#Arthur Morgan you make me miserable

[moeitsu]

I always think about the scene where Arthur gets diagnosed with TB, how frightened and defeated he looked sitting in that Doctor’s chair.

But I sometimes wonder if maybe he found comfort in it. Knowing that he would be with Hosea and Lenny again soon. Even Eliza and Isaac. I know Arthur’s not religious but I wonder if he told himself that to make himself feel better. Feel less afraid.

“Part of me has always longed for death. Well, here it comes, I suppose”

[arthursfuckinghat]

"Oohhhhhh darling Abigail 😫🔥 I've changed 🥺👉👈 come live with me 🙏 in an outhouse 👉🏠 I wouldn't 🙅‍♂️ ask my worst 😠 enemy to take a shit in 😤💩"

[twola]

ahehehm.

i get scared when making requests but like .. soft makeup sex w arthur 🧎‍♀️

“i’m sorry baby. i know, i didn’t mean it.” UGHH this man makes me crazy

If there is one talent that Arthur Morgan has - its accuracy. With a gun, a throwing knife, any kind of weapon really.

And his words - He knows what to say to make it hurt, to stab at your chest as if he was physically driving the knife into your heart.

Your eyes cloud over with tears as you quickly turn away from him and walk in the opposite direction, nearly dashing into the woodline away from your shared tent.

Arthur remains where he stood, scowling, fists still clenched. Fine - if that’s the way you’re going to be, go run off for all he cares. He turns on his heel and goes back into the tent, yanking the canvas shut before angrily pulling the hat from his head and throwing it to the ground. He runs his hands through his hair, trying to assuage his aggravation.

Grumbling, he kicks his boots off and throws himself down in the cot, pulling his hat over his head in an exaggerated manner to try and get some rest.

He awakens much later, in the small, quiet hours of the night, and the small space in his cot next to him is still empty. His stomach drops.

Shit, were you still out there? He figured you would have crawled back into bed after calming down. He shoots up, tossing the blanket to the end of the cot and swinging his legs over the side, groping for his boots in the darkness. He shoves them back on before venturing outside, teeth clenching against the cold.

It doesn't take him long to find you, curled up against a tree a little ways away from camp. Your head is in your knees as you wrap your arms around them.

“Sweetheart.”

You raise your gaze upward, and Arthur frowns as he can at least see the glistening of tears in your eyes.

“Why would you say that to me?”

Guilt washes over him like the tide coming in. The heat of the argument earlier has subsided and he drowns in the shame of hurting you.

“Darl-” he sighs, trailing off before stripping his jacket off, stepping closer to you and draping it over your shoulders as you shiver. He stoops down next to you to sit, pressing his side against yours, and after a moment, looping his arm around you to draw you closer.

You shiver in the chill of the night, but after a moment, you lean into him, resting your head against his collarbone.

His hand rubs up and down your back gently, “ ‘m sorry - I didn’t mean it.”

Your hand slowly emerges from under his jacket and spreads out over his chest, above his heart.

“You say things like that and it makes me think you don’t want to be with me anymore.”

“Shit- I ain’t…” Arthur sighs, pulling you even closer against him, “You know I’m just a miserable ol’ bastard. I shoot my mouth off…”

You remain silent, but your fingers tighten at his shirt.

God, he’s such a fool.

“C’mon, let’s get back inside. You’ll catch your death out here.”

You let him lead you back from the woodline toward his tent, his hand tight around your waist the entire time back to his tent strung up against his wagon.

He pulls the canvas of the tent shut tightly against the chill of the night. You stand awkwardly within the confines of his tent, rubbing at your arm as you sniffle. He turns to you, reaching toward you as if he were trying to calm a skittish horse.

“I ain’t- I ain’t good at this.” Arthur whispers, his thumbs gently sweeping the tracks of moisture collecting on your cheeks.

“Me either.” You hiccup, leaning into his touch.

“Suppose that makes us both fools.”

You hum in agreement as you press forward to lean into his embrace fully, your arms moving from his chest around his back as his encircle you as well. You feel him place his chin lightly on the top of your head.

“Lemme show you then.” He rasps, pulling away from you slightly, his hands pressing against your back to pull you up to him into a kiss.

His tongue presses into your mouth as his grip around your waist tightens. You moan softly, and he returns the noise, one hand moving to squeeze your rear.

Laces and buttons are gently undone, cotton rustling as he rids you of your dress. He slowly pulls the straps of your chemise off your shoulders, and the fabric flutters to the ground, pooling at your feet as his fingers trace down the curve of your spine. He reaches the waistband of your bloomers and pushes it down over the swell of your ass, leaving you completely nude in the soft lantern light of the tent.

You reach for the buttons of his union suit and thread them through their eyelets as you feel his eyes upon you. It is not until you have unbuttoned him past his navel that you look up, catching his gaze and holding it as you lift your hands to his shoulders, sliding the cotton down his arms.

That too pools at his feet.

It is only a moment before he pulls you flush to him, his skin touching yours, all of you pressed against all of him. He recaptures your lips as he maneuvers the two of you toward his cot. Far more gently than an outlaw like him should be, he lays you down.

Arthur leans over you, one knee on the edge of the cot, and as you gaze down his body, you see the evidence of his need, his cock hard, jutting forth proudly from his pelvis. Leaking from the tip, swollen and glistening for you.

You can feel the moisture gathering between your legs, he’s yet to trail his hand there, but when he does, he finds you wet and wanting. A low rumble emanates from his chest as he parts your folds with a gentle press of his fingers.

You suck in a breath as he does so, your eyes fluttering shut as he rubs at you. Moving downward, he slides a thick finger into your cunt, and you gasp his name in feverish desire as he climbs atop you, pressing your legs apart with his own, settling his hips closer to yours. When Arthur removes his finger, he brushes the wetness off on his leg before his hand smoothes up your body, searching for yours. When he finds it, he interlaces your fingers as he wraps his other hand around himself as he moves toward you.

The blunt, girthy head of his cock presses through the rim of your cunt and you gasp, a high and flighty noise, as he begins to push himself inside you, sheathing the column of him within your warm channel.

When his pelvis blessedly is flush against yours, he lets out a long, sated breath as you squeeze your eyes shut against the feeling of being parted, getting used to the shape of him within you.

Arthur remains still, his free hand rubbing gently at your hip as he waits for you. When your eyes flutter open, he is peering down at you with adoration in his eye. You squeeze the hand you have interlaced before unwinding your fingers from his.

Words remaining unspoken, you reach up to him to wind your arms around his neck, and he immediately gets down on his elbows, surging forward to lock his lips to yours.

And then he moves. A long, slow, gentle stroke in which his pelvis leaves yours for a moment before returning. You moan as he does it again, and he takes a moment to hear that flighty sound before pressing his lips over yours.

Your fingers card through his shorn hair as he slowly, gently pumps into you. You receive him headily, your core getting wetter by the moment.

The emotion of it all spills over - he seems incapable of words as he gives himself to you. The cot squeaks in the night: the gentle slap of skin on skin, the wet sound of bodies coming together fill the tent.

He reaches between you to rub at that bundle of nerves right above where he stretches you, and you clench your teeth against the pleasure as you come.

He is able to stay inside you for a moment more to enjoy the constriction of your body around his, but not much longer as he quickly extricates himself. He only needs to wrap his hand around his length and pump himself twice before his spend splatters upon your heaving belly.

Arthur pants, giving his cock a final squeeze as it drips more of his release upon you. Within a moment, he reaches down to the pile of clothes at the side of the cot, pulling his bandana from the pile and wiping your skin clean.

Your eyes start to close as you feel him slide into the space next to you on the cot, gathering you against him.

He presses his lips to your forehead as you drift off, but before you do, you hear his whispered voice in the night.

“I love you.”

[howlett-n-morgan]

Take Me Home

5. Blood Stains

Arthur Morgan x Texas Red!Reader

A/n: HEY GUYS I AM BACK WITH A DOOSIE. okay so my fashion show was fantastic, let me know if y'all wanna see a video of my collection i think it turned out pretty damn good. anyways, wrote this while crocked off my ass on Benadryl bc allergy season is hitting very very hard right now so if it's not perfect we are all going to collectively blame the Benadryl, okay? okay.

Summary: An accident in the laundry causes chaos in the camp, and secrets are revealed sooner than expected. With everyone else acting like the world is caving in, Arthur steps up as usual.

Warnings: misogyny, major gender role tropes, a little bit of personal violation, but very minor. Susan is a bitch in this chapter (we love Susan). Blood plays a lot into this chapter, and so do menstrual cycles, so if you're uncomfortable with those mentions, this may be a skippable chapter for you. There's also like some sexual implications but nothing inherently sexual happens. I think that's it, let me know if I missed anything.

WC: 7.8k

“Climb up, let’s go to town before closing time,” he walked around to the other side where his horse was hitched from earlier today, still saddled since Bill hadn’t made his rounds yet.  You complied, but were unsure of the motives for such a trip.  “Is Dutch paying you to take me somewhere? He want you to kill me quietly?” 

In the weeks since John’s disappearance, you’ve noticed three things:

One, Dutch hasn’t barely been seen in the camp, and when he makes his presence known, it’s either angry or forlorn. Two, the entire gang has been very quiet, not wanting to set off Dutch, or make anyone else upset with the matter. Three, Arthur has done as he said he would, becoming closer with Abigail, and helping nightly with Jack. 

It shouldn’t break your heart, because you had no right for it to. You shouldn’t be distancing yourself from the both of them, they didn’t do anything to deserve it, but the way your chest tightened by watching them, watching Arthur gently place a hand on her shoulder as he watched Jack squirm in her arms was far too miserable. Abigail won’t speak of it, knowing that everyone has been on edge since her former lover left, but she missed the talks and conversations you held. You understood her, and though she didn’t exactly know the truth as to why, she was still partially in grief over that bond, too. 

Arthur takes immediate notice, but doesn’t say anything. Hosea had mentioned your run in with John the evening he took off. He figured you needed time to cope with the situation, even if you didn’t know John all that well, or even like him for that matter. Everyone in camp was dealing with it differently, so why should he judge the way you handled yourself?

It was only when you stopped talking to him altogether that he became slightly concerned, and he wasn’t the only one. 

When Dutch first brought you into the gang, he knew there was some subtle competition with you and Arthur. The two fastest guns in the west, hell, maybe even the world… but you butted heads often. He didn’t know why it had suddenly stopped, but his concern grew from being in both your presences at the same time, and the icy feeling he got just from standing between you, running over job details in a tent. 

It was like Arthur didn’t exist to you anymore. Everything you said and did was conveyed to the people around him, but never to him. You would even give news to a big group of people to avoid telling Arthur directly. 

Dutch knew there was something wrong, because he could have sworn you both were inches away from getting along, but now it was worse than square one. It was after a successful job that he said something about it. After you had deliberately handed Arthur’s cut to Javier and told him to give it to the next man over. 

You’d ridden back, safe and sound, but Dutch held you back, nodding the others away from the horse troughs.  

“Talk with me for a bit, will ya son?” He tried to approach the situation gently. This couldn’t have been a gradual thing. 

“F’course,” you muttered, hands resting on your gun belt as you followed him into the center of camp. 

“I’ve been noticing some… strange behavior from you towards Arthur. Only lately…” he scratched his head, looking at you expectantly. “You can tell me if he did somethin’ to piss you off, I’ll speak with him about it.”

You furrowed your brow and shook your head. “He didn’t do nothin’ to piss me off… I’ve just always been better off on my own, don’t wanna rely on anyone.”

“I can understand that sentiment, but it doesn’t make any damn sense as to why you’re givin’ him the cold shoulder,” he furthered his point, and you didn’t have any choice but to make something else up. Something that could actually be worth what you were doing to Arthur. Your head told you that the truth of ‘I’m actually a young woman and I’m catching feelings for your gang enforcer’ wouldn’t help you. 

“He’s been tryna hold me back,” you sighed out, as if revealing some huge secret. It was partially true, but you’d grown more relaxed about the protection Arthur had been trying to provide. Still, you kept on the charade, knowing it would get you out of this situation free and clear. “M’tired of him thinkin’ I can’t keep up, tired of feelin’ like a helpless kid next to ‘im.”

Dutch let out a breath and narrowed his eyes. “I see… and so you figured it best to keep him out of arm’s reach, is that it?”

“Guess so,” you shrugged, leaning against the pole of his big tent. 

And then it seemed that Dutch saw this as a teaching moment, because he nodded for you to sit down on one of the cross latch boxes, across from where he stood. He had a whole spiel oncoming, and you were almost sure you knew what it would contain. Something about the camp being a family, everyone sticking together and more nonsense of the like.

“You don’t understand this now, because you’ve never had a time of need in this gang… but that day will come,” he paused, and you perhaps had it all wrong, listening intently now. He pointed in the direction of Arthur’s camp set up, and you glanced over, not for the first time that day. He was tired, hunched over his cot and leaning in exhaustion, running his hand over his face. “And when you are in that time of need, there is no better man to have in your corner than Arthur Morgan.”

You nodded in understanding, a small frown on your face. You wanted to protect yourself, but if what Dutch says is true, you’re only setting yourself up for failure. 

“He’s been here a long time, and no matter your opinion of him, no matter the things you do or the things you say, he’s loyal. It ain’t up to me what you decide to do, but you should know, he’s the best ally you’re ever gonna have.”

And just like that, you regretted the past weeks. Everything you did to avoid him, getting up early to grab some of the coffee before he came by. Going out and hunting without letting anyone know, just so that he didn’t have a chance to come with you. Even going as far as to mend your own clothing and do your own laundry, knowing he might catch you at one of the girl’s stations while picking up your weekly wears. You felt awful. You remembered at least four times he tried to approach you before he just gave up. At the time you were grateful, because you thought it was making things easier for you, but in actuality, the things Dutch said were true. You needed him in your corner. There would be a time of need, and Arthur was the best ally to have when that time would come, whatever it may be. 

“I think I oughta go set things right, then,” you let out, your ego deflating slightly when your eyes met Dutch again. 

“If you think it’s best,” he nodded, switching places with you and watching you walk over to his favored outlaw, the man he called his son. He called you son, too. You wondered if that would hold up if he ever found out about you. 

Arthur was on the verge of sleep, but you were doing this now. You could apologize later. 

“You look like shit,” you tried to be nonchalant, and not bring any emotion into this. 

When he looked up, he was slightly annoyed, but his face softened once he looked at you for a moment. 

“Feel like shit,” he grumbled, trying to understand what you were doing here. You didn’t exactly give him reason to believe he was important to you anymore. “Did you need something?” 

You kicked the dirt beneath your boot, trying to keep yourself composed, but you weren’t too good at these things, and the amount of shear stiffness in your body wasn’t helping you to relax about it. 

“I think I owe you an apology,” you started, and he tilted his head in slight confusion. Sure, he knew what you were apologizing for, but he didn’t know why. “I’ve been avoidin’ you, n’ I shouldn’t have.”

He nodded in thanks, accepting your words. You stood awkwardly, unsure if you should say more or just leave, but when you turned your boot to walk, he stopped you. 

“Did I piss you off or somethin’?”

Why was everyone asking that? 

“No, ain’t nothing you did. Just my own stupid ass and things that don’t matter,” you told him. You felt even worse now, because you’d made both him and Dutch think that it was something he did wrong. He could rarely do any wrong in your eyes, which made this whole ordeal that much worse. 

“Matters enough, you stopped talking to me. Couldn’t even get you to look my way.”

You didn’t want him to know anything else. With him and Abigail rapidly forming a blossoming relationship, it wasn’t for you to stand in their way. Jack needed a father figure, and Arthur was the perfect candidate. 

“I’m sorry about it. I swear it won’t happen again,” you really wanted to leave this time, unsure of how far it may go in the event of a deep conversation… but he caught your wrist and gently tugged it back towards where he sat as soon as you started turning away again. 

“You gotta give me somethin’, Red. I’ve waited weeks just to ask you,” he pleaded, his tired eyes looking through you and trying to enter your mind. You caved just as soon as you saw how badly this affected him. You hurt him. He might be big, burly, and dangerous… but he bleeds, and his heart can be wounded as easily as anyone else’s. 

“I’ve been going through some things, and you’ve had a lot on your plate with Jack and Abigail. It’s not fair of me to make my burdens your burdens… I was tryna keep you out of it,” you admitted, which was only half true. The partial truths of the night were stacking up, but fortunately he couldn’t tell the difference right now, too tired and unfocused to really study your features and what you were hiding. 

“Red,” he sighed, not yet prying for more information, but giving you one last glance. “You can tell me things. Remember that.”

You nodded, smiling at him for the first time since John left. “Alright.” 

-

You stopped avoiding and ignoring Arthur, but things were still distant. You’d been getting close right after Jack was born, but going into his third month in the world, you two were miles apart. Still, it was better than the stone cold facade you’d been turning to him before. 

“Got any laundry?” Susan asked, breaking you out of your trance as you watched the sun setting. You weren’t really paying much attention, but nodded, reaching behind you into your tent for a sheet full of worn out and dirty clothing. You should have looked it over, but you didn’t, too caught up in your own mind. “You can ask the girls about getting it back tomorrow, they’ve been going stir crazy for things to do.”

“Yes ma’am,” you nodded, tipping your hat and leaning back against your small tent’s middle pole. You had half a mind to slide your hat over your eyes for a nap, but that didn’t seem like it would fly, especially if one of the others needed you for something. 

You could definitely use a nap, you were cramping like crazy. You swore if Bill came up to you and asked for any more favors with the damn horses this week you’d kill him, but only because you were feeling grumpy. 

You wanted so badly to confide in Arthur about these things, the troubles of womanhood that you couldn’t share with anyone else but him. You wondered if he would ever tell anyone, since it’s been almost five months of your residence and you have yet to reveal your secrets to everyone else. Maybe you were being paranoid, but the closer he got to Abigail and the further you pushed him away, you thought he might care less about the agreement you both made. After all, spilling your secret to Dutch would gain him loyalty points, and Dutch seemed all too happy to be giving them out since John left. 

It was about an hour later when there was a shriek at the other side of camp, and many ran over to see what the trouble was. 

Tilly had been sitting by her wash bin, but had pulled her hands out on account of one thing. 

“What’s the matter, Tilly?” you heard Sean over your shoulder, and when you finally saw the trouble your eyes widened and you muttered a single word under your breath. 

“Shit.” 

“What’s shit?” Arthur’s voice was also heard beside you now, and you turned to him ever so slightly with a whisper.

“Me, I’m in deep shit.”

Tilly showed everyone the water, with some clothing swirling around, but it was all tinted red. 

“I think someone’s been hurt,” she said, waving over Mrs. Grimshaw to show her the problem. “There’s blood in the water.”

You tried to casually back up slowly, hoping that it wouldn’t get traced back to you, after all, the clothing in the bin was yours, and Mrs. Grimshaw had just picked up the pile from you. You were just stupid enough to leave your monthly attire in with it, and during your monthly time, too. You were only two days into the cycle, meaning there had been a lot of blood.

Grimshaw, being the stern and impatient woman she was, rolled her sleeves up and dug around in the water, looking for clothing with holes to indicate a stab or bullet wound… but she only found:

“A sanitary apron?” She furrowed her brows. She was pretty in tune with the women of the camp, and hadn’t been aware that someone was menstruating right now. 

“You better run, kid,” Arthur caught on, nudging your shoulder. You’d already started getting further away from the scene, but it seemed Grimshaw already came to a conclusion before you could make a break for it. 

“I picked these up from…” she trailed, her brow now seemingly angry and strewn together in a stressful manner. She marched over to you, grabbing your lanky wrist harshly and tugging you away from the scene. “You better not be hidin’ what I think you’re hidin’!”

You held onto your hat as she practically ran you into the nearest tent. It wasn’t hers or yours but that didn’t matter, her urgency was all too apparent. 

“Miss Grimshaw, what’s this all about?” 

“I have had my suspicions about you since you arrived here,” she spoke intensely, pulling you forward by your belt buckle and doing her best to undo it. 

“Hey, hey! What’re ya doin’?!” You tried to protest, but her nimble hands were too persistent, and she finally got your pants loose enough to take a brief peek at what she needed to see. “What the hell, would you stop?!” 

“I knew it!” she yelled, a finger pointed in the air. 

And just like that, you knew you were screwed. 

She quickly ran out of the tent, and you tried to follow her, making a quick attempt at putting your belt back together on the way out. 

Arthur ran a hand over his face when first he saw you, and the state you were in. He knew the jig was up, too. 

“Where is that man when you need him?” Susan was turning every which way, a mess of herself just trying to frantically look for the camp leader. 

“Dutch? He’s in town with Hosea, what’s the problem?” Bill sauntered up, dusting his hands from the work he’d paused. 

Pearson and Javier all of a sudden made an appearance, and when you thought nothing could make this worse, the rest of the camp zoned in on the chaos, having had nothing better to do this whole day. It was slow, and there were no jobs to be done, so the boredom consumed minds jumped on the first sign of entertainment they could find, and boy was it something.

“We have an imposter in our midst!” She yelled, her arms waving around wildly. 

“Hold on, now…” You tried to interject, but Arthur shot you a look, shaking his head. Don’t do it, kid. Just shut up.

“What do you mean an imposter?” Pearson crossed his arms. He was never one to give bad news of any kind to, because he had a tendency to blow it out of proportion. “Who?” 

“That,” she pointed at you, her voice raised to the highest decibel count you knew was humanly possible. “Is not an eighteen year old boy! She has been fooling us all. Who even knows where she comes from, what her real name is!”

“What the hell are you even talking about?” 

“The kid?” 

“Ain’t no way…”

The rapid responses coming forward almost eased your mind, except for the fact that Susan did in fact have up close and personal proof from what she saw. 

Arthur stepped forward, and as the murmurs grew louder, and Miss Grimshaw was prepared to go on another rant, he did all he could to calm the situation. 

“Let’s not make any rash judgements right now,” he gave you a look, trying to let you see he was attempting to help, but that you needed to leave. “We’ll just wait until Dutch and Hosea get back.”

You took that as a cue to leave, awkwardly making way for your tent. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Susan tried to chase after you, but Arthur held her back. 

“Wait for Dutch,” he said, his arm blocking her path. Who knows what she’d do in this state? She’d been known to whip some of the boys into compliance before, who knows what she’d do to someone she viewed as an imposter. 

Sitting with the flaps closed, you could still hear everything that was occurring outside, and it nerved you far more than being in the middle of it all. 

“It doesn’t make any sense…” and “Do you think it’s true?” could be heard from separate conversations, and you wished more than anything that you’d just done your own damn laundry. 

Your face fell in your hands, and you started going over all the things that could happen. Dutch could hate you for lying to him, and kick you out, banishing you as far as you could go. Or, since you were a newbie, and didn’t have the trust factor built yet, maybe they would just shoot you dead. That may have been an extreme idea, but with your rapidly beating heart and increasing worry, things like that were bound to spill in. Not like you’d been in a gang before, you didn’t exactly get an etiquette and rule book when you arrived. Who knew what would happen to you. Nothing good, that you knew.

When Arthur finally opened the flap and leaned down inside the small dwelling, you knew it was time to face the music. 

“Dutch is back, Susan’s tellin’ him everything,” he sighed, looking over your face and feeling a sense of guilt that he didn’t do anything to stop all of this. When you first arrived he thought maybe it wouldn’t be a big deal, but having experienced this much drama in just the past hour has most definitely led him to believe he was wrong. 

When you stayed silent, and didn’t really give him a reaction of any kind, he could tell you were hit hard with the anxiety and shock of it all. He couldn’t ever get you to shut up, and he often didn’t want to, most of all now when you looked like a scared animal. 

“I ain’t gonna let ‘em hurt ya, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You shook your head, and against your hardest efforts, tears were backing your eyes, looking for ways to escape. He hadn’t ever seen you like this, and it wasn’t pleasant. 

“I don’t wanna leave,” you admitted. You liked it here. You weren’t lonely here, and you had a family… or at least you did an hour ago. You didn’t know where you stood with half of these people. 

He couldn’t speak for Dutch or Hosea, or anyone else really, but he could speak for himself. 

“I don’t want you to, either…”

When Arthur heard his name called, he leaned back, looking in the direction of his father figure, looking angrier than a pack of hungry wolves. 

“Yeah?” 

“Tell Brooks to see me, now.”

You didn’t even need the message relayed. You stood up, and followed Arthur out of the tent, your head down as you made the distance to the center tent, the big one you’d been at only a bit ago with council from your leader. You only hoped he’d be so forgiving when he found out you lied to him. 

Arthur got into the tent first, mumbling a few things you were a little distracted to hear. You did catch the small ‘don’t be too hard on her’ fall from his mouth, though. 

You sat down on the box chest, close to the exit of the tent, just in case things went south and you had to run. Not that you were thinking about running, but again, a million scenarios crossed your mind. 

“Arthur, wait outside.”

You grew more tense as soon as those words were uttered, and so did Arthur it would seem. 

“Dutch, I think I should-”

“Wait. Outside.” 

He reluctantly did as he was told, walking far enough away that he wouldn’t be reprimanded, but still in your eye-line so he could keep an eye on you. He trusted Dutch with the gang members, but if he was considering kicking you out, that made you fair game. 

“I’m gonna cut to the chase,” he took a long drag of the cigar he held between his fingers, blowing the smoke out when he turned his head to the side. “You know why you’re here.”

“I reckon I do,” you answered quietly, trying to keep an ounce of confidence though your entire body felt like it would start shaking in fear. 

“I could have you stripped for the whole camp to see, but for propriety’s sake I’m only going to ask you this once… is it true?” He asked, his tone less stern but still eager. 

“Yes.”

He sighed, having heard the softness in your voice since you came in, he already knew. You’d never shown this side of yourself to the camp before. You were always confident, sure of yourself, cocky even. To think it was an act boiled his skin… but he wanted to take his time with this. You still had capabilities the likes he’s never seen, and if he wasn’t careful they could one day be used against him. You didn’t know about the O’Driscolls yet, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have you running off and joining them. It would be the death of the Van Der Linde gang, of that he was certain. 

“I’m gonna decide what to do with you, but until then, you stay out of my sight.”

He pointed outside of the tent, and you were honestly surprised that this was the extent of his questioning. Nothing about the lies? About the history? About anything at all?

You gave him a double glance, but scurried away in fears he might change his mind and tear you to shreds on the spot. You walked hastily towards Arthur, your face gaining more color to it once you were out of the line of danger. 

“You alright?” He asked, his furrowed brows reflecting his concern. 

“No,” you let out with a dramatic scoff. Your flare for over exaggeration was sometimes quite amusing to him. He just dropped his head and chuckled. 

“You’re fine,” he patted your shoulder before stepping past you and going to talk to Dutch. What he knows is that Susan Grimshaw spilled every nasty detail of this afternoon to the camp leader, but he also knows that he hasn’t had his say yet, and when it comes down to it, Dutch will side with his loyal enforcer over a disgruntled Miss Grimshaw. 

Dutch was stretching out his arms, sore from the ride in and out of town. It was a scouting trip, really, but it was enough to make him ache when all the stress was added. 

“First John leaving, now this. I can’t seem to catch a break, can I?” Dutch sighed out after his words, the toll they took on his mind caused him to shake his head of so many thoughts. 

“This ain’t so bad,” Arthur began, tilting his head from side to side. 

“How could you possibly think that?”

Arthur shrugged, reasoning with himself a few options before saying them out loud. 

“S’not like she did any harm. Only thing that’s come of it is a bit of surprise to everyone…” he trailed, sitting across from the man he called his father figure and his friend. The tension seemed to ease up the second he neared the man, but there was more to be done to diffuse the situation, and he was all too happy to insert himself as the cause of said diffusion. 

“She lied about who she is, for all we know she could be working with local law, or worse, the pinkertons.” 

Dutch’s raised concerns nearly made Arthur chuckle. When you first got here, facade or not, you were still just lost and looking for somewhere to call home. There were never any motives behind your gang participation other than needing a family.

“We haven’t had them on our trail in ages. Coming here, we finally put a stop to their sniffin’ around. Besides, she’s been the reason for our successful jobs lately… she’s been loyal enough to save my life despite our differences.”

“But she lied to us,” Dutch kept driving his point. A liar’s a liar, and they lie about other things. 

“She’s a scared kid, Dutch. She just wants a place to be,” Arthur defended, his arguments becoming more close and personal, which led Dutch to connect some other dots. 

He sighed, looking at Arthur and coming to an understanding of what he knew were past events. 

“You knew, didn’t you?” 

Arthur dropped his head into a subtle nod, not yet meeting Dutch’s eyes for his fear of a bad reaction. 

“Since the week she got here.”

Dutch had to laugh, because of course he did. Arthur was more in tune with the members of camp than he could ever be, and more than they could be with each other. He was like Hosea that way, his ability to connect and grow relationships with others was just a natural gift. He often thought it stemmed from Arthur’s great love of the unknown, and his endless curiosity. 

“How’d you figure it out?” 

“I didn’t, until I found some uh… rather feminine items in her saddle bag. She fessed up pretty quickly to me,” Arthur scratched the back of his neck, his nerves settling when he knew he wouldn’t be in any trouble. 

“Well,” Dutch started, coming to the edge of his open tent, looking for the troubled recruit among the busy movement of the camp. “We’ve taken in much worse, and it’s always been in our favor. And you’re right… She's just a scared kid. A scared kid with the quickest hands I’ve ever seen.”

There was a moment, and then Arthur smiled.

“So… She’s free n’ clear?” He asked, his tone hopeful, which Dutch noticed. Perhaps Red had made amends after all, and just as Dutch promised, Arthur was in her corner. This wasn’t her time of need, per se, but he knew she would have him when it arrived.

“I suppose so, although… I’m not going to be responsible for the court of public opinion,” he gestured to everyone in the camp, frantically working around just to keep themselves busy. With all the chaos going on, it’s the only thing they can do not to sit and gossip, which they do anyway. 

“I reckon I better keep her away from Susan?” 

“With a ten foot pole, preferably,” Dutch rolled his eyes. That woman was full of determination, and it could be both a great strength, as well as her worst weakness. 

Arthur smiled, ready to go make good on a promise he’d been waiting on for some time. “I’ll catch you later then.”

“Alright, Arthur.”

-

You didn’t know if Arthur’s conversation with Dutch would benefit you or condemn you, but you didn’t stick around to find out. He’d found you saddling your horse, just in case a hasty escape needed to be made. Yes, perhaps your delusions were getting a bit out of hand. 

“Where you goin’?”

“Depends,” you started, “How mad is he?”

Arthur huffed and grabbed your wrist, stilling your movements. “He ain’t mad.”

“No?” You could hardly believe it. “He seemed riled up to me.”

“I talked to him,” he explained, but gave no further intel. 

“You got magic words or somethin’?” You chuckled, slightly more relaxed since the news came better than you hoped, and Arthur wasn’t dragging you back to be punished or anything. “What’d you tell him?” 

“That you were gonna be loyal… and that you’d been scared.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, trying to play off his last words like they weren’t true. “I ain’t scared.”

“Really? You were about to run, weren’t you?” He pointed to your full saddle bag and stocked up horse, ready to disappear at a moment’s notice. 

You caved. 

“He gave me a little fright is all,” you toed your boot into the dirt as you spoke, looking back up to find him nodding at your horse. 

“Climb up, let’s go to town before closing time,” he walked around to the other side where his horse was hitched from earlier today, still saddled since Bill hadn’t made his rounds yet. 

You complied, but were unsure of the motives for such a trip. 

“Is Dutch paying you to take me somewhere? He want you to kill me quietly?” 

It was just a joke, but he was getting tired of the overly dramatic interactions. He wasn’t sure what all transpired in your past, albeit knowing more than everyone else… even still, he figured there had to be something that gave you your theatrical touch. 

“Knock it off, would ya?”

“Sorry.”

The ride wasn’t long, but the sun was down when you both tied your horses to the poll in front of the general store. You’d been in here a few times, and the man behind the counter always cowered in fear of Texas Red the unkillable. No matter your manners or gentility, that’s just how it was. 

“What’re we doin’ here?” You adjusted your hat, wiping some sweat off your forehead and following him up the front steps. 

“I remember sayin’ I’d get you a dress a while back, we’re here to make good on it.”

You stopped in your tracks, a wide smile blossoming on your face when you heard him say it. He’d remembered, and been waiting for it since the night he uttered the words. 

He noticed you weren’t close behind him, and turned, catching the sweet expression you wore, but brushing it off with a sideways smile. 

“C’mon now, gotta pick it out.” 

You followed after him, and once inside, the man behind the counter seemed to be nervous, as usual. He didn’t seem to be weary of having you both in, just a bit anxious. Arthur knew his presence held power, but he figured with your reputation in this town, and others around… your presence was bound to hold more. 

“What can I do for you? Need more socks?” The man asked you kindly, and you shook your head, a small laugh escaping you. 

“No, we’re uh… we’re here to get a dress for my wife,” Arthur spoke evenly, his confidence showing through when he had to put on a show. 

Your head snapped to him, and though you knew he was intending to buy the dress for you, a thought sprang into your mind. Abigail. She was going to be his wife. 

This sweet little moment, with Arthur keeping his promise, and making a big to-do over your acceptance into camp, was all part of your own little fantasy. It wouldn’t last, and when you returned to camp, he’d be with her again, helping with Jack. You tried to shake the thought from your mind, wanting to enjoy this sliver of time with him. 

“Of course! I’ve got a new selection,” he pulled out the catalog, and opened the pages to a section with different types of skirts, petticoats, chemises, and corsets. All were beautiful, but your eye was drawn to a more simple style. It was a work dress, which would be far more practical for you than any of the other ones. 

“I’m not too good with all this. What do you think, Red? Which one would she like best?” He tossed you a smirk, leaning his elbow on the counter while he let you browse over the pages a bit longer, turning them over with a furrowed brow of focus. 

“What color does this one come in?” You asked the man over the counter, keeping your act up, but letting your hints of excitement show through. 

“That one is a nice pale blue, perfect for spring and summer time,” he spoke firmly, becoming more relaxed the longer you both were in the store. Yes, he’d heard the whispers, and for you, he’d actually seen your acts of a quick trigger. But here, you didn’t seem like a threat, so he stopped acting like you were.

“Blue, huh… Might bring out her eyes a bit, hey Arthur?” Now it was your turn to smirk, and he chuckled, nodding back to you and tapping the page twice with a heavy finger. 

“You’re right it would, make em’ look like crystal,” he played along, making you blush under the brim of your hat, unbeknownst to the man behind the counter. 

“It’s gotta be that one, then.”

Arthur chuckled, counting out the cash that the dress price was listed under, tossing it down on the counter and nodding to the man. 

“You heard the kid, we’ll take that one,” he spoke in a playful tone, ignoring the movements of the man as he scurried to the back rooms, getting your dress pieces together. 

Arthur lifted the brim of your hat, and smiled genuinely at the look on your face. It was excited, sweet, and grateful. He wanted to buy you the entire stock of the store just to ensure that look stayed on your face, no matter the irrationality of it. He’d become quite accustomed to giving you his time and his efforts, and this was no different. The only difference is that now he wanted to, wholeheartedly. The deal you’d struck with him, the one where you were going to teach him your methods of shooting faster, were now null and void. He didn’t want to take anything from you, he just wanted to give.

When the store worker returned with a large box in hand, Arthur thanked him for his time, carrying the thing over his shoulder and heading for the door, which you opened for him. 

Getting outside, you went for the horses, but he stopped you with a swat of your hand away from the reins. 

“Can’t go back yet, gotta see how this looks on ya,” he insisted, nodding for you to follow him yet again. He walked for a bit before coming up on the shed with a small lantern inside. It looked like it only housed tools and ropes and things of the like, but there was space enough to change in. “Came across this when I was out one day. Took a whole nap before someone realized I was in here.” 

“How convenient,” you teased, taking the box from his hands and eagerly walking into the confined space. 

“I’ll be out here,” he mumbled as you shut the door, putting a shovel against it since it didn’t really even close all the way. 

You knew he wasn’t the peeping type, so you began tearing away at your clothes, the ones that had been worn completely through by now and needed replacing anyway. You had more back at camp, but you had always missed dresses. This would be the first of many you would probably buy for yourself, but it was going to remain your favorite, because of who it came from. 

It was just like clock work, muscle memory helping you to remember all the little ties and snaps that needed to be in place, the corset laces that needed to be pulled enough to fit the outer fabrics. You knew you probably needed a good hair brushing and face washing to actually look like a young woman again, but for now, the dress was doing wonders on your self esteem… or at least it did until you realized you couldn’t finish putting it on by yourself. The buttons on the back went up higher than your shoulder blades, and sat in a near impossible spot to reach. If there was a mirror, you could probably just contort yourself enough to get it together, but in a dark, barely lit tool shed, your options were limited. 

You sighed, pulling the shovel away from the door and peaking your head outside. Arthur had nearly gone through an entire cigarette in the time you took to change. 

“Arthur?” You asked timidly. 

“M’here, you alright?” 

“I can’t reach the back,” you admitted, just slightly embarrassed. “Can you give me a hand?” 

He was all too happy to comply, stomping out the cigarette on the ground and taking quick steps to reach you. “Turn around.”

You did as he told you, turning so he had access to the open back of the dress. He couldn’t see you all too well in this light, but even from what he could see, a few words entered his mind from a past conversation you had with him. 

I used to be quite the stunner… and he surely believed it. 

His fingers caressed the exposed skin of your back before buttoning the fabric closed, smoothing it down over your shoulders and watching the way it fit you perfectly. 

“Don’t mention this to Abigail,” you joked, turning back around and trying to keep the mood light. It was beginning to feel too intimate, and you knew you couldn’t allow yourself to feel that way with Arthur anymore. 

“Why?” 

“Well, I might be a bit old fashioned, but isn’t it frowned upon for a taken man to be helping another woman with her dress?” 

It was just another joke, but he seemed to be completely thrown off by the implications. 

“I ain’t a taken man,” he confessed, looking at you with a stare that was all too deep, and all too consuming. He needed to stop that, but you didn’t have the heart to make him. 

“Not yet,” you corrected, but again it was you in the wrong. 

“No,” he shook his head, trying to bring a serious tone to the conversation. “I’m not gonna marry Abigail.”

Your face screwed up in confusion, thinking about all the times when he collapsed in her tent with Jack, just to get up and help him in the night. He was Jack’s new father, wasn’t he? That was the deal he made. 

“Why not? I thought that you were- well since you were helping with Jack and… what about your deal?”

“I said I was gonna do right by this boy, and I am… But Abigail won’t have me,” he shrugged, admitting to the rejection she gave of his offer. “She’s still in love with John, n’ I can understand it.”

It should have made you feel a bit of sadness, to know that even with all that Arthur was, someone would turn him away like that. ‘Abigial won’t have me’ sounded like perhaps he thought himself not good enough, just as he always does. Despite all of this, you didn’t feel sorrow, you felt an abundance of joy. A wide smile spread across your cheeks, and he furrowed his brow. 

“What’re you smilin’ about?”

“Nothing,” you dropped the smile and shook it off, running a hand up his arm and giving it a sincere squeeze. “I’m sorry, Arthur. I know you’ve meant well.”

“S’alright. Hosea’s been tellin’ me since Jack was born that I shouldn’t have offered. He doesn’t think we’re right for one another, somethin’ like that.” 

“I agree, you’re not right for each other,” you spoke out loud, though that thought was meant only for your head. 

Arthur seemed to be catching on slightly to your behavior, stepping a bit closer and staring downwards at you. 

“Yeah? And who am I right for?” He teased, watching the redness of your cheeks spread down your neck and shoulders with every breath you took. 

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and find out,” you did your best to counter his taunts, stepping away from him and going to collect your old clothes from the shed. Once they were in hand you turned back to the opening of the alley, making way for the horses. “You coming?” 

And of course, he followed, shaking his head and chuckling under his breath. 

-

The next day fared better than you thought it would, if you’re being honest. 

You didn’t really know why, if Dutch had said anything, or if Hosea did, but after you returned to camp the previous night, everyone seemed to be acting just fine. They treated you differently for sure, but not badly. In fact, you noticed the men had a certain kind of reverence to you that they never held before. The same they did with the other women. 

Maybe it was just the beautiful dress that Arthur bought for you, the light and pure color of it giving you a sense of being ethereal, having finally exposed the raw feminine beauty that was hiding for so long. You reckon you’d even start growing out your hair again, as the short style coming to your chin was not how you preferred to have it in the first place.

You still went to work doing the same tasks you normally did, but were careful not to rip your dress or over-exert yourself, given you were still in the same physical condition as the day before. 

“Charl- I mean, Miss Brooks?” 

You heard a voice chirp softly from beside you, and you dropped the wagon supplies for now to walk over to the owner of said voice, Tilly.

“Yes, Miss Tilly?” You extended a smile, and she smiled back, albeit a tight and awkward one from where she was sitting. You took a step or two closer, and she had to shake her head after getting a better look at you. 

“I just-” she cut herself short on account of the words already jumbling in her head. “I don’t want there to be any awkwardness between us.”

You furrowed your brow to her, unsure of what she could have possibly meant. 

“Why would there be?” 

“Well, if you can recall,” she started, a nervous chuckle in her speech. “I tried to make some… advances towards you. Back when I thought you were uh… a young man.”

You smiled again and ducked your head, a scoff of laughter and a nod of your head brought about less tension. It was no big deal. 

“Don’t worry yourself, Miss Tilly. I was the one who tricked ya, I oughta be apologizing. Probably should to Abigail, too.”

“Abigail?”

You tilted your head, recalling the scene. About two weeks before Jack was born. You’d done the same thing Arthur did, with not a care of revealing yourself in the future. 

“Before John even left, I offered her to be Jack’s ‘father’ when he was born. I guess I was pretty certain at the time no one was gonna find out,” you explained, leaning against the wagon she sat by, mending a shirt that looked like Arthur’s. You could tell by the wear and tear around the shoulders, where his broadness likely just caused the fabric to break down faster. 

“Could you really have gone on like that?” 

“I don’t know,” you pondered, another small laugh escaping you. “Maybe not, since I had to tell everyone I was eighteen just for them to believe it.”

“You aren’t eighteen?” She seemed surprised. Maybe you just had a young face. 

“No, ma’am. Twenty two nearing twenty three as a matter of fact.”

“I’ll say,” she tutted, throwing down the shirt she was finished with, and picking up a new one. “You had us all convinced. Makes me wonder where you really came from.”

You thought about telling her, but the story was long and today was a busier day than before. There was actual work to be done in preparing for the next job, a few days ahead. 

“Some place I didn’t wanna be,” you chided, stepping away from the wagon, nodding to her in thanks for the small chat. “I’ll let you get back to it.”

“Alright. I’ll catch you around,” she spoke sweetly, a kind look of relaxation on her face, now that she knew where she stood. 

You went back to work, making sure that neither Dutch nor Hosea saw you with idle hands today. You wanted to make sure that no matter what happened now, you wouldn’t be cast aside. You still had the abilities they needed, but with a skirt on your hips, they saw you differently, and it was up to you to show them you were not going to be ignored when it came to jobs in the future. 

You hated that the rest of the women in camp were just seen as stationary helpers, only capable of mending clothes or cleaning up the camp, or even just laying the groundwork in town for the men to actually pull jobs. You’ve seen Abigail in action, she was smart and cunning and had a great way with words, she could be the difference in things staying civil or having a shoot out during a quiet robbery, but the men overlook her gifts. You know the women in this camp have great potential, and perhaps if they let you continue as you have been, they will open the opportunities for the others as well.

Tags: @photo1030 @sheepdogchick @snoopysshark @strvberrydoll @yyiikes @phantasyy @puffyhairedhipster @scorpio-echo @hollyskjlap

[cowgirlcasanova]

LIQUOR & LONLINESS

pairing | arthur morgan x fem! oc

summary | arthur sees caroline alone by the fire and gives her some company. caroline can’t stand seeing him so exhausted and tries to take some weight off his shoulders

tags | fluff, flirting but everyone denies it, two idiots pretending not to be in love, fireside chat, massage, cute nervous arthur

word count | 2.5k

a/n | hi bffs! this is my first time ever publishing a fic! i’ve been trying to get back into creative writing again so here we are. please be nice to me ok? :)

i plan on publishing more arthur fics with this oc, building up their world/relationship & revealing her backstory. i just always think it’s so fun to read about ocs so i thought i’d give it a try! so this is a little introduction. hope you like it <3

A small sliver of the moon peeked through the clouds reflecting off the bay surrounding Clemens Point.

The glow of the moon and the dying firelight contrasted beautifully on Carolines face, something Arthur couldn’t help but take notice of as he gazed at her from under the awning of his wagon.

He couldn’t force himself to revert his gaze, completely enthralled by the way the shadows danced across her at the smallest of movements. He was already picturing the angle in which he’d have to move his pencil to even attempt at sketching the sight of the warm and cool light dueling on her face. Arthur cursed himself under his breath at the mere thought of filling another page in his journal with her face, something he’d found himself doing far too often these days.

“Arthur you miserable fool.” He muttered to himself, grimacing as he stretched out his overworked body and rose off his cot.

Caroline sat alone, unsure if the heat she was feeling was radiating from the ebbing fire or from the burn of the dark liquor making its way through her system. She stuck to taking small sips of her glass of bourbon, feeling a strange guilt for drinking it in the first place.

As the only member of the Van Der Linde gang to have advanced medical knowledge it all fell on her to heal their various ailments. She often had just enough supplies to keep everyone afloat, but having the law after you constantly made it a challenge to get your hands on much needed medicine. So, she’d save what she could and turn to liquor as her medicine of choice, trying to save all the expensive tonics and remedies for the traumas that really needed it. Bill complaining of a back injury? Whiskey. The days that Hosea's cough seemed to worsen? Whiskey. Even using whiskey as a last ditch effort to warm John after his wolf attack. She always tried her best to stay out of her own medicinal stash of liquor, But, some nights she wanted the peace that came with the burn of whiskey. Tonight was one of those nights.

“Hey there, Miss Caroline.” Arthurs gruff voice breaks through the unusually silent night. The smell of the burning fire filled his nose as he got closer. He approaches her with a courteous nod, running a hand across his growing stubble.

“Mind if I join ya?” He removed his banged up hat, holding it close over his chest, a small sign of respect toward the lady that did go unnoticed by her. Rarely anything he did went unnoticed by her.

She smiled up at him with the warm smile she always wore, but something about it made him feel like that sweet smile was just for him everytime. Though he’d never let himself believe something as foolish as that. When she turned to look at him the shadows on her face stopped battling and the warm light of the fire covered her completely. From Arthurs vantage point it almost looked as if she was glowing.

“Please do.”

He moves as gently as he can for his size, taking his seat next to her on the old log the gang has fashioned into a bench. His usual confidence was tempered by something softer while next to her. His leg brushes against her knee, as he sits down, a reminder of how close you two are. The weight of his knee was pushing the scratchy material of her skirt against her leg and yet, she can’t bring herself to move her leg away from the tiny space they share. In the harsh life she's suddenly found herself thrown into, although by her own actions. She finds herself craving affection and touch more and more everyday. A gentle touch. Not a casual pat on the shoulder from Dutch or a clap on the back from Sean. Something with meaning behind it, with care and tenderness.

When Arthurs leg stays planted firmly, their knees barely brushing, her heart aches at the thought that the ever so tough man beside her may be feeling the same.

"you doin’ alright this evenin’, caroline?” He asks, his voice softer than usual. His eyes moved across her face, taking in the closeness and her warmth that he was now admiring up close.

“Im doin’ just fine. How ‘bout yourself?” Her sickeningly sweet southern accent hits his ears, making him unable to stop a smile from tugging at his lips.

“I’ve been worse.”

“Long day I take it?” She asks, sipping from her glass, not diverting her gaze from him. Her face takes on a concerned expression. He has to glance away from the look she gives him, deflecting his eyes to the fire. Something about the way she looked at him always seemed so soft and genuine. It turned him into a fool everytime.

“Ain’t they all.” He drawls, letting out a self deprecating chuckle.

Arthur stretches out his sore, muscled arms in front of him in an effort to work out the constant deep ache that his overworked body feels. His biceps flex through the thin material of his button up shirt, the material looking like it could give way any moment, unintentionally drawing Caroline's eye. Her heart speeds up as she takes another sip from her glass, doing her best to quiet her thoughts of him with liquor. A quiet, painful groan slips from his mouth at the movement. He closes his eyes and rolls his neck to try and soothe discomfort.

“Did’ya hurt yourself?” She asks swiftly, her voice filling with immediate concern. Arthur scolded himself, trying to push down the warmth he felt over her worrying for him. It was her job.

His eyes warmed at her concern, making her wonder if it was the pain or her that caused the change. She hoped it was the latter. “my shoulder just been actin’ up on me. nothin’ for you to fuss about.”

“Well, if ya keep throwin’ your weight around it ain’t never gon’ heal.” She laughed softly, shaking her head as if she was scolding the tough and hardened man beside her.

He made a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a groan, hating to be reminded of how often he seemed to be caught in some violent altercation nowadays. He hated it more coming from Caroline, the sweetest woman he knows. He couldn't help but feel like she should loathe him and this life. That she should turn heel and run while she still had a chance at a good life. Maybe even being able to settle down with a rich man somewhere, raise a family. The things a woman like her should be able to do. Not running with a gang of criminals.

“It ain’t the “throwing my weight around,” He says chuckling, repeating her choice of wording. “I’m just gettin’ old”

“Oh, you are not gettin’ old you silly man!” She whacked his arm playfully, the sound making a weak thump because of her carefulness, taking extra precaution to hit his forearm and not his sore shoulder.

All he musters out is a small lighthearted scoff at her strike, which felt more like a love tap.

“It ain’t age! It's all that punchin’ you're doing.” A weak attempt at chastising him, but she's not able to keep the smile off her lips long enough. “And yes, I did hear about that fight at the saloon.”

He looked over at her and the way she clicked her tongue in disapproval. She was still wearing that same smile. He couldn’t help but chuckle when she raised her eyebrows at him, the expression playfully reprimanding him and silently telling him that she was owed an answer.

“Yeah, I guessed you would’ve heard about it. But, they were was askin’ for it.” He felt an odd sense of understanding when she didn’t disagree with him but instead laughed and shook her head affectionately. “I'm sure they was.” Maybe she didn’t see him and his life as horribly as he thought.

“I guess maybe I can be a hotheaded fool sometimes.” He spoke, berating himself under the appearance of a good humored joke.

“That you certainly can be.” She chuckled, with a warm grin. He heard no malice in her words.

The way Arthur sits with his shoulders hunched forward, It's obvious he’s tired, sore, and overworked. It breaks her heart, the way he does so much for others here just to end up sitting here aching internally and externally.

“C’mere,” She gestures to the dirt ground under her feet. “Let me see what I can do for ya.” the pleading in her voice sounds like this is just as much for her as it is for him.

He doesn't want to. Making her work for him? No, it should be the other way. For a girl like her, he should be spending every waking minute running around making sure she has everything she could possibly want.

Before he can turn down her offer, she snaps her fingers, pointing at the same spot. She won't allow him to put himself last this time.

“Yes ma’am” He chuckles at her unusual assertiveness.

She carefully lays her hand on his shoulder, as if she was checking to make sure he wouldn’t flee like a wild horse the moment he felt her touch. Once certain, she rolls the pad of her thumb over his sore muscle, taking great care to be gentle. Like there was something she cherished under hands. The fabric of his shirt moves along with the movement of her thumb, stopping her hands from being able to touch his skin.

His broad shoulders relax under her touch, goosebumps rising over his skin when she touches him so delicately. He’s grateful for the shirt covering him so she can’t feel the way his skin reacts so easily to her touch. His head hangs forward as he lets out a quiet groan of contentment, relishing in the feeling. Whether it's the feeling of the sore muscle being worked loose or the feeling of being cared for so sweetly he’s not so sure. She peers down at his face and sees his eyes flutter closed as she continues her soothing movement. Her eyes were stuck on his face as he relaxed for the first time.

The smile lines around his mouth made it obvious he wore a warm expression often no matter how tough he looked at a moment's glance. His aging eyes were developing small wrinkles on the outer corners from years of squinting in the sun and all the times his bountiful laugh trailed up to his eyes. He always smelled of tobacco and ash, even his scent exuded warmth if you're able to get close enough to notice.

Arthur Morgan, The man who could make statues talk. He didn’t look intimidating to her, he rarely ever did but, especially not in the vulnerable position she’s seeing him in now. In their closeness, she could see the way the longer pieces of his growing stubble had a small curl to them, The way he had a few tiny freckles across the bridge of his nose, presumably from being in the sun his whole life. She realized he didn’t look so sad for once, he looked peaceful. And she was the one making him feel that way.

“That helpin’ at all?” She asks quietly, close enough to him that he feels her breath against his ear.

He nods sleepily, angling his neck to the left to stretch the muscle she’s working on. With the more exposed area, she runs her thumb along his neck, landing just under his jaw bone. He lets out a low, content murmur to answer her. “Mhmm” With her hands on him, she can feel the vibration of his rumble throughout her.

“Alrigh’, jus’ relax.” She whispers, her calm voice mixing with the sound of the crackling fire and the waves of the bay lapping quietly.

He lets out quiet, low groans here and there. The rumble in his voice suggests the sound is emanating from somewhere deep in his chest. His head hangs in his calm state, being enveloped in warm light.

Although this was meant to help him, she could feel it soothing her as well. She craved tenderness so deeply that this moment felt like a relief from all the toughness around her. She wasn’t just offering gentleness, she was receiving it. Arthur trusted her touch and surrendered to it. In this intimate moment, he let her be gentle and soft. For now that’s what she needed.

Even though his hands weren't on her at all, she felt as though they may as well could've been.

“That should help it at least.” She feathers her massage off, now just gently running a soothing hand over the muscle. “I don’t wanna end up aggravatin’ it more.”

He rolls his neck as he stands back up, positioning himself on the log once more. “Felt real nice. Thank ya” She feels his hand pat against her knee, gently squeezing it. Her leg felt cold after the loss of contact, even through a layer of fabric. A chill goes through her entire body. She's grateful for the long skirt covering her legs so he can’t feel the goosebumps across them.

“Don't mention it.” She says dismissively, although her heart is hammering in her chest. She takes a sip from her glass hoping he’ll believe the alcohol is the reason for the redness washing over the apples of her cheeks. “Just glad it did ya some good.”

“You’re a damn fine nurse, Caroline” A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, looking almost jovial in nature. He doesn’t look so tense anymore. His shoulders fall in a more relaxed manner and the fire casts long bronze shadows over him, creating contours on his face that give his usually piercing eyes a new kind of gentleness.

“Well thank you Mr. Morgan” She beams at him, happy that her work is noticed. Especially by him. She’s constantly half exhausted with all she does in camp, fixing every small ailment that anyone complains of. And yet, shes not bringing in money or doing “domestic chores” so, Grimshaw sees no worth in her. “I do my best to keep you boys alive.” She laughs.

He scoffs with a lighthearted chuckle at her calling him “Mr. Morgan” He turns his gaze to the fire, watching it dance for a few moments before his eyes flicker down to his hands, looking at them with distant thought. “We’d probably be in a lot worse shape without ya…”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” She laughs bashfully. She’s never been one to accept a compliment easily. But, something about the sincerity his voice holds always manages to make her consider that it could be the truth. She laughs again, shaking her head as if she was physically shaking the thought out. “Now, any other ways you’ve gone and gotten yourself hurt that I should know about?” Her eyebrows raise playfully.

The same scoff leaves his mouth, along with a low chuckle. “No, nothin’ else. Not now at least.”

“Well stop goin’ and gettin’ yourself hurt and maybe it’ll stay that way.” A warm smile bloomed across her face. He couldn’t help but notice the way a small crinkle formed across the bridge of her nose when she laughed. The sight captivated him too much, she seemed almost holy to him.

“I’ll try. No promises” He said with a chuckle that sounded from deep within his chest. “But, I'll try for you.”

[cowboyfromh3ll]

Red Dead Redemption 2 College AU !

I'm ignoring reqs for a bit to indulge in my own thoughts and ideas and write some hcs for my college au on what i think their majors/lives as students/professors would be like, ahem... Long post ahead. Also this isn't too well thought out as of now, just wrote down some fun thoughts. Plz tell me your own headcannons

Arthur Morgan - Fine Arts

THE MOST UNEXPECTED MAJOR FOR A GUY LIKE HIM. He's the guy who's seen around campus wearing leather jackets, riding his motorcycle, brooding over a cup of coffee while he stares off aimlessly into the sky. So imagine him walking into your visual arts class with some of the most beautiful drawings you've ever seen. Has his own apartment near campus and his roommate is Charles. Entire place is littered with sketches and art supplies and billions of projects. His hands are constantly stained with charcoal. Takes his major VERY seriously, he don't play about his drawings and paintings. Works at a college bar and constantly comes home with a new story. Frequently visits John and the others after joining the frat, especially when they have parties. Never misses out on those. Became friends with Lenny through these parties.

John Marston - Civil Engineering

Probably one of the most miserable engineering majors you'll ever see. And that's only because he doesn't stress out over his work and procrastinates like he hasn't a care in the world; seemingly forgets he's in college. That is until the deadline is 11:59 PM that night and he has to cram two weeks worth of assignments into one night. Complains about heart palpitations when the area surrounding his desk is littered with energy cans. Joined a fraternity as soon as possible and lives in the housing. Party animal, drinks on weekdays with Sean and Javier. Throws absolute ragers on the weekends. Is the guy to yell "IF YOU'RE NOT PART OF THIS FRAT, THEN GET THE FUCK OUT" before turning to you and asking if you had fun. Has missed his 9 AM several times because he either slept in or is hung over. Was probably community dick for a while. Works at McDonald's part time, people genuinely don't know how he handles the stress. 60% of his paycheck goes to liquor/alcohol.

Javier Escuella - Music Theory

PASSIONATE about his major. HE DON'T PLAY ABOUT HIS MUSIC. But I can totally see him as the type of dude to sit around on the campus lawn with a guitar as a group of girls surrounds him and listens to him play. Is in the frat with John and lives in it as well. Also plays his guitar at parties with girls surrounding him, starkly contrasting the EDM and house music in the background. Shows up to class regardless of hangovers, he is very serious about his education. As serious as he is about partying. Shows up to class fitted every single time. Probably has outfit changes between classes. Type of guy to have his fits laid out next to his bed. He does the most. Was also probably community dick. Works as a cook at a restaurant, constantly flirts with you there. Gets all giddy in the kitchen with his coworkers when he manages to make you giggle.

Charles Smith - Anthropology

It's him and his laptop against the world. He's super neat, everything in one place. Any papers he gets are all neatly kept away and categorized per class. Is hard at work on writing an ethnography and is frequently out and about for observations. If he's not out then he's at home working on assignments. Also a frat member but like I said, rooms with Arthur. Has gained the quiet serious type reputation in class but once you start talking to him discover he's very friendly and nice. Probably works on campus as a student ambassador. Is very involved with school and activities; runs an enviornmental sciences club. Dedicates several hours a night to studying/working on assignments. Amazing student all around. The way he has his life together is enviable.

Kieran Duffy - Equine Studies

LITERALLY PERFECT MAJOR FOR HIM. Literally the happiest student around, his classroom is the stables. Works at the stables as well. Just spends 99% of his time at the stables so catching him outside of there is nearly impossible. Gossips to the horses and tells them about his day. I feel like he'd fall behind in his other studies though because he'd be way too focused on the horses. Typical, struggling student. Joined a frat out of pressure, got the WORST of the hazing. I don't even want to begin to imagine what the rituals were like. Probably gets black out drunk at frat parties, ends up on the front lawn and wakes up half naked every weekend somehow.

Sean Macguire - Business Administration

He's just insufferable like that. Whenever people shit on his major he just finds a thousand bullshit reasons as to why his major is better and more lucrative. Complains to John how hard his homework is and when John asks to see his screen it's addition with pictures. Probably went to college to party and realized "oh shit I actually gotta do school". Googled the highest paying and easiest majors and chose it like that. Puts more thought into what beer he's going to buy at the liquor store than his studies. Hotboxes his car 24/7. His room REEKS of weed and so does he. Attempts to disguise it with ax body spray. Will always ask you if you want to wake and bake; regardless of if you do or don't accept he's showing up to class high and with sunglasses. Goes nonverbal when he greens out. Works at McDonald's with John, is constantly late and is warned he might get fired but never does. Just fucks around in the back. I can imagine he and Karen are constantly on and off but when they're off he brings a new girl home to the frat every night.

Lenny Summers - Literature Major

Joined the frat because he thought he'd make good connections (LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER). One of the youngest pledges, went easier on him with the hazing. He's incredibly focused on his studies. You'd be surprised to find out he's a party animal as well because he's constantly reading a book in his free time. Definitely joined a book club with Mary-Beth and is taking Dutch's English class. Works on campus as well as the library; prides himself on his work and education. I believe he'd dorm because there's no way he's living in that filthy frat. Super organized dorm. Became really good friends with Arthur during one of the parties, also became close with Sean. Frequently gets driven around by Sean and gets second hand high from being in his car.

Bill Williamson - Army

Out of everyone he went to the army instead of college. But he definitely still hangs with the frat when he can simply because he's friends with a few of them. Frequently buys them liquor and supplies it to the younger members. Asks them how their classes are going and ends up falling into a rabbit hole where he's learning about infrastructure planning or astrophysics and tries his hand at doing their homework for them. It goes terribly. Drives a beat up pickup truck and you can hear that mf coming down the road 3 blocks away. Subtly tries (and fails) at flirting with some of the frat members.

Micah Bell - Criminal Law Major

Insufferable. Need I say more. Very money centric. Definitely thinks he's better than you because he's a law student. Kisses the professors’ ass all the time. Joins study groups and acts as if he's the smartest one there, tries to lead conversations, and views it as a challenge if anyone says differently than him during said discussions. He probably has an internship at a firm. Oh my god I can just imagine how sleazy he is. Also part of the frat and several of the members do not like him. Harasses the girls that show up. I can see him cutting off people during class or talking over them. Type of guy to say "not to be devil's advocate, but..."

Pearson - Culinary Degree

Came back to school to get his culinary degree. Mostly keeps to himself but has become acquainted with a few people and is actually decent friends with some. Pretty serious about his studies but is also chill, you can just tell he's extremely passionate about what he does. Excuses himself from hangouts by saying "sorry I got a pie due at 3." Loves it when he's able to sell some of his products back to students/general public and see how people react. Dreams of opening his own restaurant so he takes the accounting/marketing aspects of his degree very seriously.

Abigail Roberts - Education Major

I CAN JUST SEE IT YK. I can totally see her being a teacher, and she's super hardworking. I feel like her schedule is jam packed so she hardly ever has time for fun. Studies, does homework, student teaching, and takes care of herself and her son. So yeah imagine how busy she is all the time. Occasionally leaves Jack with his grandparents for a night of fun but that is few and far in between. Joined a sorority for support but wouldn't live in the house. Lives in the same complex as Arthur and they get along, sometimes he offers to babysit Jack. Drops off food for her when she's real busy with her studies. NEVER late to class. And besides handling ALL THIS, she'd work as a waitress at a restaurant by campus. Talk about hard working.

Sadie Adler - Agricultural Sciences

Definitely moved to live on campus from a rural town to pursue her degree. Joined the sorority early on but dorms. Suffered a breakup and found solace in the community the girls provided. Works at a local supermarket and volunteers at a community garden nearby. Her dorm is full of potted plants. Became really good friends with Arthur through Abigail, who has her over at times. I feel like she'd be asked on dates frequently but she always turns em down because she's still struggling to accept her breakup. I'm not making it a death because this AU isn't that BRUTAL. Argues with the boys often. Pearson frequents the supermarket she works at and she always makes a comment on the strange ingredients he buys. Thus leading to a weird tense air between them that they never directly address. Enjoys her coursework and never falls behind. She's on top of that shit. Also very outspoken in class.

Karen Jones - Biological Sciences

PREMED BABYYYY. On the path to becoming a nurse. She procrastinates a lot, is often late to class, BEGS her professors for extensions. Truth is she's a party girl and she will NEVER give up that party life. Constantly at several different frat parties, gets black out drunk on Saturdays, and on Sundays she's studying for her bio exam on Monday. Complains to her sorority sisters about boys, particularly Sean, to the point where they all HATE any man she gets involved with. And the next time they see Sean in public they're all glaring DAGGERS at him. Parties aside she does her work even if she puts it off... Her grades are decent, definitely passing, but everyone tells her she's gonna need to do better if she wants to go to med school. I can see her working at a retail store like Walgreens. Most miserable cashier you'll ever see. Probably lets you walk out with your items for free if she's particularly pissed off at work that day.

Tilly Jackson - Physics Major

SHE IS A SMART GIRL. One of the most hardworking on this list. Her grades are top notch and she don't play about studying. I can see her offering tutoring for math and even getting paid for it. She is not one to be underestimated when it comes to her academic abilities. Occasionally parties (aka gets dragged along by Karen) and enjoys herself, but I can't see her being a major party animal. Offers Karen lots of advice as well as helping the girls with math assignments when they need it. Joins study groups as well as math clubs. Works at a cafe on campus where Mary-Beth and Lenny visit her occasionally. Generally well organized. Has her shit together.

Mary-Beth Gaskill - Literature Major

ALWAYS has her nose in a book. Becomes extremely engaged in class discussions and has probably read every single book required for the semester already. Works at a bookstore and frequents the campus library. Is on the chiller side of partying but still accompanies the girls. She's very reserved but can be quite friendly. Writes fanfiction in the back of class while her professors think she's just passionately writing a report. Always gets extensions from Dutch, always. Even when she doesn't need em. I can see her reading a lot of philosophy books. Also an Otessa Moshfegh fan. Colleen Hoover is her guilty pleasure. Runs a blog about the books she reads. I can also imagine her being part of the school paper. Real close with Lenny as well, often hangs out with him at the cafe Tilly works at.

Molly O'Shea - Cosmetology

Shows up to her 8 AM with a BEAT face. Full face of makeup, decked head to toe in designer: designer purse where she keeps her macbook, designer shoes, outfit, accessories, etc. Probably wears brands you've never even heard of. Has a crush on Dutch, only reason she has perfect attendance in his class. Has a grudge towards Mary-Beth. Dorms for sure, even though she'd be able to afford housing nearby. The only times she's at the dorm is in the morning getting ready for class or at night to sleep. Hardly talks to her roommate either, not even a hey. Gained the stuck up rich girl reputation from her peers. Seen at cafes in between classes and is always alone. Is out of town and has been struggling to make friends. Lots of guys ask her out on dates and she only accepts when she's bored and wants a free meal. WILL make y'all go to a steakhouse, WILL order the most expensive thing on the menu.

Dutch Van Der Linde - English/Philosophy Professor

This guy definitely speaks about philosophy with a PASSION. His class is very engaging, though I do believe he'd play favorites with a few female students... This goes for both classes. Constant open ended discussions. Type of professor to ask you "but what do the blue curtains mean...?" Hardass with assignments unless you're one of those favored female students. No late assignments with him ever. You either turn it in at the deadline or you don't ever. I feel like he'd forget to take attendance frequently despite being a hardass about that too. Probably the type of professor that tries to integrate himself with the student body and try to fit in. Mildly successful.

Hosea Matthews - Theatre Professor

THE SWEETEST, KINDEST, MOST COMPASSIONATE PROFESSOR. ALWAYS excuses late assignments and very lenient, will not deduce points. His class is very fun and engaging as well! Does what Dutch tries to do and makes genuine connections with his students while keeping it professional. Tells his students they can always talk to him and come for advice. Frequently has lunch with Dutch and Susan and talks up just how great his classes are. Frequents the library and local bookstores; also goes to the cafe Tilly works at. I also feel like a lot of his relationships would have a fatherly air around them, like he's a second dad for a few of the students (we know who...).

Leopold Strauss - Business Professor

YOU CANNOT TELL ME HE WOULDN'T UGH. Probably a super boring class I'm not gonna lie. His accent would probably make it hard for some students to understand what he's saying, not to mention he probably speaks super softly and not loud enough for everyone to hear. He should've retired by now but he refuses to. There is no syllabus week with him, you got homework on the first day. But it's probably not even hard c'mon. Sean is probably the most lively thing about his class, but he's definitely falling asleep in there frequently. Always late to his own class, doesn't even say why, just gets into lecturing. NEVER seen without a cup of coffee. Sometimes there will be long moments of silence between lectures as he tries to figure out the technology. Falls asleep in his car after class.

Orville Swanson - Theology Professor

Also a super chill professor. He's probably super open to his classes about his struggles. He's able to facilitate well structured discussions and keep things civilized amongst his students. I feel like it could get boring because it's mostly lectures and slide shows but he'd still find a way to keep his students engaged, especially on discussions. I feel like he'd also be lenient about assignments, but his assignments would be rather large. Back to back papers. Type of professor to say hi to you in the halls or outside of campus and ask about your day. 10/10 guy.

Uncle - Biology Professor

How is he still working here. HOW hasn't he retired. WHY hasn't he retired. SOMEONE PLEASE make him retire. There are pros and cons. You will learn NOTHING in his class, so if you're unfortunate enough to land his class you better drop that shit as soon as possible. If you for some reason stay, you must be some sort of masochist. Probably has the best stories. As soon as you think he's about to start lecturing he goes on a tangent about a story that happened to him the other day. He has weekly tests and you might as well teach yourself the material because his ass definitely isn't doing it. Also has plenty of labs so he can leave you all to your own devices amongst each other while he sits at his desk and does who knows what. You can probably find him sleeping in a student lounge at any time of the day. Also the frat guys have definitely run into him at the liquor store.

Susan Grimshaw - History Professor/Sorority Mother

She's hard on you but only because she cares. Isn't very lenient when it comes to assignments but she's involved with her students. If she sees you struggling she'll pull you aside and ask what's up and figure out a plan to help you out in her class. Likes to remind her students she isn't their mommy but has a very motherly air surrounding her. And she is VERY on top of her girls. As a sorority mother, she makes sure they eat well, stay on top of studies, and deals with parents. Encourages the girls to keep up the general cleanliness of the house and tells them to work as a unit. Extremely proud of each of them.

[abugsjournal]

A Cowboy's Cup of Coffee ☕

Arthur Morgan x male reader

Summary: After a sweet apology from Arthur your budding friendship grows! You have plans to meet Arthur outside of work for the first time, but must deal with some drama in your café first.

Content Warning: Mention of drinking, men being creepy, threats of violence.

Chapter 2: Headaches

Arthur's POV

It's been about a week since your social blunder at the café. You've been offering to go on hunting trips to avoid going into town. You would rather come face to face with a bear than make a fool of yourself in front of Y/N again. You kick yourself for being worried about his opinion of you in the first place. That shouldn't matter, why are you even thinking about it?

Luckily, you don't encounter any bears, but today's hunting trip with Charles was the most successful one you've had since you settled down in this spot. Everyone back at camp was elated. So elated that as the hearty deer stew was being served, bottles of whiskey and rum were opened and passed around the campfire with equal enthusiasm. You remember the women's tipsy giggles, and the men getting a little loud and rowdy, but not much else.

As you open your eyes you feel your head screaming in pain. You roll out of your cot, swallowing and forcing the rising bile back into your stomach. The morning light is blinding, you squint and shield your eyes as you exit your text. As your vision adjusts you can see everyone else feels just as miserable. There's a collective groan as the gang members each start working on their tasks for the day. You know you'll be absolutely useless until you nurse this headache, but the smell of the coffee over the fire almost makes you gag. The only thing you think you could stomach is the coffee from the café in town. You sigh, weighing your options, and decide you would do anything to make your head stop pounding, even if it means risking an awkward conversation. As you ride into town, you rehearse a long overdue apology in your mind.

Y/N's POV

A few slow, monotonous days pass by you. You find yourself watching the door to your café, silently willing it to open. Every time you hear that bell ring you get a small rush of excitement, but it's crushed every time you look up and see a regular's face.

Did I somehow scare him off? You replay your last interaction with Arthur over and over again in your mind. It wasn't the first time you had caught a customer staring at you, but it was one of those rare instances where you weren't mad about it. Small towns feel smaller the longer you stay in them, so new faces excite you. Maybe you got too excited. You begin to convince yourself that you were too forward, or he was just traveling through town, or is flat out avoiding you when you hear the bell above the door ring once again.

Expecting disappointment at this point, you can't keep your eyes from widening in surprise when you see Arthur in the doorway. He is fidgeting with his hat in his hands as he approaches the counter. He has dark circles under his eyes and squints slightly as he looks in your direction. Working in a coffee shop for so long has taught you to instantly recognize a hangover. You intentionally keep your voice at a lower tone and quieter than usual as you greet him, "Hey friend, welcome back. Rough night?"

"Very fun night from what little I can remember, just a rough morning," He closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Listen, I just wanted to apologize for the other day."

"There's no need, really, you didn't do anything wrong-"

Before you can finish your sentence, Arthur interrupts you, "I was rude to you after you were kind to me and you didn't deserve that." He stares directly into your eyes, and you can see they're filled with sincerity, "I'm truly sorry if I made you uncomfortable at all, and for rushing out the way I did."

You feel paralyzed by the weight of his stare, and you can see the guilt in his eyes. Even though you don't think he did anything warranting such a genuine gesture, you can tell he won't let it go until you accept his apology.

"Alright," You sigh, "All is forgiven."

The beginnings of a smile quickly shift into a wince of pain on Arthur's face. "I'd love to accurately express my gratitude but I think I might die if I don't get some coffee in me soon," He slides some change across the counter towards you, "And whatever you have on the menu today smells amazing, I'll have one of those too."

"Thank you! It's mini strawberry shortcakes today, now go sit down before you pass out or puke on my floors." You smirk, trying to ease some of the remaining tension.

Arthur lets out a small chuckle, "Good idea." He slowly walks over to his usual corner table.

As you prepare his order you think about how to handle Arthur. Based on how he's acted the past few times you've seen him, you come to the conclusion that you'll have to let him come to you, like a stray dog. Being too friendly too fast might scare him off again. You're also thankful that instead of letting one awkward conversation snuff out the sparks of a new friendship, you were both able to move past it.

Small talk comes easy to the two of you now. Arthur comes in nearly every day. You ask him questions about work and he gives you vague answers. He asks you about baking and why the décor in the café is so "unique" as he politely put it. About a month of these pleasantries go by. One day he asks you what you do when you're not working.

"I sometimes try to come up with new recipes for the menu! Or I go to estate sales for cups and furniture."

"That doesn't count, that's just more work!" A laugh escapes you as you realize he's right, "Come on, you've gotta have other things you like doing."

You shyly mention that you like to draw and document the insects and plants in the area.

His eyes widen and the corners of his mouth curl up in excitement, "No way! I have a journal that I draw in."

"Really? I'm surprised, hands like yours usually aren't holding pencils." You smirk at him, narrowing your eyes and hoping your snide comment might pry more information about his unspecified line of work out of him.

He simply laughs, "Ha! Explains why I'm not very good at it."

You roll your eyes at another failed attempt to learn more about his job. Is he avoiding the subject on purpose or just being dense? "Well if you ever want to share of see some of my art, my house is just a ten minute walk down the road. It's the little one with the wooden wind chimes."

Arthur seems taken aback by your invitation and takes a moment to respond, "I'd like that. When should I head over?"

"I close up shop at two and if I get through my cleaning fast enough I can probably be home by four. Does that sound good?"

"I'll have to run a quick errand but it shouldn't take too long." Arthur drains the last of his coffee and stands up, "I'll see you later, Y/N."

"See ya, Arthur!" You wave goodbye as he leaves. You can't help but smile to yourself as you clean off his table. You check your pocket watch and sigh, it's only ten.

The minutes sluggishly pass by you as your giddiness grows. You try your best to avoid checking the time in between each task, knowing that will only make the day go by even slower. You're washing plates behind the counter when two unfamiliar men stumble through your doors. Before you can greet them they walk right past your register and over towards one of your customer's tables. You follow their gaze and see they have their eyes locked on Eva, the eldest daughter of one of the local farmers. She comes here in the afternoons to read without having to worry about her rambunctious little brothers bothering her.

She's so engrossed in her book that she doesn't notice the men saunter over, about two steps closer than they should be. The hair on the back of your neck stands up as one of the men clumsily places a hand on the table, knocking over her cup and spilling coffee into her lap.

"Hey! Watch it-" Eva looks up from her book and sees just how close these men are. Her eyes widen as they lean over her.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing sitting here all alone?" The shorter man's words practically slosh out of his mouth. He tries to put a finger under her chin, but Eva slaps his hand away.

The taller man grabs her wrist. "That's no way to treat someone who's just being nice to you, missy." He hisses through gritted teeth.

You clear your throat and stand with your arms crossed over your chest, hiding your shaking hands, "Excuse me gentlemen, I don't take kindly to folks that harass my customers. I'll give you to the count of three to back away from her and get out."

The men glare menacingly at you, "Or what?"

"Or this pot of boiling coffee is gonna make it real easy for the law to identify your ugly mugs." The thugs glance at each other, and then back at you, "One. Two-"

"Fine." The taller man drops Eva's wrist and drags his companion out the door behind him without another word. The scent of whiskey lingers in the air behind them.

You let out a long exhale. You knew you wouldn't have been able to win that fight if things had escalated, but they didn't need to know that. "Eva, are you alright? Do you need me to walk you home"

"Oh I'll be alright," She stands up and tries to wring the coffee out of her dress, "Thanks for scarin' them off!" She gives you a big smile as she collects her things. You wrap up the remaining shortcakes and send her off with a treat for her troubles.

You check your pocket watch again and you're grateful to see it's finally two. You flip the sign on the door to "Closed" and rush through your closing tasks, quickly forgetting about the incident as your planned meeting with Arthur grows closer. You can't remember the last time you were this anxious to get home. You finish your chores in record time, lock your café doors, and begin walking home. You're so caught up in your excitement that you don't look around for insects to draw like you usually would, but you do notice the squirrels and rabbits in the surrounding forest are skittish. They seem to make much more noise than usual as you follow the trail through the woods.

As you unlock your front door and turn the handle, you hear a voice behind you.

"Look who's all alone now."

//

Thank you so much for reading! Forgive me for the long absence, April is a terribly busy month for me and I was also getting extremely burnt out from work. To be super real the only reason I was able to get this typed out and posted is because I got sick and couldn't get out of bed all day (lol). Tumblr is also being super weird and not letting me indent no matter how I type this out or where I copy and it paste from. Anyone else have this issue?

Chapter 1 / Chapter 3 coming soon!

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

Taglist: @photo1030

[crowleywowley]

Babe wake up laurelicious has returned with more modern au headcanons 🥱 thank u to everyone who loves on these posts and adds their own silly things to it!!! Y’all make me very happy and I’m glad we can share this goofy universe!!

Previous sillies:

1 2 3 4 5 6

See yall unda da cut 😼😼😼

-little miss Unnamed Marston Daughter has absolutely been blasting Olivia Rodrigo’s new album around the house

Everyone complains but John finds himself quietly murmuring “seeing u tonight… it’s a bad idea right??” While he’s brushing his teeth

Abigail tries to be supportive and plays it while she drives the kids to school, now she and Jack know all the words to Vampire and listen to it once they’ve already dropped UMD off

-both Marston children always dress as something weird for Halloween

John and Abigail stay up late making the costumes for their weirdo children bc they love them :)

On a similar note when John and Arthur were kids they were little matching power rangers and if you bring it up to Dutch he WILL cry over it bc he loves his babies

-the entire Marston family takes Halloween way too seriously to be completely honest

Abigail and John are the cool family in the neighborhood with the really good candy

Dutch and Hosea have now graduated to the old person level of giving out full sized bars but the window of opportunity before they turn in for the night is SMALL so all the kids in their neighborhood sprint to their house first

Charles and Arthur give out tootsie rolls and milk duds. That’s it.

-the following are songs John cried to as a teenager:

Fall for You by Secondhand Serenade

Miserable at Best by Mayday Parade

Scars by Papa Roach

Disenchanted by MCR

-John and Javier were absolutely bffs in middle/high school, they kissed once at a party then never spoke of it again

Javier is now the cool childless uncle that they all see once a year and brings the kids cool gifts

-when Arthur was a teenager he got caught sneaking back into the house after curfew, he was grounded for a month

John was the asshole little sibling who was super excited that his brother was in trouble

-Arthur wears slippers, Charles wears fuzzy socks. I’m right

-Charles uses nice shampoo/conditioner and Arthur is always hovering around on wash days:)

-Arthur has broken every single toe like. 5 times at least.

-Charles and Arthur love corny ass reality TV

They started watching the bachelor to make fun of it, but now they tune in every single week and have their favorites

Tell me Arthur wouldn’t love the masked singer. He goes nuts every single time (“Charles!!!!!! They opened it up and it was KERMIT!?! That’s too good!”)

-Because Isaac doesn’t live with them full time these two go absolutely bananas when he comes to stay with them, Charles is scrubbing down the house while Arthur clears out the grocery store of all his favorite snacks :)

Before he visits Arthur is texting Eliza like “what drama should I know?? Any new friends? A girlfriend? A boyfriend?!?” Just so he’s up to date

-Arthur loves Raisin Bran/Corn Nuts/other old man cereals

-we’ve touched on this before but Charles’ mom absolutely adores Arthur and when she comes over she’s basically shoving Charles out of the way like “my baby darling Arthur how are you!!!🥰”

-Isaac plays baseball and Charles and Arthur are full on sport dads in the best way possible

They bring snacks for the team, they’re sitting in those little fold up chairs, they’re cheering louder than everyone else in the stands, etc.

Arthur ‘sentimental ass’ Morgan keeps a little box of all the memorabilia from baseball throughout the years :)

This was a particularly silly batch, methinks. As always if anyone wants me to add other characters into this universe lmk😼 alsooooo I have started writing little oneshots/drabbles/etc expanding this if anyone would be interested in reading them!! No promises on when they’d be done but I think it would be a good time hehe

[nexionswild]

IN WHICH you reminisce on the romantic time you've spent with arthur during the aftermath of his death.

includes: arthur morgan x reader [red dead redemption x dangerously yours]

content warning: angst, major character death, widowed!reader. [GN]

a/n: oh my god, i'm so sorry.. i don't know i felt a little silly today. hoping ya'll will enjoy it.

word count: 1, 094

You will look into the face of passersby.

Your mind went blank after Arthur's death, and ever since that day, you've been aimlessly wandering from city, how long has it been after his death? You barely know what time it is, you just knew it was around the afternoon since the sun refused to set yet. You've been thirsting for revenge, you've longed for the death of Micah and Dutch after they were the sole reason for the gang to fall out like that. But was it really worth it? You'd tell yourself, yes of course it is. But in the end, it brings no one back. It doesn't bring Susan back, or Lenny, or Hosea, or Arthur. Your beloved, Arthur.

The annoying yet hard working cowboy you've come to love from the very core of your heart. The cocky bastard who'd make fun of your sardonic personality, but essentially admiring your confidence and enthusiasm.

— hoping for something that will, for an instant..

You believed that somehow, in some miracle magic, that he came back to you. That he survived his attack, that he made it out alive and is just waiting for you somewhere safe and sound. Somewhere warm, where you'd picture him peacefully drinking a cup of coffee as he sat on the rocking chair by a fireplace. But each time you looked into the eyes of a stranger or when you stopped to take a good look at someone, it wasn't him. He never returned. He will never return. You just couldn't accept it.

Bring me back to you.

You couldn't believe how incredibly lonely you felt each night you spent on your own, you couldn't even get to prepare your camping correctly because of how your hands were shaking in nothing but pure emotional agony, you were devoid of all comfort and joy. The only time you felt some kind of positive emotion was when John invited you to his wedding with Abigail for celebration, but you couldn't help and think to yourself: if he had more time, would we be married? Would we be dancing the way John sways with Abigail? Would we share our drinks and taste each other's food?

The lack of noises, the sounds of the crickets and animals of all species ruffling and jumping around your area were the only noises that filled that aching silence. Not the sound of laughter, or bottles clinking, or Javier's songs with the melody of his guitar in the back as he sang.

You will find moonlight nights strangely empty because..

And each time you'd think about Arthur, his name escaped your quivering lips, dry from how you've been dehydrating yourself and concealed any type of self-care treatment. You were miserable, beat up like an old dog. You wanted him back.

"Arthur."

Your voice echoed in the empty valleys that you've been camping in for quite a while. But nothing made you cry more than the awful silence of your environment, and it only made you bring your knees up to your face, embracing your legs with your arms as you dug your head in between them.

Passersby would've heard your sobs and sniffles, but you made sure you were quiet enough not to be spotted by anyone.

When you call my name through them, there will be no answer.

You missed the way he touched you so lovingly, as if you were his world, and all his care bestowed upon you made you feel special than any person in this god forsaken country. The idea of his cuddles would put your throbbing heart at ease as you thought about it, the way his muscular arms would keep you warm the way the campfire would make you melt like a puddle of lava. You missed how he'd teasingly press his lips against yours as a hum resonated through your intimacy, or how he'd land a few pecks on the nape of your neck before eventually leaving in the intention of gaining money, whether it'd be through bounty hunting, debt collecting or robbery. You didn't mind his wrong-doings, to you he was a good man.

He was a good man because he loved you like you were the only woman in the world, and he stared at you with those beautiful blue eyes of his, admiring your beauty and smile. He was a good man, because all he's ever known is the life of an outlaw and his gang, he was simply the consequence of growing up in a bad environment. He wasn't perfect, but he was the perfect amount of imperfect. And when he made you understand that you'd certainly be doing a mistake loving all over him, a little voice in your told you he may not be wrong. And he wasn't wrong. Not because of the way he treated you, but because he's plaguing your mind and thoughts like a disease. He's spreading all over you to the point where you'd feel body tense and your fingers getting numb.

He's the cowboy you love, oh so much.

Always your heart will be aching for me.

And while you've been traveling with no objectives or not purpose, you could only reminisce about those long roads you and Arthur had taken together. Then, you think about the time he told you to leave him while he would've been on his own against a bunch of your enemies.

He knew the outcome if you swooped in, trying to be heroic. He'd lost so much, he didn't want to lose you, and for his sake, you only ran because he told you to.

He told you to go and don't look back, yet you keep making the grievous mistake of always looking back, in hopes of seeing him. You can't stop looking back, because that's all you know. You only know how to remember and miss, you only relied on Arthur because he taught you everything you know, and now that you're left without guidance or a voice of reason, what else can you provide? How useful are you, now?

He's been reassuring you that you could be a use for something, and he kept including you in missions although you weren't a part of Dutch's plan, and now that he's gone, what are you? A sad widow?

And yet you still convince yourself that it was the right thing to do, because that's what Arthur wants you to think. That you did the right thing.

And your mind will give you the doubtful consolation that you did, a brave thing.

[ghoulishlygrey]

Ghosts / Chapter One: The Train

Chapter Two / Chapter Three

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

Non-explicit but later chapters will be (eventual smut)

Read it on ao3

Enjoy!

Word count: 3592

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You were miserable. Your father had basically sold you to the highest bidder and now you were on a train headed to Canada. What awaited your arrival when you got to your destination was the real reason for your mood; an old, old, man who your darling father agreed to marry you off to for a hefty sum. The transaction was almost complete, all that was left was for you to arrive at your new life, serve as a housewife, pop out some kids and live the rest of your life looking out a window. You had just turned twenty-four a few months ago, it seemed like a waste.

You wring your glove in your hands, gaze fixated on the interior of the car. You came from a wealthy family, you were used to luxury, so the gold lining and velvet seats didn’t impress you much. Instead, you couldn’t help but yearn for the life you were leaving behind. You had older brothers, you were the youngest and only girl so you grew up doing things most young ladies in your circle would turn their noses up at. You rode horses, shot guns, played in the dirt, went on hikes, hell you would even wear pants. You shifted awkwardly in the corset and fancy coat you were currently wearing, crossing your legs under the heavy skirt. This frilly hat wasn’t doing you any favors either, if your scalp was any itchier, you’d have torn all your hair out to compensate. You adjust it, doing your best not to mess up your updo but trying in equal measure to satiate this damned itching.

The last stop had been a small town called Valentine, you had been a couple times in your youth, as it wasn’t too long of a ride from your estate in Saint Denis, but it had been years. You had rolled through when the sun was setting, now the sky was a signature navy blue as night overtook it. You were about to roll towards your window and try to get some sleep when the train screeched to a halt. You jerked upwards, eyes scanning the treeline outside your window for any clues as to what could be the cause but you find nothing, just empty blackness. 

“What in the world?” you mutter to yourself.

You stand, leaving your purse on the seat behind you as you make your way out of your private box and into the hallway. You knock on the neighboring box and they beckon you inside. It’s a wife and husband. The husband is looking rather bored, reading a newspaper by the lantern light while his wife looks like she’s about to explode with how red she was. 

“What’s going on?” You ask, shuffling into the room and smoothing your skirt down. 

“There’s a wagon on the tracks,” Says the wife, fanning herself with an intricate hand fan. “Hopefully it’s removed soon, we can’t afford to be off schedule.” 

“I see,” You say, secretly thanking whatever idiot left that wagon on the tracks. It bought you a little more time of freedom, just a little longer to be yourself. 

You nod your thanks before heading back to your box, sitting back down on the seat. You look out your window again to see horses, no riders, just horses. They were saddled, though and a few of them had guns strapped to their saddles. 

“What-?” You ask yourself before being cut off by muffled yelling. You stand, pressing your ear to the door.

“Don’t be a hero! Give me your damn purse, lady!” A man’s voice from outside yells, you can tell it’s coming from the neighbors box. Everything in you tenses with the sudden realization; the train was being robbed. 

“I will not allow you to do this sir!” The husband’s voice pipes up, clearly pushing back against the assailants. Dumb move, in your opinion. 

“You wanna show this son of a bitch we ain’t playing around here?” The voice says, speaking to someone else and signifying they were not alone.

It’s when you hear the thud of a punch landing do you decide what to do; you’re going to make a run for it.

They’re still in the other booth, if you’re quiet and quick enough, maybe by God’s grace you won’t be caught. You haven't prayed in years, haven’t touched a Bible for just as long, but damn, now felt like a good time to start. You slip quietly enough through the doors, clutching your purse tight to your chest as you tiptoe down the hallway and towards the back car exit. You go for the handle, it opens but squeaks like a bitch as it does.

“Damn!” You curse-mutter to yourself as you pick up the pace and squeeze your way through the half-opened door. 

“Hey! Someone’s sneaking out the back!” The man says, and you peer down the hallway to see them coming out from the box, stumbling over each other as they rush to catch up with you. One of them had longer hair, wearing striped, worn ranch pants, a long black coat, and a brown leather vest that went over a black shirt. The other was taller, wearing a black hat with rope around the base, a blue shirt, buckskin jacket and working pants. Both men sported a bandana to hide their identities. 

Before you could get a better look at them, you were jumping from the train. A hot wave of pain radiates from your ankle as you land, causing you to stumble in your long skirt. You look down at the offending ankle, you must have twisted it. You mentally curse yourself before you take off limping, trying your damnedest to get away from the men on the train. You turn your head, checking their positions. They were gaining on you, your only hope was to get to the treeline and disappear into the forest. After that? Well, you’d have to make contact with your father somehow, explain why you weren’t on your way to be married to a man close to death and beg him once again to reconsider. 

You were not in proper running clothes, your skirt and heeled boots were only slowing you down. Your lungs were on fire, ankle throbbing in pain as you gave it everything you could. You drop your purse by accident, swearing to yourself as you did. That purse held all your money, losing it was surely going to hurt later. That is, if you got out of this alive. 

The treeline is so close, but you can hear panting breaths from behind you.

“Stop!” One of them yells, too close for comfort. When you look behind you again, a hand reaches out and pulls you to the ground by your arm. 

“No!” You scream, kicking, but the one in blue has you on your stomach and is tying your hands behind your back. Then he goes to your ankles and ties those too, shooting a zap of pain up your leg when he touches the injured one. 

You groan in pain and look behind you, he didn’t seem to notice or care as he looked back to his partner. 

“What should we do with her?” The one in black asks, as he approaches the other one. 

“Leave her here, probably.” The one in blue says, “It’s not like she can identify us.” 

It was then you could see two other figures approaching from the train, one was tall and buff, with long hair and a darker complexion while the other was a redhead, wearing a green hat.

The redhead instantly starts talking, 

“What a score! What’d you boys end up rounding up, eh?” He says, Irish accent strong as he takes off his bandana. The men around you instantly tense up, the one in black brings his hand to his face to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Sean! For Christ’s sake, do you know what you just did?” The one in blue is talking now and your eyes burn into the redhead’s face, memorizing each feature. 

His eyes land on you.

“Shit- SHIT!” He curses, tying his bandana right back to his face. It was too late, you knew what he looked like, you were a liability, they’d surely kill you now… right?

“Well now what?” The one in black sounds annoyed, very annoyed and as if he’s speaking through his teeth. His arms are crossed over his chest and he taps his foot, they’re all silent as they try to come up with something.

You’re still wiggling in place, trying to loosen your ties to no avail, they were expertly tied. 

“Just let me go!” You pipe in, turning to look at the men once more. “I won’t say anything to anyone I swear!” 

They ignore you until the larger man with the longer hair says something.

“Maybe we should take her with us, I mean look at her. She’s all dressed up, surely somebody will pay a ransom.” 

You doubted it. Your father was so sick of you and your unlady-like ways, it was the reason he sold you off in the first place. And your new “fiance” had paid so much for you in the first place, you weren’t sure he’d pay any more. 

Tears flood your eyes as you begin to plead your case.

“Nobody is going to pay you.” You sob, salty droplets rolling down your pink cheeks. 

“We’ll see.” The one in blue says before bending over, grabbing your waist and slinging you across his shoulder. 

You yelp, wiggling with all your might to get out of his hold but he clamps down, unrelenting as he holds you. He whistles for his horse, which comes running from the treeline. 

“Charles, Sean, you two take a while before going back to camp, John and I will head back now with this one.” He was referring to you as he set you on the rump of his horse, face down like a dead deer. 

Charles just nods in agreement, Sean groans.

“It’s the middle of the night! Where am I supposed t’ go?” He protests, surely wanting to get back to said campsite. 

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” The man in blue says before climbing on his horse. 

The one you assume is John climbs on his horse and follows as the mystery man spurs his horse forward, setting a trotting pace as he steers back on the path. 

The ride is bumpy, and all you can do is cry. You were being taken for ransom, a ransom you knew wouldn’t be paid. Your pinned hat comes undone and falls to the ground, never to be seen again. As ugly as it was, it was expensive, and you cringe at the lost value. You watch as you pass lantern-lit homes, sleepy farmsteads, and trees. You watch as the mountains in the distance bump up and down with each movement of the horse. Your ankle has been growing in pain since the ride began, and all you can do is curse to yourself to cope.

“Whatchu cursing about back there?” The man asks, turning his head to meet your gaze as his horse takes the lead, clearly knowing the way home. 

“My ankle.” You explain, not in the mood to snap back with some harsh reply, “I think I twisted it something fierce.” 

“Someone will look at it when we get to camp. What’s your name?” He gruffs, looking ahead as the horse runs into a treeline and onto a smaller path. 

You say your name, just your first in case he would recognize your family name. Your father owned the canning company in the city, it was named after him so it wouldn’t be too hard to connect the dots. 

He repeats it to himself before saying, “Ain’t nobody here gonna lay a finger on you. You can relax.” 

You nod, sniffling and clinging to his promise with everything you had. 

The sound of low conversations, opera music, and laughter meets your ears and you perk up, but you had a limited view of everything from your position on the horse so you can’t see anything until you feel his hands at your waist again. He hoists you onto his shoulder again and you finally get a good look at the camp. It becomes clear to you that there was a whole gang of people staying here, not just the men. 

“Arthur!” A raspy voice calls out to the man carrying you. Arthur. That was his name.

“What in God’s name is this?” A man approaches, and he instantly strikes you as the leader. He was wearing fancy clothes, way fancier than any of the men you had already seen. 

“This is,” He says your name, setting you down on the ground gently and cutting your ties with a large knife from his gun belt. 

“And she’s gonna be useful to us one way or another.”

“Ransom?” The leader asks, hands on hips as he looks you up and down. 

“Maybe.” Arthur says, lighting up a cigarette and taking it to his lips. 

“For the last time, nobody is going to pay you for me.” You say, crossing your arms over your chest.

The leader gives Arthur a look.

“She saw Sean’s face, Dutch. Wasn’t much to do with her ‘cept bring her here.” He says, taking a long drag from his cigarette. 

Dutch. The realization hit you like cold water as you realized you were standing in the Dutch van der Linde encampment. It seemed so obvious now, you’d seen this man's wanted poster in town before. Your eyes are wide as you realize just how much shit you were in. 

“Plus she’s hurt. Told her someone would have a look at her.” Arthur adds.

There’s a silence, as if Dutch cannot believe what he’s hearing. And then;

“Miss Grimshaw! If you would please have a look at our-,” He pauses, searching for the right word, “-guest. See what you can do.” 

“Right away.” A woman pipes up from the crowd of onlookers and comes to your side. She’s older, with her hair tied back in a tidy bun with a gray streak in the front. She was wearing a long skirt, red jacket and golden pendant, different from everyone else who were in their sleeping clothes. She leads you to a chair around a campfire, positioning you in front of it so she could properly see. 

“Which ankle?” She asks, bending in front of you. You lift up the injured ankle and she takes it in her hand, removing your boot and examining your ankle through your sock. 

“It’s definitely swollen.” She says, getting up and dusting her hands off. “But not broken. Not from what I can tell, anyways. Strauss usually handles medicine but he’s off lending loans.” 

“Well, I ran on it.” You admit, keeping your foot extended as she turns to find some gauze. “Well why’d you do that?” She asks, returning to your foot and wrapping the gauze around your ankle and heel. 

“Was trying to get away from the scary men chasing me.” You reply, motioning over to where John and Arthur watched you from across the camp. They look away when you catch them staring.

“I see.” Miss Grimshaw says cooly, stepping away from you when she was finished. She was clearly not impressed by you, probably thought of you as dead weight she now had to carry. 

“We have an extra bedroll by Mary Beth, you can sleep there tonight.” She says, before turning to walk away.

“Wait, which one is Mary-Beth?” You ask, looking around. She points to a young girl curled up in her bedroll with a book, she’s too entranced by the pages to notice you both looking her way.

“Alright, thank you.” You say to her, before getting up and limping towards Mary-Beth. Finally, she sees you and instantly perks up, smiling at you widely. 

“Look who it is, the talk of the camp.” She greets, setting her book down next to her. You can see her clearly in the campfire glow now, she’s beautiful. With styled hair, adorable beauty marks, and big wide eyes, you can’t help but smile back, despite your situation. It’s not like you could run, they have armed guards surrounding the camp at all times. You had to make the most of this debacle, no matter what. 

“Hello,” You greet back.

“I’m Mary-Beth, and you are?” She asks sweetly, getting up to shake your hand.

You give her your name before taking her hand and shaking it. 

You look down at your clothes only to just now realize you didn’t have anything to sleep in. As if she could read your mind, Mary-Beth goes over to her trunk. 

“You can borrow one of my nightgowns until we can get you your own.” She says, digging around before pulling out a pristine looking nightgown. It was apparent she liked to keep clean, despite her surroundings. She holds it out for you to take, so you do, looking around for some place to change.

“What’s wrong?”She asks, following your gaze as you peer around. 

“Nothing, it’s just-- where do you guys change?” You ask, fiddling nervously at the button on your jacket. 

“Oh I usually just go behind the tent or one of the provision wagons.” She says, taking your hand. 

“I’ll show you.”

You follow her, not having another choice as she leads you behind the tent, away from prying eyes. She looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to strip. 

“Oh,” You say, draping the nightgown over one of the tent poles so your hands were free to undo the buttons on your jacket, letting it fall to the ground. Next, you shimmy out of your skirt so you’re left standing in your corset and underclothes. 

“Mary-Beth, would you mind?” You ask, turning around so she could undo the laces of your corset. 

“Of course.” She says, hands going to your back as she carefully undoes them. Soon, she’s finished, and that too falls to the ground. All you’re wearing now is your shift and bloomers, you pick the nightgown back up and pull it over your head and shoulders before slipping your arms through. 

“You dress so fancy,” She says, looking at your pile of clothes, “I’m jealous.” She laughs, picking them up and tucking them over her arm. 

“Not my choice.” You say, honestly. If it were up to you, you’d be wearing a simple blouse and skirt or even pants, just like you did at home. 

“I see,” She says, “Nonetheless, these will need to be washed.” She pats the clothes in her hands, dusting off what dirt she could. Who knew that being tackled to the ground, slung on the back of a horse and being manhandled could make clothes dirty. 

Your hands go to your tied up hair, taking out the pins and tossing them aside, never to be found again. Now your hair is down, brushing your shoulders as you shake it out, scalp sore from the tightness of your previous hairstyle. 

“There you go.” Mary-Beth smiles at you before putting her hands on your shoulders.

“You holding up okay?” She asks, sympathy in her eyes. The question makes you well up immediately. No, you weren���t okay. You had no idea what was going to happen next, no idea where you’d end up once they found out there was no ransom money to be made.

“I’ll live.” You hoped, hands coming up to swipe at your tears. 

“Oh honey,” She says, pulling you into a hug. You return it, relishing in a compassionate embrace. It was the first one in a long time. You didn’t have many friends back home, just your three older brothers; Richard, Thomas and John. You were lucky enough to be educated, as your mother insisted on it so she hired a private tutor to come mentor you during the weekdays. But it kept you so busy in your childhood, you never had the chance to go make connections, save for a few here and there. Your family was not the hugging type, and your father made sure to keep it a no-nonsense household. You were lucky your mother was lenient, so when your father was away on business trips you were able to get into all sorts of shenanigans with your brothers. It was times like those where you picked up your unladylike skills, like shooting and racing horses. When your father was home, you were reduced to playing the piano, painting or singing. All hobbies you enjoyed, sure, but you needed the freedom of choice, not just what you were expected to do..

You pull away first, “Thank you.” You say, and you meant it. You really needed that after the day you’ve been having. 

“You should know that the people here, we’re good people.” She pauses, “Well, most of us are. You have nothing to be afraid of.” 

“I’ll take your word for it.” You say, half-lying as you kept your wits about you, not letting your guard down. Not yet. 

“We should get some sleep, it’s late.” She says, gesturing in the direction of the bedrolls. You nod, following her back to the tent and sitting down on your bedroll. You get in, getting as comfortable as you could before settling in, closing your eyes and trying your damnedest to fall asleep. 

It was going to be a long night.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Notes:

Hope you guys like RDR2 because this is a fic I plan on sticking to for a while, and I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter even if it was a little slow!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Taglist (comment to be added)

@sprite-real

[cherriiramen]

MY DEAR FELLOW MORSTON MOOTIES

What got you into the ship/what makes you ship these two?

I’m genuinely curious to see y’all’s different perspectives on this :3

For my story and I think I've explained this before, but I was hyping over rdr1 (since it's all that's available here, I was actually planning to go with rdr2 but since rdr1 was all I could get, I forced myself to play it and ngl i don’t regret it one bit) and I was looking for John reference images at like…. 3am, to use and draw him for the first time and then I stumbled across a fanart of him and Arthur standing side by side, not ship art. Mind you, I did NOT have any context of rdr2 at the time besides knowing there's a character called Arthur Morgan.

You see, the funny thing is this is where the confusion began. I thought to myself if rdr2 is set after rdr1, wouldn't that make John basically Arthur's great grandpa or something? How come people draw them together so often?' and then I was like ehhh maybe it's just some cool crossover between the two parts of the game, like how they do with gta maybe. I got carried away scrolling and it didn't take me too long to find the ship art of them basically making out and aHeM getting it on, and trust me I was fucking flabbergasted. You'd also leap out of your skin if you genuinely thought the most popular ship in the fandom is a guy and his great grandpa. 💀

l asked my boyfriend to explain the fuck was going on and thankfully I hadn't gone insane. At first we were weirded out by the idea (basically starting off with "isn't John married?' for ex.). And with me only going through the first five missions of rdr1, I thought to myself "nahhh this guy's straight he can't even bottom wym. Then we started sending each other random fanarts of the ship that we'd run across, until it basically became obsessive and before we even knew it, we roleplayed them over and over and over again.

And nearly two years later I'm still not okay when it comes to them 😭

They're so complicated I feel like no matter how hard you analyse them, there's even more you'll find, they're so sad and miserable and tragic and emotionally blunt/awkward but they can work under so many different circumstances and each way would lead to some emotional conclusion, it be sad or happy or literally anything

AHEM NOW THATS ALL ON MY PART HEHRJEHWK

[therealvinelle]

Ello! I vaguely remember that you said you rarely play video games/smartphone games other than the Sims 4. Could you share with us which part of the Sims 4 is the most enjoyable to you? Ty!!!

The open world. Sad it means I can’t play with multiple households or have to give up totalitarian control if I do, delighted with what it does to the gameplay. Besides, it’s fun to see what my other sims get up to when they’re left to themselves, I had my Martha Jones marry Bobby Singer which I thought was hysterical at the time.

(And no, I did not have BBC Sherlock sims to even out the playing field, instead there were Les Miserables sims. And Harry Potter. My Tom Riddle was incompetent at Crime, so I let him be an artist while Donna Noble paid the bills, which frankly was incredibly on brand for both of them. I mourn that save, lost to an old computer and the sands of time, to this day.)

For what it’s worth I have since become a true gamer girl, that is to say I now play Red Dead Redemption II and practically only Red Dead Redemption II. I can and I will make fun of Arthur Morgan if anyone wants me to.

[twola]

Hiya! Lemme start of by saying, I’m a HUGE fan of you and your commitment to bringing our sad cowboy infinite orgasms. Out here doing the lords work. I was just wondering, if you’re still doing requests, could we get some cock warming? Idk why the idea of that makes me so feral. I just need it. Do what you wish with it, should it strike your muse. I do prefer HH Arthur… 👀. I jus love your writing and hope you are doing well!

Snowbound

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

“I d-don’t know w-why you thought this was good idea.”

A gruff snort is your response, and you can do nothing more than bury your wind-chapped face into the back of his heavy coat, your arms around his waist as the horse beneath you struggles through the snowdrift. The scarf wrapped around your head barely takes the edge off the biting chill.

Follow up on a lead about some abandoned riches in the mountains, it couldn’t still be snowing up there, he said. So goddamn sure of himself.

“Th-this is de-decidedly the m-most unromantic t-thing ever, Arthur M-Morgan.” Your muffled voice cracks against the fabric of his coat.

“Alrigh’, alright. Arthur huffs, his breath visible in the cold air, “There’s a place round the other side of the lake we can get outta the wind.”

An icy gust blows across the frozen Barrow Lagoon and you squeal miserably as you tuck yourself in behind Arthur once again. He curses as he leads the horse over to that abandoned cabin.

The mare slogs around the lagoon’s shoreline, finally reaching the cabin as Arthur extends his arm to help you slide off from her rump. He follows, landing heavily in the snow. You slowly make your way into the cabin as Arthur leads his horse to a covered area on the side of the small abode.

By the time he has the horse settled, you’ve started a small fire in the cast iron stove, long abandoned. You stand in front of it, rubbing your hands furiously.

“I’m so c-cold…” you whine, your voice cracking as you huddle into yourself. This abandoned cabin on the lake’s shore did little to stave off the cold outside.

He shrugs the coat off and wraps it around your shoulders; it dwarves you as you frown, looking up at him.

“Arthur -“ You scold, trying to bat off the coat.

He frowns, “C’mon, sweetheart. You ain’t got enough meat on your bones to keep warm, ‘m fine.”

You succeed in pulling the coat off, and shove it back at his chest. Before he can respond, you point toward the floor a few feet away from the stove he had gotten lit. “Sit down. We can share the coat.”

Arthur grumbles under his breath, but acquiesces. He grunts as he lowers himself to the floor, crossing his legs as he pulls the heavy coat around his shoulders, holding it open for you to crawl into his lap.

“Well, ain’t we sharin?”

You nod, taking the two steps closer to him, but to his surprise, you don’t turn to sit in his lap with your back toward him. In one fluid motion, you hitch your skirt up and spread your legs on either side of him before lowering yourself down, facing him.

You situate yourself, your legs winding around his hips, your chests pressed together, your skirts parted around him. It takes him a flustered moment to settle his hands at your waist, looking up at you with a blush blazed across his cheekbones. You give him a sly smile back as you wind your arms around his neck, sitting fully in his lap, a head above him as you settle down.

His eyes blaze even wider as you roll your core against his rapidly filling cock. Before he can say anything, you press your lips hard against his, his hat falling down the floor. It takes him several surprised seconds before he returns the kiss and tightens his grip around you.

You cannot help but to grind yourself against him, and his hands move down your back to cup your rear, holding you tighter into his embrace. It seems that he has finally gained his confidence as he squeezes the globes of your rear hard.

He pulls away from your lips and pants slightly, frowning, “As much as I want to, don't think its a good idea to take our clothes off.”

You roll your hips over his again and he digs his teeth into his bottom lip to stop himself from groaning, “D-don’t need to -” you trail off as you start to pull at the hem of your skirt, bunching it up at your waist.

Arthur gets your drift immediately, leaning backward and unbuttoning his pants and union suit as you lean up on to your knees above his lap. You grasp at your bloomers, pulling one leg open as Arthur draws his hard cock out from where he had unbuttoned his clothing. One of his hands reaches to your hip to brace you, as one of your hands rests on his shoulder to do the same.

He grasps the base of his cock as you hold your bloomers to the side, and you slowly lower down onto him, sucking in a breath as the hard column of his flesh pierces you - stretches you. After a few moments, you are able to take him fully, and the backs of your thighs rest in his lap.

“J-just stay there,” you breathe, one of your hands gently moving from his his back to softly trace his jaw, “Let me keep you warm.”

Arthur’s eyes flutter shut as he leans into your touch. His large arms wound around you tighten as he leans his forehead against yours.

There's an odd sort of pride you have in this moment - where he had been wrapping you in his coat, in his arms, trying to keep you warm - you can at least do this for him. For all the time his strength and size had been used for you - protecting you, providing for you, keeping you warm - you cannot help to smile as you note the tenseness of his jaw subside. You can give him this.

Wound so tightly between each other, you press your lips against his before playfully clenching the muscles of your core. Arthur’s eyes shoot open and he cannot stifle the groan that escapes from his chest, deep and low.

“D-do that again.” He pants, nuzzling his cheek against yours, his arms pulling you against him tighter.

He squirms against you, his hips bucking up a little as you clench against him. He draws his arms around you tighter - you're smothered in him - and groans aloud as he buries his face into your bosom.

“God, darlin’, you’re so warm-”

You tighten your legs around him, pressing your face into the curve of his shoulder. He jolts against you as you clench down on him again.

“Could you come like this?” You breathe into his ear.

He pulls back, his pupils blown wide and rimmed only slightly blue. He nods, almost dumbly, pleasure-addled and unable to speak.

The two of you drown in the intimacy. At his silent answer, you swear you gush a little, your cunt so full of him that you swear you'd never feel so complete again. You thread your fingers through his hair, his hands sweep lovingly around your back.

“Come for me.” You whisper, cupping his cheeks in your hands, tilting his head back slightly recenter his gaze into your eyes.

Arthur breathes out heavily, squeezing his eyes shut as he shudders beneath you, and you feel warmth blossom between you - he fills you with his need, his devotion, he fills you with himself.

Overwhelmed by it all, you tuck your head into his shoulder as he pants against your collarbone. You whine softly as you come also, a soft, gentle tipping over the edge, shuddering around him for a moment. The two of you come down from your highs, wrapped tightly around each other.

Arthur pulls that blue coat tighter around the both of you - and as the snow falls outside, you are warm and content in each other’s embrace.

[kahran042]

…and another gargantuan batch of incorrect JCGTL quotes!

Stephen and Deborah Bernhardt are renewing their marriage vows Stephen: I promise, when you start to sag, to subject you to risky elective surgery. Deborah: And I promise to be with you only if you make money and stay healthy. Stephen: Alzheimer's runs in my family. Deborah: You'll be dealing with that solo. (Source: American Dad!) (Stephen Bernhardt, Deborah Bernhardt)

Morgan: Oh, so suddenly you DON'T have a death wish? Connor: Morgan, I've never had a death wish. It's just that I don't believe that I personally even can die. (Source: Archer) (Morgan Urquhart, Connor Urquhart)

Adrian: Kiera is full of sunshine and sweets and hope, and every time I try to tell her the world is on fire, she just hands me a marshmallow to roast. (Source: Arrested Development) (Adrian Bernhardt)

Thom: I lose at everything. I even lost my glasses. Courtney: staring at the glasses on his head I’ll help you find them for five dollars! (Source: Arthur) (Thom Anderson, Courtney Anderson)

Jonas: I'm not jealous! I just get this weird burning feeling in my chest whenever I think about Kiera being with someone else! Brad: Yeah, that's jealousy. (Source: Austin and Ally) (Jonas Corbin, Brad Thompson)

Nick: Hey, cool glasses. Thom: Thanks, I need them to see. (Source: Bob's Burgers) (Nick Murphy, Thom Anderson)

Adrian: We should make Mom a Mother's Day card. Kiera: Okay, I'll draw a picture of her on it. Adrian: Hmm…make her mouth bigger. She usually looks angrier than that. (Source: Calvin and Hobbes) (Adrian Bernhardt, Kiera Bernhardt)

Jonas: Another gorgeous, brisk fall day in New Hampshire. What a waste to be going to school on a day like this. Donna: What would you do if you could stay home today? Jonas: Sleep right through it. (Source: Calvin and Hobbes) (Jonas Corbin, Donna Corbin)

Valerie: John, have you seen my glasses? I can't find them anywhere. John: I haven't seen them. Chloe enters, wearing her mother's glasses. John and Valerie look shocked Chloe (in Valerie's voice): Chloe, go do some stupid girly thing you hate! Being miserable builds character! (Source: Calvin and Hobbes) (Valerie Seaver, John Seaver, Chloe Seaver)

Samantha: What's this story you're going to read me, Dad? It doesn't have any violence in it, does it? Richard: Uh… Samantha: Edit it out if it does. I hate violent stories. Does it have any boring description in it? Richard: Well… Samantha: Skip it if you see any. I like my stories fast and gripping. It doesn't have a moral, does it? I hate being told how to live my life. Skip the moral, too, ok? Richard: Does her majesty prefer color pictures, or black and white? (Source: Calvin and Hobbes) (Samantha Corbin, Richard Corbin)

Monica: I can't get a baby-sitter anywhere! What should we do? Richard: We won't be gone long. Couldn't Samantha be left for a couple of hours unsupervised? Richard and Monica: Ha ha ha ha! Ho ho ho hoo hoo har ha ho! Monica: wiping tears of laughter away Seriously, what should we do? (Source: Calvin and Hobbes) (Monica Corbin, Richard Corbin)

Justin: Bad news on your campaign to stay dad, Dad. John: Oh? Justin: Yep. The latest poll of twelve-year-olds in this household shows that they don't care about issues this year. It's character that counts. John: So why the bad news? Justin: Who's the bimbo with you in this old picture? John: That "bimbo" is your MOTHER! Valerie: Who's a bimbo?! John: Pretty funky hairdo, Mom! (Source: Calvin and Hobbes) (Justin Seaver, John Seaver, Valerie Seaver)

Brad: Someone has to go to Nick and Jared and confront them. Chloe: I vote we all look at Jonas at the same time. (Source: Community) (Brad Thompson, Chloe Seaver)

Kiera: You're like the mom I never had… Valerie: You don't have a mom? Kiera: I mean, I do, but she sucks. (Source: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend) (Kiera Bernhardt, Valerie Seaver)

Mark: You gloss over everything with a cynical joke and no one knows what you really believe in. Connor: A-ha. So my evil plan is working. (Source: Daria) (Mark Seaver, Connor Urquhart)

Chloe: We have some things in common. Mia: Breathing. (Source: Daria) (Chloe Seaver, Mia Thompson)

Samantha (after getting in trouble): I'm only five! (Source: Diary of a Wimpy Kid) (Samantha Corbin)

Jonas: Uh oh. I just had a bad thought. Nate: What? That you might grow old, never get married, and die alone? Jonas: No…but thank you for pointing out that possibility. (Source: Drake and Josh) (Jonas Corbin, Nate Kellerman)

Morgan: Where have you been?! Connor: Emotional hell. (Source: Friends) (Morgan Urquhart, Connor Urquhart)

Chloe: I hate you with every inch of my being. Connor: That's not a lot of inches. (Source: Fullmetal Alchemist) (Chloe Seaver, Connor Urquhart)

Zoe: I’m back! Did you miss me? Nina: Yes, I did, Zoe. In fact, I wasn’t done missing you. Would you mind leaving again? (Source: Garfield) (Zoe Chapman, Nina Chapman)

Chloe: Hey! I was here first! Mark: On the planet? No? I win. (Source: Gilmore Girls) (Chloe Seaver, Mark Seaver)

Chloe: Yes! We did it! hugs Jonas Jonas: is confused Chloe: quickly releases hug Um…can I pay you to pretend that never happened? (Source: Gravity Falls) (Chloe Seaver, Jonas Corbin)

Connor: So, is this thing between Morgan and Lydia supposed to be a secret? Mark: Pfft…hardly. The only people who don't know Morgan and Lydia love each other are Morgan and Lydia. (Source: Grey's Anatomy) (Connor Urquhart, Mark Seaver)

Mark: What's with you and Connor? Chloe: Oh, don't. Mark: Do you have a thing for him? You know there's a thin line-- Chloe: No, there is not a thin line between love and hate. There is, in fact, a Great Wall of China with armed sentries posted every twenty feet between love and hate. (Source: House) (Mark Seaver, Chloe Seaver)

Kiera: Hi. Connor: Don't touch me. (Source: Jem) (Kiera Bernhardt, Connor Urquhart)

Monica: Jonas, I think it would be nice if you took Samantha with you tomorrow. Jonas, narrating: I offered a convincing argument. Jonas: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! (Source: Life with Loopy) (Monica Corbin, Jonas Corbin)

Brad: You’ve gotta be nice to people. Mia: N-nice? Brad: Yes, nice! It's not that hard. (Source: Miraculous Ladybug) (Brad Thompson, Mia Thompson)

Tristan: Yeah, tell me something I don't know. Adrian: Um… female kangaroos have three vaginas. (Source: Musical Hell) (Tristan Markham, Adrian Bernhardt)

Connor (to Morgan): Those kids at school tease you because they’ve never tasted hell. Today, we turn the tables! (Source: Mystery Science Theater 3000) (Connor Urquhart)

Jonas: You're like an angel with no wings. Kiera: So like a person. (Source: Parks and Recreation) (Jonas Corbin, Kiera Bernhardt)

Kiera (about Adrian and Karin): Wow, you guys are really cute together. Adrian: Kiera, I'm cute together with everybody. (Source: Parks and Recreation) (Kiera Bernhardt, Adrian Bernhardt)

Alicia: You're nice. I can see why Kiera likes you. Jonas: Wha -- When did she say … Likes me? (Source: Parks and Recreation) (Alicia Ramsey, Jonas Corbin)

Mia: doing something nice for Brad They could throw me out of the little-sister union for this. (Source: Pelswick) (Mia Thompson)

Jonas (about Mark): It’s not what you think. We’re not enemies, we’re just bad friends. (Source: Phineas and Ferb) (Jonas Corbin)

Richard: Sometimes being an adult can really suck. That’s why we’re allowed to drink alcohol! (Source: Puella Magi Madoka Magica) (Richard Corbin)

Alicia: Sometimes it takes a more mature person to stop a fight than one who started it to begin with. Chloe: Right, Alicia. Why don't you go home and watch more of those Mister Rogers reruns? (Source: Rugrats) (Alicia Ramsey, Chloe Seaver)

Jonas (about Kiera): Oh my god, here she comes. Okay, this is easy, just compliment her. Tell her she has a square head. Wait, that’s not a compliment! What shape is a compliment? Triangle? Uh, pyramid? Circle! Circle head! Oh my god, you’re stuck on shapes and Square-Head’s almost here! (Source: Scrubs) (Jonas Corbin)

Robert: Aren't you too young to be bitter? Connor: No, you can be young and bitter. (Source: Seinfeld) (Robert Urquhart, Connor Urquhart)

Chloe: Can the young woman break the glass ceiling and prove once and for all that a female can be just as good an athlete as a male? Nick: You know, Chloe, anytime someone calls attention to the breaking of gender roles, it ultimately undermines the concept of gender equality by implying that this is an exception and not the status quo.” everybody stares at Nick Nick: What? Just because I’m a meathead doesn’t mean I’m not a feminist. (Source: Sonic Boom) (Chloe Seaver, Nick Murphy)

Lydia: Pass me a napkin, please. There really is no way to eat spaghetti in a dignified way. Kiera: eating one noodle at a time Not if you do it right! (Source: Spork of Creation) (Lydia Renfrew, Kiera Bernhardt)

Adrian: Look, I'm not really good at, actually I'm terrible at, expressing…I don't know what you'd call it-- Karin: Feelings? Adrian: Yeah, sure, okay, the point is I don't really have good, uh… Karin: Social skills? (Source: Stargate Atlantis) (Adrian Bernhardt, Karin Michaux)

Nick is about to beat Jonas up Nick: Do you have any last words, Jon-ass? Jonas: …You're a jerk. (Source: Suikoden II) (Nick Murphy, Jonas Corbin)

Jonas: What the fuck is wrong with you? Connor: Do you want me to go chronologically or alphabetically? (Source: Texts from Last Night) (Jonas Corbin, Connor Urquhart)

Jasmine: Describe Jonas in one word. Mia: Mine. (Source: That's So Raven) (Jasmine Kessler, Mia Thompson)

Jonas: My love for Kiera burns with the white hot intensity of a thousand suns. But I can’t tell her that. Donna: But I can, thanks to my parental battering ram! It’s the latest thing in tough love parenting. typing Burns with white hot intensity of a thousand suns, SEND. (Source: The Fairly Oddparents) (Jonas Corbin, Donna Corbin)

Mark: The only way to get rid of a bully is to stand up to them. Trust me, I’ve bullied a lot of people. (Source: The Office) (Mark Seaver)

Chloe (skiing): Okay, don't panic. Remember what Coach said. an image of the ski team coach appears in a thought bubble Coach: If you get in trouble, all you need to do is… an image of Kiera in her ski gear pushes aside the coach Kiera: Feels like I'm wearing nothing at all… nothing at all… nothing at all… Chloe: Stupid sexy Kiera. (Source: The Simpsons) (Chloe Seaver, Kiera Bernhardt)

Jonas: I’m not jealous, I’m envious. Jealousy is when you worry someone will take what you have. Envy is wanting what someone else has. What I feel is envy. Nate: checking a dictionary Wow, he's right. (Source: The Simpsons) (Jonas Corbin, Nate Kellerman)

Mia: Alright, Chloe. I don't like you and you don't like me. Chloe: I like you. Mia: Um, alright. You like me but I don't like you. Chloe: Maybe you'd like me if you got to know me. (Source: The Simpsons) (Mia Thompson, Chloe Seaver)

Kiera: Dad? Stephen: Yes, son? Kiera: … Stephen: I mean…girl-son. (Source: The Simpsons) (Kiera Bernhardt, Stephen Bernhardt)

Nate: I have a life! Zach: chuckles (Source: The X-Files) (Nate Kellerman, Zach Kellerman)

Kiera: You've read this book forty-two times? Adrian: Yes. Kiera: Doesn’t that make you sad? (Source: The X-Files) (Kiera Bernhardt, Adrian Bernhardt)

Connor: Why would I make them so uncomfortable? Morgan: Probably has to do with your reputation. Connor: I have a reputation? (Source: The X-Files) (Connor Urquhart, Morgan Urquhart)

Chloe: Studies have shown that putting on your best judgmental frown while checking out your crush means they are less likely to figure out you like them. (Source: Tumblr) (Chloe Seaver)

Jonas: I would take a bullet for cheese fries. Brad: …Who the hell would shoot a basket of cheese fries? (Source: Tumblr) (Jonas Corbin, Brad Thompson)

Mark: Only geniuses can say these words really quickly. Eye. Yam. Stew. Peed. Jared: Oh, come on, no ones’s falling for th- Nick: IAMSTUPID (Source: Tumblr) (Mark Seaver, Jared Murphy, Nick Murphy)

Mia (about Chloe): I really hate that girl. Jasmine: She didn't even do anything. Mia: She's here, she's breathing, that's enough. (Source: Tumblr) (Mia Thompson, Jasmine Kessler)

Jonas: Valentine’s day is just a time when greeting card companies and candy companies get a boost in sales and couples get all mushy and gross with each other. Kiera: I made you a card. Jonas: shoves everything off the shelf and gently places the card there I’m going to frame this and look at it every day! (Source: Tumblr) (Jonas Corbin, Kiera Bernhardt)

Chloe: I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. Connor: I’d take that more seriously if you didn’t put “feelings” in air quotes. (Source: Tumblr) (Chloe Seaver, Connor Urquhart)

Jonas: Today is just such a beautiful day. The sun is shining, the birds are- Brad: Kiera texted you "have a good day", didn't she? Jonas: With three heart emojis. (Source: Tumblr) (Jonas Corbin, Brad Thompson)

Mark: You know, you can solve your problems without violence. Nick: Okay, but consider: I'm really, really good at violence. (Source: Tumblr) (Mark Seaver, Nick Murphy)

Jonas: My friend thinks you're cute. Kiera: Really? Which friend? Jonas: Me. I'm the friend. (Source: Tumblr) (Jonas Corbin, Kiera Bernhardt)

Jonas: Yeah, you're my best friend, but I would fuck you if you asked. Brad: What? Jonas: What? Chloe (eating chips in the background): You said you would fuck him if he asked you! (Source: Tumblr) (Jonas Corbin, Brad Thompson, Chloe Seaver)

Brad: Jonas, we need to talk to you! Come out! Jonas: I'm bisexual! Brad: Not what I meant but I still support you! (Source: Tumblr) (Brad Thompson, Jonas Corbin)

Kiera: Adrian! I can fit the whole world in my hands! Adrian: That's impos- Kiera: cups Adrian's face Adrian: …Get the fuck off of me. I have a reputation. (Source: Tumblr) (Kiera Bernhardt, Adrian Bernhardt)

Mark: When I was born, God said: “Too pure, much perfection.” Chloe: Wrong. When you were born, the devil said: “Ooh, competition!” (Source: Tumblr) (Mark Seaver, Chloe Seaver)

Mark: How have you been coping with everything? Connor: With sarcasm, mostly. Mark: Has it been working? Connor (sarcastically): Yeah, it's been super great. (Source: Twitter) (Mark Seaver, Connor Urquhart)

Alicia: You are not alone. There’s bugs. (Source: Twitter) (Alicia Ramsey)

Mia: I’m a cold-hearted bitch. Nothing gets to me. Jonas: Hey! How’s it going? Mia (internally): OH NO, HE'S CUTE. (Source: Twitter) (Mia Thompson, Jonas Corbin)

Connor: How am I sensitive and an asshole at the same time? (Source: Twitter) (Connor Urquhart)

Peter: Who are you? Nick: I'm you, but stronger. (Source: Twitter) (Peter Gardner, Nick Murphy)

Jonas: Sorry I’m late. I broke down on the way. Kiera: Oh, is your car OK? Jonas: What car? (Source: Twitter) (Jonas Corbin, Kiera Bernhardt)

Jonas: Who ate all the cookies? Samantha: Ninjas. Jonas: I didn't see them. Samantha: No one ever does. (Source: Twitter) (Jonas Corbin, Samantha Corbin)

Jonas: Name a way to be nice to others. Mark: Don't kill them. Jonas: …Setting the bar a little low, but I'll allow it. (Source: Twitter) (Jonas Corbin, Mark Seaver)

Morgan: What am I going to do for Halloween? Colin: I'd love to go as your boyfriend! Morgan: Thanks, I'd rather be dead. (Source: Vine) (Morgan Urquhart, Colin Gardner)

Lauren: Mark's not really my type. Sarah: What is your type? Lauren: Girls, mostly. (Source: YouTube) (Lauren Reinholt, Sarah Reinholt)

Jonas: You wanna beat me up? Then do it. It's not gonna change things. Nick: It'll change your face. Jonas: Touché. (Source: Zoey 101) (Jonas Corbin, Nick Murphy)

Connor: I wear trench coats to look mysterious and scary and powerful and-- Morgan: You wear them to look like a prick. Connor: Did I ask for your sass? (Source: Unknown) (Connor Urquhart, Morgan Urquhart)

Adrian: Jonas, would you do me the honor of becoming my brother-in-law? Jonas: Did you just propose to her FOR ME? Adrian: Someone had to do it, Jonas! (Source: Unknown) (Adrian Bernhardt, Jonas Corbin)

[tiodolma]

If the wedding was Merlin and Morgan was all fake smiles, the honeymoon is them making Arthur's life miserable by doing their job as advisors.

Arthur: 😑 You should be back at Castle Pendragon, spending time together alone.

Morgan: *smirks at her brother's suffering* There's so much to do, brother dearest.

Merlin: *trying not to show his amusement* I couldn't agree more with Morgan.

...

Morgan: Lord Pendragon. *eye twitching*

Merlin: Lady Pendragon. *nods at her*

Arthur: *whispers to his brother* Merlin must have done something for Morgan to be mad at him.

Kay: 🙄 They're always like that.

...

Sybil: My lady, my lord, you should be on your honeymoon.

Morgan: *reading reports* Too busy for that.

Merlin: Pass me the grain reports.

Morgan: *hands them over* Here.

Merlin: Thanks.

Morgan: Did Lord Reginald pay the taxes this year? *frowning at a report*

Merlin: *reading the grain reports* He didn't this year. The years before either.

Morgan: *nods* It seems a visit is in order.

Honestly i love this. They’re professionals, your honor.

Seriously this is so cool.

[dash-o-frost]

(I never posted this oops)

Sometimes you just gotta draw a young Arthur Morgan going absolutely ballistic about the missing little Raccoon he realised he actually does give a shit about.