#Charles Smith X original female character

[alligator-tearzz]

Why Didn't You Stop Me? Chapter One

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Tags: Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Love Triangles, Everything is against this relationship, Angst, Lots of Angst, Angst with comfort, Angst with no comfort, Tragedy, Mentions of grief, Mentions of Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Has Tuberculosis, Slight Canon Divergence, Dutch van der Linde Being an Asshole, Reader is NOT a damsel in distress Summary: Dealing with the grief of losing your best friend in the Blackwater incident, you tend to find solace in the silent company of your close friend, Charles. When your conflicted feelings about Javier start to bubble to the surface and paint over your friendship with Charles, you are faced with a new problem. Navigating your feelings for Javier while dealing with the inevitable downfall of the Van Der Linde Gang is no easy feat, especially when friendships and relationships are breaking all around you.

Chapter 1

Rosa had met the gang a year before the Blackwater incident.

After the Blackwater Ferry job, she was left cutting her losses and reeling about how everything went down. She had lost her dearest friend, Jenny. With barely a spare second to waste mourning her, Rosa, along with the rest of the Van Der Linde gang, had scrambled away up into the brutal, snow covered Grizzlies, settling in the abandoned town of Colter until the snowstorm they had all run into let up.

“There’s no way the Pinkertons would be stupid enough to follow us here. Not in this weather.” Dutch had said from his wagon as everyone made their way into Colter. She could barely see him then, but she hoped with all her heart that he was right. Rosa had never in her life doubted Dutch, always ready to put her life on the line if he said so, but after Blackwater… She had a nagging feeling in the back of her mind to be cautious.

She remembered Javier’s gloved hand, waiting for hers to meet it so he could help her off the wagon, along with the rest of the girls. Rosa always had a bit of a push and pull relationship with Javier. Some days he seemed so interested in her and everything her mind had to offer, while other days he wouldn’t even look her way. It was getting on her nerves, quite frankly. She hadn’t experienced this with any of the other members. She knew where the friendship stood with each and every one of the rest of them. Javier, however, was an enigma.

Despite that, someone she had been getting closer to lately was Charles. The comfortable silence he offered her when she needed it the most helped with her grief immensely. When Rosa wanted to stew in her thoughts but still needed company, she knew Charles was perfectly happy to sit in the silence and provide just that for her. When the time called for it, they would both quietly chatter to each other around the fire, as he sharpened his knives and she scribbled away in her journal. Sometimes the darkest parts of Rosa's grief caught up to her at night, shaking her awake from her slumber and forcing her to stand outside in the cold. Shivering with a blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders in an attempt to clear her mind, Charles was always out there too. He had his own grief plaguing his mind, and although he hadn’t quite opened up to her about it yet, he was still comfortable enough to let her know that he understood, that he was there. Rosa got along well with the girls. She felt particularly close to Mary-Beth, they both shared a love for writing and often enjoyed sharing books with each other when there was nothing else to do. Despite being on the opposite end of the spectrum, Rosa was quite close with Karen too. Rosa wasn't very judgemental, and had learned to be even less so especially after being brought into this gang. Everyone had their own troubles and colourful personalities, and why would she be judging them when she had your own fair share of secrets and flaws?

Huddled up in her wool coat, it was yet another night where Rosa's sleep had been interrupted with images of Jenny’s death, she stood outside the cabin she shared with the rest of the girls (besides Molly, of course) and puffed on her cigarette. The cold nipped and bit at her face relentlessly, and her eyes stung. It didn’t bother her too much, she had hoped this would help ground her in the present. A figure emerged from the men’s cabin. She spotted the familiar bowler hat atop the figure’s head. The flickering lantern outside their cabin served as the only light, but she could tell it was Javier. He nodded at Rosa once, then struck a match to light his cigarette, tossing the match in the snow swiftly afterwards. He didn’t pay Rosa much mind as he smoked, but she stood wondering why he was up at this hour too. The light only just traced the frown on his face in the dark of the night. She figured there must be a lot on his mind and she wouldn’t be so delusional to think she was the only person with demons in this gang. Still, Rosa wished she could talk to him. She didn’t know whether or not to approach him for a while, but ultimately opted not to. Rosa still wanted to stew in silence, although, with how it is talking to Javier, she felt it’d be silent either way. As the cigarette burned too close to her lips for comfort, Rosa tossed it to the snow and blew out the rest of the smoke from her lungs. She took one last look at Javier, then turned to head inside. Shutting the door quickly in an attempt to keep the cold outside, she wondered if that was even something to be bothered with, as she still shivered no matter how many old blankets she had hoarded. She stepped over Mary-Beth, and Tilly, who stirred in her sleep. Her brows furrowed and eyes fluttered open.

“Rosa? What are you doing up?” She asked, still laying still as if moving would waste all the warmth she had spent the night gathering in her sleep

“Just had something on my mind is all, sorry for waking you, Tilly.” Both of the girls exchanged quiet “goodnight”s and she got as comfortable as she could on her bedroll. Rosa wondered if Javier was okay, but didn’t bother making up scenarios. She was too tired and cold to focus on that for too long.

The next morning she awoke, rolled up her bedroll and stowed it in a corner to make more space on the floor. She threw more firewood into the fire that was threatening to burn out, and uttered “morning”s to the girls as they woke up too. She got dressed then pulled her journal out, sitting on a couch in front of the fire to write. Rosa's journal had been left untouched since the day of the ferry incident, and bore some evidence of the desperate dash out of Blackwater, with one of the corners squashed alongside a dried up water mark soaked through some of the pages. Rosa was still trying to wrap her head around what happened, the people the gang had lost and how she felt about everything. 

Eventually, with the background noise of fire crackling and the sniffles and shuffling of the girls in the room, she began to write. She etched in her grief and anguish at the loss of her dear friend Jenny, her worries for the future of the gang, and most importantly, her gratitude for being alive. 

Ignoring the opening and closing of the door, her writing served as a form of much needed therapy.

“What are you writing there?” Javier’s husky voice sounded from beside her. Rosa's pencil halted on the page she’d been writing on, and the line she started on faltered and dragged down before she lifted her hand off. 

“Just writing my thoughts, need to put them somewhere other than my brain.” Javier nodded and took a drag of his cigarette. He didn’t continue talking and Rosa started writing again. 

She didn’t know how to talk to Javier. Every time they seemed to have a conversation it would seem like he’d suddenly lose interest, and the air between them both would fall silent again. She silently cursed herself for perking up and taking the bait yet again, but she couldn’t help it. Something in her needed to know everything about Javier. She needed to know the ins and outs of him, what made him tick, what his passions are, what his past is, but their conversations never lasted more than five minutes and he never seemed to be phased by that. The most amount of time she had spent with him was when he’d play the guitar for the gang by the campfire at night, still not talking to her.

It frustrated Rosa, to say the least, but she couldn’t change it. If a friendship wasn’t meant to form she wouldn’t forge it against the odds. There was too much to worry about to even put the effort into that.

Rosa noticed he kept to himself even when she joined the gang a year ago. Not much had changed since then. He spent his time sharpening his knives, playing his guitar or being away from camp, working on whatever Dutch flung his way. He was the most loyal to Dutch out of everyone, and still remained so to this day.

The door of the cabin swung open again, and a tall, lean older man walked in. Hosea. He blew into his hands after closing the door behind him, a measly attempt at warming up. Javier sat beside Rosa still, with his faded orange poncho wrapped around him and a tired look in his eyes. Abigail stood from a bed at the back of the cabin, her headscarf hiding her dark hair and most of her face to conserve as much warmth as she could.

“Hosea, any word on John?” She rushed toward him, but the fire in her eyes did little to warm Hosea’s hardened gaze.

“None, sorry to say.” His lips spread in a thin line to show his disappointment. Abigail shook her head, but backed down for now. Rosa looked on, worried, but unsure of what to do. When she retreated to the back of the cabin, Rosa resumed writing in her journal. 

She saw Javier’s eyes shift to watch in her peripheral vision, but she tried to pay him no mind. If he wanted to talk to her, he was going to have to continue the conversation. There was no point in Rosa trying, she didn’t want to be awkwardly shot down yet again. 

“He ain’t been seen in days… The weather ain’t let up.” Rosa heard Abigail sulk. She was finding it hard to muster up much empathy for Abigail. As much as she loved her, she saw the way John treated her. Why she would still wait for him to change was beyond Rosa. Regardless, Rosa still hoped John was okay. She knew how important he was to Dutch and Hosea, hell, maybe even Arthur, even if he’d never admit it.

She silently thanked God when the cabin door opened again, and she saw Arthur trudge in. His breath came out in puffs of steam and the snow from outside had settled as frost on his hat and coat. 

Rubbing his gloved hands for warmth, he stepped in.

Tilly had taken to comforting Abigail.

“He’s strong, and he’s smart.” She reassured, steadily. Abigail shook her head.

“He’s strong at least.”

As Arthur bent down and threw another piece of firewood into the struggling flame, both Tilly and Abigail looked up, greeting him.

Rosa watched them out of the corner of her eyes. Abigail seemed to fiddle with her hands a bit, and Rosa silently cursed, knowing she’d jump at the chance of asking Arthur for help.

It seemed as if Arthur was the go to errand boy for everyone in the Van Der Linde gang. With his past experiences robbing and killing with the gang, and his brute strength that was beyond compare to the rest of the men, the women knew it was unlikely he’d be marred if a situation were to go south.

Abigail of all people knew that, so there she was, already pleading with Arthur to look for John.

The snowstorm outside hadn’t let up since they all scrambled up here a couple days before, if anyone was stuck out there they wouldn’t last more than two days in these conditions. 

Arthur chuckled at Abigail’s fretful nature and attempted to warm up his hands again.

“Your John’ll be fine.” He drawled, outstretching his arms slightly.

Rosa slightly turned her head to catch Javier’s gaze. He shook his head slightly, and she knew they were both on the same page. John was not fine. If he were fine he’d have met up with the gang by now.

“At least go take a look,” Hosea stood from his seat, tired of the back and forth between Arthur and Abigail and looking like he was antsy to get out of the cabin, “Javier?”.

“Yes?” Javier responded with a disgruntled sigh.

“Javier, will you ride out with Arthur to take a look for John?” Hosea asked, or moreso ordered, in a fatherly manner. “You’re the two best fit men we got.”

Javier quickly glanced at Arthur, then leaned forward, staring at Hosea in confusion.

“Now?” He asked. No one wanted to go out in the snowstorm that was raging outside. No one had seen the sun since leaving Blackwater. They couldn’t even tell the difference between day or night anymore.

In an attempt to relate it to everyone else in the cabin, Hosea stuttered.

“She’s….. we’re all….” He sighed. “Well, we’re all pretty worried about him.” 

Rosa silently agreed. Selfishly, she wished he was alive, so she didn’t have to deal with the aftermath of Abigail receiving the bad news. Javier let one last disgruntled sigh out, then put his cigarette out. He stood up, spurs clinking on the wooden floor as he grabbed a revolver from the table beside him. 

“I know,” Javier started, walking over to Arthur and holding the revolver out to him, “if the situation were reversed, he’d look for me.” Arthur grabbed the revolver out of Javier’s hand and shook his head. She watched silently, as usual, but admired Javier’s loyalty to the gang.

“Thank you.” Abigail sputtered out as the men left the cabin, not receiving a response. The spot on the couch next to Rosa was now empty, and she almost missed Javier’s presence. She closed her journal, then placed it in her satchel that was left beside the couch. 

She made her way over to the front of the cabin and shrugged on her coat and boots, then layered up with a thick scarf covering her head. Her gloves hadn’t left her hands since they all got here, and she silently wished she was able to take them off. The layers upon layers of clothes were starting to become suffocating, and Rosa tsk’d quietly as she pulled her scarf up to cover her nose and mouth as well. As she bid your goodbye’s to the girls and Hosea, she stepped out, quickly closing the door behind her. 

Already the cold stung her eyes and made her shiver, but she spotted a familiar and comforting figure standing guard.

Charles. 

[summerontatooine]

Chapters: 9/? Fandom: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Charles Smith (Red Dead Redemption)/Original Female Character(s), Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character(s), Abigail Roberts Marston/John Marston, Karen Jones/Original Male Character Characters: Arthur Morgan, Charles Smith, John Marston, Sadie Adler, Abigail Roberts Marston, Jack Marston, Uncle (Red Dead Redemption) Additional Tags: Fix-It, Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut Series: Part 2 of Second Chances Summary:

Kate liked Charles Smith the moment she met him. Much to her intrigue, and frustration, he is always elusive about his past no matter how close they become.

Healing from heartbreak, Charles can hardly believe that the beautiful engineer Miss Kate Hale is truly interested in him. He thought the random questions she would ask him was just her being friendly but now he realizes that they're slowly learning about each other. The more he learns, the more he feels himself falling for her. It all feels like too much of a good thing and good things never last.

But when a killer begins stalking the people of Wittington, no one is safe. This masked murderer is attacking people at random during the night. The Hale's are at a disadvantage and know nothing about defending themselves. Will Charles be able to protect them?

@photo1030

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Summary: A well deserved hunt with Charles, met with an unexpected surprise back at camp...

Ao3  Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10

Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Ch 5 - My Heart Beats On As Warmly Now

“What began as a journey had become a retreat into the unknown. We were backing into the abyss; so worried our sins would follow us we didn’t bother watching where we walked. And behind us was a cliff.” ~ Elsa Dutton 1883

Arthur’s anger dissolved with the storm, replaced by a heavy sense of regret as he trudged back to camp that evening. All he wanted was to drown his shame in a few bottles of liquor, away from prying eyes, away from the disappointment he felt in himself. He hadn’t intended for Kate to see that side of him, not yet at least. And certainly not against a sickly innocent man. He let his anger and frustrations get the better of him. Like he switched on auto-pilot and let the outlaw in him take control. He worried now that Kate might actually leave, and he blamed himself for that.

Swiftly, he made his way to the crate of beer bottles behind the chuck wagon, grabbing a few before retreating to his tent. He craved solitude, a respite from the demands of camp life, from the weight of his own mistakes.

Seated on his cot, a beer wedged between his legs, Arthur opened his journal, the one constant in his life since Dutch and Hosea taught him to read and write. It was his confidant, his sanctuary in a world of chaos. John always gave him shit for it growing up, calling him a pansy and constantly trying to snoop in his personal entries. 

Despite being in a gang for most of his life, he still felt incredibly lonely. There weren't many people he would truly open up to. So his journal became that person. It was the one thing that did not judge him, ever. But even as he poured his thoughts onto the page, he longed for a human connection, someone to truly understand him.  

Hosea and Dutch had been like parents to him, raising him from a young age in the ways of the outlaw. They had their flaws, but they had also shown him kindness and guidance when he needed it most. He always saw Hosea as his father, he would consider Dutch his father too, although he was more like an older brother at times. Hosea was probably the only person who truly knew Arthur, and saw the things he wished not to speak about. Neither parent was perfect by any means, and Arthur could recognize that. But even as an adult, there is still a child inside that longs for the comfort of a father. 

It was that fatherly instinct that drove Hosea to Arthurs tent that night.

“Evening Arthur,” he greeted, holding open the tent flap, “may I come in?” 

He put down his journal and nodded. Gesturing for Hosea to join him on his cot. 

“I noticed Kate didn’t ride back with you, is she okay out in this storm?” He inquired.

Arthur smiled with a slight shake of his head, that's Hosea for you. Always worried about others, here he was checking on his son but was more concerned about the lady he left behind. 

“I’m sure she’s fine, saw her heading into Valentine,” he answered, taking a sip of his beer. He handed one of the full bottles to Hosea as the older gentleman sat down.

“I take it things didn't go well then,” he said with a hint of sympathy.

Arthur sighed, “when do they ever.” 

As they sat together in the dim light, the rain drumming softly on the canvas roof, Arthur felt a sense of comfort in Hosea’s presence. He didn’t need to explain himself, didn’t need to justify his actions. Hosea simply listened, offering silent support.

“I don’t know why I do it,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “The man was sick and weak, I should've just given him a warning.” Arthur concluded with a shake of his head. 

Hosea sighed knowingly. “I think you can blame your fathers for that son,” taking a sip to clear his throat, “Dutch and I did what we thought was best at the time and well, you were quite impressionable when you were young. We used that to our advantage to turn you into a grade A outlaw.” He said gently with honesty. 

Arthur chuckled at the memories of his youth, before John came along he was the golden child. He used to love it when Dutch would teach him how to pick locks, or when Hosea taught him a whole book of curse words. Had he not been the son of outlaws, his life would’ve looked very differently. 

“We’ll always be thieves,” he mused with a hint of nostalgia, “only difference now is that the world don't want us no more.” 

Hosea nodded, silently agreeing, “We're doomed just like every other creature on this rock Arthur,” he remarked with a wry smile. “I just wish I had acquired that wisdom at less of a price.” 

After a moment of contemplative silence, Arthur spoke, his voice heavy with regret. "I just wish I’d done things differently," he admitted, his gaze fixed on the floor. His remorse mixed with his actions at the Downes ranch, and for every mistake he’s made in the past that led him here. 

Hosea laid a comforting hand on Arthur's shoulder, a silent gesture of understanding. "We can't change the past, son," he said gently. "All we can do is learn from it and strive to do better in the future."

Arthur nodded, the weight of Hosea's words settling over him like a blanket of reassurance. "I don't want to be the kind of man who hurts others for no good reason," he confessed, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "I want to be better, for Kate, for everyone."

Hosea squeezed Arthur's shoulder affectionately before rising to his feet. “She’ll come around, son.” He offered a parting reminder, “underneath it all, you have a good heart.”

Before he disappeared into the night, Hosea turned back with a final piece of news. “By the way, your brother wants to speak with you about using that oil cart you found to rob the train tomorrow night.”

Arthur scoffed, shaking his head. “He ain’t my brother,” he muttered disdainfully.

Hosea chuckled. “Well, you two sure argue like brothers. G’night, Arthur.”

He tipped his head to the old man as he left, “night Pa.” 

Arthur laid back on his cot, tucking his journal into his satchel when something small and round fell out and made a soft pitter on the ground. When he looked down he saw the peach pit, the one Kate gave him on her first night. He reached to pick up the small seed. His thumb ran over its hard wrinkles. 

He held it tight to his chest, and silently promised he would make things right with Kate. If he ever saw her again. 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate took in a deep breath of the crisp morning air, reveling in the freshness that lingered after the storm had passed in the night. The scent of newly sprouted grass and moist earth filled her senses, while dew-kissed leaves sparkled under the gentle caress of the rising sun. A light breeze danced around her, carrying the promise of spring on its wings. It felt like the start of something new as if the world itself was awakening alongside her. It was the perfect day for a ride.

She met Charles in the early morning, exactly where he said he’d be. Waiting for her to begin their journey into the wild lands in hopes of finding a fresh hunt. They were a few hours into their journey now, heading north into Ambarino to hunt cow elk. Just one 200 pound elk is enough to feed the entire camp for a month. Maybe more. It was a day's ride there and back, short enough to keep the meat fresh in time. 

With a satisfied sigh, Kate exhaled the tension from her shoulders, “this is exactly what I needed Charles, thank you.”

Charles smiled warmly, guiding his horse closer to hers. "Thanks for joining me, Kate," he replied, his own gratitude evident in his tone.

With her face tilted to the sun, she savored the moment. Allowing Lorena to guide her. A silent trust shared between them, that her mare will take her where she needs to go. “You know, I always thought you preferred hunting alone. I never see anyone go with you.” Kate remarked, eyes still closed in bliss. 

Charles nodded thoughtfully. "Arthur and I have gone together a few times, but other than that, I don't seek much company from the others," he admitted, his words tinged with honesty. It was clear that while he valued his fellow gang members, solitude was his preferred companion in the wild.

“That why you’re always so quiet?” She inquired, innocently. 

Charles chuckled softly. "If the choice is folks thinking I'm dumb but not knowing for sure, and folks knowing I'm dumb because I sound like them, I think I'd rather keep them wondering," he explained with a grin. The confidence in his voice a testament to his strength. 

Kate chuckled, her eyes reflecting understanding. "I get that. Sometimes it's better to keep people guessing," she replied. Under her breath she added, “I know some of those men can be pretty dumb,” loud enough for Charles to hear.

Charles exclaimed in frustration, “tell me about it! All this death and for what? Just so we can have enough money to be able to run from what we've done?” 

Kate pondered for a moment, she still didn't know what happened all those weeks ago that drove the gang of outlaws here. It was the one piece of information they didn’t talk about around her. Perhaps Charles would share the missing pieces. “What happened to everyone to cause you to run?” Her tone colored with genuine curiosity. 

As Charles recounted the events of that fateful day, Kate couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness for what they must have been through. The gang did not like to talk about Blackwater, and the consequences must have been devastating.

"It was a fucking execution," he began, his voice tinged with regret. "We thought it would a simple job robbing a ferry, carrying payroll. But there were civilians too." Kate could already imagine where this led. $5000 for his head alone, the words echoed in her mind. 

“We raised a lot of hell that day, and things got out of control. Next thing we know, the Pinkertons are on us along with the law. And everyone just starts shooting. I don't know which one of us shot first but that's all it took. There were passengers caught in the crossfire.” He shook his head with disappointment. She couldn't imagine the terror those innocent people must have felt as they found themselves caught in the chaos. 

“Dutch he,” Charles hesitated, “he killed a young girl. Just to get the law off him. And no one batted an eye.” His voice heavy with emotion. Her stomach churned at the thought of such senseless violence. “We lost three good people, and John barely made it out alive.”

He turned, facing her, "I don't kill for fun Kate; I kill when I need to," he urged, his tone pleading. It was clear that he was grappling with the moral implications of their actions, and Kate couldn't help but admire his integrity in the face of such darkness. One so hauntingly familiar. 

“Arthur came out different after Blackwater,” he added with a sigh. 

“Being an outlaw can’t be easy,” Kate added, trying to lighten the mood. She understood the hardships and turmoil that came with senseless violence. 

Charles huffed and shook his head at the memory, “easy certainly wasn't in the job description.” 

As they rode on, the weight of their conversation hung heavy between them. She couldn't shake the feeling that they were all running from something far greater than the law. A feeling she was not immune to. 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Their hunt had been successful, tracking and swiftly killing a massive elk. They settled in for a fire and camped near a lake for the night. Enjoying fresh fish for dinner. In the morning they tied their game to the back of Taima, and began their journey back to camp. Kate’s spirit felt lightened in a way, the two of them spent most of the night sharing stories. And she realized she and Charles had a lot in common. A gentle reminder that she is not entirely alone in her struggles. 

The ride home went by quickly, and with the sun tickling the horizon, they arrived at the great plains of New Hanover, and eventually, the familiar overlook. 

As they rode into camp, the air was thick with urgency, Miss Grimshaw's voice cutting through the chaos. "Alright girls, everything into the wagons, now!" she barked, her tone sharp. 

Charles swiftly brought their kill to the chuck wagon, while Kate hurriedly dismounted and rushed to join the flurry of activity. The girls worked frantically, packing crates with blankets and clothing, fear etched on their faces.

"What's happening?" Kate asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Mary-Beth paused in her task, her expression grim. "Arthur and John got into trouble with the law in Valentine," she explained, her hands moving quickly. "Dutch says we need to leave, fast."

A surge of panic swept over Kate at the thought of Arthur and John in danger. "Did they get caught?" she asked, her heart pounding.

Mary-Beth shook her head. "I don't know," she admitted, sympathy in her eyes. "But we have to go."

As Kate’s mind began to spiral with the worst outcomes imaginable, a voice rose above the commotion. Speaking of the man himself. 

Dutch's voice cut through the chaos. "Charles!" he called out, his tone urgent. "Find Arthur at Dewberry Creek, we need a new hideout." Charles turned on his heel with a nod, mounting Taima and taking off back down the trail they came in on only a moment ago. 

With his words she felt a sudden sense of relief, Arthur is okay. Their last conversation weighed heavy on her heart. And she would be damned if that was the last time they spoke. 

Dutch's voice commanded attention once more. "When they give us the all clear, we move out! Let's get to work, people!" he shouted.

Mary-Beth and Tilly went back to their work and left Kate alone with her thoughts. She returned to her belongings, packing quickly. But her moment of respite was short-lived as a sickeningly familiar voice cut through the air like a bullet.

“Well hello Kate,” Micah said with disdain and arrogance. 

“I don’t have time for your bullshit Micah,” Kate retorted, her patience wearing thin. 

Micah advanced, his eyes blazing with hostility. "Funny how you show up right when trouble finds us," he taunted.

Kate scoffed, the idea completely absurd, “you idiots robbed a fucking train, did you seriously expect a welcome home party?” She shot back, her voice filled with sarcasm.

Micah's gaze narrowed. "We were set up in Valentine, someone ratted us out," he growled, his words dripping with bitterness. 

“I was just hunting with Charles,” she explained, not bothering to hide the bite in her voice, she refused to play his game. 

Micah approached with malice, his fist twitched at his side, ready to pull his pistol any moment. "Well Charles ain't here now,” he gestured around the camp, “and we think it was you," he hissed, the accusation cutting through the chaos.

Realization dawned on her that he was setting her up, but the reason why was still unclear. “And when Charles comes back he can testify to that,” she spat, turning to continue her packing. 

He closed the distance between them with predatory grace. In one swift motion, he raised his pistol. Before Kate could react, the butt of the gun connected with her temple, sending a searing pain shooting through her skull. Stars exploded behind her eyelids as she stumbled backward, the world spinning dizzily around her. Darkness threatened to engulf her. 

As she struggled to regain her bearings, Micah loomed over her, a twisted smirk playing across his lips, “we’ll be long gone by the time they come back princess.” 

With a sickening thud, Kate's head hit the ground, the impact reverberating through her skull. As the world faded into blackness, she felt herself being pulled into an abyss of darkness. The last sound echoing in her ears was the distant whinny of Lorena, a mournful cry that seemed to fade into the void. 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

The commotion of the camp kept her drifting in and out of consciousness for the next hour. She heard Abigail's voice call out to Kate in concern, and Micah snapped back warning her to keep her distance. She also realized her wrists had been bound along with her ankles, with Micah standing guard over her like a dog. Like she could run away in this state anyways. 

The darkness began to creep in again, and in a moment she awoke and Micah was gone. It was almost dark and she was in a different spot now, away from the center of camp and behind the tree line. That fucking bastard tried to leave me here. She thought with bitterness. 

In the midst of the chaos, a familiar voice pierced through the camp, but Kate's mind was still swimming in a fog of confusion. Wagons rattled as they hurriedly departed the overlook, leaving Kate struggling to make sense of the commotion. Summoning all her strength, she pushed herself up onto her knees, squinting through the haze.

Then, like a beacon in the night, Arthur's horse appeared, Belle’s white coat gleaming amidst the darkness. With a surge of relief, Kate locked eyes with Arthur, who rushed over to her side, his expression etched with concern.

Her consciousness flickered like a dim candle in the wind as she slowly regained awareness. The throbbing pain in her head was a harsh reminder of what had just transpired. Blinking away the haze, her vision blurry.

"Kate? Are you alright?" Arthur's voice cut through the fog, filled with concern as he took in the sight of her bound wrists and ankles. Swiftly dismounting Belle and pulling a knife from his belt to cut her free. 

Her head throbbed as she recounted what happened and she felt sick in the stomach. She couldn’t stay with them anymore, not after this. Micah was a real problem, and if what Charles told her about Blackwater is true, then Dutch is likely the same. 

“I’m okay,” she answered wearily, “Micah set me up,” a hint of fear mixed with rage creeped into her voice. Arthur helped her rise to her feet, just as the last wagons were leaving the overlook. Without missing a beat she turned to find her horse. 

Arthur was slightly taken aback, unsure if she was still upset with him from the nights before, all while trying to make sense as to why Micah had set her up. 

“I-I’m sorry Kate,” he pleaded, “I shoulda been here,” his voice was laced with remorse. His strides quickened as he closed the distance between them. Kate's heart clenched at the sincerity in his voice, but she knew she couldn't stay.

“It’s not your fault,” she reassured, “but I have to leave.” She decided in the moment, ripping the bandaid clean off. She longed to stay with Arthur and the gang, but she no longer wanted part in this trouble. “Goodbye Arthur,” she bid him a solemn farewell.

“Kate,” he called out, desperation filling the air. He wanted to stop her, to grab her and beg her to explain what happened with Micah. But the look in her eyes told him everything he needed to know, she had made up her mind. So all he could do was stand and watch as she rode off. 

She clutched at Lorena’s reins, taking off in the same direction as the wagons, intending to ride past them and make her way to Rhodes, hopefully putting enough distance between them so she could get her bearings and be on the move again. Her heart raced with adrenaline and disappointment. Things could not have taken a turn for the worst. 

She used the darkness to her advantage, slipping away from the wagons as they took a path down following the railroad tracks, while Kate veered off towards the twin stacks. As she climbed altitude she watched the wagons below, specifically watching Arthur take off behind them, his mare flying through the train of carts and horses like a butterfly dancing between flowers. 

She paused for a moment, letting herself consider that perhaps she wasn't just running away out of fear, but something else as well. She thought about the girls, and Charles, who had just become a dear friend after their hunting trip. She thought about Abigail, who must be clutching little Jack close to her heart at this moment, praying John will see his family out of this alive. Her last conversation with Arthur still ate at her heart, so many words went unspoken that she wished she had said that night. 

Memories of her past came back in waves along with the painful throb of where she had been hit with Micah’s gun. Her fear, mixed with her disappointment and anger. A reminder of her own weakness. 

Yet, she decided long ago that she would never live in that kind of world again, where the weak would rather guilt the strong than become strong themselves. This world doesn’t care what the weak want. This world eats the weak. Therefore, she became strong. 

The sudden sound of gun fire dragged her from her thoughts, she rode farther up the slope looking for the source of the noise. She saw in the distance the tiny images of wagons and horses, and a group of raiders descending to their location.. 

Gripping the reins with such ferocity, Lorena reared on her hind legs as Kate spun her around and took off back down the slope. She would not let death sink its venomous teeth into the belly of another. 

[mentally-a-slut]

twenty thousand words into my poly charthur x oc fic, haven't even gotten to a kiss scene yet lol

in case anyone would like some details about the fic, it is a poly fic between my oc, charles, and arthur. they are all romantically involved, meaning charles and arthur are also dating. i will have eventual smut, but the development of their relationship and my character's story is the main focus. i have no real idea for the plot but i can tell you it won't follow canon, except for a few details. it's a fix-it fic, so no sadness allowed! i'm basically taking some details from the game and inserting them into the story, which is not going to follow the events of the game. (SPOILER IF YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT HAPPENS IN THE GAME I AM ABOUT TO TALK ABOUT SOME MAJOR EVENTS) arthur, kieran, and sean will live in this fic, that is one hundred percent guaranteed.

i'm gonna be honest, i have yet to finish the game myself but i know most major events of the game, like who lives and dies. the fic will likely be spoiler free, except maybe some tiny details. since it isn't really canon compliant, i wouldn't worry about spoilers.

the main focus for this fic is my oc, and this is really kind of a practice thing for me to improve my character writing and development. so if you aren't interested in learning about my oc, this fic will probably be a little less interesting. however, there will be plenty of character interactions and relationships (romantic and platonic.)

for example, my oc is sean's older sister, so they obviously have a relationship. she's going to develop close friendships with a few others, including sadie and kieran.

basically, if you like banter and character interactions with a sprinkle of filth and fluff, you'll like my fic!

i will post a teaser for it if there is enough interest, so please comment/reblog or even send in an ask expressing your interest and i will post it!

side note, if you want a post explaining more about my oc, i will very gladly do so! let me know <3

[revolversandlace]

Author Disclaimer: All works contain adult themes that are not appropriate for minors and reader discretion is advised. All links are tagged appropriately for the themes that are featured, please ensure you read these prior to interacting with any works as you are responsible for the content you consume. 

RED DEAD REDEMPTION II

The Amelia Edwards Series - Blemished Silk (107k) | Tumblr | Ao3 | FFN | Wattpad

Arthur Morgan x f!OC 

 Amelia Edwards navigates the business hardships of America as she comes to rely on the unexpected help of a sullen associate living a life on the run. 

Corrupted Hearts (5.6k) | Tumblr | Ao3

Dutch van der Linde x f!Reader & Arthur Morgan x f!Reader 

A dangerous affair ignites within the Van der Linde gang, putting loyalty to the test as you and Arthur risk everything for love, only to face the looming consequences of your fiery passion.

RED DEAD REDEMPTION II

Moonlight on the Lake (9.2k) | Tumblr | Ao3

Charles Smith, Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

After a night of drinking by the campfire with both Arthur and Charles, you convince the men to take a swim with you. It doesn't take long for the alcohol to take hold and to end up in a situation you never imagined was possible.

The Dangers of Summer (2.8k) | Tumblr | Ao3

Dutch van der Linde, John Marston, Arthur Morgan x f!Reader 

 Dutch asks you to rob a homestead, unfortunately the loot isn’t what you expected.

The Bite that Binds (3.9k) | Ao3

Arthur Morgan x f!Reader 

 You are the owner of a rich estate and you have hired Arthur for protection. During an attempted robbery you lock yourself in your chambers and await for his return.

HARRY POTTER

Our Pretty Little Condemned Souls (120k) | COMING SOON

Draco Malfoy x Ginny Weasley 

 The Wizarding World falls into darkness after Harry Potter's defeat, as Hermione and Ginny are captured and sent to Malfoy Manor. In a battle for survival against exploitation and betrayal, Hermione must summon all her strength to overcome her greatest challenge yet and save all that has been lost.

ORIGINAL WORKS

In Our Victory, We Are Hopeless 

 Elisabeth, a half-German, half-English SOE agent, must navigate the treacherous world of espionage in Nazi-occupied Berlin. As she poses as a high-ranking Gruppenfuhrer's mistress and spreads rumors of a fake resistance, Elisabeth's loyalties are tested, and she must question what it means to be on the right side of history.

[johndeerequeer]

The Pursuit of Greater Things - Masterlist

She leaned closer, drawn to him like a lighthouse in a storm. His eyes glittered in the dim lantern light like obsidian. Her eyes wandered his face like a horse cantering the plains, carefully absorbing every inch of his face, every line, every crease. From the freckles speckled across his cheeks from spending every day in the sun, to the scar on his chin she had yet to ask him about. She wanted to bring her hand up to his face, trace a finger along each of his features and commit everything to memory with her touch. She searched his face for a sign, something to tell her she wasn’t crazy. Something to tell her she should cross the distance between them and do what she so desperately wanted to do.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character 

Summary: Madeline Luella lived a life she was grateful for. When a distant cousin married into a booming family business in Saint Denis, she secured a job and ultimately, the life she’d always hoped for. She had independence, she had charge over her life, she had a future. That is until Madeline is left with bloody hands and a stained record. One minute she was filing papers in the office after a long workday, the next she was locked in the police station awaiting trial. Her misdeeds not only earned her a pair of shackles but a target on her back too. But, in a strange twist of fate, a pair of mysterious outlaws break her out of jail, and Madeline is given another chance. Not at a normal life perhaps, but maybe something greater.

Tags: Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, slow-ish burn, did somebody say ‘daddy issues’?, high-honor Arthur Morgan

Warnings: Mentions of attempted sexual assault, depictions of violence, blood, gore, etc., mature themes (Warnings will be put on specific chapters)

**CURRENTLY ON A WRITING HIATUS**

Chapters:

Jailbreak

Damnation

Welcome Wagon

Play Your Cards

Big Spender

Ambush

Former Sins

The Spoils of War

What Once Was

Showstopper

A Fine Night Indeed

Surrender

Respite

Read on Ao3

Read Spanish version on Wattpad

[mentally-a-slut]

feel free to request from this prompt list!

Spicy Romance Prompts

I'm constantly looking for more spicy romance prompts so I thought I'd give writing some a go! Let me know if you want more prompt posts!

"I crave you."

"Let me distract you."

"You like that, huh?"

"My breath just made you quiver. Can you imagine what my tongue will do."

"Shh... just a little bit more."

"What do you want to eat?" "Bend over."

"Oh, shut up." "You shut up." "Make me." "Okay, but you might moan a little."

"Lift your hips for me, love."

"I'm not the jealous type, but what's mine is mine. End of story."

"Go fuck yourself." "Fuck me yourself, you coward."

"Kiss me, you piece of shit."

"Let me ruin you."

"Say you want me too."

"You could stay."

"You deserve to be loved."

"I shouldn't be jealous. You aren't even mine."

"You want me. I was inside you. I tasted you. That is a truth you will never escape."

"Harder."

"The problem is, if I kissed you, I don't think I'd be able to stop."

[softrozene]

Short and Feisty Female S/O that Likes to Cuddle

Ladymogar asked: Aaaye I’m always so happy to see new writing blogs in fandoms I love ❤️ could I get hcs for Arthur, Charles, John, and/or Sean for having a smol s/o? Like short and fiesty but also into cuddly times? Thanks doll, I’ve really enjoyed your writing so far!

rdr2 masterlist

I adored this request and had to do all the characters suggested AND I added Javier because he is delicious. I would say the reader in this is under 5’5” (165.1 cm) as that is what is considered short where I am from but it’s different everywhere! Anyway, I’m glad you enjoy my writings, Hon!

I did go off this link when I think of the characters’ heights!

Originally published on March 31, 2020

Arthur, Charlies, Javier, John, Sean x Female Reader

Warnings: Pure fluff

-

 Arthur Morgan-

Honestly, for him, I think he would be so fucking smitten with you

You would literally be everything he wanted in a partner

Small (or well smaller than what he would’ve imagined) but so much cuter and god the fire in you? To die for

He can 100% see himself risking it all for you and going to settle down to have a family with you- but that’s the future for him

The present with the gang around he would be hard to read

Or that’s how he likes to imagine himself

The second you stroll up to him and have to crane your neck to look up is the second his heart melts and that gentle giant comes out (maybe for a second but everyone in the gang definitely saw it)

Your feisty side originally made him assume that you weren’t the touchy-feely type

So when you first cuddled with him he was probably as stiff as a board and awkward but with you coaxing him into more cuddles which he always accepted he has realized how much he loves them

Poor boy is definitely touch-starved so he would never ever deny your cuddles no matter what time of day it is or who is present (Though he may get flustered)

It would become one of his favorite things to do with you

 Charles Smith-

Omg for Charles since he was a loner before the group and since the group has mostly taller people he would be astounded by your height at first

I feel like he would be on edge the whole time and make sure that he never ever harms you

That would probably be his number 1 fear in the relationship (Poor babe is scared he’ll crush you with his pinky or something)

It would take him a while to get used to being in a relationship with someone as small as you but thanks to your feisty side it makes him feel more comfortable eventually

It definitely eases him that you are not as fragile as you look (though let’s be honest he probably would adore how fragile you look since he would take on the protector role in the relationship)

He knows you are fully capable of protecting yourself though

This boy is touch-starved to but he has boundaries

He would set certain times or have cuddles only restricted to nights and away from prying eyes

He tries to compromise with you but really he believes that intimate moments should remain in private and once you do get to the cuddle session he will be absolute putty in your hands (Or you will be. It probably all depends on his mood)

 Javier Escuella-

This gorgeous man would never say anything about your attitude or height… in English of course

In Spanish, he’ll be teasing you relentlessly and you’ll be dying to find out what he’s saying

Your feisty attitude with this just makes him happy (and a tad impressed if you get mad enough to try and hit him)

No one else is allowed to comment about your height beside him- You both make sure of that

He would flirt with you constantly and without shame

And that’s how you would eventually get together

When he finds out you are a cuddler?

He’ll embrace and relish in it

He’s a romantic through and through so he won’t care where, when, and who is present he will always encourage and initiate the cuddles too

Though because he is a romance it could lead somewhere else and that’s when whoever present needs to speak up is

If you are outside the camp with him expect him to expect you to remain by his side or on his arm

He just likes the fact he can proudly show you off but if it ain’t your thing he won’t force it

Is absolute favorite time with you is when the two of you are cuddling, you in his lap, and he has the guitar on your lap strumming away as he sings softly into your ear

 John Marston-

He would be the one that wouldn’t care at first

It just doesn’t catch his attention and I feel like he would try to avoid you since your small stature and feisty nature reminds him of Abigail

Though once he does give in and you two become friends he’ll start to appreciate your stature and nature

He won’t comment on your height but he will purposely place things out of your reach to watch you struggle for it or so he could be “smooth” and help you (Yes imagine the cliché thing where the guy goes right behind the girl and they touch hands or something lmao- that would be John if he likes you)

Once he is confident that you aren’t like Abigail and you won’t get mad at him for teasing or initiating contact with you he’ll become more confident

I feel like he would be the first to try to cuddle and so when you let him he would just be awestruck

He doesn’t care too much about PDA around the gang but every once in a while he’ll pull you onto his lap and honestly if you let him or encourage him- he’ll probably marry you on the spot

John will appreciate you wanting to cuddle him but sometimes he’ll have his moods where he’ll need to be alone for a while

Don’t worry though because he will come back and feel bad for rejecting a cuddle and he’ll try to make it up to you

 Sean Macguire-

Would be the one to immediately say something about your height the first time you show up in the gang

He has no shame in teasing you, flirting with you, constantly picking on you

When he genuinely likes someone he’ll seem like a bit of a jerk but the cuteness of it is undeniable

Everyone in the gang will know why he acts like that and eventually you will too

However, because of your feisty nature, the beginning of the friendship and relationship would be both of your personalities clashing

He would 100% enjoy this though where you may get annoyed beyond relief

He is the one who would pick you up and carry you around camp to either piss you off or show off your smaller stature

1000000% Would be the one to use your head as an armrest and be all smug bout it

I think in general that Sean with a very short s/o would be a hilarious relationship

He could have his romantic moments but there will be absolutely no witnesses to show this

Unless he goes to Arthur, Hosea, or Dutch for help on how to charm you (That is the only time those three will have not lost faith in Sean’s romantic life)

As for cuddling, this boy lives for it

However, his hormones also live for it so the cute cuddles can and probably will turn into something else rather fast

Again he has no shame so he would try and cuddle (and do more tbh) with the gang present

[shadowglens]

i burned so long and so quiet (you must have wondered)

fandom: read dead redemption 2 pairing: charles smith x original female character (alma mcarthy) length: 3,083 words tags: blood & injury, blood & gore, angst with a (somewhat) happy ending, pre-relationship, pining warnings: graphic depictions of violence and gore

Charles was whittling away at a figure of Taima when Mary-Beth screamed.

It’d been a quiet morning, all things considered. Arthur was back from a week-long escapade in Saint Denis, John and Abigail finally weren’t burning the camp down in their screams, and Micah was keeping to his small-minded self, for the first time in his God's damned life. Charles had planned to go on a hunt; if he could find the courage, he thought he might ask Alma to join him. Things had been hell, but Shady Belle wasn’t so bad. Lots of game nearby, if nothing else.

Mary-Beth’s scream ruined that plan. The figurine was forgotten at his feet, whittling knife stabbed into the bench beneath him, as Kieran’s headless corpse rode into camp.

The wave of O’Driscolls rode in right behind it.

Continue reading on AO3

[televinita]

Top 100 Ladies of TV

Looking at old blog posts, many years ago I did a "100 favorite female characters" list, but I have met so many wonderful new ladies now that it is quite out of date and needs a major update to accommodate them. International Women’s Day seems like the perfect time to do so!

Only this time I'm restricting it to TV characters, or I will die of Overwhelm.

NOTE: This list is not in any kind of order, I just wrote them down as they came to mind. I considered alphabetical, but found it was nicer to keep everyone from a given show together. And rather than starting from scratch, I kept as much of the original list as I could and just added newer favorites on at the end, if you're wondering why some of these Very Old Fandoms are clustered at the top.

Rose Tyler (Doctor Who)

Donna Noble (Doctor Who)

Sarah Jane Smith (Doctor Who/The Sarah Jane Adventures)

Kimberly Hart (Power Rangers)

Katherine Hillard (Power Rangers)

Pamela Beesly Halpert (The Office)

Kelly Kapoor (The Office)

Angela Martin (The Office)

Amita Ramanujan (Numb3rs)

Abby Sciuto (NCIS

Ziva David (NCIS)

Abby Lockhart (ER)

Neela Rasgotra (ER)

Sarah Riley (ER)

Rachel Berry (Glee)

Quinn Fabray (Glee)

Tina Cohen-Chang, respect (Glee)

Marley Rose (Glee)

Juliet Burke (Lost)

Alex Rousseau (Lost)

Kensi Blye (NCIS: LA)

Nell Jones (NCIS: LA)

Marisol Delko (CSI: Miami)

Alexx Woods (CSI: Miami)

Calleigh DuQuesne (CSI: Miami)

Samantha Spade (Without a Trace)

Miranda Bailey (Grey's Anatomy)

Cristina Yang (Grey's Anatomy)

April Kepner (Grey's Anatomy)

Addison Forbes Montgomery (Grey's Anatomy/Private Practice)

Sara Sidle (CSI)

Jess Angell (CSI: NY)

Dana Scully (X-Files)

Summer Roberts (The O.C.)

Charlotte "Chuck" Charles (Pushing Daisies)

Olive Snook (Pushing Daisies)

Joan Girardi (Joan of Arcadia)

Kat Miller (Cold Case)

Tru Davies (Tru Calling)

Elaine Benes (Seinfeld)

Daphne Moon (Frasier)

Carla Espinosa (Scrubs)

Jordan Sullivan (Scrubs) -- it's either her or Ellie Torres from Cougar Town, real 6-of-1 situation

Donna Pinciotti (That 70s Show)

Jackie Burkhart (That 70s Show)

Kitty Forman (That 70s Show)

Kara Danvers (Supergirl)

Stephanie Tanner (Full/er House)

Grace Adler (Will & Grace)

Lexi Vaziri (Blood & Treasure)

Jaz Khan (The Brave)

Lux Cassidy (Life Unexpected)

Rachel Matheson (Revolution)

Julia Shumway (Under the Dome)

Nancy McKenna (L.A.'s Finest)

Paige Donohue (Scorpion)

Happy Quinn (Scorpion)

Max Black (2 Broke Girls)

Penelope Garcia (Criminal Minds)

Jennifer "JJ" Jareau (Criminal Minds)

Emily Prentiss (Criminal Minds)

Mae Jarvis (Criminal Minds: Beyond Borders)

Reba Hart (Reba)

Cheyenne Hart (Reba)

Jess Parker (Primeval)

Abby Maitland (Primeval)

Sansa Stark (Game of Thrones)

Tani Rey (Hawaii Five-0)

Kate Beckett (Castle)

Alexis Castle (Castle)

Kat Warbler (The Class) - FOREVER UPSET we were robbed of more than 22 eps of her snarky glory!

Ivy Lynn (Smash)

Elizabeth McCord (Madam Secretary herself)

Carrie Heffernan (i'm sorry i LOVE HER) (The King of Queens)

Frankie Heck (The Middle)

Sue Heck (The Middle)

Mindy Lahiri (The Mindy Project)

Lisa Miller (News Radio)

Beth of no apparent last name (NewsRadio)

Sabrina Spellman (the Teenage Witch, Good Version [WB])

Tia Landrey & Tamera Campbell (Sister, Sister) (I know it's rude but they're both aces and this way my list is secretly 101!)

Jade McKellan (Family Reunion)

Holly Tyler (What I Like About You)

Anathema Device (Good Omens)

Eve Baxter (Last Man Standing)

Sabina of no official last name (Siberia)

Ryan Clark (Off the Map)

Phoebe Buffay (Friends)

Monica Geller (Friends)

Rachel Greene (Friends)

Janine Teagues (Abbott Elementary)

Melissa Schemmenti (Abbott Elementary)

Barbara Howard (Abbott Elementary)

Ava Coleman (Abbot Elementary)

Molly Flynn (Mike & Molly, a terrible show made watchable by its women, though I only have room for 1 today)

Henrietta/Hetty Woodstone (Ghosts [CBS])

Shirley Bennett (Community)

Alex Russell (Maid)

Jenny Hoyt (Big Sky)

Cassie DeWell (Big Sky)

In conclusion:

[rottingcorps3s]

“Unsure” - A.M. & C.S.

** Red Dead Redemption 2 SPOILERS **

Arthur Morgan & Charles Smith x Original female character (not at the same time)

Her news to Arthur didn’t go as expected. Months passed without a single word to each other, and after thinking he had died at some point after the bank robbery, she was surprised when he showed his face again.

Rating: 16+

Warnings: ** Canon character death **, pregnancy, unplanned pregnancy, abandonment, Arthur has TB, Arthur is an asshole

Word count: 3.7k

A/N:  This has previously been posted on Ao3 by me. !MAJOR SPOILERS!, I changed the timeline just a lil just so it would fit a little bit better with the flow of the story. For the sake of my writing Arthur has not previously been a father as I realized halfway through and remembered that he was indeed one at one point #dilf. Did I shed a few tears writing this? Maybe. Having to look up a death scene tends to do that do someone. This has a happy lil ending :)

My Ao3 account: rottingcorps3s

1899

The thought of breaking the news to Arthur instantly made her hands clam up and her body become hot. All the signs were there, how was he so oblivious to it? She had even gone out of her way to make it as obvious as possible, but something in his stubborn brain was keeping him from noticing. She went as far as telling loudmouth Sean about it because she knew he would blurt it out at some point, but Sean wasn’t around much longer after she had told him. It broke her heart when she heard the news about what happened in Rhodes, Sean had talked about how he was going to be an uncle to another snotty-nosed kid around camp and after they had returned with the news she knew she had to finally let Arthur know. There was just never a good moment to break the news, from the O’Driscoll’s and the Pinkertons hunting them down to finding out that Arthur was sick, and the constant moving around from location to location, she was already halfway through the pregnancy and the growing bump and morning sickness was getting too hard to hide from the rest of the group and Arthur still hadn’t picked up on it.

Arthurs reaction to the news wasn’t good. He said nothing when the words ‘I’m pregnant’ left her lips, and the only other noise besides her broken and strained words was Arthurs boots on the hardwood floor of the two-story house in Shady Belle. He had left without a single word uttered and that’s how he stayed for days, silent and completely avoiding her at any cost. He had even stopped coming to the room they were supposed to be sharing and opted on sleeping outside the house. This action from him made red flags fly in the eyes of the rest of the group. Something was obviously wrong, and they knew that and chose to keep their nose out of the couple's business. She had lost track of how much time had gone by since she last spoke to Arthur and lost count at 2 months, only pushing her due date closer and bringing her to 6 months and it was obvious.

In those 2 months, she had broken the news to the other gang members, and they were finally able to put two and two together as to why they hadn’t seen the two of them on each other all the time. The news of the baby brought a lighthearted feel around the camp, except for Arthur and no matter how many times Dutch, and Hosea and any of them, in general, tried to talk to him about it he would go silent and storm off the other way. The group took it upon themselves to make sure she was fed, healthy, and felt loved among the group. On many occasions some of the members would come back with small gifts for her and baby, Javier had gifted her jewelry and told her to hold onto it and sell it if anything happened, Charles had given a plethora of items from clothing to food, and anything she could think of, even Dutch Van Der Linde himself had stepped in and went out of his way and brought books so she was able to teach the little one to read when it came time.

_____

Everything had fallen apart so fast. The gang was in shambles as most of the firepower had either disappeared or was dead. Lenny and Hosea were gone and had been given a proper burial. Dutch was gone, Javier was gone, Bill and Micah were also gone, and Arthur was nowhere to be found. The group had turned to Sadie, Charles and her almost 7-month pregnant self to take charge and figure out what to do. Sadie and Charles had taken on most of the stress and were able to relocate the group to a small village North of Saint Denis and it was going great. The gang, or who was left of it, were still there to support her as she became farther along, and her belly only continued to grow with the child of Arthur Morgan.

The small camp had been comfortably silent that day, the only voices that were heard that day were Miss Grimshaw, who was either nagging on Tilly or getting on Karen’s nerves, and Mr. Pearson who was preparing dinner. She was fed up with the silence and took it upon herself to put on some music, as they were able to salvage one positive thing from Shady Belle. Her arms rested on top of her belly as she listened to the gentle tunes that swam around the air of the camp. It was midday and the sun was at its highest in the sky, the feeling of the thick humid air, and the rays from the sun made her let out a small yawn and she took that as a sign to take her usual before-dinner nap. She was lucky enough to be given one of the comfier areas of the cabin and took this opportunity to sleep in as much as possible.

_____

The bright rays of the late afternoon sun are what woke her up from what was supposed to be a short nap but turned into a few hours long. The cabin was quiet as she was the only person inside, everyone tended to be around each other next door as chores and meal preparing was also done there. Her process of getting up off the padded flooring was something she would be embarrassed by if anyone saw her struggle to stand her 7-month-pregnant self-up. She let out a deep sigh as she finally came to a stand and used one of the wooden support beams to lean against as she caught her breath. Her eyes caught sight of the small pile of clothes that sat on one of the nightstands and decided to look at the small pieces of clothing.

The larger her belly grew the more the reality set in that she was indeed carrying an entire human inside of her, and more, and more she realized that her baby would grow up without a father, and as much as the small group helped her and supported her she knew that it would never completely fill that void of never knowing someone who helped create them. As much as Arthur had hurt her from this whole situation she was determined to make sure that the child would know who their father was as he was a good man, but failed in other categories of life, like parenting.

She approached and picked up the folded pile of clothing and decided to hunt down Sadie and some of the other girls to gush over the cuteness and size of the material. It brought a smile to her face just at the thought and had a huge smile on her face as she jumped for the door and made her way to the next-door building. Not a single soul was outside of the cabin which was odd considering the sun was still illuminating most of the sky and the stew was only half done. The lack of people made a pit form in the bottom of her stomach at the thought that something might’ve happened to everyone. A laugh inside the building absolved those ideas and a small feeling of relief washed over her and she recognized it as Karen’s. She smiled at the sound and the giddy happy feeling was back as she approached the door and pushed it open.

“Hey, Sadie, I need you to come look at-“ she cut herself off as the door was fully pushed open and revealed the group in its entirety, plus one.

A familiar pair of blue eyes had finally made eye contact with her after 3 months of being ignored, and what she had assumed was death, but that assumption turned out to be wrong as he stood no less than 2 feet away from her. His face that used to be either clean-shaven or scruffy was now closer to a full beard and his hair had grown longer than the length he likes to keep it at. His face was pale, and he had clearly lost a significant amount of weight whilst he was missing. His face softened at the sight of her face as he had a sad, pleading look in his eyes. He panned over her body, and he stopped as he noticed her protruding belly and swallowed aggressively. The room had gone completely quiet at her arrival, and it made her feel like a deer in the headlights as everyone looked at her. Arthur opened his mouth to say something, but before he was able to get anything out the sound of footsteps approaching from outside raised an alarm in everyone around. She quickly moved from directly in front of the doorway and spun around to see who the steps were coming from, and it was one of the last people she would have expected, but the day was just full of missing people showing up. A few quiet gasps were heard as the one and only Dutch Van Der Linde appeared in the doorway, in a similar state as Arthur with longer-looking hair and a full beard instead of his normal mustache. The room immediately filled with questions and confusion as everyone had already come to terms with the fact that they would never see a single person from the group of men that had disappeared weeks ago.

Dutch’s voice boomed through the small cabin as he let out a lighthearted comment about someone getting him a cup of coffee and some of the other girls were quick to move and do just that. His eyes scanned the group as he took in the sight of everyone, and he noticed her standing to the side with a small smile on her face at the arrival of her leader.

“Oh miss,” he started and slowly approached her, “I am glad to see you two have made it.” He grinned widely and approached her with open arms which she gladly did accept.

Arthur's eyes hadn’t left her since the second she stepped into the room. She was the first and only thing on his mind the since the day he washed up on the beach and finally regained consciousness and she was the only reason he had fought so hard to get back to the gang. It took almost being killed by Pinkertons and chased around a damn island by locals for him to finally realize how much he had fucked up since the day he turned around and left her to stand alone in the room. To say he was jealous that Dutch was hugging her and not him was an understatement, he was dumb, but he wasn’t dumb enough to know that he had put himself into the situation of being jealous over a simple hug.

The chatter in the room picked up once more as a portion of the group had been reunited with the rest and joyful conversations and questions filled the room's air. Arthur still hadn’t been able to build up any courage to walk over to her and finally hear her voice talking to him and not just hearing it in passing conversations. She was engrossed in a conversation with Dutch and Charles as she excitedly nodded at what he assumed was a question about the baby as she took one of each of their hands and held it to her stomach, a large grin on her face at their reaction to feeling the baby move around inside. The action of seeing two of his closest friends interact with his unborn child before he even had a chance made him incredibly jealous, but he reminded himself that he had put himself into this situation and he was determined to do something about it.

Tilly was quick to notice the lack of Arthur’s focus on their conversation that had turned one-sided. The puppy dog look in his eyes as he looked off into the distance at the scene that was unfolding in front of him. Her heart hurt for him, but he more than enough chances to change the situation, and he didn’t. He was sick and dying, and everyone in the group knew that and regardless of if he would be able to make it better, it wouldn’t be for long. Tilly continued to watch Arthur as he watched her, his eyes were glossed over and gave the look of someone who was close to crying but kept themselves from doing so. His posture changed from a hunched over, craned neck look to a more puffed out chest and broader shoulders as he stood up from where he was sat and followed a few steps behind her as she had just closed the door and made a quiet exit with a small goodnight out into the air for anyone to hear. He was taking his chance.

She was already inside the cabin next door by the time Arthur had made it outside. He took a moment to take in a deep breath of the muggy air and let it out in shaky breaths. His approach to the door, that she had just walked into, felt like the walk of a lifetime. His hands were sweating and clammy, and his body was tense as his boots made noise against the wooden steps. The sound of approaching footsteps and the door creaking open alerted her to the presence of someone and she had a feeling of who it might be, but it still surprised her, nonetheless.

“Oh,” her voice was quiet, “do you need something?” She attempted to make her tone sound normal and not anxious. The moment had finally come for Arthur to accept the fact that he was going to be a father.

The glossed overlook in his eyes had turned into full tears as he wasn’t able to hold his internal wall. The stress of Guarma hitting him like a train, the stress of not knowing who was and wasn’t alive back home, and the stress of knowing that he had failed a task that he preached to John over and over about being a good father to Jack. His body melted into the ground as he approached her, with every step he took his body shrunk farther down until he was on his knees in front of her with his head hung down to where he was looking at the ground.

“Oh, Arthur.” The sound of her voice saying his name sent him more into a fit as the tears only spilled out faster, falling onto the wooden floor with a small pitapat. His forehead gently headbutted her belly as he fell slightly forward into her, her hands wrapping themselves around his head to hold her balance, but never moving them as her fingers tangled into his hair. They stayed in that position for quite some time, enjoying the feeling of each other as they had both been deprived of it for months. Arthur told himself from that moment on that he was going to use his last dying thought to remember her face and just how truly beautiful she was.

_____

Arthur knew that once he climbed that mountain that it was going to be a one-way trip up. His body had decided that fate long before his mind had. The thought of her and her 9-month along belly never left his mind as his fight with Micah came to an end. The feeling of the final blow to his jaw combined with the pain of the two of them previously rolling off the small edge of the cliff made his body completely give out. His lungs felt like they were collapsing as Micah gave his speech, and his body slowly began to accept that he was never going to truly become the father he always wanted to be. His own cowardness had kept him enjoying the last few months with the woman who was supposed to be his future, and he had no one else to blame but himself. He was lucky enough that she had given him another chance, and he was grateful for it, even if it was out of pity. He didn’t deserve to even be looked at by her, or have his name leave her lips, let alone forgiven for abandoning her for with child for weeks. The desperate eye contact Arthur shared with Dutch said a thousand words in the blink of an eye. Dutch gave a sterner look back as if he knew what Arthur was thinking about, but that couldn’t change the outcome of the situation now. The sun had just begun rising as Dutch and Micah ditched their positions to save their own asses. As much heartbreak, he had caused her, and the number of lies he previously broke from their midnight conversations of him telling her that he would never leave her, he had one more chance to redeem himself and keep one more promise. Her face flashed before his eyes as she became his last dying breath when he let out one more deep sigh. She became his last thought as his vision blurred and his body became numb.

_____

1907

“He don’t know the half of it.” John and Charles had reunited after 8 years of being unsure if the other one had made it out alive or not. When John heard the news about the ‘The Wolf’ he jumped on it with Uncle and they had decided to investigate it themselves to see if it was Charles, the news was correct. They conserved among themselves and caught up with each other before Charles was interrupted for his time in the ring, which he crushed, by the way, walking away with double his wager.

“So, what happened?” Charles questioned as they made their way to one of the hotels in Saint Denis where Charles had been staying before he was planning to take the ferry. John relayed a shorter story to Charles of what happened up on the mountain and Charles nodded in response to the news about Arthur, which he was already aware of.

“They made it out alive,” Charles stated. The confusion on John’s face made Charles let out a half-hearted laugh.

“What do you mean?” At this point, Charles could’ve been talking about any of the old gang members, but he put extra emphasis on the word they.

“You’ll see, come on.”

_____

She had just laid him down for his nap as the sound of footsteps approaching the room door made her aware that Charles might have finally returned. They were planning on going up north today and were taking the ferry to do said thing. She was excited to be leaving the Saint Denis area, they had stayed in the Lemoyne area for the past 8 years and stayed in a small home with an older woman who was living alone and offered housing in turn for helping her around the house and protecting the property, which she and Charles had gladly agreed to do so. She was able to raise her son in an environment that wasn’t hostile and aggressive. The change gave her the opportunity to grieve Arthur’s death in a healthy manner. Charles and the older woman were there to help along the way as the older lady was a mother and grandmother herself. She helped him learn to read to the point where he was speaking better than most adults these days. Her death was a painful loss for both her and Charles, but especially for her son as he truly saw her as a grandmother. Her death was the reason they decided to head up north, a fresh start. The sight of Charles opening the door made a smile spread across her face, but it faltered slightly as she realized he wasn’t alone like he usually was.

“John?” Her response was breathy as she was in disbelief at the sight of him, it had been years since she last saw him.

John had a similar reaction to seeing her standing in the center of the room, she looked healthy and not pregnant like the like time he had seen her. His eyes diverted to the small figure sleeping on the bed and he felt his stomach drop at the sight. The young boy felt familiar even though this was his first time ever laying eyes on the boy. He had the same dirty blonde hair color as his late father and looked so much like a young version of the man, his brother, he hadn’t seen in 8 years. He would later find out the young boy shared another thing in common with Arthur, and it was his eyes. The same blue eyes that stared into his soul and told him to go and be a goddamn man.

_____

From that day on she and Charles had decided to ditch the plan to leave up north, for now at least. John had bought a small property in Beecher’s Hope and wanted to make it a home for him and his family. Charles, Uncle, and her all did their best in aiding John in his journey of becoming a rancher. Camping out had been something that she and Charles hadn’t done in years, as almost directly after the fallout of the gang they came across the older woman and her cabin. The older woman used to tease both about their relationship as neither of them had officially decided it they were a thing or not, they were more like two close friends raising a child together…is what she told Abigail. She and Charles had shared a handful of exciting nights together, but that was something they decided to keep between themselves. Hell, they even slept in the same bed 99% of the time, with the little boy sleeping in the middle of them most nights. He had even called Charles his dad which was a choice she left for him to choose, but she and Charles made sure he knew about Arthur and tended to talk about him as if he were still alive. Charles took the role of father figure like it was a life-or-death situation, and he knew that his fallen gang member would appreciate it. So, was she really that surprised when she found out she was pregnant again?

A/N: Remember to leave me some love, I’m easy to please :*

[alligator-tearzz]

Why Didn't You Stop Me? Chapter Four

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Chapter Four

By the time Rosa finally had the chance to gather her thoughts, the gang had packed up everything they had and loaded it all back onto their carts. She helped with making sure all the boxes and loose items were secure and hopped onto the back of a wagon with the girls. They started the journey down the mountain. Rosa was all too happy to leave the old town of Colter behind, but the cold still chilled her to her bones and made her muscles ache. She caught Charles’s eye sitting at the front of the wagon behind them and exchanged friendly glances.

The change of scenery felt like they were starting anew. From the stormy and challenging past to the bright and sunny future. Spirits were high among the gang and it was hard for Rosa to even think of her troubles at that moment as she felt the excitement radiating off the girls around her. She knew her emotions would bubble up later, but for the time being, she was content sitting among the girls, giggling and chatting about their hopes for their new camp.

“Oh I hope we have a river nearby, it’s drivin’ me crazy not bein’ able to wash up.” Mary-Beth said excitedly with her familiar midwestern twang. 

“Lord knows we need it, I’m starting to smell like a dead rat.” Karen retorted, sniffing herself and scrunching up her face in a sour look to emphasise her point, drawing out laughs from all the girls in the wagon.

“Well I just hope we’ll be able to do something for once, I don’t know how much longer I can deal with staying behind at camp sewing and cleaning.” Tilly sighed, then looked toward Rosa, “it must be so freeing, Rosa, being able to run with the men.” Rosa shrugged.

“I do appreciate it, though being depended on to contribute money all the time is rough. Sometimes men’s pockets are dry and I can’t do much about it. God forbid you tell Dutch that, though.” Rosa mused. The girls chuckled, but didn’t add much else to the feed the flames about Dutch. Their conversations eventually broke off into separate chats among everyone, then they all eventually extinguished, with Karen and Tilly opting to rest their eyes. Rosa and Mary-Beth read a book together, giggling and squealing over the plot, until a commotion behind them made their wagon stop. Rosa and Mary-Beth peered over the back of the wagon, watching as one of the back wheels of Arthur and Hosea’s wagon had fallen off. Arthur groaned and hopped off the wagon, walking around to bash the wheel back onto its axel.

They continued on, after Arthur assured them they didn’t need help, and Rosa settled back in reading with Mary-Beth again.

As they rolled onto the path cutting through a thick treeline, Rosa eyed Javier standing guard, who nodded to her and tipped his bowler hat. She flashed a smile at him then settled back into the wagon as it rolled past him, catching her breath she didn’t realise had run from her.

Rosa helped everyone set up, occasionally getting nosy, running her fingers over the ridges carved in Javier’s guitar, staring at the photo she propped up by Arthur’s bed, reading the blurbs of Mary-Beth’s books before getting reprimanded by Miss Grimshaw for dawdling. By the time everything came together, she was exhausted. The camp had a newfound sense of hope and excitement now, as everyone seemed to buzz about with more energy. Though the chill still lingered a bit, the new warmth gave Rosa a little pep in her step. She made her way over to the round table by Pearson’s wagon, sitting down to watch Tilly play dominoes with Arthur. 

“You wanna join, Rosa?” Tilly asked as she shuffled the tiles around. She had just beaten Arthur in the last round, who was shaking his head in mock disappointment. Rosa chuckled at his reaction and nodded, grabbing an empty domino rack then placing her tiles on it. “Can I just say, I am so glad Miss Grimshaw isn’t on our backs for the rest of today. I really needed this rest without worrying about dying from the cold.” Rosa watched Tilly place her domino down, and nodded in agreement with her. 

“I think she’s as happy as any of us to get out of that place. It’s been a rough few days for us.” Rosa responded, surveying her dominos and trying to figure out the best one to place down after Arthur chooses his own.

“I still don’t know what happened on that ferry, and no one seems to want to give me much information on it.” Arthur said, his eyebrows furrowing as his eyes seemed to go off to the side in thought. Rosa and Tilly shared knowing looks, they had both confided in each other about the same thing. The most they knew was that it was going well one moment, then the next it wasn’t. They remember waiting on standby at their camp near Blackwater, then having to pack up and leave after Dutch had come back, his gravelly voice booming and instructing that they had to leave immediately. That’s when it felt like life had flipped upside down for Rosa. When Jenny wasn’t among the people who returned, and Lenny had strided into camp looking like his world had shattered, Rosa knew. She didn’t need to seek confirmation, she just knew, and she immediately went to gather Jenny’s belongings. She shook her head, trying to push back the memories again and ground herself in the moment. She stared at the grooves in the wood of the table, and took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Your guess is as good as ours, Arthur.” She responded. Arthur stared at her for a moment, then nodded, seemingly having more to say, but knowing it wasn’t the time. Tilly continued on with the game, changing the topic to the nearby livestock town, Valentine. It was supposedly a pretty lively town, though it was apparently covered in mud mixed with horse shit, according to Arthur, with his upper lip lifted up in a disgusted sneer as he recalled the smell from when he rode out to see it while the camp was being set up.

Rosa half-heartedly listened to Tilly pulling all the details she could about the opportunities for the gang in Valentine from Arthur. She focused her attention on the game, not participating verbally but nodding and smiling occasionally when the conversation called for it. The game finished with Tilly putting her fists in the air with a quiet whoop, celebrating her win and poking fun at Arthur’s domino skills, despite Rosa having even less points than him. Rosa smiled, trying to make herself seem as energetic as she could as she excused herself from the table and thanked them for letting her play. 

Slowly, she ambled toward a part of the camp that she had eyed since they had finished setting up. A log by the edge of the cliff, overlooking the beautiful scenery below them. She settled on the log, her eyes trying to make out houses, train tracks, water, anything to take her mind off the grief that had suddenly started bubbling up inside her. The unanswered questions about Jenny’s death and what exactly happened in Blackwater were slowly starting to eat away at her, now that she didn’t have the distraction of surviving through the gang’s days in the Grizzlies. 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t think anyone would be here.” Javier’s all too familiar voice rang out from behind Rosa, and she whipped around to look at him, staring at her sheepishly, holding his guitar by the neck. She turned back around to stare at the scenery.

“You can sit here too, unless you want to be alone, but I’m not leaving because I was here first.” 

Javier chuckled, then sat next to her on the log, resting his guitar on his lap and strumming once to see if it was tuned.

“So welcoming, Rosa, thank you.” Rosa turned her head slightly to watch Javier tune up his guitar. Contemplating whether or not to keep talking to him.

Fuck it.

“I missed hearing you play, you know.” She said, still focusing on him tuning, occasionally strumming. He looked up to meet her eyes and grinned at her.

“Is that so?”

Rosa hummed. He smiled to himself as he looked back at his guitar. “Feels like forever since I played. It’s only been a few days.”

“A long and gruelling few days.” Rosa added, making Javier nod in agreement. Seemingly having tuned his guitar to his liking, he turned to meet her gaze again.

“Any requests for my first song at Horseshoe Overlook? Since you missed hearing me play so much.” He teased, and Rosa chuckled, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. She put her index finger on her chin and looked up at the sky, in a mocking display of serious thinking which pulled a hearty laugh from Javier.

“How about Angel de Amor?” Javier raised a brow.

“Such a solemn song for such a bright and happy camp.” Rosa rolled her eyes.

“Ain’t nothin’ bright and happy about our camp right now, Javier.” She looked into his eyes and his gaze softened. He seemed to understand her now. The losses from the Blackwater job still seemed to be hanging over everyone like a dark cloud, Rosa more-so than most. She had lost her closest friend, the woman who always understood her, the woman she could always count on, the woman she shared her deepest thoughts with over the burning campfires late at night. 

And so he played the song she requested. His fingers picking and strumming the strings adeptly, his eyes closed as he felt the lyrics he sang.

The lyrics, melancholy and heartfelt, describing a love that had slipped through Javier’s fingers, a love that Javier still mourned.

Together they sat on that log until the sun set, letting themselves mourn. Feeling what they didn’t allow themselves to feel before. 

Finding a silent pull toward each other amidst the loneliness of grief.

[summerontatooine]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Charles Smith (Red Dead Redemption)/Original Female Character(s), Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character(s), Abigail Roberts Marston/John Marston, Karen Jones/Original Male Character Characters: Arthur Morgan, Charles Smith, John Marston, Sadie Adler, Abigail Roberts Marston, Jack Marston, Uncle (Red Dead Redemption) Additional Tags: Fix-It, Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut Series: Part 2 of Second Chances Summary:

Kate liked Charles Smith the moment she met him. Much to her intrigue, and frustration, he is always elusive about his past no matter how close they become.

Healing from heartbreak, Charles can hardly believe that the beautiful engineer Miss Kate Hale is truly interested in him. He thought the random questions she would ask him was just her being friendly but now he realizes that they're slowly learning about each other. The more he learns, the more he feels himself falling for her. It all feels like too much of a good thing and good things never last.

But when a killer begins stalking the people of Wittington, no one is safe. This masked murderer is attacking people at random during the night. The Hale's are at a disadvantage and know nothing about defending themselves. Will Charles be able to protect them?

@photo1030

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Ch 14 - A Hundred Months ‘Twas Flowery May

Summary: As Kate navigates Arthur’s recovery, she discovers that true strength lies within her trusted companions, finding relief in their unwavering support during the trials of his healing journey.

Ao3  Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

A/N: ~10.6k words. Sorry this chapter took longer than I anticipated. It's more of a filler than anything, but lots of fluff/comfort nonetheless :') (trying out a new layout!)

Tag List: @photo1030 @ariacherie @thatweirdcatlady @ultraporcelainpig @marygillisapologist 

**please let me know if you would like to be tagged in future chapters!

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

Nearly three months had slipped by since Kate and Arthur's lives intersected on that fateful day at Emerald Ranch, though to Kate, it felt like an eternity. The days following Arthur's return with her had stretched out endlessly, each moment laden with uncertainty and worry. It seemed as if a hundred months could have passed in that single week alone, as Kate grappled with the ever-present fear that each day could be Arthur's last. Despite the relentless onslaught of challenges and worries, Kate found herself adapting to the rhythm of each new day.

Determined to provide Arthur with the best possible care during his recovery, Kate took to heart the doctor's instructions. She made it her mission to ensure Arthur's comfort, meticulously tending to his wounds and faithfully administering his medication. She gave him the penicillin each day, crushed and mixed with a spoonful of honey. And yet, every day brought its own set of trials, but Kate faced each one with unwavering resolve.

As Arthur battled against the fever that ravaged his body, Kate remained steadfast in her optimism. Though his skin burned hot to the touch and his body trembled with chills, Kate saw the fever not only as a sign of infection but also as a testament to Arthur's fighting spirit. With each passing hour, she held onto the hope that Arthur would prevail in the battle against the illness that threatened to consume him. Only time would reveal the outcome of their struggle—where victory hung in the balance between sickness and survival.

Kate tended to Arthur's needs with resolute care and devotion. She recognized the subtle cues indicating his thirst, gently offering him water-soaked cloths to moisten his parched lips, ensuring he stayed hydrated despite the challenges. When his stomach rebelled, she was quick to react, keeping a bucket nearby and assisting him to sit up, determined to prevent any mishaps like before.

The day following the doctor's departure, Kate took on the task of bathing Arthur herself. Knowing he would be more comfortable in clean skin. With a bucket of warm water and fresh cloths in hand, she ventured into his makeshift room, drawing the canvas flaps closed to provide them with privacy. As she worked, memories flooded her mind—recollections of the night Arthur had confided in her about his body, merely days before he would be tortured. He didn’t have to say it, but she knew he felt ashamed of the way he looked. Though the reasons why were beyond her, his body was perfect in her eyes. 

And yet, on that haunting night when she found him again, she had seen beyond his physical scars. His whole body laid before her, his most vulnerable secrets exposed from the cruel hands of fate. Scars carved so deep she knew they would reach his soul. Kate knew how violating it felt, and she vowed to respect every part of his body with tenderness and acceptance.

Regret weighed heavily on Kate's heart as she took in the sight of him, wishing she had expressed the admiration she felt for him during their intimate encounter. To her, Arthur's form was a testament to his strength, he was a strong man built to withstand the storm. But he was also gentle and soft. It was a canvas of stories waiting to be discovered. His body carried with it the song of his past, and Kate longed to hear it. 

Lost in her thoughts, she entertained fleeting fantasies of exploring his body with affection and adoration. Lips gently brushing over every insecurity. Warm hands wandering over every inch. 

Kate shook her head at the thought, jolting herself back to reality with the pressing tasks at hand. Blushing at her own thoughts, she refocused her attention on caring for Arthur, knowing that there were more immediate concerns demanding her attention. 

Deep down, she cherished the secret longing that stirred within her—a silent promise to honor every aspect of Arthur, body and soul.

Starting with his face, Kate delicately wiped away the layers of sweat and grime, unveiling the sun-kissed skin beneath adorned with a constellation of freckles. As her fingers trailed across his beard, she marveled at its softness, each stroke a tender caress. With gentle, wet fingers, she combed through his hair, untangling knots and brushing away dirt and dried blood, restoring its natural silky luster.

Moving down to his arms and abdomen, she carefully pulled back the sheet to reveal his stomach, noting the dampness of the blanket beneath him from sweat. Making a mental note to replace it, she reached for more cloth. The water, now cold, offered a refreshing contrast against Arthur's fever warm skin. Despite the chill, each touch was infused with tenderness.

Kate hummed a quiet melody, her touch gentle as she traced the cool cloth over Arthur's skin. His face twitched, rousing him from his slumber. Blinking wearily, he uttered her name, his voice a whisper in the dim light.

"I'm right here, honey. Need to sit up?" Kate's voice was soft, friendly. As if they were discussing the simplest of tasks.

Their eyes met, Arthur's still bloodshot but slowly regaining their vibrant blue hue. He shook his head, a silent response to her question.

"Did I wake you?" Kate inquired, her head tilted with concern. Arthur nodded, his weariness evident even in this small gesture. "I'm sorry, hon," Kate offered with a jaded smile.

"S’alright," Arthur breathed, his eyes closing again, reassured by her presence. "Feels good. M'really hot," he mumbled, words heavy with fatigue.

Kate hummed softly, dipping the cloth back into the cold water, letting its refreshing droplets cascade over his overheated skin. Arthur sighed in relief, savoring the cool sensation. "Feels good," he repeated, his voice muffled by exhaustion. "You washin' me?" he asked, words tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

"Yes," Kate replied honestly, her touch tender as she continued her ministrations. "Is that alright?" She was prepared to stop if he was uncomfortable.  

Arthur nodded once more, "S'rotten work, Kate," he murmured, the echoes of past torment still haunting his thoughts. His expression a mixture of gratitude and self-deprecation.

Kate paused, her hand resting on his now-clean cheek, he opened his blue eyes meeting her gaze with unwavering sincerity. "Not to me," she whispered, her words carrying a depth of emotion. "Not if it's you."

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

As the days passed, life in the camp gradually resumed its familiar rhythm. Kate, Lenny, and Sadie took turns tending to Arthur, but Kate remained a constant presence by his side, especially during the long, dark hours of night. Only swapping shifts with her trusted companions when she needed to eat or bathe. 

Arthur spent most of his time asleep, rousing only when he needed something. Kate felt immense gratitude for the assistance of Charles and Hosea, especially during the more intimate moments of caregiving. Their help spared Arthur any unnecessary embarrassment, allowing him to retain some semblance of dignity amidst his recovery.

Despite her body's protests, Kate stubbornly refused to leave Arthur's side for a proper rest. Nights were particularly challenging for him, the fever raging through his body like a wildfire, casting his veins in searing, white-hot flames. With just a week's supply of antibiotics remaining, Kate found herself praying fervently for them to be effective, desperately hoping they would be enough to quell the relentless onslaught of infection.

Arthur's evenings were plagued by haunting night terrors and feverish delirium, his mind a battleground of fear and confusion. He would often awaken in a state of panic, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he grappled with the phantoms that tormented his dreams. 

In the quiet of the night, amidst the shadows that danced around them, Kate would find herself stirred awake by the sounds of Arthur's restless slumber. His cries, soft yet troubled, echoed through the stillness of the camp, tugging at her heartstrings like a grim melody. With each silent hiccup, his face contorted in pain, resembling that of a child lost in the throes of a nightmare. It was a sight that weighed heavily upon her, casting a veil of sorrow over her weary soul.

Drawing closer to him, Kate would perch on the edge of his cot, her presence a beacon of relief in the darkness. With tender care, she enveloped his uninjured hand in her own, the warmth of their touch a fragile lifeline amidst the turmoil of his dreams. Her fingers traced soothing patterns through his tousled hair, a gentle caress to ease his troubled mind. In whispered words, she offered him a remedy, weaving a tapestry of reassurance around him like a protective cloak.

In those moments, as she sat vigil beside him, Kate found herself transported back to a distant memory, a bittersweet recollection of her infant daughter Lorena. The late-night awakenings, the cries for comfort that echoed through the still darkness—each moment a testament to the unbreakable bond between a mother and her child. Kate offered him the same unwavering love and protection that had once been bestowed upon her own flesh and blood.

Reflecting on those tender moments of bonding with her newborn daughter, Kate's heart swelled with a mixture of nostalgia and longing. The sleepless nights, the endless feedings, all intertwined with an indescribable sense of purpose and fulfillment. It was a journey marked by both exhaustion and euphoria, a testament to the depths of a mother's love and devotion.

As she gazed upon Arthur's sleeping form, a soft smile graced Kate's lips, her heart swelling with a bittersweet tenderness. The trail of tears that had once stained his cheeks had now dried, replaced by the tranquility of peaceful slumber. With a soft kiss pressed against his forehead, she allowed herself to be enveloped by the comforting embrace of sleep, where memories of her daughter awaited her in the quiet space of her dreams.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

As Arthur’s first week of recovery drew to a close, the camp adjusted to his absence, each member picking up his slack with newfound determination. No longer the camp's handyman, Arthur's absence was palpable, highlighting the countless tasks he once effortlessly juggled. Even before his injury, he never knew a moment's rest, always putting the gang's needs above his own.

The afternoon sun bore down on the camp, its intensity softened by rare clouds that offered brief reprieves from the oppressive heat of a July day in Lemoyne. Despite the welcome shade and gentle breeze, the air remained thick with humidity. In Arthur’s tent, Kate sat perched, using a folded newspaper as a makeshift fan to combat the stifling heat. Exhaustion threatened to overtake her, her eyelids growing heavy as she battled to stay awake, the weight of fatigue pressing against her.

Kate sat upright, shifting uncomfortably on the hard wooden chair, as the sound of John's urgent call echoed through the camp, accompanied by the quick patter of footsteps. "Jack! Get over here!" John's voice rang out, his own footsteps hastening toward the tent.

Suddenly, Jack's eager face appeared at the tent entrance, his eyes alight with excitement. "Uncle Arthur!" he exclaimed with a wide grin, poised to step inside before he was swiftly scooped up by someone outside, his protests muffled by the canvas flaps.

In Jack's place, John's weary face appeared, offering an apologetic smile. "Sorry 'bout that," he said, his arms occupied by the squirming boy. Jack wriggled against his father's hip, clutching a book in his small hands. "Put me down! Why can't I see Uncle Arthur?" he demanded with a hint of frustration.

Kate rose from her seat, bridging the distance between them with a reassuring smile. "It's alright. I can keep an eye on him for a bit, John," she offered warmly, her words soft and comforting.

John hesitated, lowering Jack to the ground. Uncertainty etched in the lines of his face as he glanced at Arthur's slumbering form. "Y’sure? I don't want to..." he trailed off, his grip tightening on Jack's hand, “trouble you.” He silently noted the tiredness in her eyes.

With a gentle smile, Kate reassured him, "It's no trouble at all." She crouched down to Jack's level, her eyes sparkling with kindness. "Did you bring Arthur a book?" she asked with genuine interest.

John sighed ponderously, ruffling Jack's hair affectionately before departing. Kate watched him go, a soft smile playing on her lips as she noticed John's growing presence in Jack's life.

"Papa Hosea taught me a lot of new words. I wanted to show Uncle Arthur," Jack piped up excitedly, his eyes shining with enthusiasm.

Kate's smile widened. "That's a wonderful idea, Jack! Why don't you come sit on my lap, and we can read to him together?" she suggested, voice warm with invitation.

Jack nodded eagerly, allowing Kate to lift him into her arms as she settled back into the familiar wooden chair. His gaze shifted to Arthur, a puzzled expression on his face. "How long is he gonna sleep for, Auntie Kate?" he asked with innocent curiosity. 

"I'm not so sure. He'll sleep as long as he needs to, I suppose," Kate replied honestly, gentle yet tinged with uncertainty.

Jack turned his gaze back to Kate with a worried frown. "Is he gonna sleep forever?" His voice trembled with a hint of fear, his young mind grappling with the concept of mortality.

Kate could sense the weight of Jack's question, knowing that he had been exposed to the harsh realities of life at a tender age. She struggled to find the right words to comfort him, to shield him from the harsh truth that lingered in the air.

"Arthur will wake up when his body is ready, Jack," she reassured him, offering a comforting squeeze. "Right now, he just needs all the rest he can get so he can keep up with you once he's feeling better." She playfully tickled his sides, coaxing a bright giggle from the boy as he squirmed in her lap.

After a moment, Jack's expression softened as he revealed his longing. "I miss him," he admitted softly, voice tinged with sadness.

Kate's heart swelled with empathy as she felt the depth of Jack's affection for his uncle. She fondly remembered Arthur's dedication to the boy. Abigail had told her how he stepped into the role of a father figure during John's absence from the gang. The thought of their bond being severed filled her with a profound sense of sorrow.

"I miss him too, Jack," she whispered softly, pressing a kiss atop the boy's head, her touch warm and comforting like that of a mother's embrace. "But I know Arthur would love to hear those big words you've learned." Her smile radiated reassurance, instilling confidence in the young boy.

Jack beamed back at her, his grin revealing a gap where his tooth had recently fallen out. With newfound enthusiasm, he eagerly opened the book, its size seeming comically large in his tiny hands.

"The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn," he announced proudly, each word spoken with growing confidence.

As Jack read in her lap, Kate marveled at his proficiency, surprised by his advanced reading skills at such a tender age. Since the day she joined the gang, her mind recalled memories of Hosea's patient efforts in teaching Jack, a heartwarming display of mentorship and care that would surely be treasured by the boy for years to come. 

Kate entertained the idea that Hosea must have been the one to teach Arthur to read. She pondered this as her gaze drifted to Arthur's journal, a testament to his inner thoughts and reflections. Despite his reserved nature, Arthur was diligent in recording his thoughts, a habit that intrigued Kate endlessly. What tales did he document within those pages? Did he share his dreams or pour out his frustrations? And amidst it all, did he ever write about her? The questions swirled in her mind, a curious blend of wonder and anticipation.

Although Arthur's journal sat tantalizingly close on his bedside table, Kate resisted the urge to pry into his private musings. Instead, she harbored a hope that one day he would willingly share his thoughts with her, trusting her enough to confide in her the words he committed to paper.

Jack nestled comfortably in Kate's lap, his small frame relaxed against her chest, his feet swaying gently. The rhythm of his soft voice, intertwined with the gentle cadence of his breaths, lulled Kate into a serene half-slumber, the cares of the world momentarily forgotten.

Minutes later, her peaceful reverie was shattered by Jack's urgent grip on her arm, Kate jolted awake, her eyes snapping open in alarm. Startled, she sat up abruptly, her heart racing as she followed Jack's pointed finger to Arthur's cot. 

Kate's gaze shifted to Arthur, his discomfort palpable as he shifted restlessly, his brow glistening with sweat, signaling the onset of nausea. With a weary sigh, Kate sprang into action, moving him from her lap. She swiftly lifted Arthur's body while shielding Jack from the distressing scene unfolding before them. With practiced efficiency, she reached for the bucket, ready to offer relief to her ailing friend.

As Arthur lay back on his cot, Kate's gaze shifted to Jack, her heart twisting at the sight before her. Jack stood by the entrance, his book clutched tightly to his chest, his lips pursed and cheeks stained with tears. His big, sad brown eyes met hers, his voice barely a whisper as he choked out his question, "Is... is he going to die?" The words hung heavy in the air, trembling on his tongue.

"Oh, Jack," Kate murmured softly, lowering herself to her knees to meet his gaze at eye level. "Arthur's fighting with all his might. He just needs some time, sweetheart," she reassured him, reaching out to grasp his small hand in hers, her touch warm and steady, enveloping him in comfort. "And a whole lot of love," she added, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

Jack nodded somberly, wiping away his tears with a sniffle before darting off without another word. As the tent flaps billowed in his wake, Kate sighed, understanding his fear but determined not to let him dwell too deeply on Arthur's condition.

Kate eased back into her chair, a low groan escaping her lips as she massaged the soreness from her back, her fingers kneading the tension from her shoulders as she rolled her neck. Suddenly, a groggy voice broke the silence, startling her from her trance. "Did I scare the kid?"

Arthur's tired pink eyes met hers, a hint of blue returning with each passing day. Kate offered him a solemn smile. "He'll be alright. You need somethin’?" she asked gently, weariness lacing her words.

Arthur let out a deep sigh, his good hand dragging down his face in a gesture of fatigue. "I feel like I'm losing my mind, Kate," he confessed, his voice raw with honesty. "I don't feel like I'm in control."

Kate's expression softened with understanding as she realized he was speaking about his night terrors. Tainting his once quiet evenings with haunting shadows. "It's just the fever, Arthur. The dreams will fade with time," she reassured him, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

Arthur glanced up at her, his eyes tinged with sadness, and she sensed the weight of his torment mirrored in his gaze. "Seems all I’m good for is makin’ people suffer, and it’s finally caught up to me."

“I don’t think that’s the case Arthur,” she added soothingly, leaning closer to him. “You’re suffering is not a punishment, it’s a second chance.” Her thumb traced gentle patterns against his warm skin. Lulling him back into a blissful slumber. Her sweet words like a sugar cube, disappearing into the heat of a dark cup of tea. 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the evening air took on a refreshing chill, carrying the aroma of Pearson’s savory beef stew. Kate’s stomach, stirred by the tantalizing scent, demanded attention, and she finally complied, settling into her chair beside Arthur’s slumbering figure with a steaming bowl cradled in her lap. With each spoonful, the warmth of the hearty stew spread through her body, offering relief amidst the trials of the day.

With dusk settling in, Kate made the decision to open the tent flaps of Arthur’s makeshift shelter, inviting in the cool embrace of the summer night. The once stuffy confines now filled with a gentle breeze, carrying with it the symphony of the wilderness awakening with the ascent of the moon. The chorus of crickets, the rhythmic chirping of cicadas, the haunting calls of owls, and the resonant croaks of bullfrogs formed a comforting backdrop to the solitude of the evening.

Amidst the serene ambiance, Kate discerned the approach of two sets of footsteps, drawing closer to Arthur’s tent with purposeful intent.

"Hey Kate," Bill's familiar, slurred voice cut through the evening calm, accompanied by the shuffling footsteps of Micah behind him. Kate let out a weary sigh, her hopes of enjoying a peaceful meal dashed by their unwelcome intrusion.

"Seems Arthur’s gone and turned himself into a real crybaby," Bill jeered with a drunken swagger, casting a mocking glance at Micah. "Think when she’s done playin’ nursemaid, she’ll wipe my ass if I get shot?" His words dripped with alcohol-infused arrogance, punctuated by a bitter laugh that grated on Kate's nerves.

Kate leaned back in her chair with casual indifference, reaching an idle hand for her pistol that rested on Arthur’s table, “you wanna find out?” She retorted, her voice cool and composed, tinged with a hint of warning.

Micah chuckled at her bold response, while Bill's face flushed with embarrassment, his drunken bravado deflated. "Relax, princess," he muttered gruffly, “was just pokin’ fun.” He retreated back to his seat by the campfire. Micah lingered near the tent, his hands resting casually on his gun belt.

Kate stifled a deep yawn, rubbing her face wearily. Feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing down on her like a heavy blanket. Each movement was a struggle against the fatigue that threatened to overwhelm her. Micah's chuckle grated on her nerves as he closed the distance, casually leaning against the makeshift table that served as one of the walls of Arthur’s tent. He lingered like a pesky mosquito, buzzing around her head. 

"Poor little cowpoke is tired," he remarked with feigned amusement.

Rolling her eyes, Kate brushed off his comment with a sharp retort, "Spare me, Micah. I’m not in the mood for this."

Micah raised his hands in a mock surrender, his smirk still evident. "Just making an observation," he quipped. "Why don’t I take over for a bit? Me and Arthur got some catching up to do anyway."

Kate's response was swift and sharp, her tone laced with defiance, "Over my dead body."

Micah sighed, a moment of uncomfortable silence passed between them as he eyed her with suspicion. "How were you able to find him, anyway?" he asked, curiosity and skepticism coloring his words.

Kate's patience wore thin, her fatigue adding to her irritation. "Dumb luck," she snapped curtly.

Micah huffed, his disdain evident in the tilt of his head. “Sure don’t seem like he got too lucky.”

Kate's gaze turned steely, her eyes flashing with spite. "If only someone had spoken up sooner when he didn't show up after the parley."

Micah shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t call the shots ‘round here, sweetheart,” he replied dismissively, showing no hint of remorse for Arthur’s condition.

“Oh, really?” Kate shifted in her chair, facing Micah directly. “Because it seems to me Dutch has quite the worm in his ear.”

Micah's grin was wolfish, his amusement unsettling. “Care to explain that?” he challenged.

“I don’t buy into your games, Micah,” Kate spat, dripping with contempt. “And Arthur doesn’t either,” she added, gesturing toward the sleeping figure beside them.

Leaning in, Micah loomed over her, his presence imposing. “There’s no game, Kate. Arthur is nothing more than an old dog at Dutch’s heel, just begging for scraps,” he growled. “He’ll do whatever that man asks him to do. You’ll see that soon enough.” With a final tip of his hat, he vanished into the darkness without another word, leaving Kate alone with her thoughts and the quiet of the night.

Kate sighed, feeling burnt out as the weight of exhaustion settled on her shoulders while she observed Arthur's slumbering figure. "Quite the friends you got here," she murmured to him, words tinged with weariness. Yet, her moment of respite was short-lived as the sound of approaching footsteps reached her ears once more. With a groan, she buried her face in her hands, bracing herself for whatever interruption was to come.

Turning her gaze towards the source of the noise, Kate spotted Jack hurrying towards the tent, dragging something bulky and hollow-sounding behind him. Javier trailed close behind, calling after the energetic boy. "Más despacio, hermano!" he urged, his voice filled with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

Furrowing her brow, Kate strained to make out what Jack was hauling in the fading light of dusk. As he reached the entrance, panting heavily, it became clear—he was bringing her Javier's guitar. "Auntie Kate!" Jack called out eagerly, his small frame vibrating with urgency. Kate's heart softened at the sight, touched by the earnestness in the boy's actions. "You have to sing to Uncle Arthur!" he insisted, presenting the heavy wooden instrument to her with small mighty hands gripping its neck.

Kate's chuckle resonated softly in the tent as she cradled the guitar in her lap, its weight a comforting presence against her. Her gaze lifted to Javier, who had followed Jack inside. "Sorry for his antics," she murmured. Apologizing on Jack’s behalf for his uncanny thieving. Her tone tinged with a hint of amusement, "do you mind if I borrow this for a while?"

Javier brushed off her apology with a warm smile, his demeanor relaxed and jovial. "Little hombre insists your voice is the best medicine," he remarked. “How could I argue with that?” A fondness was evident in his tone. Stepping closer, he regarded Kate with a hint of concern, his brows knitting together in a silent question.

Kate's surprise flickered briefly across her features as Javier's hand gently guided her chin upwards. His touch was tender, filled with a quiet concern that spoke volumes. "Ay, cariño," he murmured softly. "Have you been getting any rest?" His eyes searched hers, Kate’s dark circles and tired hollowness not escaping his notice.

A reflexive instinct prompted Kate to pull away slightly, a feeble attempt to shield her exhaustion from Javier's perceptive gaze. "M’fine," she replied, her voice carrying a weary resolve. "Just a little tired, s’nothing I can't handle." Her reassurance was touched with the gravity of her fatigue.

Javier's worried expression softened into one of understanding, a silent acknowledgment of the burdens she bore. With a nod of farewell and a gentle squeeze of her shoulder, he left Kate with her little companion.

Jack had nestled himself into Arthur’s cot, finding security in the space beneath his uncle's uninjured arm. Curled up like a beloved house cat, he nestled snugly against Arthur's side, seeking comfort in his embrace.

Kate's heart swelled at the sight, her lips curving into a tender smile. Jack's innocent affection for his uncle made her feel like she could endure every sleepless night if it meant they would be reunited again.

As she adjusted the guitar strings to her liking, Kate's voice softened to a gentle murmur. "Jack, sweetheart," she began, warm with affection, "where did you get the idea to sing to Arthur?"

A warm virtue radiated from Jack's heartfelt gaze. “Mama told me Uncle Arthur was having nightmares,” he said honestly, “you have to sing him a lullaby so he knows he’s safe.” His wide eyes reflected honey-brown in the low lamp light. Radiating a genuine sincerity. Kate adored how big his young heart was, and she prayed he would retain that kindness long into his adult years.

Her mind wandered to a cherished memory—the night Arthur had kissed her. The warmth of his touch, the tenderness in his eyes. Kate was lost in her emotions as she sang Jack to sleep, and Arthur’s presence was like warm sunshine after rain. Shrouding her in comfort and protection amidst the storming clouds of her loss. She began to notice that Arthur always brought out a tender side in her, one she had long thought vanished with the woes of her past. 

A soft chuckle escaped Kate's lips at Jack's earnestness, her affection for him overflowing. "Arthur is lucky to have you, Jack," she murmured, her voice filled with admiration.

With a quiet hum, Kate's fingers began to dance across the guitar strings, weaving a melody that echoed through the tranquil night air. Each note resonated with the quiet beauty of their makeshift home in Clemens Point, a sanctuary amidst the chaos of their nomadic existence. As she sang, the words flowed effortlessly from her lips, a heartfelt lullaby born from the depths of her soul.

I don't know what steps to take, I do the easy ones until it helps.

Little acts of conversation, I don’t think I really like myself. 

Am I comfortable in this silence, or is it eating me alive? 

Nothin’s ever really quiet when you need distraction to survive. 

It’s part of me, wouldn’t you believe it’s nothing? 

I’m already going under, nothing I can do but sit and wait. 

Are you really having fun, or do you like becoming what you hate?

Am I comfortable in this silence, or am I waiting till it ends?

You were just too stubborn to pretend. 

It’s all you need, to keep the rain from coming. 

I’m good at letting you go, I’m good at letting it get to me. 

I’m good at letting you go. No, you were never the enemy. 

Kate's fingers danced over the guitar strings, the soft melody lingering in the air even after she had stopped playing. Her eyes were fixed on the tender sight before her: Arthur and Jack, their bond unbreakable in the way Arthur's arm had moved to enveloped the small boy, a gesture of pure love and affection. Defying the trials of his torment. 

A heavy sorrow settled over Kate, like a thick fog descending upon her weary soul. The burden of her exhaustion pressed down on her being. Her eyes felt raw and heavy, strained by the lack of rest. It was a relentless force that threatened to overwhelm her at any moment. In the quiet of the tent, emotions swirled within her, a tempest of longing and love that stirred her heart. She fought the urge to surrender her resolve. 

Kate watched Arthur and Jack, a lump forming in her throat as she struggled to contain the torrent of emotions threatening to spill forth. It wasn't just concern for Arthur's well-being that kept her rooted to his side, but a deep-seated devotion that bound her to him in ways she couldn't fully comprehend.

As she looked upon Arthur's sleeping form, a pang of fear gripped her heart. The shadows of her past loomed large in her mind, casting a dark shadow over her hopes for the future. Like some divine conspiracy was once again taking a man of her heart from her grasp. But she had vowed to do better, to not let Arthur meet the same fate. 

Though exhaustion threatened to drag her into the depths of sleep, Kate remained vigilant, her eyes fixed on Arthur's face, her heart remaining unshaken to see him through the storm.

As her emotions threatened to spill from her tired eyes, she sighed and put the guitar down. In a moment of spontaneity, she reached for Arthur’s journal. Flipping to a blank page, she grasped his worn dull pencil and spewed her plaguing thoughts onto its pages: 

Dearest Arthur, 

As I write these words by the light of the moon Jack has curled up by your side, sleeping peacefully. He insisted that I must sing to you, to chase away those bad men that haunt your dreams. How could I refuse? His heart is as vast as the sky above, and he holds you in the highest regard. Oh Arthur, one of life’s greatest tragedies, is that you will always be loved more than you’ll ever know. 

In these quiet moments, I’ve had a lot of time to reflect on my life. I've come to understand the depth of my feelings for you. They have come on gradually from the day we first met and I have been ever so sweet on you since. 

Arthur, there are no words sufficient to convey what you mean to me. And yet, some part of me fears that you will never hear these words from my lips, so I commit them to these pages in the hopes that they'll reach you when you return to this journal.

I yearn to live an honest life, and never be cruel. A quiet life, where I can be good to you. A life filled with family and friends, where we soar like birds in the endless sky. But I fear we may never change, that we may never learn from our past. 

In my fleeting moments of slumber, I dream of a wooden house. Filled with our laughter and love. Where we can sit upon a porch swing, admiring the sunset. As we whisper to each other and say, “it was hard, but we made it.”

As challenging as it has been, to sit by your side in these dark times. My heart aches to see you back in the saddle, riding free across the open plains. To witness once again the spark in your eyes and the warmth of your smile, the very essence of the man I hold so dear.

You are a beautiful soul, Arthur Morgan, and I am blessed beyond measure to have crossed your path. If you'll have me, I will give you the beautiful life you deserve.

With all my love, Kate 

p.s. On my honor, your words contained within have not graced my eyes. They belong to you, and to you alone.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

With a weary sigh, Kate closed the heavy leather journal, the weight of its contents lingering in her thoughts. As she rose from her seat, she stretched her arms wide, her tired muscles protesting the day's strain. "C'mere, little love bug," she whispered softly, lifting Jack's sleeping form and cradling him in her arms.

Like a mouse with gentle steps, she navigated through the camp, the darkness enveloping her like a comforting shroud. Intending to settle Jack into his own bed. She returned to Arthur's tent, only to find Hosea occupying her usual spot.

"Evening, Hosea," Kate greeted, her voice soft with fatigue, though her smile held a flicker of warmth.

Hosea nodded in response, his gaze distant, lost in the recesses of his thoughts. "A fine evening it is," he murmured quietly, his tone tinged with a hint of melancholy.

Leaning against the post of Arthur's tent, Kate studied Hosea's weary demeanor, a pang of concern tugging at her heart. "Something troubling you?" she inquired, her voice laced with genuine curiosity despite her exhaustion.

“I can't shake this feeling that I should have done things differently,” Hosea confessed, his voice tinged with regret. “I raised him to be the way that he is. I’ve come to realize that my teachings were a death sentence.”

Kate took a moment to absorb Hosea's words before responding. “Hosea,” she began softly, “you've been a father to Arthur in ways that go beyond his actions. You gave him guidance when he needed it, and stood by his side. You gave him a home and the tools to navigate an unforgiving world.”

Hosea let out a rueful chuckle, tinged with bitterness. “Taught him how to kill and steal, and look where that got him.” He gestured to Arthur’s sleeping form. 

“Arthur was taken by Colm,” Kate gently reminded him, “protecting what he holds dear. Because he was taught to fight for his family.”

With a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of years, Hosea leaned back into the chair, his eyes fixed on his son's still form. The lines etched on his weathered face told stories of countless battles fought, both on the frontier and within himself. After a moment of silence that hung heavy in the air, he spoke up again, his voice tinged with a vulnerability that seldom surfaced.

“Do you mind if I stay with him tonight?” His request was simple, yet carried a profound sincerity that resonated with Kate.

She smiled softly, a tender expression that spoke volumes of her trust and respect for the older man. She would have hesitated to leave Arthur with anyone else, but she knew he was in loving hands with Hosea by his side. With a nod of understanding, she gathered her belongings, preparing to take her leave. But before she could step away, Hosea called out to her once more.

“By the way,” his voice carried across the dimly lit tent, “Abigail is looking for you. I believe she’s over by the chuck wagon.”

As she stepped out into the cool night air, the stars above seemed to twinkle with secrets, whispering tales of uncertainty. What could Abigail possibly need her for at this hour? Perhaps she doesn’t want Jack to be around Arthur too much, or maybe she wants Jack to visit him more to give herself a break. With each step Kate felt the world bearing down on her shoulders, her muscles aching with the weight of her own body. As much as she loved the little filly, she was growing increasingly more drained with each encounter. Kate's heart ached with the weight of her responsibilities, the constant juggling act of tending to Arthur's needs while fulfilling the demands of their community.

As she neared the back of the chuck wagon, the soft murmur of familiar voices reached her ears, weaving a tapestry of comfort and familiarity. With a mixture of trepidation and curiosity, she rounded the corner, her eyes alighting on the gathered group before her.

"What's all this?" Kate exclaimed breathlessly, her eyes widening in astonishment. There, amidst the soft glow of lanterns and the gentle summer breeze, stood Abigail, flanked by Sadie, Mary-Beth, Tilly, and even Karen, gathered together in a tight-knit circle. They had fashioned a cozy enclave behind the bustling chuck wagon, cocooned by canvas blankets that offered a sense of sanctuary from the outside world. The space was dimly lit by flickering candles and oil lamps, casting warm shadows that danced across the makeshift walls.

In the center of the little haven sat a large wooden wash barrel, steam rising from its depths like wisps of magic. Nearby, a small table was adorned with a bounty of provisions: fresh fruit, savory meats, and an assortment of cheeses, a feast fit for royalty.

Overwhelmed by the gesture, Kate felt her eyes welling with tears, her heart swelling with gratitude. "I... I don’t—" she stammered, unable to find the words to express her emotions.

Abigail approached her with a gentle smile, her eyes shimmering with warmth and compassion. Taking Kate's trembling hands in hers, she guided her into the cozy sanctuary. "You've been working so hard, Kate," she murmured softly, her voice like a soothing lullaby. "We thought you deserved a proper rest."

As Kate stepped inside, she was enveloped in a hug by Mary-Beth, who stood by her side with a reassuring presence. "We turned the storage wagon into a room for you," Mary-Beth whispered, her voice filled with tenderness. "You can use it for as long as you need."

With a heartfelt smile, Kate allowed herself to be led into the haven of peace and comfort. The weight of the week’s burdens seemed to lift from her shoulders as she stepped into the warm embrace of the steaming bath. Had it not been for the supportive presence of the girls, she feared she might have collapsed to her knees from the overwhelming gesture of kindness.

With tender care, they helped her undress, their movements gentle yet purposeful. They said nothing about her scars, silently embracing every aspect of her being with no questions asked. 

Mary-Beth meticulously washed away the grime of the day from her arms and body, while Tilly worked her nimble fingers through the tangled knots of her hair. Karen, ever the nurturing soul, offered her bits of succulent fruit and creamy cheese, providing nourishment for both body and soul. Meanwhile, Sadie tended to the bath, ensuring that the water remained at the perfect temperature, adding more as it threatened to spill over the sides. Eventually bringing her a fresh clean pair of clothing to change into.

By her side, Abigail sat with a comforting presence, her skilled hands kneading away the tension from Kate's shoulders and palms. The warmth of their collective care enveloped Kate, soothing her weary soul in ways she had never imagined.

As she surrendered to the comforting embrace of the bath and the love of her companions, Kate felt a swell of emotion rising within her. Overwhelmed by a mixture of love and exhaustion, she could no longer contain the flood of tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. Hot droplets mingled with the bathwater, forming a poignant symphony of release. Her sniffling hiccups echoing into the night.

They held her close, offering silent comfort and understanding as she allowed herself to be vulnerable in their presence. Their actions showed no judgment for the state she was in. 

Abigail tenderly tucked Kate's head against her chest, her fingers tracing soothing circles on her cheek as if she were comforting a crying child. "It's okay, Kate. We're all here for you," she whispered softly, the warmth of her embrace a comforting balm to her shattered spirit.

Kate sniffled, her voice quivering with emotion as she struggled to articulate her overwhelming grief. "Christ," she choked out between sobs, "I've barely graced his life. I just–I can't–I thought I had more time with him." Her heartache was palpable, the ache of longing for the man she had grown to cherish threatening to consume her.

Karen's voice broke through the heavy tension, her words carrying a mixture of tenderness and determination. "Arthur won't go down without a fight, sweetpea," she reassured Kate, "but you need to look out for yourself too."

From behind her, Tilly's gentle voice joined the chorus of support, her hands working magic as she massaged Kate's scalp with a tender touch. "You can't take on all these burdens by yourself, Kate," she urged softly.

Abigail echoed their sentiments, her voice filled with unwavering solidarity. "Anything you need, you've got us girls. Just say the word, and we'll be there," she promised.

As Kate nodded in silent acknowledgment, a kaleidoscope of emotions swirled within her soul, painting the canvas of her heart with hues of gratitude and awe. In that moment, she realized she was not just an individual navigating the tumultuous seas of life, but a cherished member of a sisterhood, bound together by threads of resilience and unwavering love. 

Each tear that traced its path down her cheek was a testament to the profound impact these women had made on her life, transforming her solitary journey into a tapestry of shared experiences and dreams. With them, she found solace in the embrace of kindred spirits, a sanctuary where her fears were met with understanding and her joys amplified by celebration. They were the pillars of strength that held her aloft, the guiding stars that illuminated her path through the darkest of nights. And in their warm embrace, Kate discovered a sense of belonging, a home within the hearts of her newfound sisters, where she was cherished, accepted, and loved.

Kate had found family once again, and they had become her fortress. 

As Kate whispered amidst the tide of tears, her voice trembled like the flickering candlelight around them. Each word carried the weight of a soul laid bare, grappling with emotions too vast to contain. "Thank you," she confessed softly, her words barely audible above the rustle of water and fabric, "I don't know how to say it. Arthur he– I just... I..." Her voice trailed off into the night, lost in the labyrinth of her thoughts as exhaustion cloaked her in its tender embrace. With each passing moment, she felt herself surrendering to the warmth of their love and care, a sanctuary amidst the chaos of her mind.

Mary-Beth's voice, filled with gentle understanding, saw the depth of her heart. "You love him, Kate," she murmured, her words laden with shared experiences and whispered confidences. Kate's nod was accompanied by a choked sob, her cheeks flushed with the heat of her emotions. Once more, the girls gathered around her, their arms forming a protective cocoon against the harsh realities of their existence. 

"But what kind of woman loves a man she barely knows? I may never know if he even feels the same," Kate lamented, tinged with doubt and longing.

In that moment, the air seemed to shimmer with unspoken truths as the girls exchanged knowing glances. They had witnessed the subtle nuances of Arthur's heart, the tender gestures and lingering gazes that spoke volumes of his affection for Kate. Though shrouded in the shadows of their unfavorable situation, his feelings were as undeniable as the stars that adorned the night sky. All he needed was time, and perhaps a gentle nudge, to unveil the depths of his love for the woman who had captured his heart.

Tilly's soft giggle cut through the heavy air, a beacon of light in the midst of Kate's swirling doubts. "You and Arthur, my oh my. You two are like a match made in heaven," she chimed, her voice dancing with warmth. Drawn from her reverie, she could hear the smile in Tilly's words.

"Really?" Kate's voice trembled with uncertainty, her heart hanging on the edge of Tilly's response. The other girls exchanged cheeky grins, their eyes sparkling with mischief as if they were engaged in the usual camp gossip that takes place during their shared chores.

"If I were none the wiser I’d say your souls were meant to find each other," Karen interjected, her fingers delicately plucking a piece of fruit from the tray Kate had abandoned. 

Abigail, ever the beacon of reassurance, enveloped Kate's shoulders in a comforting embrace. "Love waits for no one, Kate. It has no rhyme or reason, it comes when it comes," she whispered.

As Kate nodded, her vision blurred by tears she couldn't contain, Sadie's strong hands enveloped hers with a tenderness that belied her fierce exterior. Kneeling before her with unwavering sincerity, Sadie met Kate's gaze with an unspoken understanding born of shared loss and unwavering resilience.

"I understand what it's like to lose a husband, Kate," she began softly, her words drawing from the depths of sorrow. "That fear of losing someone you love, it can weigh heavy on your heart for a long time." A silent understanding passing between them. "But you can't let that fear chain you down," she continued, her tone urging Kate to consider her own well-being. "You've got to rise above the waves, put yourself first to stay afloat. Or else you’ll drown in that fear."

As Kate felt the weight of Sadie's words sink in, she was overcome with a sense of gratitude for the support surrounding her. Abigail stepped forward, eyes brimming with admiration. "You're the strongest woman we know, Kate," she said with a warm smile. "But even the strongest need time to rest."

With gentle hands and loving care, the girls helped Kate dress in fresh clothes, their actions speaking volumes. As she settled into the cozy embrace of the transformed wagon, now a sanctuary of comfort, Kate felt a wave of tranquility wash over her.

With a whispered "thank you" to her companions, Kate allowed herself to surrender to the embrace of sleep. In the warmth of their support and the quiet comfort of the unlikely bedroom, she found peace, knowing that she was not alone in her journey. And as she drifted into slumber, she silently hoped that Arthur also felt the love and support of his makeshift family. 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate slept through two moons, rising with the dawn of the third day. She felt like a new woman, rejuvenated and ready to tackle the challenges ahead. The girl's kind gesture had filled her with an undeniable surge of gratitude and strength. She knew Arthur was in good hands, and together, they would see him through his recovery.

Rising from her cozy makeshift bedroom in the back of the storage wagon, Kate stretched her limbs with a satisfied groan, feeling every muscle come alive. She stepped out into the fresh morning air, the camp bustling with the start of a new day. The sun cast a golden hue over Clemens Point, and the familiar sounds of morning chatter and clinking pots filled the air.

Making her way to the chuck wagon, she was greeted warmly by Mr. Pearson, who looked up from his preparations and smiled. "Well, look who's finally up and about! You look refreshed, Kate. Like your usual self."

Kate returned the smile, her heart lightened by his words. "Thanks, Pearson. I feel much better."

Pearson wiped his hands on a rag and approached her. "I was thinking of heading into Rhodes later to get some ingredients for a soup. It would be easier on Arthur’s stomach and help him keep down food so he can recover his strength."

Kate nodded appreciatively, touched by his thoughtfulness. "That's a great idea. Thank you. It's good to know everyone cares about his well-being."

As she savored a hearty breakfast, Kate realized it wasn't just the girls who were looking out for Arthur. The entire camp shared the burden of his recovery. Pearson's gesture struck a chord in her, reminding her of the importance of community and the support that surrounded them.

With newfound energy, she decided to make some house calls to the other members, expressing her gratitude and checking in on their needs. She was determined to give back to those who had shown her such kindness.

While the women normally took care of the chores, Kate knew the rest of the gang had stepped up in Arthur’s absence. She finished her meal with a sense of purpose, ready to contribute in any way she could. Rising from her seat at the table, she made her way to greet her mare, Lorena. She had been neglecting her faithful companion, only tending to her in fleeting moments when she could steal away from her duties.

As she neared the hitching station, a tender sight met her eyes. Lorena’s familiar black coat lay next to another horse, Belle, whose brilliant white contrasted sharply with Lorena's midnight sheen. The two horses were comfortably sprawled in the grass together, nuzzling their heads in a display of equine affection. The scene warmed Kate’s heart, momentarily lifting the weight of her worries.

Approaching them, she was suddenly interrupted by a wavering voice calling from beyond the treeline. "I-I wouldn’t get too close to them!" A moment later, Kieran stepped into view, visibly relaxing when he saw her. "Oh, it’s just you."

Kate smiled warmly, appreciating the sight of the skittish young man. "Morning, Kieran," she greeted. Raising a curious eyebrow, she asked, "Is something the matter with them?" referring to his earlier warning.

"N-no! Nothin’s wrong," Kieran stammered, scratching his neck nervously. "It’s just, um—your mare, Lorena. She don’t really like when anyone gets too close to Belle," he explained, his voice trailing off. "She’s become real protective of her since, um, you know." Kieran looked away, a guilty expression crossing his face.

Kate’s eyes softened as she regarded the two horses. Lorena’s protectiveness over Belle mirrored her own feelings toward Arthur.

Kate recalled how Kieran had come to join the gang, once a reluctant member of Colm’s crew. His past affiliation with the O'Driscolls had initially cast a shadow of doubt over him, but over time, he had proved himself loyal and trustworthy. Nodding in understanding, she approached the horses cautiously. Lorena, recognizing her rider, whinnied in excitement, while Belle's ears perked up with curiosity.

“I’ve missed you girls,” Kate cooed, bending down to scratch their snouts affectionately. As she ran her hands over Belle, she noticed the horse's wounds had been carefully stitched and tended to. “You did this?” she asked, turning to look at Kieran, who stood awkwardly nearby.

He nodded, shuffling his feet. “I did the best I could. She’s still a little skittish about getting the saddle on, but she should recover fine.”

Kate beamed at him, her heart swelling with gratitude. Arthur would be immensely thankful for Kieran’s care, she was sure of it. “Thank you, Kieran. Really, you’ve been a huge help. I don’t know how I can repay your kindness.”

Kieran shrugged modestly, brushing off her gratitude as a faint blush colored his cheeks. “No need for that, Kate. Just glad I could do something useful.”

“I’m serious, I would be lost without my girl. Arthur too. I’m really grateful for your help.” Kate urged. 

A wide smile tugged at Kieran's lips as he looked down bashfully. "Oh, s’nothing. I just really love horses. I’d do it for any of ’em," he said, gesturing to where the other horses were idly grazing.

Feeling a new sense of confidence, he joined Kate on the grass, running his hand along Lorena’s strong neck. "You know, I tried singing to her."

Kate chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? How’d that go?" she asked, her grin cheeky.

Kieran raised his brows in amusement. "Oh, she loved it so much she nearly bit my ear off!" He laughed, the sound rich and genuine. Kate couldn't help but join him, their laughter mingling with the gentle rustle of the trees.

As their laughter subsided, Kate found herself reflecting on Kieran's presence in the camp. She had never had much of an opportunity to get to know him, but she was finding him to be quite pleasant. A pang of guilt struck her heart as she recalled how some of the other members, especially the guys, had treated him with suspicion and disdain.

"I took the hint after that," Kieran added, shaking his head with a chuckle.

Kate's smile softened. "Well, sounds like you've done a great job with them, Kieran. They look happy and healthy. Arthur’s gonna be real happy  when he sees how well you’ve taken care of Belle."

Kieran's eyes lit up at her praise. "Thanks, Kate. That means a lot. I just want to be useful, y’know?"

Kate nodded, understanding all too well the desire to prove oneself. "You are useful, Kieran. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. We all have our roles to play, and you’ve found yours."

A moment of comfortable silence passed between them as they groomed the horses. The simple act of brushing the horses' coats brought a sense of normalcy and peace to Kate's heart. The rhythmic motions, the gentle rustling of the leaves, and the occasional snort from Lorena and Belle created a tranquil atmosphere.

Kieran suddenly faced her with a hesitant expression. “Kate, I-I’m sorry for what happened to Arthur,” he squeaked, his voice shaky despite his earnest apology.

Kate’s expression softened as she looked at him. “S’not your fault, Kieran. You got nothing to apologize for.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know, s’just… Colm, he’s a nasty man. Scares the piss outta me for sure. I’m terrified he’s gonna find me one day, and Arthur he’s—” Kieran hesitated, searching for the right words. “He’s lucky to be alive. I’m honestly shocked Colm let him live.”

The gravity of his words sank into Kate, a cold shiver running down her spine. She had never met Colm, but after what he did to Arthur, their feud had become personal to her as well. They had tried to take someone from her, and she had vowed long ago to never let anyone make her feel so powerless again.

“I’m sure Colm will get what's coming to him,” she said gravely, her gaze distant and hard.

Kieran scoffed, shaking his head. “That man is like a cockroach. Every time you think he’s dead, he ain’t. And somehow he always comes back with more men. And he will come back.”

A heavy silence enveloped them, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves and the breathy whine of the horses. Kieran kept his focus trained on the horses, his hands moving methodically through their manes. After a moment, he spoke again, his tone serious and low. “Colm don’t care what Arthur means to you, Kate. If you were wise, you’d keep your head down and out of the crossfire. 'Cause he’ll kill you too and won’t think twice about it.”

Kate swallowed hard, the weight of his warning pressing on her. She understood the danger, but the thought of hiding away while others fought for their lives felt unbearable. Micah’s words hung heavy in her heart ‘Arthur will do whatever Dutch asks of him’. As much as she despised the greasy blue-eyed snake, she couldn’t help but feel his words held some truth. She glanced at Kieran, his face etched with genuine concern, and gave a resolute nod.

“I hear you, Kieran,” she said softly.

Kate bid Kieran farewell with a gentle smile and a grateful nod. She watched him for a moment as he continued to tend to the horses, his quiet dedication a testament to his loyalty. With a sigh, she turned and made her way across the camp towards Dutch’s tent. Each step felt heavy, laden with the weight of the confrontation she knew was coming.

Dutch's tent stood at the heart of the camp, its presence grand and imposing. As she approached, she felt a mixture of determination and apprehension. Dutch had always been a commanding figure, his charisma and vision drawing people to him like moths to a flame. But beneath his charm, Kate sensed a deep responsibility that he sometimes seemed to neglect. She felt that Dutch bore some responsibility for Arthur’s condition, and he had not even so much as glanced in his direction nor asked about his recovery. It made Kate’s blood boil, the facade of brotherhood and family that he so often preached about. But was never a man of his words. 

She stopped outside the entrance, taking a deep breath to steady herself. The flap of the tent was slightly ajar, and she could hear Dutch inside, muttering to himself as he pored over maps and plans. Steeling her nerves, Kate stepped inside. Slightly surprised to see he was sitting alone, Molly must be occupied elsewhere.

“Dutch,” she called softly, her voice firm but respectful. 

Dutch looked up, surprise flickering across his features before he masked it with a charming smile. “Kate, my dear. What brings you here?”

She met his gaze steadily, refusing to be swayed by his easy charm. “I need to talk to you about Arthur.” As frustrated as she was, she dared not to challenge his command.

Dutch’s expression shifted slightly, the charm dimming as he registered the seriousness in her voice. “Arthur? Worry not. I’ve already got a plan to get back at Colm. We’ll show the O’Driscoll’s who’s in charge ‘round here.”

Kate shook her head, frustration bubbling beneath her calm exterior. “You know that’s not what I mean Dutch. He needs to see you, now.” Her words came out with a sharp bite. 

Dutch leaned back in his chair, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice. “Kate, you have to understand. Everything I do, I do for the gang. Arthur knows that. He understands the bigger picture.”

Her patience waning, Kate took a step closer, her eyes flashing with determination. “I don’t care about the bigger picture. Arthur is fighting for his life. He needs you by his side. Not plans, not strategies. He needs you.” Kate emphasized her words, straining to get her point across without insulting him. 

A heavy silence filled the tent as Dutch stared at her, the weight of her words sinking in. He looked away, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he struggled to maintain his composure.

“Kate, you have to trust that I’m doing what’s best for all of us,” he said, his voice softer but still laced with stubbornness. “I had a plan to get Arthur back–” 

“Enough about the plans!” Kate shouted, her voice echoing through the tent. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Dutch's eyes widened in surprise, but his hard gaze never left hers. At that moment, Kate realized it wasn’t about the money, nor the family Dutch claimed to have created. It was about control.

Dutch always had to be the one in control, dishing out orders, calling all the shots. Kate knew, deep down, there was a part of Dutch that truly cared for Arthur. But his disappearance meant little to nothing to him; he had bigger plans, different goals on his agenda. Now that Arthur was back, Dutch seemed confident he had regained his throne, as if Arthur's torture were nothing but a minor setback in his grand scheme.

The realization made Kate seethe. Dutch treated Arthur like a soldier, cannon fodder in his relentless pursuit of power and influence. His indifference to Arthur’s suffering was a betrayal of the brotherhood he so often preached about.

“Don’t you get it?” Kate's voice was raw with emotion. “You talk about family and loyalty, but where is that now? You say you make all these grand sacrifices for the gang, but where is your sympathy for the sacrifice Arthur made?” Her voice boomed, and though she knew she was losing composure, she couldn't hold back.

Dutch's eyes softened slightly, a flicker of guilt crossing his features. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Kate, it was a miscalculation. I had no idea that—”

Kate cut him off, stepping closer with an accusatory finger, like a mother scolding a child. “You should count yourself lucky it didn’t cost him his life. He may never use his arm again, did you know that? His ankle was nearly shattered. It’ll be a miracle if he can even ride.”

Her worries and fears bubbled to the surface, and she poured every ounce of frustration onto Dutch, heedless of the consequences. “He ain’t gonna be the same, Dutch. And I’m real worried because you haven't shown a care in the world. Like he’s just some retired workhorse.”

Dutch's gaze hardened again, but he rose from his seat, his posture stiff. “No, no, of course not,” he murmured, shaking his head. “Arthur is... Arthur is more than that.”

Kate's eyes glistened with unshed tears as she continued, her voice softening but losing none of its intensity. “Arthur thinks highly of you, Dutch. He looks up to you, always has. And now he needs you more than ever. He’s lying in that bed, fighting for his life, and he needs to know you’re there for him.”

Dutch swallowed thickly, his expression grave as he nodded silently. “Alright, I'll go to him,” he said, his voice carrying a weight of solemn determination. With a final, meaningful glance at Kate, he bid her farewell, his footsteps heavy as he left the tent.

As Dutch's departure left Kate alone with her frustrations, she couldn't help but feel a weight being lifted from her shoulders. Though uncertainty lingered, she found solace in the knowledge that her words had struck a chord with Dutch. For the first time, she dared to hope that perhaps things could change between them. That Arthur can be the kind of man he wanted to be, despite the changes in himself that lie ahead.

~~~

A/N: My lord, I wrote way too much. That last section with Kieran and Dutch was added last minute because I forgot about the horses and then that reminded me of Dutch and I was like AHH! So much tooth rotting fluff coming up next. Also lots of healing and tender moments. Things between Kate and Arthur are finally beginning to pick up pace. I’m sorry for making y’all wait so long…sometimes I have to remind myself this is a slow burn.

[mentally-a-slut]

Luck Ain't Got Nothin' To Do With It Teaser

ALRIGHT Y'ALL HERE'S A LITTLE TEASER FROM MY POLY CHAURTHUR FIC!!

i just put down a random title, i'm not sure it'll stay the same but it'll do for now! this is from later in the fic, about 20k words in i think, but i thought it was a cute interaction to show!

notes: Josie is the main character and my OC in this fic, her love interests are both Arthur and Charles and she is Sean's older sister. she's irish ofc, and she is pretty stereotyped simply because Sean is too and they're siblings. also part of her character is that she leans into the whole "luck of the irish" thing, so it's not meant to be ignorant in the way she is described. no offense is intended by the characterization of Josie or Sean for that matter, and if anyone has a valid issue with it, lmk.

anyway, enjoy, and let me know if you want me to start posting the full fic!

Josie was up before anyone else the following morning, which would have been impressive except for the fact that pretty much everyone was hungover.

She had refused to drink last night, knowing that she was set to depart the next day. She had traveled with a hangover before and had no intention of doing it again anytime soon. It was a whole hour before someone else stirred. Kieran stumbled groggily through the brush, emerging from his haven on the outskirts.

Josie greeted him with a small smile, tipping her hat as she sipped her coffee. He spoke in a whisper as he approached her, eyes narrowing under the morning light. “Morning, Miss Josie.”

Josie chuckled softly at his formality, taking off her hat and placing it firmly on his head to shield the sun. His cheeks flushed red at her actions, and she sent him a friendly smirk. “Just Josie, Kieran. And you can borrow my hat until your hangover dies down. I know how bad the sun feels the morning after a fun night.”

He fiddled with the hat on his head, stuttering through a reply. “Thank you, Josie. I appreciate it.”

She nodded, and they fell into a mutual silence as they stood idle by the fire.

Hosea was not long after Kieran, looking far more chipper than one should after the celebration of the previous night. He didn’t approach the pair, opting to send a silent wave in their direction and make his way to the lake. Josie caught the tail end of a fishing rod in his wake, and she smiled when she realized he was likely taking advantage of the quiet morning to do some fishing.

Within the next couple hours, the others emerged with dramatic groans and complaints, followed by a poorly received yell from Miss Grimshaw telling everyone to smarten up. Dutch laughed good-naturedly and waved the matriarch off, telling everyone to take the day easy to recover. Susan didn’t look very happy about the sentiment but followed his orders anyway.

Kieran trotted off to tend to the horses as the camp livened up, his discomfort around the others clear. Seraphina took the boy’s spot next to her, plopping her butt down on her boot. Josie couldn’t stay mad at the husky, failing to scold her for trapping her. Josie enjoyed the quiet time with her pup until Jack made his appearance, frantically whipping his head around looking for something. The something turned out to be the very dog next to her, and he let out an excited squeal as Seraphina pranced over to him, freeing Josie’s boot from the confines of her butt.

She vaguely heard John’s voice grumbling towards his son to quiet down, the little boy’s exclamation likely causing discomfort for most everyone in camp. Josie snorted, finally moving from her idle position by the fire for the first time in hours.

Almost everyone was accounted for, grumbling messes stumbling out of their tents by noon, still clad in nightclothes with no intention to change.

After a few scans of camp, Josie furrowed her eyebrows and looked around for Charles. Arthur was no where to be seen, which was unlike the man. He was usually one of the first awake. Charles was already looking her way when she met his gaze, and Josie tried not to blush. She made her way over to him, holding his stare as she spoke. “Where’s Arthur?”

Charles huffed out a laugh, wincing slightly as the noise sent a slight twinge through his head. It seemed he wasn’t immune to the effects of alcohol after all. “No one told you? Arthur’s an awful drunk. He’s probably holed up in his tent, trying to sleep it off. We’ll be lucky if we see him all day.”

Josie frowned at this, which caught the man’s attention. “Why? Everything okay?”

She flashed a smile at him, heart fluttering at the concern he displayed for her. “Yeah, I was just hoping to say goodbye to him before I left.”

His eyes flickered with an emotion close to panic, but he masked it quickly with his usual indifference. “You’re leaving?”

Josie studied his expression for any sign of discontent at her departure, sighing lightly when she found none. “Yeah, was gonna take my leave today. I did what I came for, don’t wanna overstay my welcome.”

He hummed, processing her words. He spoke again, shifting the conversation in a strangely sudden way. “Hey, how about we get Arthur up? That way you can say goodbye.”

Josie knitted her brows. “I don’t want to upset him or anything…”

Charles waved her off, moving to go towards Arthur’s tent without giving her a chance to protest. “He’ll be fine, c’mon.”

She stammered in confusion for a moment before speed walking to catch up with him, pausing at the entrance to the tent. Charles took the lead, knocking on the wooden supports of the canvas. The answering groan was pained, followed by a string of curses that would make Susan smack him upside the head. Charles stifled a grin before going in, motioning Josie to follow.

She hesitated a moment before entering, trying not to blush at the implications of entering a tent with Charles.

“Wake up, Arthur, Josie wants to say goodbye.”

Charles did Arthur the favor of keeping his voice down, but the disheveled man still cursed him out. “Get the hell out of my- what do you mean say goodbye?”

Arthur suddenly sat up, groaning and cradling his head when the movement sent a jolt of pain through his brain. He shook his head and continued to get up, bleary eyes struggling to focus on the awkward redhead before him. “Well, I’m taking my leave later today. I did what I came for and all, so no reason for me to stay.”

Arthur sent as much of a glare towards Charles as he could manage, grunting when he tried to stand up and stumbled. Charles steadied him with a smug smile on his face as Arthur continued cursing him out while leaning on him for support. Arthur stammered through his words, gaze flickering nervously as he tried to gather his thoughts. “Uh, your arm! You, you can’t just leave with an injury like that, you gotta stay until it’s all healed up.”

Josie stifled a chuckle at the tough cowboy’s slurred words, cocking her head at him. “I’m fine. It’s all patched up now, I don’t need to be babysat.”

Arthur attempted another sentence, looking pointedly at Charles when he stumbled on his words too much to get them out. Charles shifted and abruptly jumped in, a slight nervousness in his tone that she hadn’t heard before. “Uh, Arthur’s right! Just, uh, just to be safe, you should stay a little while longer, you know, infection and… stuff…”

Arthur nodded frantically in agreement before immediately wincing at the discomfort the quick movement caused. Josie glanced between the two men, smiling slightly at the sight of Arthur leaning on Charles. She knew they were being odd, and she had the feeling they were keeping something from her. Instead of stressing herself out over it, she decided to agree with them, just to ease their worries.

“Right. I suppose a couple more days won’t hurt. Uh, if that’s all then, I’ll just be… going now…”

Josie slowly backed out of the tent, suspicious gaze staying locked on the pair until she was out of sight.

The second the tent flaps fell shut, Arthur slumped down onto his cot. Charles kept an arm around his waist as he did so, steadying him on the way down and only letting go when he was sure he wouldn’t fall off. His eyes fell tightly shut, almost like he was trying to block out the throbbing pain the hangover was torturously causing. Charles sighed and looked down at him, a hand going up to rub his forehead. “Smooth, Arthur.”

Arthur made a sound of protest, as much of one as he could, anyway, lightly nudging his foot against Charles’s leg. “You weren’t any better.”

[elizabeth-davis-horse-thief]

Howling Mountains and Memories (Charles Smith x ELizabeth Davis [OFC])

Synopsis: In the aftermath fo the Black Water Massacre, the Van Der Linde Gang were forced to run into the snowy mountains. Eliza was immediately put off by the cold environment, but as night comes, old fears stop her from sleeping. Then Charles finally returns from his shift guarding the area, only to see Eliza was still awake and shaking. 

Authors Notes: This is set in Colter at the beginning of the game. Elizabeth Davis is my OC for this fandom. If you would like to read more about her, here's her character form: https://www.quotev.com/Darkshadow3942/journal/7063376/Red-Dead-Redemption-2-OC-Elizabeth-Davis

The cold is unforgiving. It can make the toughest of men shiver in their boots. On the side of the mountain, who knows what could be lurking out there. 

These were the insidious thoughts plaguing Eliza on her search for sleep. Tugging the sheet closer to her form, she was willing herself to stop shivering. But it wasn't just the cold taunting her. The smallest of noises caused Eliza to shoot up in her cot, her eyes the size of dinner plates. 

After having a moment to breathe, the female sighed in frustration. Her brows knitting together like she was trying to glare at herself. Too bad she didn't have a mirror to help in that endeavour. Somehow, she pulled the sheet tighter around her thin frame in another attempt the halt her shivering. It still didn't work. 

Trapped, cold and hungry, men are easy to tempt. They will be tempted towards the most heinous of acts, no matter how good they were in life. Nothing will stop the spirit's hunger and how it plays into the will to survive.

Eliza's eyes screwed tightly shut. It was her vain attempt to think of anything else, something more comforting. But her grandmother's story persisted. The sounds outside the cabin walls made it worse. It was like she was a child again, but not in a positive manner. Not the 'so young you feel free again' feeling, it was the knowledge of how small and helpless you genuinely are.

No longer men they stalk the mountainside with an insatiable hunger for the flesh of others—the Wendigo. You'll know if you see one, my little Liza, they're unmistakable. Its skin is pulled tight against the bones, long claws and sunken eyes of blackness. There's no humanity to be found.

Everyone around Eliza laid fast asleep, surprisingly. She was the only one awake. So the search for group comfort was futile. The female placed herself back against the cot. "You're not a child anymore, what's wrong with you" She muttered bitterly. Aiming a glare towards the ceiling, Eliza was commanding herself to go to sleep. The night would end quickly if she just got to sleep. 

It's more likely you will hear it before seeing it... The creature will use the voices of your loved ones to lure you closer. 

Her stubborn resolve was quickly shattered by something outside. Was it something scratching the walls? No... no, it wouldn't be. Eliza did her best to reason with herself. But the image of bloody claws dragging across the aged wood trumped all reasoning. Eliza's cot was set closer to the door of the cabin, making all too easy to hear something trudging through the snow, and it was getting closer. 

Sitting up, Eliza pressed her form against the wall, bringing her knees to her chest. Still wrapped in the sheet, she buried her face into her knees and silently prayed to be relieved of this fear. 

The sound of the door opening reached her ears, causing Eliza to curl in tighter. Her irrational reasoning just wanting it to end quickly if it was a wendigo. She didn't want to even catch a glimpse at the skeletal frame she was believed to be approaching. She did not want to see those claws, probably coated in the dried blood of previous victims and the same goes for the teeth.

Most of all, she did not want to look into those black, sunken eyes as it slashed opened her--

"Eliza?" Fingers tentatively grazed her shoulder. 

Eliza flinched, her head shooting up to look, despite her fears. In place of what she was expecting was... Charles. His hand drew back a little as she jumped. Eliza took this chance to look around the cabin again, taking in the details around her, finally releasing the breath she had been holding. 

"Eliza," Charles spoke again, drawing the female's attention back to him. "What's wrong?" He asked, his brows pulling together. It was a small change in his expression, but it portrayed a lot to Eliza. His hand gradually placed itself on her arm, his thumb stroking the small area the sheet is laid over. 

Shoulder slumping, Eliza shook her head, rapidly putting a smile on her face. "Nothin'. I can't sleep in the cold," She stated, gripping her sheet closer. Glancing down, she reached out for his injured hand, gently slipping her fingers under his palm to get a closer look. "How's your hand?" She asked, trailing her thumb lightly over her handiwork of bandaging. 

Charles didn't respond. Instead, his intact hand rose to her face, his thumb dragged across her forehead to feel she had been in a sweat. His brows lowered subtly, creating a stern expression. "Eliza. What happened?" He asked again. 

Her rust-coloured eyes briefly met his only to dart to the room's edge with a huff. Her bottom lip pushed forward to form a small pout. "I said it was nothing."

"It clearly wasn't, Doe."

"Nothing to worry yourself over."

Charles sighed, relocating to sit next to her. His arm wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her against his form. Feeling her rest in his embrace, he stroked her hair. Abruptly, Eliza jumped at the sound of more creaking across the cabin. She pressed herself closer to Charles and gripped his coat.

Charles also jumped but in reaction to Eliza's sudden movement. He blinked once, then twice as he gazed upon the frightened woman clinging to him. This... was his Eliza, right? He pondered. His arms assuming their original position around Eliza, he pressed his lips to her hair and rocked her gently. 

"I got you, My Doe." He whispered into her raven tresses, then he shifted to rest his chin on her head while she nuzzled into his neck. Eliza stilled as Charles rubbed his palms over her figure, hoping to help warm her up. 

They sat in that silence for a few seconds, Charles' hold on Eliza tightening whenever he felt her jerk at the small noises. "Would you like me to stay?" He whispered and was responded to with a nod. Charles slowly shifted to lean away from Eliza, just enough to let him removed his coat. 

Eliza laid down again, patiently waiting for her partner to join her. As he came to lay down, she threw the sheet over him as well, and he placed his coat on top. His arms circled around her waist, tugging her to relax against his chest. 

While snuggling up to Charles, Eliza glanced around the cabin again. This time with a calm mind. It merely was a frigid wooden cabin—nothing else. Eliza released a frustrated sigh that earned a raised eyebrow from Charles. Eliza made sheepish eye-contact only to look away, her cheeks puffing as she huffed. "It's stupid..." She told him.

When Charles' eyebrow only seem to rise higher, Eliza pouted. "My grandmother told me a story as a child, and it still scares me. It's ridiculous! I'm not a child anymore." She explained... while pouting... like a child. 

Charles, while amused at the irony, smiled gently at Eliza. Leaning forward to kiss her forehead, he then bumped her nose with his affectionately. "It is just a story, my dear." He stated. Promptly followed by a chuckle as Eliza continued to pout as well as narrowing her eyes at him. 

"I know." The female growled. 

"But," Charles started, meriting an elevated brow from Eliza. "Anything that scares you isn't stupid or ridiculous." He asserted, leaning down to nuzzle into her neck. Eliza's pout vanished, replaced with quiet giggling at the sensation of his scratchy stubble upon her skin.

Charles smiled, glad to hear the sound. He pressed a soft kiss to her neck, then he reassured her "I'm here to warm your cold nights and to make sure you're not alone. You're safe, Eliza."

Eliza's fingers found their way to his hair, threading through his dark locks. "Thank you, Charles." She whispered, mindlessly playing with his tresses. Charles responded when he pulled back from her neck to press a kiss to her lips. 

Beaming at one another, Eliza then cuddled back into her companion's chest. Finally settling in and feeling the weight of her fatigue approaching her, Eliza's eyes fluttered closed. But a smile remained on her features as she cherished her grandmother's words.

But you'll never see such an evil thing, Little Liza. You're safe in the arms of those who love you. You always will be. Now, it's time for bed. Close your eyes and rest.

...

...

...

"Charles?" 

"Hmm?"

"Don't speak a word of this to anyone. Alright?" 

He chuckled, "Not a word." He promised. "Now get some rest,"