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bitin-and-barkin · 11 months ago

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Come Back To Me

Currently imagining Arthur Morgans reaction to seeing you again after you supposedly died.

Warnings: Angst, mentions/descriptions of blood/injuries + torture, eventual fluff, no smut (yet), Arthur Morgan x reader, gender neutral reader, religious talk, probably out of character, but he just really loves you okay, so he gets emotional

READ MORE UNDER THE CUT + PT 2 HERE, PT 3 HERE

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Let's say when Dutch was going to meet up with Colm, you offered yourself to act as backup instead, not wanting to make Arthur work any harder than he had.

Infact, seeing how exhausted your husband was, you were about to tear Dutch a new one for trying to make him work even more.

But they needed a sniper. And sure, you were tired. You had just gotten back from another solo job, where you scored a pretty penny for the gang. But you knew Arthur deserved a break. And so you said you'd help instead.

But while waiting on that mountain top for Colm to try something, you got distracted. You were tired, and you got sloppy. You weren't expecting his men to come for you. They snuck up behind you and wrangled you to the ground, with it taking four, maybe five men to keep you pinned down before they finally knocked you out.

When Dutch returned without you, Arthur knew something was wrong. Dutch claimed that you were probably out just doing another job, running off like you always did. Your horse was even gone from where you hitched it. And foolishly, Arthur believed him.

Now, it had been 5, maybe, 6 months after your disappearance. One month in Dutch stopped sending out search parties after they found your hat bloodied in an abandoned house, along with your ring finger.

They knew it was your ring finger, as it still had the wedding band Arthur bought for you on it.

Charles and Javier searched the area for any trails, but all of them were ruined past the point of tracking.

They arrived back to camp, bearing the bad news, that no trail could be found. Dutch pronounced you dead and had a honorary funeral. Swearing they would all eventually get revenge on Colm for this.

Revenge hadn't come.

It became even more of a common sight to see Arthur come back to camp covered in blood that wasn't his. He obsessively picked off O'Driscolls, killing and torturing every camp he found. Questioning every single one; Where were you? Where was Colm? What had Colm done to you? Were you even still alive?

Screaming that if he ever found Colm, he would rip him apart. Telling Dutch he should've killed him when he had the chance.

The image of your severed finger was engraved into his mind. They hadn't even sold the ring. They left it on just to rub it in his face.

He almost collapsed to the floor when he first saw it. He felt like he was dying. Who knew emotional pain could be so physical?

Even after the camp had sat him down and told him you were probably dead, and that he needed to accept that, he had never stopped searching. In fact, he punched Dutch in the face after he told him that.

He drew away from the gang, isolating himself. Dutch, Tilly, Hosea, Marybeth, Charles. Nobody could get through to him. He shut them all out, trying to act like everything was fine.

But nothing was fine. He knew that. He hated the world for moving on without you.

Every night he was drinking himself into a stupor, it was the only thing that let him sleep. He stopped talking or eating much, he was obviously losing weight. Always working, bringing in cash but never staying for too long.

He stopped sleeping at camp. He stopped sleeping much in general. He had nightmares whenever he did.

Your tent reminded him of you. Whenever he did sleep, it was always in your tent. It made him feel less alone.

Nobody ever took it over or moved your things because they all knew Arthur would gut whoever did.

He always thought of you, and whenever he did, he couldn't help but blame himself.

Why did he let you take his place? Why hadn't he searched for you the second Dutch came home without you? He couldn't do anything right. The same thing that happened to Eliza and Issac had happened to you. And all he did was sit around like a fool and let it happen.

How many days, weeks, had they tortured you before you died? Months, even? God, did they even wait for you to die before they took your finger off? Could you still be alive? You've always been a fighter, he knows that. If anybody was to survive being at Colm's mercy, it would be you. Could you still be waiting? In some basement, some hole in the ground, some old shack for Arthur? For the gang? For anybody to come save you? He knew what type of man Colm was. He knows Colm would do worse just to spite Dutch.

Was this punishment? For everything he had done? Was this hell? He wasn't religious, but every night where he went to bed without your presence next to his, it sure felt like it.

He was losing Dutch to his insanity. He was losing his way of life to the passing time.

And now he had lost you.

You.

God,

Why did it have to be you?

Why couldn't it have been him? Why did it have to be you? Why couldn't he have at least died with you? He would spend an eternity in hell if he could spend his eternity with you.

But what could he do about it?

What was he doing about it?

Riding into Valentine to drink himself half dead. Alone. Riding into an endless nightmare alone without you.

As he was hitching his horse outside the saloon, he saw your distinct mare hitched right next to his.

For a moment he was happy. Happy for the first time in a long time. As this was proof that maybe, just maybe you were alive. And then, he realized what had actually happened.

Some bastard after killing you had taken your horse. Like some sort of trophy.

He stomped inside the saloon. He bought that horse for you. Saw it at Strawberry while going to free Micah and just knew that you had to have it after your last one died in Blackwater.

The girl was so sweet, and obedient too. He had hunted down a panther in Lemoyne and sold it to the trapper to make a saddle for you. He made sure to fill up the saddle bags with everything you'd need to care for it, along with a couple of other gifts for you sprinkled in. When he shyly brought the whole ensemble to you, you jumped into his arms like you two were young again.

And now some selfish bastard was making a mockery of it.

He walked up to the Bartender and slammed his hands on the bar, grabbing the man by the collar of his shirt. Demanding to know who rode in with that horse.

The bartender nervously said they had rented a room. Were still upstairs as they spoke. He walked upstairs, unholstering his knife.

He was gonna make this slow.

Treading carefully towards the bedroom, turning the handle. It was locked. He backed up and kicked the door open, pointing his gun at whoever was inside, ready to shoot them in the leg if they tried to escape. No way was he gonna give them an easy death with a headshot.

And then?

He saw you.

Standing near the bed, bruises and cuts, scars new and old littering your body. Wrapped in bandages soaked in blood. Leaning against a bedpost, barely able to stand, pointing a shaky gun at the intruder.

Time stood still as your eyes met.

He dropped his gun. You lowered yours.

He whispered your name, almost like a prayer. Praying this was real.

You said his back.

Then, he ran towards you. Wrapping you in a hug, holding onto you for dear life.

Praying that if this was a dream, he would never have to wake up.

Running his fingers through your hair, gripping onto your shirt, he felt your chest heave. Your tears falling onto his shoulder, wetting his jacket.

You were crying- no, you were apologizing.

To him.

For worrying him.

And then he started crying too.

Crying into the crook of your neck like a little boy.

Arthur never really cried. He hadn't cried in so long. After your death, he never let himself cry. He felt like he didn't deserve it.

But you?

You were alive.

Your hands wrapped around his back, the distinct pressure of your ring finger missing.

Feeling your missing ring burn a hole through his pocket. Remembering the sight of your severed finger.

And the hell you must've gone through to stay alive.

He felt sick, as he sobbed into your shoulder.

What kind of man was he? Needing you to comfort him after you were tortured?

He dropped to the floor, his knees couldn't hold him anymore. Still holding onto your body, now just your legs, for dear christ. Like you might fade away if he let go. He wouldn't let you go.

He missed you more than anything.

You slowly bent down, running your fingers through his hair.

He began wondering if you were real. Was this real?

You got down to his level, sitting on your knees. Kissing him on the forehead and putting your hand on the back of his head. Pushing him into your chest, as he only sobbed louder, blubbering and crying like a fool.

About how he thought he lost you. How the whole gang thought you had died. How he never stopped looking for you. How he thought he was dying after you didn't show up back home. How he never stopped wearing his wedding ring. How he always kept yours in his pocket. How he cradled a photo of you the first time he slept after you died.

How he wanted to bleed the world for killing you.

How he wanted to shoot everything to ashes.

How he missed you every waking moment.

How he dreamed of you every night.

How he would've given anything just to hold you one more time.

Crying into your arms,

Begging you not to leave him.

You rubbed circles onto the back of his head as you comforted him. Whispering that they only tortured you, that you eventually managed to get out, that you were fine. That you're alive. That you're here with him. That you're here for him. That you weren't going anywhere.

The months that he thought you were dead melted away as he felt your fingers run through his hair,

As you promised you weren't leaving him.

You're alive.

You're with him.

You're here.

And he swore to fucking God,

He was never letting you go again.

Okay, so should I do a smutty pt2 where he REALLY shows you how much he missed you, or should I do one who he goes fucking yandere esque from the prospect of almost losing you?? Or should I do both??

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 x you #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 dutch #rdr2 #fluff #rdr2 fluff #arthur morgan fluff #arthur Morgan x you #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #screaming and crying #out of character.#fluff and angst #angst #arthur morgan angst #arthur morgan rdr2

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