reddeadmort

[reddeadmort]

Arthur Morgan x f! Reader | “Silvery Threads” | Part 5

AO3 LINK

Words: 3.8k

You may have escaped the cellar, but you're not out of the woods yet. It's not looking good for Arthur.....

Notes: Probably leaving this story here for now. I hope you've enjoyed it, it's certainly been fun writing again. Even if I did completely fail in my first intention of writing a nice bit of adventure fluff!

Warnings: Canon typical violence. 

--------

“I just don’t understand what we’re doin’ out here” Bill grumbled. “They obviously got out fine, they’re probably already back at camp.” 

“What’s wrong Bill, you restless to get back to that whole lot of nothing you’ve been doing?” Dutch snapped. “We ain’t leaving until I’m satisfied.”

The trio continued up the road, Bill shuffling uncomfortably in his saddle, Charles slightly ahead, scanning the surroundings. As they rounded the corner, Charles held up a hand; the three men stopped, Charles jumping down off his horse and moving a few paces up the path. Kneeling down, he touched his fingers to a substance on the road before rubbing them together. 

“Blood. And a bad amount of it.”  

“Well that don’t mean nothin’! Probably just a deer” Bill muttered. 

There was low soft whinny and a fully saddled horse appeared from within the trees. Charles coaxed it out before taking the reins and leading it back to the others. 

“Okay, fine” Bill spluttered as Dutch and Charles stared at him. “If they ain’t on Arthur’s horse, they might be in some trouble.” Dutch rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to Charles. 

“Which way?”

“Down and off to the left. Two horse tracks that seem to have gotten heavier from round this point.” 

“Come on men, let’s ride.”   

—--

Stepping into the large room above the cellar, you quickly ducked behind a table, in case there was someone else waiting. Trying to slow your breathing, you listened carefully for any movement, but all you could hear was some muffled voices from downstairs. The sunlight was fading, but the room was still much brighter than the cellar was. As your eyes adjusted, you started to take in your surroundings. Carcasses of what you assumed were small animals were hanging from hooks in the ceiling; along one wall there were multiple tanning frames, all but one with a hide stretched across. A large furnace sat in one corner, cold and dark. Shelves were filled with jars, all carefully labelled, though you could not see the description or contents from this distance. 

Carefully, you pulled yourself up to stand next to the table. On it sat an array of knives and saws; at the far end, carefully laid on a crimson cloth, was a neatly curled whip. Your eyes were drawn to the tip, where the leather split into three threads; each thread wrapped around a small blade. 

A deep scream from the cellar made you start, and you lunged forwards to grab the nearest knife. You’d only taken one step back towards the cellar door when a shot rang out, the noise reverberating around the entire building. The sound of footsteps near the base of the stairs froze you to the spot, as a sudden calmness overtook your mind.  

‘Not today. Not this time.’

With that thought, you turned and ran out the door of the building, hoping that no one was outside. Ignoring the path, you kept on running into the nearby tree line, terrified that any moment another shot would go off, or a hand would grab you from behind. 

—-

As Arthur caught his breath, he slowly sat back in the chair. 

“I ain’t the one helpin’ some psychopath kidnap innocent people.” The man laughed at this comment, grabbing Arthur by the front of his shirt, bringing his face close to his own. 

“Innocent Morgan? I know you ain’t referring to yourself, and definitely not to that little bitch”. The man waved his hand behind him, and Arthur tensed, expecting him to turn and see that you were no longer there. “I’ve got some stories to tell you about this one” he snarled, before releasing Arthur and starting to look round. “Hey sweetheart, how bout we start with….. What the hell?” 

Pushing off hard with his good leg, Arthur lunged towards the man, plunging the knife into his side. Both men fell to the ground. The man screamed as Arthur maintained the grip on the knife, dragging downwards, before pulling it out of his flesh. He tried to stab the man again only for a boot to connect with his face, knocking him onto his side. Barely able to see, Arthur rolled away just in time as a bullet ricocheted off the floor where his head had been. The accomplice started towards the stairs, only to suddenly stop. Looking straight forwards, a gurgle escaped his lips as blood trickled from his mouth. He slammed forward into the stairs, skull cracking, before lying perfectly still. The knife remained stuck in his back where Arthur had thrown it. 

—--

You ignored the pain as the tree branches whipped across your face. Your chest was aching from the exertion, struggling to get enough oxygen in. Ducking and weaving, you forced your way through the trees, trying to put as much distance between you and the cabin as possible. A sharp tug from behind brought you crashing to your feet. 

You tried to scrabble to your feet, feeling something still pulling you backwards. Starting to panic, you turned, only to see no one. A remnant of your torn and tattered shirt, still hanging behind you, had caught on a branch. Steading yourself against the tree, you shrugged out of the garment before untangling it. Crouching at the base of the tree, you stayed silent, listening. 

Once you were satisfied there was no one nearby, you examined the clothing in your hands. It was sliced clean up the back, with a ragged bottom edge where a few pieces had been torn off. It was covered in blood; some fresh, some dried, some not yours. You wanted to just leave it, but you couldn’t stay as you were, all exposed. Taking the knife, you carefully cut a sleeve off, then cut the sleeve into a handful of strips of material. Making a few holes either side of the slice up the back, you used these strips to crudely stitch the shirt back together. Struggling to lift your arm, ignoring the pain in your shoulder, you pulled the garment back on. 

You slowly continued on through the trees, the dappled moonlight indicating that that they were starting to thin out. A fairly established track came into view, and you stepped out of the woods. Ducking behind a rock, you listened carefully as the sound of hoofbeats grew louder. Hoping it was only a single rider, you adjusted the grip on your knife. If you could get close enough, a quick stab to the leg would allow you to dismount the rider. 

Three. Two...

“This don’t feel right.”

One...

Another voice sighed, before replying. “It’s okay my boy, you did your best.” 

Those voices… 

You pulled yourself up to look over the boulder. “Dutch?” You refrained from lifting up your hands as multiple guns were drawn and pointed at you. 

“Y/N… good god, is that you?” 

Dutch and Charles jumped down off their horses and strode over to you. Charles had barely reached you before you collapsed in his arms, burying your face in his chest. You heard Dutch mutter something as he stepped behind you. 

“Christ.”

Charles carefully moved one arm around the back of your head and slowly stroked your hair. For a moment, nobody moved or said a word, the only sound your irregular breathing as you held back some sobs. 

“What happened, Y/N?”

You gave the men an account of the last day or so. The sheriff's office, the road, the strange building and cellar. You described the two men as best you could. 

“I managed to get out, but Arthur….. he…. stayed behind.” You swallowed as a little voice whispered in your head. You left him there to die. “Dutch….I think he’s dead.” Dutch shook his head, refusing to believe you. “Dutch, I mean it. He couldn’t walk, there was a gunshot…” 

“No!” Dutch shouted, making you jump backwards towards Charles again, who reached out to rest his hands on your shoulders. Dutch was angry, starting to stride towards you, hand moving to his belt as a coach trundled past. 

“Do something!” An urgent voice muttered as the carriage came to a stop a few metres up the road.

“Ex…excuse you me gentleman! Would you…ur……would you… kindly step away from the lady!” The well dressed man stumbled out of the carriage, his reluctance having been overcome with a strong push from a woman. The uncocked pistol was pointed at Dutch, or at least it seemed to be; the man’s arm was shaking so much it was hard to tell. 

Dutch grabbed Bill’s arm before it could get to his gun. Raising his hands level with his head, he stepped forward. 

“My good sir, I can assure you everything is fine. This lady is a friend of ours.” The man’s shaking grew worse as Dutch moved closer. “She is injured, and we are comforting her. It is mighty kind of you to stop and check however, what a gentleman you are.” 

“Injured? Oh no, how terrible!” A heavily made up face appeared in the doorway of the coach. “In that case, you must come with us!” 

The well dressed man’s weapon dropped to his side as his head snapped round to stare at the woman. “Oh don’t look at me like that Samuel!” the woman waved dismissively at him as he spluttered. 

“We happen to be going to a party hosted by a good friend who is a doctor. He will be more than happy to assist!” she spoke, once again addressing Dutch. 

“My lady, that is very kind of you.” Dutch turned to look at you, still supported in Charles’ arms. Charles looked down at you before looking back up at Dutch, a deeply concerned look on his face as he shook his head slightly. You were not in a good way, leaning far too much into him. “I think we will need to take you up on your offer.” 

“Excellent! Let’s waste no time then. Samuel, get back in the coach you silly man.” 

Dutch stepped up into the coach and helped you in as Charles lifted you up. Dutch then leaned out, whispered something to Charles, who nodded before securing Dutch and Arthur’s horses to the rear of the vehicle. He jogged off towards Bill, mounted his own horse, and the pair trotted off up the road, back the way they came. 

—-----

Arthur lay on the floor of the cellar, his strength almost fully faded. He prayed to anyone that would listen that you were safe, that he’d given you enough time. The chill of the flagstones was a contrast to the warmness that was still spreading down one leg.

Arthur strained to turn his head so that he could look up and out through the small window near the roof. The sun was almost gone, the sky filled with a soft orange glow. It reminded him of the fire at camp; sitting around, laughing, singing, forgetting the past. He thought of the time that he’d made Lenny move off one of the logs so that you would have somewhere to sit; how close he’d been to reaching his arm out and wrapping it around your waist. The smell of your hair filled his nose as he smiled, eyes starting to flutter closed. With one last flicker, they opened, and he thought he briefly saw the silhouette of a deer against the sunset filled sky. 

‘I gave you all I had.’ he whispered as his eyes closed for a final time. 

—----

The well dressed man dutifully followed the woman as she bustled up the steps to the door of the large mansion. Dutch carefully lifted you out of the carriage and carried you towards the house. 

“Mrs Winter, darling, where is your wonderful husband? We have a poor girl that is more than in need of his attention!” 

Another heavily made up woman appeared in the door. 

“Verity! What on earth have you brought me!” You were expecting frustration, to be shooed away, but the voice was kind, a slight laugh. “I’m afraid he left the party a little while ago. Something about going to check on one of his experiments. You know how he is!” 

“Oh Constance! I’m afraid it is rather urgent, she appears to be in a frightful state” the woman blabbered, gesturing back towards you. 

“Not to worry dear, I will send a man down to fetch him right away. Bring the poor thing inside.” 

—---

The tall man was not disturbed by the lack of noise coming from the building as he approached. He’d left strict instructions to not enter the cellar after all. However, when Patrick did not step out to see who was approaching, he grew slightly angry. His temper was inflamed when he saw the cellar door wide open; how dare the man ignore him! Rushing down the stairs, he only stopped when he felt a crunch underneath his shoes. Patrick’s fingers, now underneath his feet, were attached to his lifeless body, slumped across the bottom of the stairs. He carefully stepped over his accomplice's corpse, bending down briefly to remove the knife from the man’s back. His grip on the handle tightened, teeth gritting, as he noticed the distinct lack of a woman suspended from the ceiling, 

The faint sound of laboured breathing drew him over to Arthur’s prone body, eyes scanning the man’s unconscious form. 

“Oh no, we can’t have this” he muttered to himself, striding over to a table with a variety of scalpels, rags and other instruments on it. “That’s twice you’ve cost me my fun. I don’t like losing.” Carefully, he removed his jacket and white shirt, laying them on the table. He then picked up some scissors, gunpowder and a match before stepping back to Arthur. 

-----

You let yourself relax in Dutch’s arms as he carried you up into the house and into a room with a bed. He sat you down on it as the woman of the house bustled around a side table. 

“Here my sweet, drink this. Whisky with a dash of laudanum. It’ll help you get some rest, then my husband will tend to you as soon as he gets back.”

Shakily, you took the glass from her hand before downing the drink swiftly, the unpleasant bitterness masked by the alcohol. The kind woman smiled and nodded as she took the empty glass, gesturing for you to lie down. Gingerly, you swung your legs up onto the bed, rolling onto your front. The pillows were soft and welcoming; you couldn’t remember the last time you slept on an actual mattress. As you shut your eyes, you heard Dutch thank the woman out in the corridor. 

“Oh, it’s nothing, Mr…?” 

“O’Malley, Aiden O’Malley”. 

“Now, Mr O’Malley, please do join us while your dear friend rests. Would you care for a mint leaf to chew? My husband started us all on them, helps us stay wonderfully fresh!” 

The voices faded as you drifted into sleep. 

-----

“This looks like the place” Charles whispered to Bill, gesturing for him to dismount. Weapons drawn, they were about to enter the building before they heard footsteps coming towards the door. The man, dressed in black, didn’t even have time to scream before a knife slit his throat. Bill dropped his body unceremoniously on the floor. 

“Bill, focus!” Charles snapped, as Bill leaned down to pull the silver belt buckle off the dying man. “You better hope this is the right place.” 

Bill scoffed, gesturing down at the floor. “It’s a man dressed all in black in a cabin hidden in some woods. I ain’t got to be no expert tracker to discern that.” Charles glared at him before stepping inside. 

The top room was lit with a warm glow as the furnace crackled in the corner. A charcoal-like smell with a hint of sulphur hung in the air. 

“What the…” Bill murmured, a look of disgust on his face as he gazed up at the hooks in the ceiling. 

Charles gestured at Bill to be quiet, before waving towards the door in the corner of the room. The pair slowly trod down the stairs, letting their eyes adjust to the gloom. A body was slumped against a post, hands tied behind it's back. 

‘Christ, it’s Arthur!” Charles ran towards him as Bill continued to scan the room.

“Is he….” Bill murmured. Charles cut the ropes from Arthur’s wrists and gently lay him down on the floor. A faint groan emerged from Arthur’s chest and Charles stopped, hoping it wasn’t just escaping air. 

“Not yet Williamson, not yet.” The deep grumble made Charles smile. 

“Aha Morgan!” Bill exclaimed as he and Charles pulled Arthur to his feet. Arthur reached down to touch the fresh white bandage wrapped around the wound on his leg, leaning heavily on the others. 

“Wait.. how’d ya find me?” 

“Y/N Arthur, we found her on the road. She’s safe, Dutch is taking her up to a house further along the road. Some big party being hosted by a doctor.” Arthur tried to step forwards onto his bad leg; Bill and Charles caught him before it buckled underneath. “I think we best join ‘em” Charles continued. 

The two men slowly helped Arthur up the stairs and out to the waiting horses, only pausing for Bill to drag the corpse outside around the back of the building. Arthur couldn’t see the face in the dark, but the silver tips of the shoes glinted in the moonlight. 

—-------

As your eyes flickered open, you could just about make out the shape of a smartly dressed man facing away from you. His white shirt was rolled up to his elbows, and from the splash of water you presumed he was washing his hands. Fighting a wave of nausea, you caught a glimpse of tinted spectacles as the man turned and reached for the door handle. Through the open door you heard Dutch’s voice. 

“My lady, I must thank you for your wonderful hospitality. I am glad to say that I have just been informed that my men have returned, so I’m afraid we must depart.” 

“Oh Mr O’Malley, you have been a wonderful addition to tonight’s festivities! Please, do write to us when you have sorted your farm in Tahiti.”

“Of course madam, of course!” Dutch chuckled. 

“I’m afraid she really should not be moved right now.” A soft voice interrupted. 

“I thank you kindly for your time and effort sir, but I’m afraid I have to insist.” Dutch’s tone had shifted as he addressed the doctor. 

“Now boys, don’t argue! Darling, you have done wonderfully, but I’m sure they need to get home. I know you love your work, but don’t forget, we have guests to attend to!” You were expecting to hear some form of argument, but the voice that replied was still soft, albeit flat. 

“Of course dear.” 

Dutch stepped into the room, the woman following him, and helped you to your feet. 

“Do you need more horses? We have ones you are more than welcome to take. My husband has a way with animals; he keeps on bringing home horses he says he finds abandoned on the road!” 

“That is very kind of you ma’am. One extra horse would indeed make our journey easier.” Dutch smiled at the woman, all charm. 

“Of course! Just let one of the guards outside know. Though you might have a job seeing them in the dark, my husband has insisted that their new uniform be all black! Personally, I find the silver accents rather garish, but I have to let him have control over something” she chuckled as you shuffled along the corridor towards the front door with Dutch’s assistance. 

***

The ride back to camp was slow and quiet. Dutch and Bill had ridden off ahead, leaving Charles with Arthur and yourself. Your heart had lept when you’d seen the form of Arthur on top of the horse, slightly slumped, but aside from a quick interaction where you established that you were both, surprisingly, not dead, you two had barely spoken. Your whole body ached; while you were appreciative of the spare shirt the lady of the house had given you, the material still scratched against the scabs covering your back.  

Arthur finally broke the silence as Charles trotted up the road, giving you two some privacy. 

“I’m… I….” his voice trailed off as he shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. “I’m.. glad you're okay Y/N. I know ya probably don’t want to be near me, given what I said.”

You kept on staring straight ahead, face impassive, as he continued.

“I should’ve told ya sooner about that night. I just….couldn’t bear to have you know that I let you down.” 

You wanted to shout at him, to describe in great detail the suffering you endured when the men found you again on the road that night years ago. Your anger ebbed slightly when you looked over to see him staring straight down, fiddling nervously with the reins. 

‘You ran too’ the little voice whispered. ‘You left him to die, after he sacrificed himself to save you.’ You grimaced, turning your face away so Arthur could not see your expression. ‘You were going to hurt someone to get their horse’ the voice continued. It was right; you were more than willing to hurt, kill someone else to protect your own skin. For god’s sake, you’d only met Arthur because you had been trailing the three men that attacked him, after they’d been talking about a ‘big score’ they were on their way to collect. You desperately tried to stop your thoughts flitting to watching that poor woman scream as her young son lay dead on the ground, the scream cut short by a gunshot. If you hadn't have lured them outside, perhaps they wouldn't have gotten hurt. Perhaps the men would have just stolen the 10 dollars and let them live. 

After a few more moments of silence, you steered your horse to ride close to Arthur��s, reaching out your hand. Arthur hesitated for a moment before taking it in his. His rough, warm touch instantly sent a tingle up your spine.You gave his hand a little reassuring squeeze. 

 "Arthur… We can’t change what's done, we can only move on." 

Arthur smiled before lifting your fingers to his lips, placing a soft kiss on your hand. His slight stubble rubbed against your fingers as you stared into his deep blue eyes. He smiled slightly before dropping your hands back down to rest on your leg, not releasing you from his gentle grip. 

“I’m glad darlin’. ‘Cause there’s a whole lot of movin’ on I’d like to do with you.” You couldn’t help but smile at his cheeky wink, then moved your gaze back to the road. 

—----

Constance was sat at her dressing table, slowly removing her numerous items of jewellery. Her husband was stood by the window, looking out across the gardens. 

“What an entertaining evening, don’t you agree my dear!” The man only huffed slightly in response. “Oh come on, don’t be like that. What’s wrong, did your latest little experiment not work?” 

The man sighed before sitting down on the window seat. “Unfortunately not. A key component has…gone missing.” 

“Oh dear, don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll be able to find it again.” She moved over to stand in front of her husband; he was tall, his face level with her chest. “Here, let’s get those silly glasses off.” She reached down, placing a gentle kiss on the man’s forehead before carefully removing the tinted spectacles.

“That’s better.” She smiled as the dark, gold flecked eyes met her gaze.

[reddeadmort]

It’s a miracle they made it this far.

[reddeadmort]

Arthur Morgan x f! Reader | “Silvery Threads” | Part 4

AO3 LINK

Words: 2.4k

The man in black isn't someone you can escape from easily. Especially not now you've pissed him off......

Notes:

Warnings: one brief mention of being groped, no description.

This is turning out a lot longer than expected! Next chapter may take a while, I'm not too sure where this is going.....

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

“I said, run!” Arthur tried to push you off, succeeding only in causing himself more pain. 

“No!” You desperately tried to tie the knot in the cloth, hands so wet from the blood the material kept slipping through your fingers. 

“Bloody woman” Arthur grunted, reaching down to his holster to grab his pistol. “Get ready to fight then.” 

He had barely finished his sentence when a bullet whistled past your head, slamming into the ground a few metres away. Arthur immediately raised his gun, pointing behind you, and tried to lift his head to get a better view. 

You stiffened as you felt the cold metal press into the back of your skull, felt the click as the hammer was pulled back. 

“Ah reckon ya might want to drop that weapon there Morgan.” The contempt was palpable in the man’s voice. Arthur placed the pistol carefully on the floor as you raised your hands up.

“Ah no missy, nice try” the man sneered as he stepped away slightly, removing your opportunity to attempt to grab the weapon. Gun still trained at your head, he slowly walked around and kicked Arthur’s pistol out of reach. 

“Good work there Patrick.” You tried not to react to the cold, deep voice as the man in black stepped into view. 

“S’no problem sir. Excellent shooting.”

“Hmm, not quite. He’s still alive.” The barrel of the rifle was less than a foot from Arthur’s head as the man moved his finger to the trigger. “This….oaf interrupted my game. Before I could even get paid.”  

“Don’t ya worry sir, someone’ll pay for him.” The tall man turned to face his accomplice, one eyebrow raised in a questioning expression. “That’s Arthur Morgan. One of the Van der Linde gang. And from the way she was gripping his thigh, I’d guess that this is his little bitch.” Patrick spat at you, catching you in the face; you saw Arthur’s arms tense out of the corner of your eye, but he knew better than to move. 

“Interesting…..” the man murmured, rifle slowly lowering. “You’ll have to excuse my ignorance, but I don’t tend to involve myself in gangs. They make too much noise, too many loose ends. Exactly who will pay for this brute?” 

“Law, pinkertons, probably O’Driscolls. Dutch van der linde maybe.”

“Hmm…. can’t say I’m too interested in the money, but something to make up for today’s inconvenience would be appreciated.” The man cocked his head to one side, weighing up the options. “On second thought, it’ll make things too difficult.” 

As his rifle swung upwards, you launched yourself forwards on top of Arthur, blocking his head and chest from the weapon. You wrapped your arms around his head, gripping tightly as the accomplice tried to yank you back by the hair. 

“Don’t touch her!” The man in black snarled, pushing the other away. “Her suffering is mine to control.” Beneath you, you felt Arthur’s arm slowly move upwards, the movement blocked from view by your body. You stayed perfectly still as he slipped his sheathed hunting knife under the waistline of your trousers, down the side of your thigh. 

“Speaking of suffering, I wonder if she’ll enjoy being watched by her…beloved..as I turn her into my next art piece”. You finally lifted your head as the barrel of the rifle was wedged under your face, pushing you back up off Arthur. 

“Tie them both. Before you stick him on the back of that horse however, make sure to dig that bullet out of his leg. We don’t want him dying…. Not yet anyway.” You stared up into the dark eyes, the flecks of gold seeming to flash as the man revelled in the fear you were struggling to hide.

As the horse you were strapped to, hogtied, was led away, you tried to block out Arthur’s muffled scream and groans. 

—--

Dutch, Charles and Bill had thundered into Valentine only to discover chaos. The bodies of the sheriff and the deputy had been dragged onto the porch of the office. As they rode through town, they caught snippets of conversations; there had been a gunfight, multiple people on horses had fled the town. Dutch slid off his mount to chat to the locals, while Charles made his way up the street, around the back of the office. It was no good; far too many trails and footprints. He sighed, hoping that you two had sensibly gone to find somewhere to lie low for a time. As he spurred his horse round to return to the others, a scrap of fabric caught his eye. The bloodied bit of cloth on the ground, half trodden into the path, matched your shirt. He called out to the others and started to trot out of town.

—---

The cellar underneath the shack was cold and damp, the only light coming from a small window near the ceiling. Once again, your wrists were bound and strapped above your head to a post. You stayed staring at the floor, refusing to look up at Arthur, bound to a chair in front of you. You hoped he didn’t see the way your face twisted in pain as the bucket of salt water splashed over the fresh wounds. 

“Got to make sure you don’t die too fast my dear.” the man cooed at you, face so close to yours you could almost taste the scent of mint and tobacco. “You’ve been a good girl so far.” You held back a shudder as his tongue languidly brushed up your cheek. “Tell her how good she’s being.” This last part was directed towards Arthur, a kick to the leg making him groan. 

Arthur stayed silent, staring intently at the man. Even after hours of this, his rage had not quelled; you could see the muscles in his arms flex as he pulled against his bindings. His silence did not please the man, who moved to stand next to him. 

“I said, tell her.” He drove the handle of the whip down hard into Arthur’s leg wound, causing him to slam his head back and let out a strained moan. The whip was pulled away and Arthur looked back down, panting. Through gritted teeth, he spoke. 

“You’re doin’ good girl”. 

The tall man laughed, satisfied with his little victory. “Time for a little rest I think. I’d rather you not bleed all over me for the next part.” He strode away up the stairs, towards the door, silver tipped boots clattering on the stones. You heard the click of a lock and the slide of a bar as the door was shut behind him. 

As soon as you were certain he was gone, you let out the half-groan, half-whimper you had desperately been trying to hold in. Arthur was slumped forwards in his seat, not looking at you. 

“Darlin’, I’m so sorry” he muttered, repeating the last few words as he sighed. As he spoke, you pulled down on your left wrist, hard, ignoring the pain in your thumb as your hand slipped through the hole you’d managed to spend the last few hours widening. 

“I shouldn’t have barrelled on in to rescue you myself. Should've got some help. I’m just too dumb.”

Your left hand now free, you reached down inside your trousers and pulled out the knife, before swiftly slicing the rope that held your other arm above your head. Thank god the idiot accomplice had been more focused on groping you than actually searching for any weapons when removing your gun belt. 

“I’ll….I’ll get you out of here, I promise.” There was a slight tremble in his voice, betraying the lack of conviction in what he said. He looked up with a start as he heard you whisper in his ear.

“Sure thing, cowboy”. The knife sliced through the rope with ease and Arthur brought his hands to his lap, rubbing at the wrists, trying to find some relief. They were rubbed raw, cracked and bleeding. As he moved to stand, you quickly took your place at his side, offering support. Resting his arm on your shoulders, he took one step forward before instantly groaning and slamming back into the chair. You both froze, waiting to see if the noise had alerted someone. Upon hearing no movement upstairs, you once again tried to hoist Arthur up out of the chair, but he pushed your hands away. 

“Darlin’, you know we ain’t both gettin’ out of here. I can’t walk, and as much as you might like to think you can do everything, you can’t lift me.” Ignoring him, you tugged at his forearm, trying to pull him up.

“Shut up, you know I can’t just leave you like this.” One large hand enveloped yours, pinning it in place against him.

“I have to insist. You’re bein’ stupid.” 

“No! You wouldn’t abandon me, and I’m not leaving you here to suffer.” 

“Oh, but I did.” With this, he prised your fingers off his arm, forcefully pushing you away once more.

“Arthur, avoiding me around camp is not the same as me leaving you here to die!” You were growing more and more frustrated with the man. Why wouldn’t he help you? You needed to hurry, you had no idea how long it would take your captor to return.

“I ain’t talking about camp. I’m talkin’ about the woods. I’m talkin’ about that girl in tattered clothing, begging a man on a horse to take her. Take her anywhere than the hell she was facing.” Arthur’s voice was unusually flat, none of its usual warmness present.  

“Don’t lie Arthur. I know the girls told you the story. No matter what you say, I ain’t leaving you.” You moved to grab at him again, but his hand instead gripped your wrist, uncomfortably tightly. 

“That little gold ring weren’t worth much ya know. Barely even got a dollar from the fence.” 

You froze. How - how could he know that? You’d left that out of the sanistised tale you told the girls. You barely even let yourself admit it. It made you feel better, persuading yourself that the man on the horse had just been scared, that’s why he didn’t help. 

“Did feel a bit bad for snatching it out your hands as you offered it up. And for leavin’ ya standin’ there.” Arthur continued. “Faded when I got next to nothin’ for it though.” 

“Arthur no…please stop.” You were in shock, staring down into his blue eyes. They seemed so cold, his expression so hard. 

“Pretty sure I heard ya scream, but didn’t even slow. Needed to get me a drink.” You could swear you saw the hint of a sneer cross his face.

“Stop!” You gasped, pulling yourself away, almost falling backwards as Arthur released his grip. 

“See, Y/N, I ain’t a good man. I ain’t worth savin’. I deliberately left you to suffer, and you need to do the same to me.” 

“No… that’s not you. You’re…you’re different now. You didn’t have a choice….” You went to step forwards, but hesitated, and instead moved backwards. 

-----

Arthur could barely get the words out. He couldn't stand talking to you like this, seeing the look of betrayal starting to appear on your gorgeous face. You'd never forgive him. Against all instinct, fighting the urge to pull into his lap and hold you close, he pushed forwards with his plan. Anything to get you safe.....

-----

“Oh I had a choice.” Arthur’s voice dropped to a growl. “Still do. Still choose to beat poor men up in front of their starving families, force them to repay a debt that we tricked them into owing in the first place.” 

“But… you’re kind. You help your friends.” You were still struggling to process what he had said, what he was trying to do. It can’t have been him. You’d seen this man bring picture books back to camp for Jack, write down donations in the ledger against other people’s names. He’d blasted into that office with no fear for his own safety, shielding your body from harm. You felt safe with him. Tears started to stream from your eyes as you tried to choke out more of a response. “Arthur….”

“A few moments of kindness don’t make a good person. They just make ‘em harder to leave.” 

A loud scraping noise at the door alerted you to the fact that you were very quickly about to have company. Arthur swiftly moved his hands behind his back once again, as you lurched towards the wall nearest the stairs, the cold stone bringing slight relief to your still stinging back as you pressed yourself into it.  

“Go, Y/N. Save yourself. Get Dutch, the others, or don’t. It don’t matter as long as you leave.”  

As the boots strode down the stairs, Arthur called out, trying to maintain the man’s attention. 

“Ahh, Patrick! My favourite parasite. Come to have a closer look at a real man?” 

“Shuddup Morgan. I ain’t the one tied up like a prize hog.” He was so enraged by the Arthur’s taunting he didn’t notice the lack of your body hanging from the ceiling, or your quiet footsteps treading up the stairs behind him. You almost stopped at the loud thump, followed by spitting, but pushed forwards up and out of the cellar door. 

—---- 

That punch hurt. Blood filled Arthur’s mouth as he spat out a tooth. 

“Still prettier than you boy” he laughed in the furious man’s face. The second punch landed square on his nose, forcing Arthur’s head back and his eyes to shut.

“Yep, that’ll do it.” Arthur half-chuckled as he tried to wriggle his nose. Yep, definitely broken. His fists bunched behind his back, but he refused to move his arms. He had to make sure you were clear of the cellar, keep the man’s attention on him. 

The third punch to the gut made him gasp, but allowed him to lean forward enough to see up the stairs. His heart jumped slightly as he saw no sign of you. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to drag himself up those stairs after you; in the dark you hadn’t been able to see that the bloody patch on his leg had grown much larger. He just prayed that he had sufficient energy left to give you enough time to escape. 

“Fucking van der linde. Always actin’ like yer so much more righteous than the rest of us. Yer a fool for fallin’ for that …charisma.” 

Arthur let the man talk as he fiddled behind the chair, re-positioning his grip on the handle of the knife.

[reddeadmort]

Arthur Morgan x f! Reader | “Silvery Threads” | Part 3

AO3 LINK

You’re in trouble - will someone get to you in time?

Words: 3.2k

Notes:

It’s rescue time! However, I’m a terrible person, so you’ll probably hate me by the end of this chapter. We ain’t done yet....

Warnings:

Violence, bodily scars, implied potential sexual assault (nothing happens). 

Comments and feedback welcomed! It really does make my day when people leave a little message :)

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

Arthur had woken early, just as the sun started to appear above the horizon. He’d been pleased to see a shape on the bedroll in your tent, only for the pleasant feeling to be promptly replaced by disappointment as he realised from the skirts that Mary-Beth had decided to borrow your space for a brief moment of privacy. Still fighting a deep sense of worry, he grabbed his journal and headed for the horses. A bit of time away from camp, a bit of peace, that’ll help him relax.  

—----

You barely reacted as the hands grabbed your arms, wrenching you forwards so you fell to your knees. The slight burn of the rough rope against your wrists felt distant, like it was happening to someone else. Your mind started to float, up out and away from your body, looking down at the scene below. The man in black was leaning casually against a post, cigarette in hand, watching as the sheriff and his deputy roughly dragged and shoved the woman out of the cell and into the main room. A hand went to her head, and she was pulled to her feet by her hair. Still looking down from somewhere near the ceiling, you felt a dull ache on the back of your skull. The deputy grabbed the rope tying the woman’s wrists and yanked upwards, securing the rope on a hook suspended from a beam. 

The scream started distantly, quickly growing louder, and before you could prevent it, you were swooping down from your vantage point towards the poor woman. You tried to stop, fearing the collision that was about to happen….

Suddenly your eyes snapped open again, the pain from your shoulder becoming so overwhelming that the scream came to a strangled stop. Desperately, you tried to shift you weight to pull down only through your left arm, but your toes were barely touching the boards below. One boot slipped on the rough wooden floor and your arms were once again wrenched upwards. You almost bit your tongue as you felt the tear in your shoulder, deep beneath the gunshot wound. 

“What now?” The young deputy’s tone was urgent, excited.  

“We want to see what we’re doing.” a low voice rumbled from behind, as you heard the hiss of a cigarette being put out by a boot. The sheriff moved out of view, presumably back to the desk in the corner. 

Before you realised what was happening, still caught in a fog of pain, the deputy’s knife was out and under the back of your shirt, tugging upwards. He ripped the two halves apart, exposing your back and pushing the loose fabric up over your head, between your arms, before stepping back to get a better look. 

“Looks like she’s been used before.” The deputy sneered, a glimmer of disgust on his face as he stared at your crisscrossed skin. “She one of yours?”

“Oh I doubt it.” The man dressed all in black stepped even closer, until you could feel his breath on the side of your face. You were expecting a rancid smell, the retch already half forming in your throat; instead, there was just the strong scent of tobacco, mixed with the faint aroma of mint. The tall man lowered his voice, so only you could hear what came next. 

“Mine aren’t normally movin’ around so good after” he whispered in your ear. His tone was so cold, the deep murmur reverberating through you. The indifferent, hardened facade you were so desperately trying to maintain faltered, and a tiny involuntary whine of fear escaped your chest. In response, the man’s hand slammed into your throat, thumb and forefinger painfully squeezing your jaw. Again, he brought his face uncomfortably close to yours, forcing you to stare into his eyes. The hazel colour was so dark, with flashes of gold in the centre offering the only indication of where the pupil began. The man’s eyes narrowed as he growled at you.

“Steady on girlie. Too many noises like that and it’ll be hard to maintain my restraint.” You shuddered again, but this time managing to catch the cry in your throat before it could escape. The corners of the man’s mouth curved upwards into a half-smile, seemingly enjoying the defiance still emanating from your gaze. “There’s a good girl.” He dropped his hand and stepped away, leaving you gasping in air, thankful that the men behind could not see you screw up your eyes as they started to glisten. 

—-- 

Arthur almost fell from his horse as it reared; the speed at which Lenny and Sean were travelling, they had practically flattened him. 

“What in the hell are y’all doin’!” he shouted, patting his horse firmly but reassuringly on the neck. “Fuckin’ idiots.”

Lenny and Sean were breathing almost as hard as their horses as they circled back round. Arthur could barely discern a garbled word as they both rushed to speak over each other. “One at a time, one at a time!” he laughed, holding his hands up towards them, gesturing for them to stop. 

“Arthur……” Sean panted. “They’ve got her.” 

“Look Sean, I really don’t need to know ‘bout some woman you’ve been romancin’ in town, or whatever husband you two are currently escapin’ from” Arthur chuckled. His smile faded as he actually took a moment to survey the scene in front of him. The boys were soaking wet, the horses dangerously exhausted. In all the commotion, he’d misread their faces; there was a much deeper fear etched over them than he’d realised.  

“It’s Y/N, Arthur.” Lenny’s voice was ragged, almost hoarse from urging his beast down the road as fast as it could travel. “We got into a fight. Woke up in jail. They wouldn’t let her go…..” 

Arthur felt the anger swelling in his chest, but tried to stay calm. Cowards, he thought, of course they’d pay their way out before yours. “How much more d’ya need?”

“Arthur, you ain’t listenin’” Sean interjected. “She had money. It didn’t matter. They would’na let her leave. Not without…..” his voice trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. 

“They took our guns Arthur, we couldn’t do nothin’. We came to get help.” Arthur could hear the panic in Lenny’s voice now. 

“Camp. Dutch. Get anyone.” Arthur spat the words at the men, already turning his horse and urging it forwards. His vision was clouding, hearing going dull. He didn’t hear the men screaming after him as he thundered away, unable to process their cries of ‘wait’ and ‘need a plan’. 

He wasn’t going to let you down. Not again.

—----- 

The first few hits had not been as bad as you’d remembered, the slight loss of sensation across your back helping dull the pain. For once, you were actually grateful of the partially healed hole in your shoulder; that was where your mind was focused, the near constant dull ache helping to distract you from the sharpness as the whip sliced your skin. 

“My turn!” the deputy whined, a pathetic child-like quality to his voice. You heard the slither of the leather on the floor as the whip presumably changed hands. Bracing yourself, you heard the crack, and winced as you felt…. nothing.

“My fuckin’ face!” the young man yelped. You turned your head as best as you could, to see him reaching up to touch his fingers to the bloody cut on his cheek. Turning your face back towards the door, you couldn’t help but let a brief smile flash across your face. 

“Fuckin’ bitch, don’t you dare laugh at me!” The whip clattered to the floor and suddenly your head was being wrenched backwards, the blade of a knife resting on your throat. 

“Stop!” the sheriff shouted as a bead of blood started to trickle down the tip of the blade. He’d been so quiet, you’d almost forgotten he was there. For a brief moment, you hoped that maybe, just maybe, he was starting to regret this encounter. Perhaps he’d insist on letting you go…

“You can slice her up later” he grunted, pulling the deputy away. “But only after we’re done. I ain’t fucking a corpse.” 

“Don’t worry, I know how to make her apologise.” The tall man’s hands were on you, sliding over your skin. His touch was not rough, feeling more like a caress. His fingertips were soft as they traced the pattern of scars, carefully avoiding the fresh wounds. His warm breath on the back of your neck caused you to shudder slightly. He breathed in deeply as his fingers found the base of one of the larger welts. He ran his hand up the scar, barely grazing your skin, only faltering when you winced as his fingers brushed against the juncture of the Y shaped marks. “There it is…” he purred in your ear, before stepping back. The sound of leather against wood told you the whip was once again in his hand. 

“Now gentlemen, you’ll truly understand why people pay for my….expertise.” His voice was dripping with smug satisfaction. “You see, I don’t just know how to use a whip. Any fool could do that.” At this remark, the younger man grumbled, but refrained from actually saying anything. “I understand anatomy. You see, our subject has yet to give us much satisfaction, simply because she is… broken. Scar tissue can dull the senses, form a disappointingly protective layer.” The leather thong of the whip scraped against the wood as it was dragged backwards along the floor. “But sometimes, a nerve gets trapped. This can cause pain when a scar is stretched, or moved… or struck”. 

The pain came before the crack reached your ears. The bastard had struck you right on the spot he had found, the white hot pain rushing through your chest and out along your limbs. There was no way to stop the scream tearing from your throat; as the fire reached your skull, you felt your vision once again fading to darkness. 

—----

Arthur ignored the screams and shouts of the townsfolk as he barrelled past, forcing them to jump out of the way. His horse has barely slowed before his feet hit the floor, pistol already in hand as he started running towards the closed door of the Sheriff's office. 

—---

Your hearing came back before your vision. 

“Can’t we do anything?” the young man was whining again. “It’s no fun when she’s not awake to feel it.” You tried to stay as still as possible, stretching out the time before the next onslaught. Shadows danced across your vision, slowly fading as it returned. You thought you were going to fall back into unconsciousness as a large black shaped loomed in the centre of your sight, until it almost obscured the doors in front of you. 

A shot had rang out before the wood of the door had even finished splintering. The sound of the clattering would was followed by a soft thump behind you as a body hit the floor. In one swift movement, Arthur’s muscular arm was wrapped around your waist, lifting you up, allowing you to pull your bound wrists free of the hook. You cried out as he slammed the pair of you into the floor behind a desk. Arthur was on top of you, body shielding you from the bullets ricocheting into the wall behind. Then there was the sound of a tinny ‘click’ as the hammer of a revolver hit nothing but empty chamber. At this noise, Arthur forced himself up and off the floor, pistol arm swinging upwards. 

—--

Arthur willed his body to move faster, but time had seemed to slow. His entire vision was covered in a thin red mist, and he watched as the sheriff reached for the cartridges on the desk, movements slowed as if through water. One uniformed body was on the floor, and Arthur just caught a glimpse of a dark shape falling out the back door of the office. His pistol finally moved into position, sights aimed squarely in the centre of the man’s skull, and pulled the trigger.

—----

Clatter. Thump. Silence. 

For a brief moment, there was only stillness. You looked up at the man kneeling beside you, arm still raised, towering over you. Before you could stop yourself, instinct kicked in and you were scrabbling backwards, desperately trying to get to your feet. You had barely raised yourself off of the floor before Arthur was tugging you into his chest, arms wrapped around your entire torso. One hand cradled the back of your head, pushing it into his shoulder. 

“Darlin’, I’m so sorry.” His voice was strained as he gently rocked backwards and forwards. “I should’ve been here, should’ve protected you”. You allowed your breathing to slow, pushing your face even harder into his neck. You were about to speak when he squeezed your body, and instead let out a yelp. 

“Ah, shit!” You broke free of Arthur’s grasp, rocking forwards onto your knees, head moving to the floor, torn shirt falling to either side of your back. 

“Oh god…” you heard Arthur mutter under his breath as he gazed down on your bloodied torso. He quickly stripped off his jacket, wrapping it around you. He leaned you back, placed one arm under your knees, another around your shoulders and effortlessly lifted you up. As you rested your head on his arm, you started to hear the shouts and angry voices from outside the building. 

“Time for a swift exit I think darlin’” Arthur grunted, starting for the open front door. 

“Wait!” You craned your head round to look back at the desk, and pointed towards the pile of weapons. “Think Sean and Lenny might be a bit mad if they have to come back for those” you smiled weakly. Arthur moved over to the desk, leaning slightly, allowing you to use your good arm to lift all three weapon belts into your lap. A few quick, firm, strides and you were out of the door. Arthur hoisted you up onto the saddle, taking the weapons from you and stuffing them in a saddle bag before mounting the horse behind you. A swift kick and you were moving, taking the shortest route out of town. 

***

Arthur had slowed the horse to a walking pace as soon as it felt safe to do so. You were grateful; you were trying your best to hold on, but the movement was causing friction between your back and Arthur’s chest, leaving you in agony. As the pace slowed sufficiently, you leaned forwards, resting your hands and chest on the saddle pommel. You wondered how much of a state Arthur’s jacket was in; you could feel it starting to stick to you, you hoped just from sweat.

“S’gonna be okay, sweetheart.” Arthur’s tone was warm and reassuring. As you’d lent forward, he’d released his grip around your waist, hand instead moving to your hip. His jeans rubbed against yours with the movement of the saddle, and you let yourself have a little smile. Any other time, you’d have killed to be in this position. Bent over, Arthur’s warm body pressed to yours, his grip pulling you tighter into him. His jacket stank of his distinct smell; horse, wood, tobacco, gunpowder. You breathed in deeply, flooding your brain with the scent, trying to block out the stinging sensation. As you did, you slipped back slightly in the leather saddle, causing Arthur’s hand to squeeze your hip. 

—----

Arthur was desperate to pull you back up, press you into his chest, whisper into your ear how you were safe now, how he’d never let anything happen to you again. He tried not to let his gaze shift downwards from the path ahead, but failed; he could see the blood starting to seep through the fibres of the jacket, forming an angry pattern. He reassured himself that you seemed okay, carefully watching your breathing; slow, but steady. There was a slight moment of panic as you slipped back towards him, and he felt guilty for how hard he’d pressed his fingers into your side, but you hadn’t objected. He tried to ignore the friction at the front of his trousers, internally cursing his body for even daring to think about you in that way, especially right now. 

—---

After a while, you finally spoke. 

“Hey, Arthur?” 

The man didn’t respond at first, so you wiggled your hip under his hand, trying to shake him from his thoughts. “Arthur!” you said again, more firmly. 

Arthur shook his head as if to loosen some idea from his brain. “Sorry darlin’, just.... just focusin’ on getting ya home.” 

Home. The word sounded strange, but appropriate. Right now your head was not full of thoughts of fleeing, a near constant state for the last few years it had seemed. Instead, you were genuinely looking forward to strolling back into camp, seeing the now familiar faces, even okay with the idea of once again being fussed over. You could already imagine being sat round the fire, listening no doubt to Sean try to tell a story of his daring rescue attempt that never happened. Perhaps you’d even be sat on Arthur’s lap, listening to his deep voice reverberate through your body as he mocked Sean’s pitiful attempt at sounding heroic. 

“Arthur… thank you.” You turned to look at him as best you could, moving one hand to his on your hip, giving it a reassuring squeeze. You were expecting a smile, but his face seemed impassive. 

“No, really Arthur, thank you. You risked your life for me, could’ve easily got shot. If you hadn’t have got there so fast…” your voice tailed off, trying not to consider the various possible outcomes. 

“S’okay darlin. Weren’t going to let you suffer a moment longer than I had to.” He smiled down at you, though the corners of his eyes betrayed a sadness that didn’t match. He looked up, staring at the path ahead, before muttering something you didn’t quite catch. 

“Not this time.” 

A loud bang suddenly reverberated through the scenery, causing the horse to skitter. Arthur swore as he slid off the side of the saddle, dragging you down with him. You hit the floor with a painful thud, cursing the horse. 

“Ah christ, bloody animal.” As you went to lift yourself off Arthur, you realised your hand felt wet; the damn horse must have landed you in a puddle. It was only when you levered yourself upwards, turning to face the poor man beneath you, that you saw the red leaking from his leg. 

“Shit!” you desperately pressed your hand to the wound, already moving to pull the bandana from his neck. “Stay with me, Arthur, please” you begged, quickly tying the scrap of cloth around his leg. 

“You gotta run darlin’. And don’t look back”. 

—----

The smoke was still leaking from the barrel as the tall dark shape lowered the rifle. He neatly jumped down from the rock and started strolling up the road, the leather loop at his side swaying in time with his strides.

[reddeadmort]

I can’t stay, Arthur, sweetheart……

I’ll always love you.

[reddeadmort]

Arthur Morgan x f! Reader | “Silvery Threads” | Part 2

AO3 LINK

The boys try to cheer you up, as Arthur wallows in his own guilt and shame. What could possibly go wrong with a little drink in the local saloon?

Words: 3.5k

Notes:

Still a WIP, definitely at least one more chapter coming soon. I think we know exactly where the next chapter is headed.... Charles, Sean and Lenny feature properly in this one!

Warnings:

Game typical violence, bodily scars, references to an abusive past, implied probable violence in the very near future.

Constructive feedback welcomed!

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

So wrapped up were you in your own misery that you didn’t hear the heavy footsteps approach you. When the large hand touched your shoulder you jumped, quickly looking up. Charles’ gentle face was smiling down at you. 

“May I?” he questioned, gesturing to the floor next to you. You smiled weakly back up at him, using one hand to wipe away some of the tears from your face. Moving with a grace unusual for a man of his stature, he slowly eased himself down to sit next to you. A broad arm moved around your shoulder, gently pulling you in for a half hug. You didn’t resist, moving your head to rest on his chest. As you breathed in his scent, you couldn’t help but think how similar it was to Arthur’s; smoke, horses, sweat. Just the thought was enough to set your tears off again. 

Charles didn’t say a word, just held you as you sobbed. All he’d heard was yelling, seen you running off into the trees, and Arthur stumbling off towards the horses. As he jogged over, Sadie had given him the quickest summary she could before sending him off after you into the trees. As your sobs started to fade, you filled in the gaps, stopping short of explaining why Arthur’s reaction had hurt you quite so deeply. 

After a while, once he felt your breath and heartbeat returning to normal, Charles leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on the side of your forehead. “It’s okay.” he softly spoke. “We’ve all been through things, we sure aren’t going to think any differently of ya now. We’ll always owe you, our lovely little saviour”. 

His breath felt so warm on your face and neck, his voice sending waves of calm over your stressed mind. Without thinking you turned, using one hand to pull his head towards yours, kissing him on the lips. As you kissed him, Charles slowly moved one hand to the back of your neck, sliding his fingers up to grip your hair. You moved away slightly to catch your breath, then pushed forwards toward him again. However, this time, your movement was restricted; Charles’ grip on the back of your head was gentle but firm. 

“While I’m flattered, sweetheart, I don’t think it’s me you really want to be doing this to.” His voice was kind, with no hint of scorn or malice. As you looked up into his big brown eyes you knew he was right; you leaned back slightly and he slowly slid his hand out from your hair, bringing it to rest on your arm. 

“Oh god, sorry Charles. I didn’t mean to….” you could already feel the tears once again welling up as the embarrassment washed over you. 

“S’okay” he smiled, moving his hand up to rest on your cheek, lifting your face to look at him properly. “Ain’t nothing wrong with needing a bit of safety, a bit of attention”. 

“You’re a good friend Charles.” 

“I know” he chuckled. He stood, pulling you up with him, making sure to only tug on your uninjured arm. “Come on, let’s go warm up by the fire. I’m pretty sure I heard Sean complaining about his neck again; would love to see you one-up him a bit”. You were surprised at the quiet laugh that came from your throat. This strange group sure did manage to cheer you up quickly; it was a welcome change from the weeks of self-induced misery you’d suffer if you were by yourself again. You took the arm that Charles kindly offered and started strolling back to camp. 

 —-

Arthur could barely catch his breath as his horse galloped off over the plain. It couldn’t be…surely not…. He was abruptly snapped from his thoughts as the horse stumbled slightly. Pulling back on the reins, he urged it to come to a stop. Sliding off the saddle, he didn’t make it two steps before a sudden wave of nausea hit him. All alone, out in the open plane, Arthur vomited into a bush. 

When he was finished, Arthur stumbled a few more steps before ungainly collapsing on his back on the floor. Staring up at the sky, he tried to shake the image burned into his mind. When he’d first realised it was you stood in the centre of the tent, half undressed, he’d instantly become equally excited and embarrassed. At first he hadn’t noticed the silvery threads twisting their way across your back; all he could think about was touching your soft skin, wrapping his arms around you, replacing your hand across your breast with his….. 

But then he’d noticed the scars. Especially the two largest welts, forming an almost perfect ‘Y’ shape on your back. That’s when he’d stepped forwards, exclaiming to the group. He’d been so fucking rude, he chastised himself. It wasn’t what he’d meant to say; he’d just been so shocked to see that pattern again. As he’d desperately ridden out of camp, running away from the angry voices, he’d tried to convince himself he was wrong. It was just coincidence, had to be. 

As he lay in the dark, looking up at the stars, he twisted the leather of his gun belt in his hands nervously. You couldn’t be the same person. He shut his eyes, trying to visualise your face, hear your laugh, remember the smell of your hair….but the visions in his head kept on being replaced with flashes of the woman beside the road. The wounds on her back a mix of scars and fresh, angry red welts. The tattered cloth revealing a distinct pattern. The little cry as he’d urged his horse on past her, spooked by the movement just behind in the trees. The scream he’d tried to convince himself he hadn’t heard as he’d slowed to a walk further up the road…..

—-----

The rest of the evening had been surprisingly enjoyable. The group had essentially spent it trauma bonding, discussing various injuries and unpleasant situations. For a famous outlaw gang, this bunch sure got captured a lot. The girls had done their best to cheer you up about Arthur, alternating between describing how they were going to kick his ass for being so impolite and describing how sweet and kind he is, that he wouldn’t have meant it like that. You knew they were trying to be reassuring, but they didn’t understand how much it hurt to have that one pleasant dream, a glorious possibility, shattered so dramatically. 

So desperate you were to steer clear of further pain that you were almost grateful Arthur was clearly avoiding you. He’d taken close to two days to skulk back into camp, immediately beelining for Hosea. Hosea had obviously started to try and kindly mock the man, but his expression had quickly turned serious as he pulled Arthur into his tent to have a discussion. You’d ignored it, returned to your chores, anything to keep your mind busy. Later on, Karen and Mary-Beth were debating what Hosea could have possibly meant by the ‘clear your conscience’ he loudly exclaimed to Arthur as the latter stormed off. 

A week or so later Sean once again sidled up to you. “Hey Y/N, about that ride” he grinned. “How’d you fancy accompanying me and Lenny into town? There’s rumor a few new fellas have rolled in. We’re hopin’ they might have more money than sense!” 

“Thanks Sean, but I still ain’t going to be much use. I can just about do a couple of shots of the revolver, but holding a rifle still ain’t possible.” You smiled back at Sean; it really was kind of him to ask. As much as he liked to play the loud mouth, you’d seen the way he cared for people; bringing back small trinkets, helping Karen fold the laundry when he thought none of the other men were around. 

“No bother missy. No shootin’ required.” He leaned forward conspiratorially, gesturing you to lean in. “I’ll level with ya. We…. are actually planning on mostly doin’ some drinking.” You looked up into his face, that big cheshire cat grin plastered all over it, and laughed. “Sure Sean, now you’ve got my attention.” 

“Excellent!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together, quickly looking round as he straightened up. 

“Stop worrying Sean. Arthur ain’t anywhere nearby.” You reassured him. You wished he was; not to stop you, you more than wanted to go, but you just needed to have him speak to you, argue with you, anything. You turned and waved at Lenny, already waiting by the horses, and started to stroll over.

—     

Arthur was a few miles outside camp, hunting with Charles. It was not going particularly well; he kept on making minor errors, stepping on twigs, alerting the deer before he could get close enough. On top of that, Charles kept trying to talk to him. 

“You have to talk to her.” There Charles went again, trying to give advice where it was not wanted. Arthur wished he hadn’t spoken to Hosea, told him the story of the woman in the woods. When Arthur had refused to listen to him, Hosea and gone and shared with Charles, to see if his old friend would have more success. 

“I. can’t.” Arthur growled through gritted teeth. Frustrated, he threw his rifle on the ground and sunk to his knees. Charles watched as he leaned forward, placing his elbows on the ground, head in his hands. Arthur’s fists gripped his own hair so tightly Charles thought he might pull it out. Charles slowly walked over, placing one hand on Arthur’s back. 

“You didn’t know. Anyone else would have done the same.” Arthur grunted and tried to shake his hand off, but Charles did not move. “It’s in the past Arthur, far behind the both of you. She knows who you are; she’ll forgive you.” 

Arthur stayed silent, trapped in his own thoughts. Of course he wanted to talk to you, to apologise, to take you in his arms and promise to never let anything harm you again. But how could he start that conversation? Oh yeh, by the way, that time you almost escaped, after which you undoubtedly had months of horrible suffering, I could have stopped that, except I was too busy looking after myself. Unlike you, who took on three men to rescue a complete stranger that was clearly up to no good. And what if Charles and Hosea were wrong? What if you didn’t forgive him, couldn’t look at him, god forbid even left? Arthur couldn’t bear to even consider the possibility of never seeing you again. He’d far rather be miserable, keep an eye from a distance, then risk you not being around at all. 

—-

Leaning on the saloon bar, you smiled as you surveyed the scene in front of you. There was Lenny, immersed in a game of blackjack, doing surprisingly well given the number of drinks you three had had. Sean was being his usually flirty self, seeing if any of the saloon girls were willing to give him a freebie. This was your first time being properly away from camp since you arrived, and the little taste of freedom was helping you adjust to the new normal. As you turned to the barman to order another whisky, you saw out of the corner of your eye Sean sashaying up to a rather well dressed woman that had recently entered the saloon. 

In your drunken state, you’d initially wondered if you’d put your glass back down on the bar too hard when the was a large crash at the same time. The commotion behind you, however, alerted you to the fact that while the noise was not your fault, it was very much your problem. 

You winced as Sean’s head hit the floor as he slid backwards off the broken table. 

“My WIFE is not interested in ANY ‘quick get-to-know-ya’ in the stables, let alone with an Irish maggot like you!” the man standing over Sean roared. Sean propped himself up on his elbows, wiping the blood from his nose with one hand, before quipping back. “Fine, if you insist, I’m more than happy to oblige with a longer how’d ya do.” This response unsurprisingly did nothing to quell the man’s rage, and he launched himself forwards once more. Luckily for Sean, Lenny’s fist found its mark before the man could reach him. 

“Crap” you muttered, quickly tossing some money on the bar. “There’s extra there for the stool” you shouted back as you ran towards the fight. With a neat pirouette, you slammed the wooden seat into the man as he stumbled backwards, reeling from Lenny’s punch. Sean had finally clambered to his feet and was about to re-join when you grabbed him and Lenny and forced them towards the door. 

“Run, fools, I ain’t leaving here with more injuries than I came in with!” If the lads were disappointed with the fight being over so quickly, they didn’t show it, instead running after you with nothing more than a few grunted objections. Laughing, looking back to make sure the boys were joining, you didn’t see the men in front of you until you collided. Noticing the golden star, you looked up just in time to see a pistol grip swinging towards your face.

—----

Arthur’s heart sank when he realised you were not around upon returning from the hunting trip. He’d tried to quietly ask Mary-Beth where you’d gone, only to be met with an indignant ‘what do you care Mr Morgan”. Defeated, he slunk back to his tent, sitting on his cot before swinging his legs up and lying down. You were fine, he tried to reassure himself. Perhaps if he got some sleep then you’d be back by the time he woke up. 

Arthur shut his eyes, thoughts going to that night around the campfire, your body cradled against his, the soft scent wafting up from your hair……

—----

The cold water shocked you awake. You grimaced as the shiver went up your spine and straight into your aching skull. Without looking, the yelps from the next cell told you that Lenny and Sean had been awoken with the same treatment. 

“Rise and shine” the deputy sneered. He stared at you, slowly dropping his gaze down over your wet shirt. His tongue darted out to lick his lips; the expression made you shudder. You quickly turned, looking for your jacket, only to realise it hadn’t made it to the jail with you. The sound of keys in a lock drew your attention back around. 

The sheriff was stood at the entrance of the boy’s cell, holding out his hand. 

“Pay the fine and yer free to go” he grunted. Lenny and Sean scrabbled through their pockets, hoping there were still sufficient dollars left in them. “At least we get somethin’ outta low life scum like you.” The sheriff seemed so bored, fed up with the continuous stream of drunk troublemakers. Even so, he was letting you three off rather lightly; no real threats or scorn, like he just wanted rid of you. 

The boys shoved whatever money they found in his hand and he stepped aside to let them out. Moving forwards, your fine already in your hand, you waited for him to open your cell door. You tried to pretend you couldn’t see the way the deputy was staring at you, one hand on the handle of his knife. Your stomach started to clench, a rotten feeling spreading; no need to panic, you reassured yourself, just the hangover. 

As the sheriff placed his hands on your cell door, his expression changed. Half grinning, half sneering, he spoke. 

“Oh no sweetheart. You can put your money away. Whores don’t pay their fines with cash.” You shut your eyes and took a deep breath in, trying to control the panic now surging inside. 

“No!” yelled Lenny, lunging towards the sheriff. His attempt to reach your cell was cut short by a sudden knee to the stomach courtesy of the deputy, and he instead crumpled in a heap on the floor. Sean went to pick him up, only to very slowly return to standing, with his arms raised, as the barrel of a pistol appeared under his chin. 

“Ah said, yer free to go” the sheriff growled, stepping towards the two men. His tone, as well as the deputy’s weapon, made it very clear that this was not just a suggestion. “Y’all will get your little slut back. We just need some…company”. 

Before the boys could do anything stupid, you spoke. “S’okay lads. It’ll be okay. You’ll just have to wait a bit, that’s all”. Your voice was soft, reassuring, an attempt to calm everyone in the room. You hoped the gloom of the cell was enough to prevent the boys from seeing the tear roll down your cheek, betraying the screaming you could hear inside your head. 

“Listen to the lady” the deputy spat as he unceremoniously shoved Lenny and Sean out the door. 

“Just hold on, Y/N!” Sean yelled as he stumbled out into the bright light of the street. The door was slammed behind him and he heard the sound of a bolt scratching along the wood before thudding into place. 

Stay calm. Just breathe. You’d not even moved from your spot in the centre of your cell, all your concentration being poured into not screaming. There’s only two of them you thought. Even without your weapons, if they got close enough, then maybe you had a chance. The deputy was young, and quick, but the sheriff had obviously spent far too much time behind a desk. All thoughts of potential escape were dashed as a third man entered the office through the back door. 

“Ah, you got our message then” the sheriff smiled, stepping forward to greet the new man with a handshake. This wasn’t a local lawmaker; he was dressed almost completely in black, save for the silver belt buckle and trim around his hat. You shuddered as you saw the two whips hanging from the side of his belt. 

“That I did.” His tone was low, flat, voice so icy cold. Without intending too, you moved backwards, trying to hide, until your back collided with the solid wall. “Y’all finally found a suitable…..subject for our little agreement?” 

“I reckon’ so” the deputy slurred. “Don’t matter if we break this one neither, ain’t from round here.” You slid down the wall into a crouch on the floor, hands on your head, face between your knees. You could already feel your mind starting to detach, whisking you away to another place; you barely heard the clink of the key in the lock and the creak of the cell door. 

—-------

Sean grabbed Lenny by the shoulders as he tried to throw himself towards the locked door. “Stop!” Sean yelled, pushing the fuming young man back. “We ain’t got no weapons ya dumb fuck.” Lenny’s hand went to his side, finding nothing. Their weapon belts were with yours, in a pile on the sheriff’s desk. 

“We’ve got to try!” Lenny shoved Sean again, lurching towards the door, succeeding only in falling to his knees. Breathing heavily, he turned, looking desperately for another option. Sean caught his gaze landing on the gunsmith opposite and grabbed Lenny’s collar before he could even move. 

“What’ya planning exactly?! Give us some weapons, or we’ll stare ya to death?!” Sean yelled in his face. “We ain’t no use to her dead laddy.” The loudness of his voice reduced, an attempt to calm the other man. “Ya know we need help. Let's just hope we can find him”. Lenny stared up at Sean, rage subsiding into the more useful determination. Without another word, both men started running down the street towards the place they hoped their horses were still hitched.

[reddeadmort]

Arthur Morgan x f! Reader | “Silvery Threads” Part 1

AO3 LINK

You've been travelling alone for a while now when you come across a cowboy in need of assistance. Will helping lead you closer to a happy ending, or just another broken heart?

Words: 5k and counting (wtf)

Notes:

Heading towards proper fluff eventually, maybe even sneak in some smut at the end. Might expand on the first part, add in more chapters. WIP.

Warnings:

Game typical violence at the beginning, gun shot wound, bodily scars, references to an abusive past.

Constructive feedback welcomed!

—

Arthur stared down the scope of his rifle at the group of men on the plain below. “C’mon, Dutch” he muttered. He hadn’t wanted Dutch to take this meeting with Colm, he was sure there was something being planned. He was right. He heard a noise behind him and snapped his head around, just in time to seen the butt of a gun careening towards his head. 

—--

Before the gun could make contact, a shot rang out. The man holding the shotgun fell to the floor, landing on top of the large muscular man lying prone on the ground. Before he could react, a second shot slammed into the chest of the second man, forcing him to step backwards and straight off the cliff. His terrified scream rang out across the plain, cut short by a deeply disturbing cracking sound. 

The third time you pulled the trigger however, you were met with just a click. Shit. Misfire. You dove for cover as the final O’Driscoll swung his rifle around. Multiple shots flew past as you desperately tried to re-cock your weapon. As you spun round to return fire however, you heard a loud bang and the man dropped dead, very little of his head remaining. The man you’d saved was standing now, having struggled out from underneath the dead gang member. He was much taller than you’d realised, with broad shoulders, and a face you couldn’t help but be thankful you hadn’t let get ruined. 

“You alright?” he rumbled, stepping towards you. Instinct and adrenaline told you to run, but you stood your ground. The stranger lowered his rifle, moving forwards again, concern seemingly etched on his face. 

“Woman, are you alright?” He loomed over you, reaching out one hand. 

“Yes..I’m fine.” You stammered out; it was hard to talk with this much adrenaline coursing through you. You offered out your hand to shake his. “I’m….”

As you moved your arm you realised that you were very much not okay. Looking down at your shoulder, you saw blood seeping out over your shirt, a large hole where there definitely hadn’t been one before. “Shit….” Blackness clouded your vision as you tumbled forwards into unconsciousness. 

—---

Arthur swore as he quickly tore off strips of his shirt to try and stem the bleeding. Where in the hell had this girl come from? Why did she even help? As the blood soaked through every scrap he pushed to the wound, he started to panic. He took off his bandana and tied it as tight as he could round the shoulder of the mystery woman, before quickly lifting her up and whistling for his horse. Holding her close to his chest as he rode, he could only hope that she would make it to the camp……..

—-

Multiple weeks had passed since you’d awoken in an unfamiliar camp. The group had been more than kind to you, patching you up, letting you rest for as long as you needed. You’d learned that the mystery man you’d saved was called Arthur. You had not intended it to be quite as dramatic as it had turned out; you’d only helped because you could recognise an O’Driscoll from a mile off. Something about the smell. 

You’d been mobile for a few weeks now, and had started trying to help out round the camp. You were fairly useless at the majority of the chores however, and instead kept on trying to help by going on outings with the men. But, every time you tried, Arthur was there, giving some form of excuse as to why someone else would be better placed to go. It was getting irritating; the men had even stopped asking, as what was the point. So when Sean came sneaking up to you, you assumed he was just asking for a game of cards or the like. 

“Hey, Y/N, fancy a ride?” He winked at you. As you raised an eyebrow, he laughed; “nah, not like that ya naughty girl, thought you might like to join me on a bit of an investigation.” 

“I’ll go” a voice rumbled from behind you. You hadn’t even heard Arthur approach, but yet again he was there, getting between you and some blessed freedom. You shut your eyes, jaw and fists clenched, letting out a measured huff before turning to walk away. “Take Arthur” you muttered through clenched teeth, stomping away towards the trees. 

—--

As soon as your back was turned, Arthur rounded on Sean. “What’ya doin’ askin’ her to go Sean? What did I say!”. Sean stepped back, slightly intimidated by Arthur’s growl. “It’s an easy job, Morgan!” he exclaimed, raising his hands, palms towards Arthur in a pacifying motion. “Just some scouting, promise.”

“It’s never easy Sean, specially not with you in charge” Arthur grunted, calming somewhat. “But she ain’t ready.” Arthur stared after you as you stormed off into the trees. Sean stepped forward, hesitating, before patting Arthur on the shoulder. 

“I know yer trying to be kind, old man, but she all feels is hate right now.” Arthur scoffed, rolling his shoulder to remove Sean’s hand. He knew Sean was right though; the more he tried to protect you, stop you from getting hurt, the more frustrated you were getting. 

—--

You didn’t have to go too far into the woods before finding the tree stump and tin cans John had been using to teach Jack some shooting. You lined them up, all the while seething at once again being denied some freedom, potentially even some excitement. You stepped away, far past the line the boys had been using, and stood still, steadying your breathing. Sliding your revolver from its holster, you lifted your arm up, taking aim. In this moment, this peaceful moment, all you could concentrate on was your breathing, the slow up-down motion of the gun sight. The world seemed to slow as you breathed out and squeezed the trigger. Before you even heard the ding of the can however, you desperately tried to stifle a scream as white hot pain flooded your shoulder. You dropped to your knees, gasping, gripping at the pain with your free hand. Eyes shut, swearing under your breath, you tilted your head up as a tear rolled down your cheek. 

—--

As you raised your arm, Arthur was willing the shot to be good. You seemed far steadier, perhaps he was wrong. It took all of his strength to not run to you the moment he saw the pain on your face. He desperately wanted to sweep you up in his arms, carry you back to his tent, hold and soothe you. Almost stepping forwards, he stopped himself before shaking those thoughts from his head. Why would you want him to comfort you? He’d only annoy you, after all he was the reason you were even stuck here. Before he did something stupid, Arthur quickly turned back to camp to go find Sean.��

—--

A few days later, you were sat in your tent, attempting to mind your own business; essentially, avoiding Miss Grimshaw lest she gave you more chores. You looked up as Mary-Beth came skipping over. 

“Let’s go Y/N, it’s time for a bathe!” Her exclamation shocked you slightly; while the others tended to swim together (safety in numbers you supposed), you had tried to maintain some privacy.  “C’mon, we know you and your clothes desperately need a wash. Tilly’s found a pool in the river not too far from camp, nice and secluded.” 

Despite your protestations, Mary-Beth was tugging on your arm, pulling you up from the cot. You winced and stood up quickly to prevent her from doing more damage. She knew full well your right shoulder was still an issue, even after these weeks, but was unfortunately fairly inept at telling her left from her right. 

“Oh god, sorry, I got the wrong one again didn’t I” Mary-Beth stammered out. “S’okay” you grunted through gritted teeth. “It’ll pass”. 

“Please come with us” Mary-Beth whined. “I know you hate being all cooped up here, and we’re done letting you wallow in your own misery”. She gestured to the other girls and they gave you a ‘come-on’ style wave. All except Karen; she was deliberately not making eye contact, staring off to the left. She’d been like this ever since you joined; polite, but not interested in making anything more than trivial small talk. You had been around long enough to have no desire to be liked by everyone, but you did wish you knew what you had done to make her so indifferent. 

“Fine.” Mary-Beth let out a little whoop, and raised her fist triumphantly. “But only to accompany and protect you lot”. Sighing, Mary-Beth agreed - it was better than nothing. 

As your little group started walking out the camp, a familiar gruff voice came out from behind a tree. 

“Where you ladies headin’ off to?” 

Arthur was leaned with his back against a tree, one leg up with the sole of his boot also resting against the bark. His hat was pulled down slightly over his eyes; he took a long drag on his cigarette before flicking it away and turning to face you. His hands moved to rest on his gun belt, thumbs slightly tucked behind it, before slowly looking up at the group.

“None of your business Arthur!” Karen giggled before turning and starting to jokingly flounce away. 

“Ladies…” Arthur voice somehow dropped even lower, almost to a growl. The sound made you involuntarily tense and swallow. As he stepped forwards Tilly moved out to the front of the group. 

“Don’t be like that Arthur, Karen’s only being silly. We’re off to that stream you told me about; we all want a moment away from camp, to get cleaned up without constantly having to keep an eye out for Micah or Sean.” At the mention of Sean’s name Karen giggled again. “S’not sooo bad” she tittered. You rolled your eyes and gave a half-smile; it was sweet the way those two flirted, always a source of entertainment on a drunken night around the fire. 

“Fine, suppose you lot could do with a wash.” Arthur grinned slightly as Tilly playfully slapped him on the chest. His smile faded, replaced with a more serious expression. “I ain’t lettin’ you go alone though. Y’all need a lookout.” 

You quickly drew in breath, about to speak, to make up some lie about Charles meeting you there. You were not quick enough. 

“Oh don’t worry Arthur, we’ve got Y/N!” Mary-Beth stepped forward, slapping you on the shoulder, making you wince. This woman’s habit of always getting the wrong arm was starting to feel personal. You groaned internally, knowing what was coming next; there was no way Arthur was going to let you go off camp unsupervised. 

“But she can’t….I…” Arthur faltered, his slight hesitation caused by the impassive stare you were giving him. Quickly regaining his composure, he set his shoulders back and stared back at you. “I’ll come too. Y/N can’t keep watch and clean up.” You were about to interject, explain you had no intention of doing the latter, but did not get the chance. “You lot all need a chance to a relax, including Y/N.” His voice had softened, eye contact with you not breaking. You could have sworn he almost looked like he was pleading, just asking you to go along without a fight. 

“Go on then” you sighed, looking down at your stained clothes. “S’pose sometimes your ideas ain’t so daft Mr Morgan”. The girls cheerfully grabbed you arms and started a half walk, half skip down the hill. 

—----- 

Arthur hung back slightly as the group walked, enough to give the girls some privacy. He hoped you hadn’t registered the shock on his face as you referred to him by his surname. It hurt. He longed to have you curled up on his lap by the fire, muttering his name as you drifted off to sleep. Every time you said ‘Arthur’ it brought his imagination to life; hearing you refer to him so impersonally brought all those dreams crashing down. Frustrated, Arthur kicked at a stone, swearing as it did not move, pain stabbing at his toes.

—-----

As you strolled towards the stream, you let yourself relax, occasionally joining in with the pleasantly mundane chatter between the girls. Karen was bemoaning a perceived slight from Sean; Mary-Beth was giving some poor, but well-meaning, advice based off one of her many novels. Tilly was chatting to Abigail and Sadie about clothes; ever since you joined, your hatred of skirts and dresses seemed to have been rubbing off on the others. Sadie was discussing with the pair how to alter the only trousers you could get from the local store, make them fit a body they were definitely not designed for. Occasionally you turned, glancing back at Arthur, but he was always looking elsewhere. You were so frustrated with him, but even you were taken aback by the spite that had seemed to drip off your last words. The girls hadn’t noticed, too excited by the prospect of some privacy and peace, but you were sure you’d seen a flash of pain in his eyes as you’d spoken. 

“We’re here!” Mary-Beth exclaimed, running towards the water. The pool really was lovely; the curve in the river had carved out a steep bank on one side, offering privacy from everywhere except directly in front. The dappled light through the trees cast everything in a warm glow, and the water was so wonderfully clear and fresh. Poor Arthur barely had a chance to turn around before Karen was stripping off her skirts and reaching to pull her blouse up over her head. 

“I’ll, um, wait over here” Arthur grunted, fumbling sideways to sit on a convenient large log, desperately making sure to not turn around. “Arthurrrrr” Karen called out, jokingly trying to get him to look, only stopping when Abigail chastised her. 

When bathing nearer the camp, the girls never stripped past their underwear, preferring to maintain a small amount of dignity even if it meant some discomfort. It felt safer here though, the combination of the protective bank and even more so protective burly man. The younger girls stripped bare, running giggling into the water, with small exclamations around the chill. Abigail and Sadie gathered up their clothes, taking them over the washboard they had set up. After carefully removing your boots, you slowly undid the buttons of your trousers, sliding them off and handing them to a waiting Abigail. You stepped forward into the water, smiling as the pleasant chill ran up your legs and spine. You were about to step further in before Abigail tapped your arm, gesturing towards your shirt. 

Shit. This was why you didn’t want to come, why you always crept off to bathe alone. Miss Grimshaw was the only one to know to understand; she’d been the one to care for your wound when you arrived. The only one to have seen under the shirt. 

“I’m…I’m fine Abigail, I can wash it on me.” The fear was welling up in you, causing you to stammer slightly. Abigail either misread you, or didn’t notice, continuing to tug at your sleeve. “Don’t be so daft” she smiled, gesturing up and down. “That shirt is more blood and dirt than cloth, now hand it over”. 

Of course she was right; you’d done your best to try and clean it, but you’d only had two shirts in the first place, and one was now irreparable thanks to being cut away from your injury. Still, you winced at the thought of being exposed.

“S’okay Y/N!” Tilly called out. “It’s safe here, it’s just us - ain’t no way Arthur would dare peek!”. Karen managed to get out a cry of “Shame!” before being muffled by splashed water courtesy of Mary-Beth. Shutting your eyes, you took a deep breath before undoing a few buttons. Pausing, you reached down and pulled your shirt up over your head, wincing at the slight pain in your shoulder.    

Squeezing your eyes even tighter shut, you grimaced as you heard the faint gasps from the girls behind you. They were expecting the wound in the shoulder, partially healed, still red and angry. They were not expecting the scars. They crisscrossed your entire back, the white lines clearly visible even against your pale skin. Some wrapped around your front to your stomach, with a particularly large gash spreading downwards from your navel. Overwhelmed, feeling their eyes boring into your skin, you started to quietly cry. 

‘Shhh, lovely, shh.” Abigail’s gentle hand on your cheek made you open your eyes; she was gazing at you with a kindness you’d only really seen her demonstrate towards her beloved Jack.  Before you could say anything, Mary-Beth and Tilly were by your side, hands on each arms, guiding you into the water with hushed reassurances. 

—----- 

Arthur was quite enjoying this moment of peace. He’d taken out his journal and was sketching the woods in front of him, relaxing at the sounds of laughter and splashing behind him. He really hoped you were relaxing, finally letting yourself have a bit of fun. He’d heard the quiet gasp and hushed silence that followed, almost turning; but the chatter quickly resumed. Karen had probably told a particularly risque story, he thought to himself. His mind started to wander, imagining standing in front of you as your shirt slipped to the floor. He’d step forward, he thought, breathe in your scent, run his hands all over your smooth skin……Suddenly a loud crack in the woods had him snapped out of his stupor, gun drawn and pointed. 

—-----

“I’m pretty sure that squirrel ain’t goin’ to cause us no harm Arthur” Tilly giggled. In the moment once again, Arthur smiled before re-holstering his weapon. 

“I reckon you’d be right there” he chuckled, discreetly adjusting the front of his trousers as he shifted on his temporary seat. 

The girls hadn’t said a thing about what they’d seen other than some kind words. Once you were submerged, they continued their conversations, complaining about chores, men, food and the like. After a while, the girls left the river to re-dress, leaving you alone; as you joined them on the shore, you couldn’t help but notice they avoided looking at you. You knew it was almost certainly out of kindness, to help you feel more relaxed, but you couldn’t help that pang of fear. How could they not think differently of you now? Especially in this life, they all knew the horrors that could occur in the world, but there’s a difference between awareness and being brutally confronted with it. After slipping on your still slightly damp shirt, as you pulled up your trousers, Sadie came over to you. 

“S’alright Y/N. If you’d like, we can have a few drinks and talk later?” It was as if she’d read your mind. “Just us girls. You can tell us as much or as little as you’d like”. 

“I’d like that Sadie. I really would.” 

—--

“Come on Arthur, you ain’t much good as an escort if you ain’t escorting us!” Karen called back to a still sitting Arthur as the group started trudging back towards the camp. 

“I’m comin’” he grunted, carefully moving his satchel in front of him as he stood. Luckily Karen quickly went back to chatting, paying him no mind, so no one saw his slightly stiff gait behind you all. He’d been trying to wait as long as possible before having to stand, his current state making it difficult to walk. 

He’d been fine until he’d seen your wet shirt clinging to you. He had been chatting to some of the girls, and hadn’t meant to look over as you bent down to tie your boots. You hadn’t noticed, but the front of your shirt had tipped forwards, giving Arthur a view of your breasts, nipples hard thanks to the cold cloth. His entire body had stiffened, and he’d been unable to stop the warm feeling rushing his groin. Carefully maintaining his conversation, he’d looked away, hoping that his jeans were strong enough to hide his desire. 

—-

That evening, you were far more relaxed than you had been for a long time. You felt refreshed, and your shirt had quickly dried off in the summer sun. When your little group returned, you discovered a party already starting; you weren’t quite sure why, but Micah and Bill seemed particularly pleased with themselves and there was a lot more whisky and gin around than when you’d left. A few drinks later and you were sat on the floor around the fire, listening to one of Javier’s songs. 

After a while, your back began to ache, so you shuffled backwards to lean against the log behind you. As you moved, you kept your gaze on Javier, transfixed by the speed at which his fingers moved on the guitar. In your slightly tipsy state, you didn’t notice the two legs appearing either side of you until surprised grunt snapped you back to reality. 

“Um… hello darlin”. You looked up into the rugged face of a pleasantly surprised Arthur. You hadn’t realised he’d taken the seat behind you, and he certainly wasn’t going to object as you gently slotted yourself between his thighs. 

Looking up into those big kind eyes, you felt a smile come across your face. “Hello, pro-tect-or” you purred back. Good god - you’d definitely had too much to drink. As you bit your bottom lip, you felt Arthur shift his weight behind you. ‘Too much!’ part of your brain screamed, only to be immediately smothered by a much more primitive part. You thought he was going to stand up, move away, except he didn’t. Instead, he gently wrapped one large arm around the front of your shoulders, leaning forward to rest his lips on the top of your head. You felt him breath in deeply, before suddenly moving to sit back up, as though he’d finally realised what was going on. Before he could remove his arm, you moved your hands up to grab it. 

“Stay…” you whispered up to him, hands barely covering a fraction of his large muscular forearm. 

“Of course darlin’.” His deep voice reverberated through your body, causing you to let out the slightest involuntary moan. You were sure he heard it, as his grip around your shoulders tightened ever so briefly. You hoped he didn’t see you wince at the pressure on your shoulder.   He leant forwards, resting his free elbow on his knee, allowing you space to move your head to lie against one of his thighs. 

—--- 

This was certainly not a hugely comfortable position, but there was no damn way Arthur was going to move. He hadn’t meant to end up this close to you; he just wanted to be near to you, to hear your laugh. When you murmured those words up at him, he’d been so tempted to grab your face, lean forward, kiss you deeply….but he’d been too slow. When you’d looked forward again, he desperately realised you might move away, so had panicked and put his arm around you to prevent it. But then, he’d thought it was too much, started to try to stand, only to have you pin him back down. Now, with your head leaning against his thigh, all he wanted to do was bend down and whisper how much he desired you, and how clearly he could see you cleavage down your shirt…..

—---

You’d been sat for what felt like a glorious eternity (though probably more like 10 minutes) when Sadie came strolling up to the pair of you.

“Come on Y/N, the girls are all relaxing in Abigail’s tent if you’d like to…come and talk?” Her tone was kind, not pushy, and you were so relaxed it seemed like a good idea. 

“Sounds good Sadie, though I’ll grab some more whisky on the way over”. As you spoke, you stood up, having to push Arthur’s arm away slightly; you could have sworn you were met with far more resistance than you were expecting, perhaps even a little groan. You shrugged it off; Arthur was just being kind, keeping you comfortable. Of course he didn’t care if you went to go talk with the others. 

As you sat in Abigail’s tent, there were a few moments of awkward silence, no one wanting to be the first to ask the question. 

“Go on then Y/N, what in the hell happened to you?!” Good old reliable Karen; while grating sometimes, her forthrightness was helpful in certain situations. You stood up, moving the chair you’d been sat on to the opposite corner of the tent to the entrance. Nodding to Sadie, who quickly shut the flap of the tent, you straddled the chair, back towards the group. Slowly, you undid each button on your shirt before pulling it up out of your trousers. You let it slip to the floor, scars once again in full view. 

“Men, Karen, men. That is what happened to me”. Slowly, you talked the group through the collection on your body. Thick long welts from whips; thin, shorter scars from blades. The girls sat and listened as you revealed your story. You’d never thought you’d be able to do this; but it felt almost therapeutic, with the girls’ calm polite responses relaxing you. The whisky certainly helped too.  

“Long time ago, I was in love. At least thought I was. This man” - you sneered this, the word not suitable - “convinced me to run away with him. Said he was going to marry me, build me a little house and a farm. I was young, stupid, bored, and believed him. After a few days of travelling, we stopped at a ranch he said his friends owned. Well they were certainly friends of his, but not of mine.” You paused, debating how much detail to give the group. You decided to keep it short, not wanting to ruin their evening or give the younger ones nightmares. 

“To keep it brief, I was nothing more than payment for a debt. I belonged to the gang.” 

“Why didn’t you escape?!” blurted out Karen. “Where the fuck do you think half of these came from, dimwit?” you snapped back. Sighing, you pinched the bridge of your nose. “Sorry, Karen. It’s just… a lot of these represent failure. A failure to run, to hide, to protect myself.” 

“S’okay” a drunken Karen mumbled. I didn’t mean nuthin’ by it… you just always seem so… prepared.” You smiled at her reassuringly. 

“Got close to escaping once, ‘bout 6 months before I was more successful. Made it to a road. Managed to wave down a rider…” You paused. This was a tough memory; when you were recaptured that time, you almost gave up hope completely. “They must have seen I was a mess, only clothes I had were rags, and some wounds were fresh. Though, was dark, so maybe not” you sighed. “They slowed as I called out, begging for help. But when they asked where I wanted to go, I couldn’t say - didn’t even know where I was. Just said anywhere. Think that freaked ‘em, must have thought I was going to rob ‘em or something. So they just rode off. Weren’t long before the gang found me again…” you tailed off, voice slightly cracking.

“That’s horrible!” exclaimed Mary-Beth. “Who could do such a thing!”.

“Well to be fair Mary-Beth, that has happened to Arthur on multiple occasions….” Tilly interjected.

“Well, hang on Tilly, one of those times was you” Sadie laughed. You allowed yourself a small chuckle with the others; these girls sure made sharing stories a lot easier than expected.

“What about….” you turned to look at Abigail as she motioned towards her stomach. You knew exactly what she was referring to. You stood up, one hand and arm covering your breast. “This one…” you spoke softly, fingers running along the large scar below your navel. “This…. well safe to say a gang of men tend to have…. alternative views on the best form of birth control.” Some of the girls audibly gasped, an array of hands going up to clamp against mouths. In a desperate attempt to lighten the mood, you half chuckled. “S’okay ladies; turns out it’s quite nice not having to worry about where the fun ends…..you know Abigail, you really should get John to clean your dress once in a while.” It was enough, and the group starting giggling, with a mock annoyed stare from Abigail. 

“Better than the other place he tries to put it!” laughed Tilly, causing further merriment as Abigail grinned. Smiling, glad your story had been partially understood, you turned back towards the chair to retrieve your shirt. 

“This where all the pleasant company is then ladies?” Before anyone could stop him, Arthur lifted the flap of the tent, a big grin on his face, wanting to join in with the jokes. 

You froze, shirt clutched to your chest, back turned to him. Arthur’s smile changed to confusion, as he looked round at the girls all staring at him in shocked silence. His gaze finally came to rest on you, half naked, silvery lines snaking across your skin. 

“What in the hell is that!” he exclaimed, stepping forwards. His tone jerked you back to reality, and in one deft movement you tugged your shirt back on and swung around under his arm, out the tent, fumbling with the buttons. 

As you ran for the tree line, you swore. Why him? Why now? This wasn’t….. that isn’t how he was supposed to see you. You stumbled through the trees, continuing to curse. Shit, why couldn’t you have just stayed by the fire with him, all calm and content. He wouldn’t want to touch you now…. they never did, not after they’d seen the state of you. A quick fumble out the back of a saloon, a mostly clothed fuck out in the woods… that’s all you could ever get. 

You slowed, stopping to catch your breath, checking behind you. No one had followed. You slumped against a tree, a tear starting to fall down your cheek. All you’d wanted was  Arthur . To feel safe, be held tight, have him whisper in your ear, gently stroking your hair as you fell asleep in his arms. You’d grown so frustrated with him, desperately wanting to be near him, but every time you were he was just so goddamn protective. Not letting you close enough to really get to know him, but preventing you from leaving to find a small piece of normality. And why did your fucking shoulder continue to hurt so much…….

You sat and cried as weeks of pain and suppressed emotion spilled out. 

———

Arthur was horrified. He stood there frozen, not quite able to process what he’d walked in on. He could barely hear the girls yelling at him, their voices sounding distant. All he could think was that he’d seen those scars before…….

[reddeadmort]

I told him that I’ve been feeling pretty bad about my writing lately and he gave me this! This man is a blessing. I cried.

[reddeadmort]

My Mary Linton Cosplay ^_^ Foto: Mircea Foto

[reddeadmort]

LOVE IT ❤️ This is now canon IMO

If things were different…

I finished Chapter Six of RDR2 and it broke me, really sad about yet another fictional character so sue me haha! I decided to write a fix it, it’s terrible and I’m an idiot but I’m going to post it anyway! 🤷🏻‍♀️ tagging @reddeadmort & @shethenightwolf because you guys got me into writing for red dead and I’d love to know your opinions ♥️

Shallow breaths, strained against scarred lungs. Vision swimming through the dull haze of early morning rays…it echoes…rises and falls. The pain slowly drifting away with the quiet ascend of the sun. The heart slows…the mind clears. Peace settles in the body…cooling the blood that trickles down against bruised skin. And in that moment the world slows as he rests; he waits. He waits for the end to come…but it doesn’t.

———————————————————

Arthur awakens with a jolt; his heart racing with short rapid breaths that almost seem to suffocate. As he calms he feels the pressure in his chest ease, the weight lifting as he focuses on reality. Trembling hands wipe the cold sweat from his brow and he quickly moves from the comfort of his bed.

He casts aside the blanket and bare feet meet the cold wooden floor. Striding towards the washroom to wash away the cobwebs of tangled nightmares that litter his tired mind. Instead he pauses when blue eyes greet him. He stops and looks.

Looks at the man staring back in the mirror on the wall. At the grey twisting through his hair and untrimmed beard. A face illuminated against the rays of the full moon through the washroom window.

He ages gracefully and he’s grateful for every wrinkle. Each one reminding him of his second chance. Of a man he never thought he’d ever live to be. A man about to turn fifty. Arthur smiles when he remembers. Fifty. An age he never thought he’d see. He is a father now and a husband to a family he still sometimes doubts he deserves.

He still doesn’t remember what happened on that mountain, how he lived, how he survived. Who decided his soul was worth saving. It is a mystery that has and will always allude him.

But he accepted the unknown years ago. It is more of a comfort to pretend it’s a dream. An untold ending to a story only they know. Arthur, John and the others who lived it.

The world believed him dead and he lets it. The Pinkertons concluding that Arthur Morgan and John Marston died during the shootout that night on the mountain side. He remembers that surreal feeling of standing beside his own grave stone. Marston joking that the brothers look pretty damn on account of being dead several years. And again Arthur smiles.

The memories painted on the pages of his tattered journal. As he reads; the past playing before his eyes. Like the kaleidoscope he bought his children, it flashes back and forth. The happy moments lighting up his head and heart, the darker moments clutching it tightly until it aches.

He breathes and it is content, peaceful. The tension once again leaving his ageing bones when he glances at the woman he loves sound asleep in their bed. His wife, his saviour. The woman that learned of his past and loved him anyway. That gave him the family he never thought possible. No chances or mistakes made this second time around. He stays for every second of it and embraces the fear of being a father again.

Because it lasts and it’s hopeful. He closes the journal; returns it to its place in the chest beneath his bed. And he settles. The doubts and fears that once crippled him drift away, laid to rest. They are gone and forgotten.

He climbs back into bed, cuddling up to the woman he loves. As she stirs slightly, blindly grasping a hold of his hand and squeezing weakly as she lets sleep claim her again. Arthur grins; that even in her dreams she can love him so effortlessly.

He drifts when the gentle touch of sleep whisks him away. To dream of the majestic beasts that gallop through the thick grass of early morning spring. A whisper on the soft winds in the swaying trees, the voices of old friends come to visit once again.

[reddeadmort]

Get to know me

Tagged by: @arthurs-atonement @shethenightwolf @notursdutch

1.) Name? Don’t share it on here publically, it’s too unusual! One of my names is Aurora though :) 

2.) Age? 28

3.) Favourite colours? Blue and grey

4.) When you made this account: Mid march! My first ever time on tumblr

5.) Follower count? 416

6.) Superpower?  Flying

7.) Favourite drink? Tea, Golden Ale and Whisky

8.) A song you love right now? ‘Let’s dance to Joy Division’ by The Wombats

9.) Dream career? Business owner/designer-maker

10.) Dream vacation? Galápagos islands to see all the animals

11.) Hogwarts house? Hufflepuff, Patronus is a Kingfisher, Wand a ‘Holly wood with a Phoenix feather core 10 ¾" and Supple flexibility’ (all according to Pottermore lol)

12.) Favourite character this week? Arthur Morgan, but I’m re-watching ‘Lie to me’ so Cal Lightman too

13.) Christmas or Halloween? Christmas easy!

tagging: @redeadepression @starlessskies94 @moodyarthurmorgan (ignore if you’ve done it already, I’ve been a bit slow/AWOL!)

[reddeadmort]

OOOOOH new part is Juicy AF

Arthur Morgan x Reader

Title: “Between you two” [part 12]

Words: 2,3k

Pairings: Arthur Morgan x female reader (x John Marston!!!)

Warnings: swearing (it’s wild west)

Summary: You’re secretly in love with Arthur Morgan, but there are obstacles on your way to getting to him.

A/N: O-oh, don’t really know how you will react on this part, but that’s the way it is.

You can find previous parts in the tag(in case you wanted to read them): betweenyoutwostnw

The incident at campfire made you realise that many things changed while you were gone. Not that you expected everything would remain the same. In the end, you were the one to leave and if it wasn’t for Arthur you might have never come back. But still, you weren’t prepared for things to take this turn. After what Mary Beth told you, you didn’t know what to think and do. There was also that unpleasant conversation with Abigail…

So you battled with your thoughts alone, hoping you would find a way out of this mess on your own. This was way more challenging than you thought it would be, with Arthur being distant as he used to be in the camp and John, who you weren’t talking to you, you suddenly felt lost. You could only wish you stopped overthinking so many things and just let them go. But just as things started getting good or at least normal again, you got surprised with an unexpected bounty haunting.

“What the hell, Dutch?” You asked him angrily when you found out what he had planned for you, not even listening to his explanation. “Why can’t I go on that bounty haunting with Arthur, huh?”

“Since when John’s company disturbs you?” He replied, throwing away a cigarette. “Arthur has work to do in Valentine and can’t be in two places at one time. I’m sorry, darling, but that’s how it works.”

“Does he know?” You stood in his way, stopping him from walking away.

“Who knows what?”

Keep reading

[reddeadmort]

Cozy Cowboy

[reddeadmort]

The Van der Linde Gang as the album Rumours by Fleetwood Mac

Note: Not prompted but this is my all-time favourite band and album and I just watched Stevie Nicks get inducted into the Rock N’ Roll Hall of Fame for the second time last night and it made me emotional as hell so here’s this

Second Hand News: Josiah Trelawny 

I Don’t Want to Know: Abigail Roberts

You Make Loving Fun: Karen Jones and Sean MacGuire 

Go Your Own Way: John Marston

The Chain: Hosea Matthews

Oh Daddy: Dutch Van der Linde

Songbird: Jack Marston

Gold Dust Woman: Molly O’Shea

Dreams:  Arthur Morgan

Never Going Back Again: Tilly Jackson

Don’t Stop: Kieran Duffy

[reddeadmort]

Sooo I finished chapter six and cried like crazy!! Losing Arthur was more upsetting then I thought it would be! Now I’m gonna binge read all the fanfics about happy Arthur to make me feel better 😪 (the ending has broke me! I’m broken!)

😭😭 oh no, you poor thing! I was the same, but I have to say that I actually did feel a sense of relief. I’d been avoiding it for so long it was kind of nice to have it over and done with!

Just go and start a new save with slightly less honourable but happier Arthur and live in Chapter 2 for a while to cheer yourself up ❤️

[reddeadmort]

Working Hard | John Marston x Abigail Marston x F!Reader |

This is based on one of the nights I stayed late for work last week. I was bouncing around a few different projects but I finally finished this one yesterday before I went and saw Endgame. This is another Modern AU as well!

Pairing: John Marston x Abigail Marston x F!Reader

Rating: T? No smut or anything but there is a mention or two of sex.

Words: 4,051

@redeadepression

xx

You glance at the clock above the kitchen’s archway. “He’s late.” You murmur to Abigail, who is flipping through Netflix boredly.

It’s date night and you and Abigail are dressed and ready to go see a movie, but John’s nowhere to be found. Normally he would be home from work right at this time and in the shower, but for some reason he hadn’t even come home yet. It was worrying for a man that was so hellbent on routine.

“It’s not like him to be late.” You continue. “What if something happened?”

Keep reading

[reddeadmort]

Sketchy cowboah