous about how he was better than you. How he was nice to everyone, how they all adored him. How he got smiles and pats on the back while you got scowls and scoffs. You were a bad man, you knew that. But you wanted to be adored. To be known.

Yet being nice seemed to be pathetic.

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows, placing his hand on your cheek. You let out a quier sigh, turning your head away. He was looking at you a bit, then cupped your face, turning to him.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing" you pushed his hands away "go be adored. Go find someone who won't ruin your reputation. Go suck everyone's dick so they love you"

"The hell are you talking about?" He laughed, but stopped, noticing you were serious. He frowned, taking your jaw, turning your head to face him.

"I am not leaving you."

"I'm not good for you, Arthur!" You glare at him. "I'm a monster! A good for nothing killer, I don't deserve you, I'm not good for you!"

"Horseshit" the man rolled his eyes. "You're perfect for me"

"I'm not! Maybe you're perfect, but I-" you couldn't even finish because Arthur captured your lips in a soft kiss. You wanted to push him off, but sighed, melting into it. He snickered quietly to which he earned a hit (more of a tap) on the chest. He slowly broke the kiss, looking you in the eyes.

"That's not true" he smiled. "You're everything I could ask for"

You were staring at him quietly, before burying your face in his chest.

"... You smell like cigarettes" you changed the subject. You always did when you got embarrassed or didn't want to face the truth. He sighed softly, petting your head.

You stayed like this for a bit, before you could hear his voice again, jumping a bit as you didn't expect it.

"Hey Y/N?"

"Yes?"

"Have you had the dark thoughts again?" He placed his head on top of yours, petting you softly. You blinked.

".... Maybe a bit"

"You know what it means~" he hummed, one of his hands sliding down, grabbing your ass. You tensed up surprised before chuckling quietly.

"Crazy bastard...."

[caer-gai]

Angsty Arthurian AU Idea number ???

Reincarnation AU! Ector is raising a not-yet-remembering Arthur on his own in some off the grid small town. All alone. No Kay. Arthur had this feeling of 'something missing' his entire childhood, Ector knows who it is and has just enough of an idea what's become of Kay that it hurts a lot to think about.

They gather a bunch of local reincarnations Bedivere for sure, maybe Dinadan, Morgan, Guinevere, as Arthur is remembering and coming into his destiny. They're a small, tight knit found family scrappy low resources rebellion sort of vibe. Very fun very cool.

Now, Uther is still alive and well and running his own court/cult of personality/militant group. They and Arthur's group will come into conflict but he's also got his own agenda. Anyways one of his strongest lieutenants is Lot, who runs a powerful secret base for Uther's group, where he's "training" his sons to be Uther's perfect soldiers.

He also has Kay.

Between Lot and Uther they've made Kay into the perfect weapon against Arthur: trained since he was a baby, magic forced to it's max making him really powerful (a way to describe it i came up with comes from bedivere "The magic around him was screaming") he's supposed to be unshakably loyal. Excpt the only ones he's really loyal to are Lot's kids, to which he's become a weird sort of surrogate big brother (as much as he can). They're the only one's who treat him like a human.

Gareth absolutely hero warships Kay (though in a naive 'you're such a great knight i can't wait to serve Uther too!' kind of way that hurts Kay's soul). Anyways Kay is absolutely terrifying on the battlefield, and for a long time no one and nothing can stand in his way. Until he fights Bedivere (neither know each other's identity)

Bedivere is a solid challenge on his own, but when Kay blasts him with fire it doesn't burn Bedivere. Instead it activates some sort of magic signal bound to their souls, which protects Bedivere. Now that they know both are horror struck (for different reasons) and freeze. One of Kay's "teammates" takes a cheap shot at Bedivere, but he's warned by his team and dodges away. Making him the first to ever escape Kay.

Bedivere tells his peeps about this, which sends Ector into a dark spiral and leads Arthur to ask a lot of questions. Meanwhile, Kay is back at base and not in his armour for the first time. And he's in a cell. Gawain comes to visit, angry at Kay for freezing up, mostly because it made Lot mad. he goes on at Kay for a while before Kay finally snaps and tells him that it was Bedivere he was fighting, and on top of it the signal that save Bedi's life was one he a Kay crafted together to ensure that they couldn't hurt each other.

Which ouch. Gawain tried to apologize, but Kay's too tired for this rn and goes to sleep.

That's about as far as I've gotten linearly. Two other scenes I have in mind with Kay and Gareth-

Gareth is following Kay around while he's getting ready for a mission, mentions how he wants to be just like Kay when he grows up and Kay stops what he's doing gets down on Gareth's level and looks him in the eyes and says "Beaumains, You are going to be so much better than I ever was." (One day, in a happier world and place, where Gareth doesn't have to be anyone's soldier he remembers the first life, and he remembers this and he goes to Kay and hugs him and tells him he's still his hero)

Gareth wants very badly to go with Kay on one of his missions. So badly he teaches himself to replicate Kay's fire magic, and shows it to Kay hoping to impress him. Instead Kay freaks the fuck out and yells at him and makes him promise to never show or tell anyone about this ever again. it's the first time gareth is genuinely scared of kay. Kay hates himself for it but he can't let Lot and Uther put Gareth through the same hell that has been Kay's entire life.

idk if im feeling silly enough i might do some art for this, bc the visual of badass armoured up Kay reassuring little baby Gareth is living in my brain now

[prettyboykatsuki]

i'm bombarding you with asks i'm so sorry but i have FEELINGS about this game—

i was so adamant about you helping the church folks in Saint Denis because the scene with Arthur and the sister would NEVER have happened if you didn't do the side quest! 😭 instead you get a small scene with Swanson which isn't nearly as impactful imo. literally the way he LOOKS and SOUNDS when he finally says out loud, "i'm afraid" fucking KILLS ME EVERY TIME.

he's so TIRED and EXHAUSTED and he knows Dutch is going to be his death but he loves Dutch and the gang and STILL tries to save him because he has nothing else and doesn't see his own skin as worth saving. but you know who he sees worth it?

John.

the same John he was (rightfully) giving grief to for abandoning the family that Arthur WISHES he still had. the same John who he would needle and bicker with, but in hindsight it resembles the needling from an older brother trying to keep the younger in check. and because he is who he is, it's so vividly clear that Arthur, despite everything, still loved John and still cared about him and his family SO much.

hell, Arthur loved everyone else in that gang more than himself. except for fucking Micah. but because he's so loyal to Dutch he would never do what he wants to do to Micah and played nice with him longer than he ever fucking deserved.

i just. i'm sick. i'm sick in the head. he gave EVERYTHING for the gang and tried to get those he loved safe, no matter what.

i love how you say that Arthur is too good for you. he'd never, ever believe you.

IM REALLY GLAD I DID THE QUESTS!! and i really enjoy how these little inconsequential meetings and quests impact arthurs journey as a character. like the sisters quest was simple and nothing too dire at all - but it has such a big impact on arthurs life. him saying in his journal that that conversation unburdened him after everything made me sooooo fucking weepy.

seeing arthur get more perpetually sick and seeing the cloud of death hang over him as the game progresses and him still doing everything he can to save dutch when he is well passed saving. dutch is an unforgiveable piece of shit and i do hatre him for what he did. it was truly truly truly so painful to see arthur continue to give to dutch. partially because he loved him and partially because he wasn't sure what else there is

i had a very long conversation about this w lamb but i really. i really love the relationship there is between john and arthur. i really love that they have a genuine sense of brotherhood between them and that the corruption in the van der linde gang stems so much from this corruption of the family structure. arthur sees john as his brother. like in a serious sense.

both the way he reprimands john and the way he looks out for him. the way he's willing to sacrifice everything and believes that his life will have at least meant something if john makes it out. i think arthur projects a lot onto john in a way that is only experience with older brothers. his hopes and wants and dreams. even his grief. he passes those things onto john and john, like younger brothers often do - take them on. he absorbs so many of arthurs mannerisms and tries hard to make good on what arthur wanted of him.

it was . so painful for me to hear that john heard arthurs voice in his head after everything. arthur loved that gang to pieces even when it didnt do him the courtesy of returning that love in the sligtest. oughhsdjs

YURI YOU SAYING THAT IS MAKING ME SO SICK. he is TOO good for me like so genuinely i dont think i could date a man so decent but you're right that he would never believe it and that makes me sick. arthur morgan you foolish and silly man

[12timetraveler]

I'll Go Tonight, Boys

Summary:

Hosea loved Bessie more than life itself. He spends the first year after her death drunk to numb the pain. On the anniversary of her passing, he tries something drastic.

Inspiration song: Jamie by Zach Bryan Ft Charles Wesley Goodwin

Notes:

CW: Grief, Loss, suicidal thoughts and attempts, alcoholism, vomit.

This is a deep one y'all. Please check in with yourself and make sure you're okay before reading.

Also please note I am not a professional in psychology or dealing with these kinds of issues. The way problems are solved in this story may not be the best way and I'm not making recommendations on how you should respond if you're dealing with any of this. These are characters dealing with these situations using the tools they have at their disposal for their time/lifestyle (which isn't a lot). If you are struggling with any of the issues mentioned in this story, please take care of yourself and seek professional help.

I love all of you. Be safe.

Below is a preview. Read the entire story on AO3

'Cause this life ain't worth livin'

If the love that you've been given

is taken before you are

I'll go tonight boys,

I don't mean no harm

I just miss my lovin' lady

and layin' in her arms

~~~~~~~~~

"Arthur," Dutch called out, grabbing the young man's arm as he passed. Arthur paused, seeing the worried crease to Dutch's brow. "Arthur, will you ride into town with me?"

"Sure," Arthur drawled. "Why?"

"Hosea," Dutch sighed. Arthur groaned.

"I thought you were watching him, keeping him in camp?"

"I was," Dutch huffed. "But I stepped away for five minutes to relieve myself. When I came back he and Silver Dollar were gone,"

"I'm sure he's fine," Arthur sighed. "Just at the saloon. He'll stumble back in a few hours, drunk off his feet but fine." In truth Arthur was getting a little tired of worrying about Hosea. The man had practically raised him through his later teenage years. It was... Uncomfortable trying to take care of him now. He was a difficult drunk. And while Hosea would never raise a fist to Arthur, even out of his mind with drink, it still brought up some awful memories of Lyle Morgan.

They'd been doing their best to keep Hosea in camp, keep an eye on him, and try to limit him to a bottle or two a day. Arthur had handed John all the booze left in camp and told the teen to hide it somewhere Hosea would never think of.

But if Hosea slipped away for a day and went into town, well they'd just have to work harder tomorrow to get him sober.

Even if they had to bail him out of the jailhouse, they'd do that just fine. The local sheriff was a reasonable man. He knew Hosea well enough. They'd stayed in the area this past year, not wanting to drag Hosea too far away from his beloved's final resting place. Many mornings Arthur found himself on Sheriff Jorgenson's porch, hat in hand, promising he'd do better to keep his friend in check.

The others in the gang had already given up. Susan just flat-out avoided Hosea. Her screeching at him and scolding him had only resulted in some harsh words. Only Dutch, Arthur and John still held out hope that they could save Hosea from his self-destructive path.

"Arthur," Dutch said darkly, "Don't you know what day it is?"

Arthur paused, doing a quick calculation in his head. If last Sunday was... And that was how many days ago...? Then today was...

"Shit," Arthur grumbled. "Is that today?"

"It is," Dutch said grimly. "One year since he lost her,"

"We gotta find him before his temper gets him killed," Arthur said, turning and striding toward his horse. Dutch fell in alongside Arthur.

"Or his melancholy,"

[immajustvibehere]

A lost, cold, robbed, untrusting Y/N stumbles upon Arthur's camp. "you're cold enough with them eyes, come join me by the fire"

A Selfless Act

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

summary: Your former partners abandon you in the mountains. Luckily, you come across a lonely cowboy who saves you from freezing to death.

warnings: mentions of suicide, light fluff

2800 words, 13 minutes reading time

You were a fool. It was pure agony, feeling your holster dangling from your belt. They had left you with one bullet, joked that you'd need it for yourself. Double-crossed, humiliated and left to die one way or another in the freezing mountains. You'd been walking for God knows how long, but you knew it would be your only chance of surviving. Maybe you'd find shelter or be lucky enough to come across someone who would take you back to civilization. There was not much to fear, besides your clothes there was nothing on you that could be taken.

Trudging through the snow was really stupid, you thought. You should just end it right now. You had survived one night; you knew you wouldn't survive another. If the cold won't get you, a pack of wolves will, and frankly, you preferred the bullet to your head. Your hand fumbled for your gun - or it tried to. Your body felt frozen rigid, you hadn't moved anything but your legs for the last couple of hours and despite having lost most of the feeling in your hands, you managed to take your gun out of its holster. You stopped to look at it.

Nope, no way.

The gun was put back and you looked up. You'd do it later. At night. It was only late afternoon; you shouldn't rush things. Maybe...with a bit of luck...

There was a thin but clearly visible column of smoke rising to the sky. It came from behind the hill you were currently climbing. You chuckled at the coincidence of seeing it now. There was your last bit of hope. It had never been harder to climb a snowy hill. The snow seemed deeper than the one before and the wind stung like needles on the small patch of exposed skin in your face. There had been the option of going around the hill, but you wanted the fastest way possible. What if there was someone there and he left while it took you hours to get to him? No, it didn't matter that your pants were soaked or that you stumbled and had to get up again, your appearance resembling the one of a snowman.

When you had reached the top of the hill and looked down, you not only saw a big lake covered with ice and snow in front of you, but also a small campfire. A man, wrapped in a big blue coat sat on a fallen tree. You heard him whistle a tune and leisurely watching a fish that was being grilled above the fire next to two pots. A strong stallion was trotting around in the snow around this little camp. Suddenly, fear and anger started to rise up deep within you. Even though you had nothing to lose, what if this was a bad man? What if he took all you had left? Your gun...your clothes? Or what if he killed you? And yet, what was his right to be so happy when you stood a few feet away, shivering and on the brink of death?

A headshake got rid of those thoughts. You told yourself that you were exhausted and overthinking; this was your chance of survival, and you had to take it. Slowly, you started sliding down the hill. The man looked up when he caught your figure in the corner of his eye. As he stopped whistling, you stopped dead in your track. There were maybe 15 feet between you. You eyed him suspiciously. Maybe this had been a bad idea. You now saw how heavily armed the man was. Two guns were holstered on his hip and a rifle leaned against the trunk he rested on.

"Hello", the man said. It was more like a question. He watched you a bit confusedly as you remained completely still, trying to evaluate your options. You must have looked pathetic; covered in snow, your nose and cheeks redder than a ripe tomato and though you tried to suppress it, you knew your shivered so severely, it had to be perceivable. You made a step back when the man started to smile, just in case it was a sign of him planinng something malicious.

"You're cold enough with them eyes, why don'tcha join me by the fire?", the man proposed. He even brushed some more snow off the trunk, so you'd have a place to sit. You gave in with a deep sigh and closed the distance between you. When you had reached the fire, you ripped off your wet gloves with your teeth, holding your hands as close to the fire as you dared.

"If ya don't mind me asking, what're ya doing out here, Miss?", the man inquired. He added a, "This isn't really a nice place for pleasurable pastime walks."

"I was-", you started before your dry and sore throat let you break out in a cough. The fit shook you to the very bone, now that your hands and face were slowly warming up, the exhaustion in your limbs became perceptible. When you stopped coughing and took such a rattling breath that even you got scared for a second, the man was stirred into action and poured some coffee into a tin cup. "'m afraid I only got one set of dishes, but better than nothing", he held out the cup to you. You took it hungrily, burning your fingers in the process. With the risk of burning your throat too, you took a gulp. It was bitter and hot. The liquid left a scorching sensation in your aching throat. You knew you had made a weird face, because the cowboy was looking at you worriedly; but you didn't care.

A few gulps and a silent moment later you cleared your throat, before you tried again. "My partners - former partners - wanted to get rid of me. We were on our way through the mountains. They suddenly stopped, killed my horse before my damn eyes and left me with nothing but my gun and one bullet." The control over your hands had returned, so you had no trouble taking your revolver out of the holster and dismissively throwing it in front of the man's boots.

"Well, that wasn't very kind of them", the man commented and picked up the revolver, checking if there really was only one bullet inside. The mistrust angered you, despite you being the one who stumbled into his camp unannounced. Still, with some of the warmth returned to your body you took your place on the trunk next to the cowboy. "How long have you been runnin' around?", he asked. "Almost two days." "Jesus,...you could have been done for", he remarked almost in an unbothered manner while he generously filled a plate with beans, some fish meat and the heel of a loaf of bread.

"Here ya go", he shoved the plate onto your lap. "Sir, I can't eat your-" "Sure ya can. Ya need it more than I do. And it's Arthur." You briefly gave him your name before you took the plate into your hands. There was no restraint left. Even if you wanted to be polite, your stomach growled and the sheer thought of consuming something warm filled you with joy. Your eyelids had become heavy and even the act of lifting the spoon was a fight against gravity, you feared sleep taking over any second. Nevertheless, devouring your meal while its provider pulled the remaining flesh off the fishbones felt needlessly shameless of you.

"You a hunter, sir? I mean- Arthur."

"Not really. Occasionally, I s'pose. I shoot more people than animal, to be honest with you."

"Why'd you tell me that?", you asked, completely unconcerned.

"Excuse me, but", he scoffed "yer friends abandoned you with one bullet to shoot yerself. I just assumed you aren't in the honest sort of business."

You were about to confirm that when a thought pierced your mind. You looked up from your meal which you had half-way finished and asked with a tone that would have given you away immediately: "You the law?" The warm laugh from Arthur made you release the breath you were holding. "More like the opposite", he admitted, smiling warmly. "Good", you answered to that and continued to eat. Your fatigue became so overwhelming, you slipped down from the trunk into the snow. It didn't bother you that your coat and pants would be wet and cold, you did care for the opportunity of resting your back against something.

"You brought a storm with you alright", Arthur commented after a while. You looked up from your clean plate to see dark clouds approaching fast over the hill you had walked only the quarter of an hour earlier. "Represents your mood", he added cheekily. You hadn't smiled nor communicated anything not clearly necessary, and he was right: your mood wasn't the best. Though not freezing, you were still cold. And though satisfied as well as rehydrated, you had still been betrayed and had no idea what to do with your life if the stranger you had just met was willing to bring you back to civilization. "Sorry", you looked up to Arthur who was finishing the rest of the beans and with greatest effort managed to crack a tired smile.

There was nothing to be done about the storm. Shall it come and bury you in heaps of snow, for all you cared. You knew your knees wouldn't support you if you stood up. Your eyes were attracted to the spiting fire. Then you blinked once. The short second your eyelids rested shut was like a dream come true, so you closed your eyes again. There was no intention of opening them again, you had no strength to do so. As soon as your brain accepted that you would finally give in, you drifted off to sleep immediately. You still felt how your slumped to the side but were caught by the stranger's legs which prevented you of falling into the snow.

-

You woke up suddenly but remained still. The familiar trot of a horse almost lulled you back to sleep, but you were adamant to assess your new situation - since clearly something had changed. You felt warm, were sat on a horse and heard the trickle of raindrops on leaves and soft soil. When you finally managed to open your eyes, you didn't see much but the part of the woods that was illuminated by the lantern that was held by the man behind you. Your body was resting against his chest, wrapped in, as you only now noticed, the blue coat he had worn before.

"It's okay, I jus' though I'd get us out of the mountains before the snowstorm hit us", a warm voice almost whispered behind you. If you had been awake or energized more, you would have shrugged away from the man who sat behind you. After he had slightly adjusted it, you noticed his other arm was loosely wrapped around your torso, preventing you from slipping off the horse. Everything was fine, you were safe. If he wanted to kill you, he would have done it already. There was no need of forcing yourself the stay awake, so you let yourself be overpowered by sleep once again.

You woke again the support of your back suddenly vanished. Baffled, you looked around and recognized the commotion of a town at night. "We're here", Arthur announced, and your attention was suddenly directed to him. He was standing next to his horse on a porch, the reins still in his hands. His face and hair were glistening with raindrops and you wondered where his hat had gone to. You swore you wore one before. You slid off the horse carefully. The abrupt contact with the ground sent a shiver to your body. It had also shaken some of the slumber out of your bones. Without warning, Arthur grabbed a hat you hadn't noticed you were wearing off your head and put it back on his. "Come one, I'll get this off you", he announced before he pulled you out of his coat which was way too big for you anyway and would have probably tripped you if you had attempted to walk in it.

"Where are we?", you finally asked the man who was stowing his coat on horseback and equipped himself with some other stuff.

"Saints Hotel in Valentine, let's go." Done with his inventory management he urged you inside. Surprisingly, your first reaction to this revelation was the instinct to flee. A hotel? So it all boiled down to this...of course there was no man in this damn country who would just help a desperate woman without expecting anything in turn.

"Back at it again with 'em cold eyes", Arthur chuckled amusedly before he turned his attention to the receptionist "If you could prepare a warm bath for the lady. Have someone assist her, I'm not sure how conscious she is. And then one room, please." Your heart dropped when Arthur grabbed the key. You shuffled awkwardly around on your feet. The man was handsome. You had only seen him with tired and heavy eyes and in a big coat before, but now you had a better look at him. Broad shoulders, a slim hip and a confident stance. Hell, his hair looked softer than anyone's you had seen in a while, but nevertheless...you wouldn't - you couldn't.

"Sir, I-", you started. The immediate circumstances made you retort to a more polite address than his first name. "I understand that I owe you greatly for saving my life, but I'm not sure if I can be of any...satisfaction in that sense." The last words you only mumbled. Maybe that's why Arthur took a solid moment to process your words before you saw his eyes light up and an "Oh" escape his lips.

He shook his head lightly and mockingly announced: "The cold did some serious brain damage it seems." But then he smiled heartily, implying that he meant no serious offense. "I'm just joking", Arthur explained to make sure you understood and put one hand on your shoulder, "Listen, ehrm, y/n was it? Yer really lovely. You got a beautiful face, especially now that some color's returned to it, but you see - it ain't like that." As if he wanted to stress those words, the back of his hand briefly brushed over your cheek. His hands were warm, so you guessed your cheeks must still be pretty cold. And despite your recoil of what you had thought he had wanted of you a moment earlier, you found yourself quite enjoying the gentle touch. "Now getcha self warm", he withdrew his hand and practically sent you off to the bathroom.

It was only in the bathtub that the last bit of weariness was washed off. You were relieved to find that none of your limps or extremities had sustained lasting nerve damage due to the cold. They had all returned to a healthy color in the warm water and you were delighted to be able to move each toe individually. The woman that had been appointed to help you was sent off as soon as you had found your way into the bathtub and had your clear sense back. Regret started to boil up. You had misjudged Arthur's character twice, but he had helped you out more than you'd be ever able to repay. And repay how exactly? Something must be done about this. You'd find some work soon and repay him for the food and the hotel stay. It wasn't really possible to put a price tag on your life that he had saved, but you could try at least. And stop doubting him and his morals, for what it's worth.

However, your plans were crushed when you left the bathroom and found no sign of Arthur. In your room you found your wet jacket, your gun and three small boxes of cartridges, stacked next to a can of assorted biscuits. When you asked the receptionist for the gentleman you arrived with, he said that he had gone away little after you had headed for the bathroom and he had left some stuff in your room. That was it. A look outside showed you that his horse was gone too and not, how you briefly hoped, hitched in front of the saloon.

Even though your encounter had been short, it had been anything but insignificant. Before you headed to bed you made a decision: The first thing you'd do after some rest is finding a job and then you would start looking for Arthur, not stopping before you had properly thanked him for saving your life.

------x

This sat in my drafts for about a month heh.

fighting a bit of a writer's block atm...soo yeaaahhh.

[melissa-kenobi]

O'Driscoll

[Arthur Morgan x Reader]

Only just narrowly escaping the O'Driscolls, the trio raced away from the centre, heading west to avoid bringing any trouble to camp. Finally having cleared their tail of anyone following then, John turned on the former O'Driscoll amongst them.

"You led them to us, didn't ya?" John growled, hand hovering over his revolver as he watched you jump off your horse. "You're still one of them and ya always will be!"

"Come off it Marston, I was with the two of yous the entire time!" You replied, hissing back at John, which only seemed to fuel his anger.

"Sure ya were, I seen you head to the bar, talking to them men! You told 'em our plan so they could ambush us at the right time!" John argued, puffing his chest out in anger. "I knew you weren't to be trusted!"

"Goddammit Marston!! Why are ya always doubtin' me?" You replied back angrily. "I was talking to them about another lead, there's a stagecoach heading up north with ton of money! I was planning to take three or four of us to scout ahead."

"Course ya were. More like yo-" John was cut off by Arthur who had finally had enough of your bickering.

"Would ya both shut up?" Arthur had finally heard enough. Moving himself to stand in-between as he looked at the two of you.

"C'mon Arthur, you ain't that naive to think she ain't still with 'em?" John laughed, watching you. Arthur glanced at John with anger on his face from his position between the two of you. Almost an anchor between his two family choices, one hand his brother and the other, his lover.

"You best watch your mouth boy, she saved our lives goddammit." Arthur replied, mind conflicted. "She saved both our asses!"

"How'd you know Colm didn't tell her to do that?" John turned to you. "Did he also tell ya to sleep with him? To be a spy for your gang?"

Arthur watched as you took a sudden step back, eyes blinking back tears as your hand trembling besides you. "No- I-i never- Arthur-

"What's your relationship with her huh? Is she a good lay, is that it?" John snarled out, angered that his brother had fallen for an O'Driscoll. Growling in anger you rushed towards John, hurling your fist at his face and punching him straight in the nose. Arthur quickly rushed at you, holding you back in his arms, one hand holding the back of your head while the other on your cheek.

"Hey! Hey, calm down darlin', he ain't-, he's baiting ya, don't let him!" Arthur spoke gently, cradling your face in his palms, making you look at him.

"Shit! You no good lying O'Driscoll whore!" John hissed, clutching his nose in pain. "Can't you see Arthur, she tried t'kill me!"

"Marston, I swear-

"Ya don't really believe she ain't an O'Driscoll anymore do ya?" John huffed in disbelief, wiping the blood away from his nose. "You've really got him wrapped around your finger. I jus' hope you realise who your loyalties should been with once she betrays ya."

The two of you watch as John storms off, getting on his horse and riding off into the distance. The sun setting lowly as it cast a shine on Arthur's face. He closed his eyes gently as he pressed his forehead against yours. "Y/N, darlin'-"

Gently throwing Arthur's hands off your face you stepped back, shaking your head, shakily breathing out your words. "I- I can't do this no more Arthur."

"Sweetheart-

"No. I jus' need some time. Please."

"Lemme take yo-

"Alone. Please Arthur." You sigh sadly as you walk away, getting on your horse ready to go. "I love you Arthur, more than anything, don't doubt that ever."

Arthur's mind raced with thoughts, he was conflicted. Should he go after his brother, or his lover? John had been with him since he was a mere boy, they'd practically grown up together as brothers. Arthur considered him his brother, John was his family. But you. You'd helped him when he was going through a tough patch, despite knowing he was part of your rival gang. Why would you have helped him? And his feelings for you, they were way past the point of friendship.

Making his choice was simple. Far simpler than anything he had ever jad to choose from before. He ran after you, calling your name before you came to a stop, knowing you could never run from him. "Arthur-

"How can I make this right? I- I don't- I love you and I don't want ya to leave." Arthur pleaded.

"I don't know- I don't. I can't make John, Dutch or your family not hate me and I don't want you to choose between either of us. I won't let you. I just- I just want you." You whispered, eyes downcast as you hid a small tear from him. "I've only ever needed you."

"I'm yours darlin', always have been since you tossed me those pistols." Arthur smiled, the memory flashing through his mind like it was yesterday. Arthur watched as your face turned up into a smile, grasping his hand in yours. "I can't make my family not hate ya, but I can try to ease that. It won't be easy but I can't do this without ya. I can't force them to trust you, but for what it's worth I do, 'n I hope it's enough. I know I ain't a good ma-"

Dropping off you horse you pulled Arthur into a hug, your lips kissing his cheek. "I know. I ain't a good woman either by no means, done a lotta bad things that I regret, and I'm tryna do good. But I got you now and if you'll have me that's all I need."

Nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck, Arthur pulled back pressing his forehead against yours, eyes searching for any doubt only to be met with pure adoration. "Always sweetheart."

***

[daily-escuella]

Lesson Learned - Arthur Morgan - SFW Short

Arthur Morgan x GN!Reader

If there's one thing you're good at, it's embarrassing yourself. Especially in front of Arthur.

((alternate titles include "plant husbandry with husband" and "dirty cowpoke ain't never seen a vegetable before"

Thank you for the request anon! I feel this story came out gender neutral enough to call it that but I wrote it with a masc reader in mind! I hope it suits your desire for fluff well enough, it was fun to write! -side note, I mention some plant descriptions in here but please do your own research before picking/eating wild plants!- I hope you enjoy! <3 ))

Word count: ~2300

Warnings: None I think!

Wiping the sweat off your brow using the back of your dusty arm left a streak of mud on your forehead. You’d apparently gotten dirtier than you first realized. You had pushed your horse hard after all. Very hard. It was in a bid to save your lives of course, but the poor beast couldn’t understand that. As an apology you needed to find a very special offering. Something your horse adored. Wild carrots.

You scanned the forest that bordered the camp looking for the telltale white, lace-like flowers. You hadn’t actually picked your own before, but how hard could it be? You’d seen Charles come into camp with a bundle on occasion, Arthur picked them when you were on campout missions, even Kieran seemed to get his hands on them, so they must be close by.

As you casually strode towards the sparse forest a flash of white caught your eye and you smiled widely, “I knew I’d find you.” You crooned as you approached the cluster of plants.

They clumped together tightly, bordering the tree line with other various brush you didn’t know the names of: prickly bushes and long stalks of mysterious grasses, short shrub-like flora with small round leaves and a mixture of what looked to be poisonous berries dotted the spaced between.

You pushed back the undesired plants, thankful for your leather riding gloves that sheltered your skin from the thorns. Getting a better look at the wild carrot greens, you noticed their stalks appeared smoother than you remembered. Maybe they shed their prickles this time of year, you mused as you gripped the base of a plant with both hands. It was stuck fast in the ground, the close root systems seeming to be pulling against you in the other direction, but with a few determined yanks, you managed to free the root. Now aware of the effort required, you picked a few others from the ground with relative ease, however the last stalk you chose was exceptionally stubborn. The muscles in your shoulders flexed and you grunted with frustration to pull it free. With a final cry of effort it released from the ground and all the force you’d applied sent you flying back on your rump. The breath was forced from your lungs as you collided with the forest floor in a solitary “oof”.

It took a beat to gather your senses, but with a laugh at your own expense as you stood, you muttered, “that horse better appreciate these.”

You heard a chuckle behind you as Javier approached, rifle in hand. “You ah, got a little mud on you amigo.” He laughed as he looked from your forehead to your backside.

“Yeah yeah,” you dismissed as you gave your butt a dusting off and swiped the same dirty arm across your dirty forehead, helping only a little. Javier snorted and you rolled your eyes and laughed. Dirt didn’t bother you like it did him.

Satisfied with your modest harvest, you collected your bundle of plants in one hand. You were glad for the greens, though you knew you’d have to snap them off eventually, their purple spotted stalks made carrying them much easier.

Your horse snorted and tossed their head as you approached with a smile. “Hey! I got you something you might like!” You cooed as you chose an offering from your selection. You dropped the others and dusted some of the dirt off before bringing it to your horse's mouth. Before it could accept the root, you were startled by a sudden, gruff, shout.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Arthur bellowed from where he stood tending to his own horse.

Taken aback by his abruptness, hands now held up in mock surrender, you stammered, “I- I found these in the woods. Wild carrot? You know?”

“You idiot, that ain’t wild carrot, it’s hemlock!” Arthur scolded as he crossed the distance in a few long strides and smacked the plant from your hand. Your eyes went wide with shock.

“Hemlock…?” Did I seriously almost poison my horse? Your vision swirled as the reality sunk in. You had no idea they looked so similar. Arthur just saved a life.

Your horse snorted impatiently, clearly still eager for the treat. Arthur reached into his satchel to provide the real deal to your waiting steed, who accepted it readily. “Ah... I’m sorry.” Arthur apologized as he looked at your stunned face. “I had to stop ya though.”

“Y- yeah. No, um, thank you for that. I just uh…” you chuckled once before casting your gaze to the grass below, “I feel like a fool.” You confessed. The embarrassment churned your gut. The shame that burned in your chest compelled you to run off and hide. But instead you swallowed the feelings down and tried in vain to convince yourself you were over it. Lesson learned, right? Why did I have to make that mistake in front of Arthur though? Your face burned.

Arthur’s ice blue gaze swept over you in the short moment of pause, though you couldn’t meet his eyes. He noticed the dirt and sweat that plastered you and your horse, and the heat on your cheeks, and he sighed. “Looks like you two had a hard run of things... Here, lemme help you brush down your horse.”

You blinked your gaze back up to him, “You don’t have to-”

“I know.” He cut you off, as he pulled out his brush. “But your mount seems mighty uncomfortable, this’ll make quicker work for you both.”

“Thank you, Arthur.” you mumbled appreciatively as you began swiping your own brush down its flanks.

“Listen,” Arthur started after a few drawn out moments of grooming, “I think it’ll be good for you to learn the difference between the plants. Avoid any future catastrophes.” He smiled as he peered over your horse’s back, “when we’re finished here, let’s hit the trail together. I’ll show you what to look for.”

Your heart fluttered rapidly. “I- I’d really like that.” You managed as you kept your eyes focused on your task.

Arthur’s offer was a dream come true, there was no denying it, but you tried to remind yourself he was just being friendly. The man had a rough past and an injured heart… but a deep part of you yearned for him despite the unlikelihood that he would ever return the feelings. You craved his presence, and you’d take it however he’d offer it to you.

“What sort of trouble was you in anyway?” Arthur asked, snapping you out of your daydreams.

“Uh… Trouble? Me?” You laughed nervously, still feeling flustered.

He blinked flatly.

“Okay yeah... there was some trouble.” You confessed. “I thought I had a handle on a coach job- just a small one! Full of wealthy looking folk, no guards… Well, turns out their guards were lagging behind. I didn’t have much of a choice but to run…” you admitted bashfully. Arthur grunted a laugh.

“Ahh,” he sighed with a dismissive wave of his hand, “I’m just glad you didn’t get yourself shot.” His voice was surprisingly sincere, you glanced up to meet his eyes, they softened as they looked at you. He blinked and cleared his throat before adding, “-you know, pulling a dumb move like that.”

You laughed in spite of yourself, shaking off the moment you probably just imagined. You’d been pulling plenty of dumb moves that day. You suppressed a sigh and said, “I wish I was more like you, you always seem to know the right move.”

Arthur scoffed, “I know a damn lot of people who’d disagree with you there. Ask anyone in camp and I’m probably the biggest fool they know.”

“You ain’t no fool!” You said loudly before a flush of butterflies overtook your chest.

You chanced a glance to see his face had taken on a pink-ish hue, “ah shut up,” he laughed softly. Nerves sparked to life in your stomach as you tried to focus on the task at hand, staying quiet before you embarrassed yourself further.

~~~

After a while your horse was brushed out and dry, the sweat wicked away by the mild afternoon sun.

“That oughta do it.” Arthur said approvingly before placing the brush back in his satchel. He offered you a nod and walked back to his horse to mount up. You turned to grab your own saddle. “Nah, give your horse a rest!” He called over. You stood, puzzled as he approached.

“Should I take someone else’s…?” you ventured slowly before you registered Arthur’s outstretched hand. “Or- I-” Your eyes flashed wide as you glanced between his eyes and his offer.

“Come on, ride with me.” He said smoothly. You blinked the surprise from your expression and agreed quickly, accepting the help up onto his horse’s rump. “We don’t got far to go,” Arthur explained, but he rolled his shoulders as if he was shaking off the very same nerves you felt.

You tentatively placed your hands on his sides but when you heard no objection you gripped a little tighter. He was built solidly, with just a little give to his skin to make him feel as if he’d be soft to cuddle. The thought brought the flush back to your cheeks and you said a silent prayer as he pushed his horse into a canter, swiftly leaving any witnesses to your awkwardness behind.

Arthur brought you to a large open field, the breeze was subtle, the weather was fair and golden sunlight beamed happily down on the expanse of land. It took only moments to spot the telltale signs of wild carrot. Beautiful lace-like flowers flashing white in the light.

Arthur pulled his horse close to a small cluster of them and dismounted.

“See these here?” he asked as you followed. “You’re looking for the buds to be tightly grouped, like this. Hemlock has more spaces between the flowers.” You were listening and learning, but unable to stop yourself from glancing at the man. His two-day stubble, the way his mouth worked as he talked, the deep rumble in his chest as his voice drawled smoothly. He looked up at you and you quickly nodded as if in understanding before snapping your gaze back to the plant.

Not poisoning my horse is the priority, you reminded yourself.

“The stalk should be hairy lookin’, and in the middle of the big flower should be a small purple one, see?”

“Oh, yeah…” You said, focusing as hard as you could despite the distraction Arthur posed in your mind.

“I usually do a little drawing of plants when I learn about ‘em. Helps me remember all this stuff.” He laughed as he patted his satchel, surely securing his journal. “Now why don’t you pick one of these, see how the root looks.”

“Yeah, I can do that!” You said confidently, remembering the way you yanked the hemlock out earlier. You gripped the base with both hands and before Arthur could stop you, you tugged hard. The greens snapped clean off, leaving the root buried securely in the earth. You were knocked off balance by the excessive force you applied and toppled from your haunches to your ass once again. Only this time you’d done it in front of Arthur. “Whoops…” you mumbled as you tugged your hat down a little, hiding your shame.

“I shoulda known that would happen,” Arthur chuckled as he stood and offered you a hand to rise to your feet. “Hemlock is more stubborn, but with these you only need to give a twist and a pull. Here, lemme show you.” The pair of you walked to the next one where Arthur encouraged you to squat down with him again. “Give me your hand.”

With a quickened breath, you obliged. He formed your grip around the base of the plant, and closed his hand over yours. His hand was warm, even through your glove. You wished you’d taken the damn thing off, if only you’d known this would happen. He glanced up and when his ice blue eyes pierced your own you felt a headrush, altogether overwhelmed by the reality of the situation. You tried as subtly as possible to mask your shaky breath as Arthur gripped a little tighter and twisted your hand. The plant loosened. He then guided your hand up, freeing the carrot from the earth. You smiled dreamily at him and his hand lingered on yours just a second longer than you expected before he released you.

“See, that wasn’t too hard, you go get that other one.” It was his turn to tug his hat down bashfully as you stood to your feet, unable to wipe the goofy grin from your face.

Using the technique he showed you, you freed the last carrot from it’s earthly confines and snapped the greens easily off.

“You should hold onto that, compare it to the ones you have back at camp.” Arthur informed you as he casually stretched out his muscles and cleared his throat. If you could read him right, and you figured you could, he felt something too when your hands touched.

You followed him back to his horse and with a modicum of courage managed to say, “you know, I’d love for you to teach me more sometime…”

Arthur chuckled and offered you a smile. “Yeah.” He nodded, “I’d like that.” He mounted up before you could see the redness return to his cheeks.

[fangirl-ramblings]

Pairing: Arthur x gn!reader

Characters: Reader, Simon Pearson, Mary Linton, Arthur Morgan

Word count: 3306

Summary: You and Arthur have recently made your relationship official by moving into his tent...but is he really into you...or is he still holding onto his past?

Notes: SFW, Angst leading to fluff

After requesting several wonderful stories from one of my favourite writers and people, I was super honoured to have the chance to be able to write something for the super talented and lovely @littlestarofthewest -  Merry Christmas from your secret santa 😘😘

Also a huge thank you to @horsegirl1h (who helped me plot this out) @verai-marcel (for wrangling in all my stupid grammatical mistakes) & @mileycyprus-hill who took a quick look over this and gave me a much better character note on how to improve Arthur's feelings in this story and give me a far better title I could ever think of myself. Thank you all 😘

~* Tumblr Masterlist | Stories on AO3 *~

The First Shall Be Forgotten

You slowly opened your eyes, only to find the cot next to you still empty. It was fairly late when you'd finally taken yourself off to bed last night, but you had found yourself unable to keep your eyes open as you'd sat around the scout fire. Your hope of Arthur riding back into camp and joining you in lying down for the night had turned into a wishful dream of waking up with his strong arms wrapped around you, but it turns out it was just that - merely a pleasant dream. 

It was only a few months since you'd started dating, with most of that time spent being inseparable, but lately you noticed that Arthur was staying away from camp longer and longer. Yes - the events of Blackwater had changed the gang's luck and the likes of Dutch and Strauss kept giving Arthur more and more tasks to do, but you'd felt like that most of these jobs could be done well before nightfall. Surely Arthur wasn't avoiding you because he was bored of you already….could he?

You sat upright, shaking your head free of any more of those nasty thoughts, quickly making the decision that you should get dressed and help out around camp before Miss Grimshaw marched over to berate you for wasting so much time idling about.

There was a chill floating in the air this morning in camp and so you found yourself shivering as you looked around for your light jacket. Opening your shared trunk, you proceeded to pile a mixture of both yours and Arthur's clothes on to the cot in your quest to find your missing coat. Though you soon found yourself distracted as you lifted one of Arthur's shirts up, tutting to yourself as you saw just how worn and dirt stained they all were. You swore that that man would wear these offending items until they fell apart on him...and some were close to doing so, judging by how often they'd been patched up.

   "Ah, there you are," Pearson's cheerful voice booming from behind you, making you jump out of your skin, "I need a helping hand gathering supplies in town and was wondering if you could come along with me for the ride"

   "Me? Surely there's someone more capable about?" Although Valentine was only a short ride away, the idea of being Mr. Pearson's captive audience for that short length of time was not high on your list of priorities for the day. 

   "Well, I don't know if you noticed but we are stretched a little thin on the ground right now," his hands gesturing to the almost empty camp area in front of you, "Mr. Smith & Mr. Escuella are yet to return from Blackwater with young Sean and, as you well know, Mr. Morgan is still yet to return from wherever he has took himself off to. As for the girls..." you tried to stifle a chuckle as he trailed off to glance nervously over at where Tilly, Mary-Beth and Karen were currently sitting at their wagon, making sure they couldn't hear this conversation, "...I'd rather not ask them. Uncle told me of the trouble they got up to on their last visit into Valentine."

You couldn't help but burst out laughing at Pearson's fear of trying to keep three excited young women from creating chaos. "Sorry, sorry," you apologised, wiping your eyes as he looked at you with confusion, "Well...since you have no other options, I'll join you. I've been wanting to pick Arthur up a new shirt anyways." Spotting your jacket at the bottom of the truck, you quickly threw it on, leaving all the other clothes heaped on the bed, "Shall we go now then?"

"Goddamit, why does there have to be a train in the station?" you grumbled as Pearson pulled the horses to a stop at the crossing, which was blocked by one of the carriages belonging to the offending train. After being waylaid by the shop boy slowly loading the wagon with all the goods Pearson had chosen for camp - not that any of these ingredients would do much to improve his cooking, you cruelly thought to yourself - your head was starting to ache from listening to Pearson's constant tall tales. All you had wanted to do was get back to camp and sleep off your headache, but that didn't seem to be happening anytime soon, thanks to this stupid train.

   "I know what you mean, I was hoping to get back and make a start on preparing supper," Pearson sighed before suddenly cheering up, "But, hey, at least it gives me more time to tell you about my time at sea. There was this other time..."

Internally, you found yourself groaning, trying to zone out the older man as he recounted yet another story, that this time seemed to involve him somehow, inexplicably fighting a walrus -  single-handedly -  to save his crew.

You glanced around, finding yourself admiring all the different horses hitched up around the station...until a familiar sight caught your eye.

   "Hey isn't that Brutus?" you interrupted Pearson mid-sentence, gesturing towards the big, black Shire horse that Hosea had gifted Arthur a few weeks ago. Arthur had rarely named his horses after losing his beloved Boudicca in Blackwater and was more than content to just refer to this one as "Boy", but after overhearing Hosea called this giant a brute, you'd jokingly suggested the name Brutus, a name that had tickled Arthur and agreed it was the perfect name for this beast.

Put out a little by the fact you had rudely interrupted him just as the story was getting good, Pearson grudgingly glanced over to the direction in which you were pointing.

   "Er, it does look like it. So anyway after I killed the Walrus with nothing but my bare hands…" 

   'So this is where you've gotten to Morgan,' you thought to yourself, once again not listening to Pearson's story. 'Here's hoping you're on your way home too.'

Smiling to yourself that your lover would hopefully be by your side once more, you absent-mindedly found yourself scanning the crowd of people that was starting to thin out as they slowly stepped onto the carriages...until you saw him standing with his back to you.

A smile started to creep over your face as you recognised Arthur's dirty blond hair, broad frame and filthy blue shirt. Just the fact you could see how dirty it was from this distance made you glad that you'd made the decision to buy him a new one now, as that one needed throwing out, never mind a good wash. Anybody would think that man spent most of his time rolling around in the mud than riding a horse around.

With his hands on his gun belt, he shifted his weight to one side and the smile on your face was replaced with a look of confusion as a young lady was revealed to be standing next to him, deep in an intimate conversation.

Unconsciously scowling at her, you were unable to shake the feeling that you've seen her somewhere before, but for the life of you, you couldn't quite place where.

You squinted your eyes to try and focus your vision on her delicate features before a feeling of rage bubbled up from your stomach as she kissed Arthur's cheek, in a way that suggested more than just friendship.

"And I'll tell you - I used that walrus meat to feed a crew of 50...and not one of them complained the way you and the rest of camp do about my cooking" Pearson waffled on down your ear, distracting you from your thoughts about this mysterious woman and how you wanted to jump down and throttle her. Instead you suddenly had the urge to wrap your hands around the cook's neck. 

Turning to face him, you barked, "Maybe being at sea for weeks at end with no food makes people more appreciative of the slop you always manage to serve up - no matter the ingredients." 

You instantly felt regret as the words left your mouth and you saw the hurt in the older man's eyes.

   "Christ, I'm sorry Mr. Pearson. I didn’t mean to take it out on you..." You paused, thinking about telling him about what you just saw, but you doubted this old sea dog would give a damn about your love life and so explained "I just have a real bad headache and it's put me in a bad mood."

He nodded softly and turned away so you wouldn't see him wipe the sting of the tears from his eyes.

Feeling guilty from the hurt you just caused, you looked away to the source of your own pain, only to find Arthur had disappeared from the platform and the train was now pulling out the station. Had he gotten on board with his mystery woman? Gone off to start a new life with her and left you and the outlaw life behind him? These thoughts rattled around your head as Pearson told the horses to giddy up and the pair of you headed back to camp in an awkward silence.

Jumping down from the wagon, you helped Pearson unload the wagon - still with an uneasy tension in the air, before you tried to broker the peace between you both by offering to help prepare the next meal as a peace offering.

   "No, it's quite okay," Pearson patted you shoulder to show there was no hard feelings, "You go sleep off that sore head of yours"

You nodded appreciatively, finding yourself thanking him and apologising once more as you picked up the wrapped parcel containing Arthur's new shirt, and headed back to your tent. 

As you walked over, you rolled your eyes in annoyance at yourself as you caught sight of the mess you'd left behind this morning. Picking the mountain of clothes up, you threw them in straight at the trunk at the end of the cot, surprising yourself as you heard a loud clatter of something hitting the side of the chest and then dropping onto the floor.

Peering over, you saw that a few shirts and a pair of trousers had missed their target and were now scattered over the floor... alongside a wooden photoframe, laying face down on the ground, that definitely wasn't there before.

Picking it up, you recognised the image of a younger, but still very handsome version of Arthur standing on the left.

'You've always been a good-looking bastard haven't you?' half smiling as you took in his handsome features, 'No wonder you have a long list of admirers to spend all your time instead of me.'

Well before you and Arthur had started dating, you had seen this photograph before. You recalled picking it up from his bedside table back then too, in order to get a closer look of how attractive Arthur's always been.

But sometime between then and making your relationship official, Arthur must have removed it and hidden it out of sight from you. Just as you were about to ask yourself why, you spotted who else was in the picture.

   'No…no it can't be,' you thought to yourself as you stared at the beautiful, dark haired woman standing next to him in the image. But, as much as you didn’t want it to be, it certainly was. Looking straight back at you was a younger version of the same woman from the train station…the same woman who had ripped Arthur's heart out and tore it into a million pieces all those years ago when she called off their engagement - Mary.

Time seemed to slow down as your mind went into overdrive. Did he simply remove the picture as a thoughtful gesture so you wouldn't wake up to a younger Arthur and his ex-fiancee looking at you…or did he hide it because he still loved her and her alone? Were you just a stopgap - something to fill the emptiness in his heart until she came back to him? Is that the real reason Arthur had hidden the picture and not gotten rid of it completely? So once he had managed to win her back, he could toss you aside and place it once more on his bedside to stare lovingly at while he held her in his arms?

You hadn’t realise you were crying or just how hard you were gripping the frame until you heard the sudden sound of glass cracking and a mix of your blood and tears began to streak all over her stupid, perfect face. Standing frozen to the spot, you stared and stared at her image, slowly disappearing under the physical manifestations of your hurt and betrayal, until you heard Arthur bellow out your name as he rode back into camp.

   "Hey you. Boy, did I sure miss you while I was gone," he cheerfully greeted you as he strode towards you, "I tell you, there's some strange sights out there that I've been dyin' to tell you all 'bout."

   "Tell me?" you snarled, acting the wounded animal you currently felt like, "Don't you have other people you'd rather spend your time with?"

   "What? What's got into you?" 

Your heart panged as you saw the hurt cross his face as he saw how upset you were. 

"Listen, if this 'bout me spendin' so much time from camp recently, then I am sorry - but I did miss you somethin' fierce y'know" he assured you, placing his arms around your waist.

   "Just like you've missed Mary for all these years?" Just saying her name out loud felt like you had tasted venom on your lips and needed to quickly spit it out.

"Mary? Where's all this comin' from?" He flustered, averting his eyes downwards as not to meet your steely gaze. Upon seeing you holding the photograph, he exclaimed, "Christ alive, you're bleedin'. Here lemme fix you up."

"I'm fine," you snapped at him, pulling your hand away from his gentle touch. Any other time, this small act of affection - the big mean outlaw gently cradling your hand in his - would have made you melt on the spot, but today your inner rage wasn't having any of it. Instead you blurted out, "I saw you. At the train station…with her."

Realising he had been caught out and couldn't bluff his way out of this sorry mess, he sat down on the cot and tried to explain.

   "Okay, yeah, I was at the train station with her, but it really ain't what you think…"

   "I saw her kiss you."

  "You mean when she kissed my cheek? That was her sayin' goodbye. Her and her brother are headin' back East to find their father."

You sat next to him, the photograph still in your hands.

   "Still doesn't explain why you were with her in the first place."

   "No it doesn't, does it." He sighed, running his hand down his face. "I was on my way back to camp, ridin' through Valentine when I thought I'd check and see if there was any post. Lo' and behold there was just the one - a letter from Mary askin' if I could help with a small problem of hers."

   "So you must have been in contact with her if she knew you were in town."

He shook his head. "No. No, she'd recognised the girls after their last trip into town and wrote to me on the off-chance I was also in the area."

   "Why?"

"Her kid brother, Jamie, he'd gone and got himself mixed up in this weird cult up in Cumberland Forest. Christ, you shoulda seen them all listenin' on as this lunatic spouted some nonsense about turtles or somethin'," laughing, he patted his leg until he saw your stony expression still waiting for the answer to your question.

   "Get to the point please, Arthur."

   "You're right, sorry," he said as he nodded, "Jamie was the only one in her family who stood up for me and I owed it to *him*, not Mary, him -  to help get him away from those crazy fools."

You fidgeted slightly next to him. You wanted to believe him, but he seemed to be avoiding the main topic of conversation.

   "So say I believe you about your reasonings for helping her…why did you keep a picture of her?"

Silence filled the air for a second before he simply answered. "I shoved it in there so you wouldn't have to keep lookin' at it when we lay together...and I guess I forgot all 'bout it."

You looked away as more tears fell down your cheeks. Gently placing his hand under your chin, Arthur turned your face to face his, looking deep into your eyes he told you, 

   "You’re overthinking – I’m yours. That’s all I want to be.”

   "Prove it." You pleaded.

   "Okay then...this should show you she's nothin' to me now." He took the broken frame from your grasp and carefully removed the picture from the frame, lingering for a moment before crumpling it up in his hand and walking towards the campfire.

Though his stride was purposeful, you couldn't help but feel he faltered once more as he looked at the flames, but those fears disappeared as he turned to look back at you with a warmth in his eyes and a smile stretching wide across his face. Looking straight at you, his hand opened and the picture fell into the flames, where it lay for a few moments as it slowly rendered into nothing but a pile of ashes.

Making his way back over to you, he picked you up and spun you around his arms.

   "I'm all yours...are you mine?"

Bonus scene: Arthur's POV

He slowly removed the picture from the frame, partly being careful not to cut himself on broken shards of glass and partly because he wanted to make sure he was making the right decision. He was convinced that after Mary called it all off between them, he'd never smile, let alone love again. But then you'd walked into his life and brought light back into the darkness he'd found himself in.

But maybe there was a reason he'd held on to this photograph for all this time - a reminder of the good times that existed between them. Heartbreak has a funny way of erasing those memories, but seeing the woman you once considered the love of your life in person has an equally funny way of making those feelings rush back.

But no, the heartache he'd felt for all these years outweighed the fleeting moments of happiness he'd felt with Mary. And that kiss on the cheek to say goodbye that she'd given him at the train station? It certainly didn't give him butterflies like it used too. Looking at her image one last time, he crumpled it up and walked over to the campfire.

Though he had confidently strode over to flames, he once more had doubts he was right to finally let Mary go. Turning to face you, everything suddenly became very clear in Arthur's mind. Everything he ever wanted: someone who loved the group of people he considered family, as well as loving him for the man he was - despite his faults, someone who was willing to stick with him through thick and thin, make him laugh when he was down, and never fail to make him smile, that special someone he wanted to grow old with with...he already had that with you.

Without thinking, he opened his hand and let the battered photograph waft downwards, enveloped by the flames and turning to nothingness as he made his way back over to you, picking you up and spinning you around his arms.

   "I'm all yours...are you mine?"

[mesangelique]

Part 1/2 of a story with a pairing no one requested : JOHN MARSTON/KIERAN DUFFY (I will post it on AO3 tomorrow)

Rating : R / 18+

Warning : alcohol, drunk sex, SMUT (but not in this part)

Thanks to @bluesilksilverspurs for the beta reading 🤠, I hope you will give this pairing a chance and like this first part ~

It's been a long day, an exhausting one. Arthur, John, Bill and Kieran went to Six Points cabin, hoping to find Colm O'Driscoll, but they found nothing spare a little cash, and Arthur's life had been saved by the « ex O'Driscoll boy » - otherwise known as Kieran Duffy. In doing so, Kieran had earned the right to be able to stay with the gang like any other member, doing chores and taking care of horses. Oh, he is well aware he won’t be able to disappear for days on end as Arthur or Micah do, but at least he won’t be tied to that tree anymore.

 

 When the group got back to the camp and were explaining to Dutch what had happened, Lenny had arrived, panting, terrified, babbling about Micah waiting to be hung in Strawberry’s jail. At that point, Dutch suggested Arthur take Lenny into Valentine to relax a little, and now, hours later, John noticed he himself was drunk as he stood up from the stool in the saloon. The world started to turn around as if he was on a roller coaster, but all he managed to do was order another drink.

 

 Arthur and Lenny had the great idea to invite John and Kieran to their little "having only one drink” thing. John was invited because he was standing there when Dutch suggested the outing, and Kieran mostly because that kid saved Mister Morgan's life - and desperately needed a bath. Hosea had also told Arthur that they had to accept him in the gang. John didn’t care much for stuff like that as long as this O’Driscoll was getting a good wash first.

 

 And speaking of the O'Driscoll boy - he had just taken a whiskey and sat right next to John, drinking thirstily straight from the bottle. John couldn't help but look at him, squinting his eyes. Now that he was clean, smelling of soap and tobacco instead of horseshit and piss, with his hair framing his thin face, he was not THAT disgusting… Actually, it was maybe the first time John was really looking at him; at his thin beard, his worried dark green eyes, his nose. John frowned. He shouldn’t be looking at him like that. But he was drunk.

 

 Yes, that's why.

 

 "Think ye can drink better than me, O'Driscoll boy?" He chuckled deeply, his laugh raspy like his voice. He didn't have to find anything else to say to have Kieran looking at him with his scared deer eyes, a rabbit about to run for his dear life. "C'mere I'll show ya how WE drink."

 

 Not giving him time to answer, he grabbed Kieran's whiskey bottle and brought it to his lips, taking big gulps, the whisky running right down his throat, burning and warming him up, and once he had run out of breath he handed the bottle back. John had to admit he was quite proud of his performance - he didn't choke or end up coughing.

 

 "Dare you to do better than that. O'Driscoll." He whispered, leaning a bit towards Kieran, smirking arrogantly. Why was he like this suddenly? Why did he suddenly want to impress that O'Driscoll boy? Ah yes, he was drunk, maybe he didn’t have to search further for a reason, maybe …

 

 Kieran’s eyes were wide, seeing his bottle being stolen like that. He was already tipsy, so he didn’t react like he normally would. Actually, he had been focusing on John Adam’s apple, the way it had bobbed up and down as he swallowed the alcohol… That ride earlier, where his body was fully pressed against the other man’s had made him look at John Marston differently.

 

 And here, now, he was mostly drunk, and his initial shyness was gone. He was just chuckling, cheeks red like a teenager, a happy one, the one he never was. Being alone like this with John should be quite embarrassing, to be honest, and at first he had been afraid. But now... John was so drunk he probably wouldn’t be able to walk straight. He was giggling and evidently really proud of his drinking performance.

 "Gimme that- you'll see I can!" Kieran retorted, reacting to John’s arrogant smirk and trying to avoid looking too long at the man’s lips and at that drop of whisky on his neck. Without much more thought, he took the bottle and emptied it. A delicious burning sensation in his throat, his head feeling so light he could float. All his anxiety, all his problems just drowned in the liquor, and so he laughed, pushing the bottle away, proudly looking at the other man.

 "Ah ah! See Marston? Was able to follow you on this!" Kieran chuckled, smiling and wiggling his eyebrows (or trying to do so at least). He closed his eyes for a few seconds and suddenly, a hot wave was spreading all over his body, thickening his saliva. Now he was looking at John, at his dirty hair, his three days old beard, his scars … How fascinating are these scars, how marvellous they are … That very one on his lips.

 "Pheeew, it’s so hot in here." The ex-O’Driscoll breathed out, looking at the ceiling, taking his dust coat off. He felt like he was on fire right now. He would love to jump naked in some river... or in some horse's trough. His cheeks were red and burning, and he could almost feel sweat droplets forming on the back of his neck. He continued, "So hot in here…. So, what we doin' now – ya know, since I finished the bottle" Kieran chuckled, trying to get rid of his neckerchief.

 

 Oh he is a mess, a fucking mess right now, unable to talk properly, babbling shitty stuff that is ricocheting about in his head. He must be mad - drinking that whole bottle hadn’t really been a good idea. Even if he thought it had impressed John… John had watched him emptying the bottle, mesmerized, in fact, by the sight of that boy drinking like he hadn't drank in days.

 

 "Ain'tcha a thirsty one, eh?" John had given a husky laugh when Kieran lowered the empty bottle and then started whining about the temperature. He can feel a warm feeling in his groin, spreading up his spine right now, and it is making him feel like he is burning too. That very same feeling he has when a pretty lady walks by and he pulls her onto his lap. The only problem is that he ain't looking at a pretty lady right now. He is looking at a very drunk O'Driscoll boy. Well, an ex-O’Driscoll boy. He is looking at Mister Duffy. Kieran. Kieran Duffy. What kind of a fool is he, John Marston, to be looking at a guy like this? The last time it happened was a decade ago. But he is drunk tonight, so that must be why. That’s obviously why.

 

 "I suppose you're pretty hot now what with all that booze you've been drinkin'. C'mon, let's get out of here and take some air" John grumbled, pushing away from the counter and bumping into some tables before finally making it to the back door. He opened it roughly, almost knocking an old man backwards while doing so. John could hear Kieran behind him, trying to act naturally, as if they hadn’t just been drinking like two sailors, and as he held the door open for him, he was able to clearly see that Kieran was having a hard time even walking straight.

 

 As Kieran drew level with John, he even tripped, and although John did not know how, or why, his reflex was to react fast, fast enough to grab him. The amount of alcohol in his own blood was sapping away at his strength though and ultimately he found himself pinning Kieran against the nearest wall with the weight of his whole body, his hands on each side of Kieran’s head and his face almost buried in his neck. His body felt spineless and he was suddenly very tired. Both of them were giggling like teenagers after their first beer. He couldn’t even feel his legs anymore. In fact, neither of them could feel their legs right now.

 

After almost collapsing on at least three occasions, they were both outside proper now. Navigating the tiny step outside of the saloon almost pitched both of them over, which was no surprise at all seeing as how drunk they were, but now they were here, leaning against another wall. How did they even make it this far? No one will ever know.

 

"You alright?" John asked in a thick voice, their noses nearly touching. They are close. Really, really close. Kieran can feel every piece of the wood behind him snagging on his shirt and scratching his back, he can feel how muddy the ground is, how cold the air is but how hot he feels, like he is burning inside. He tried to focus on everything but their sudden closeness. Because the problem is the ex-O’Driscoll is far more into men than the church wants him to be, than society wants him to be – it’s a problem he has known about for a long time, and has tried to hide for even longer… people get hanged for it. Kieran could hear his heart in his ears, his blood pumping roughly, and his lungs running out of air, his tongue heavy in his mouth but most importantly that warmth waking up in his lower belly, spreading in his groin, curling up his spine. Having John Marston, drunk, his nose almost against his, his body flush against him... He swallowed thickly, looking at John’s lips as though hypnotised, and managed to nod, his green, greyish eyes glancing over John’s scars.

 

"Y-es. 'Am alright, Mister." He whispers.

 

 John's breathing was suddenly deep and fast. He could feel Kieran's warmth mixing with his own. Strangely, he didn’t mind. He knew damn well he was already growing hard, mostly because of the  alcohol, of course. He always got so horny when he started getting drunk, so the fact that it was Kieran and not another cheap whore isn’t so surprising, right? The fact that he found Kieran’s eyes fascinating and his lips kissable right now, and his so thin, fragile collarbone beautiful – that was just the alcohol. This closeness wasn’t helping, creating friction on his - their - cock under his – their - pants, having him - them - hum deeply, both acting like they did not hear or feel the other.

 

"Yea? That's good then. Yea."

 

 There was a silence then when John met Kieran's eyes, and his mind was filled up with dark fantasy and desire and want and that need of possession. He rarely felt that with a girl, that possessiveness rising. But he had really drank a lot tonight, they both had really drank a lot, and Kieran looked like a lamb waiting for a wolf to eat him.

 

 "Thought you were hot? Gotta do something about that, right?" John whispered thickly, lowering his eyes to Kieran's throat, almost able to hear his thundering beating heart when his hands went to the collar of his shirt and started working on the buttons. The alcohol doesn’t help his fingers at all, but he was slipping one button free and then another…

 

"Yeah- I'm… I'm hot - but w...whatabout you ?" Kieran whispered back, trying to keep his voice steady, but freezing immediately, unsure. He could feel John’s hands on his shirt, feel his fingers working on opening it – the way his breath was coming quicker and his eyes had grown significantly darker. Kieran couldn’t help but bite his lip, and couldn’t decide if he hoped John would notice it or not, the way he himself has noticed John’s hooded lustful gaze and the way he is staring at his face, his neck.