#Flat Iron Lake

[roamingtigress]

Hosea, Dutch, Kieran and Phil The Crab

[midnighvtm4ss]

Rosemary

Summary: who would have thought that a small piece of paper could be the very thing that would crush your dreams with Arthur ? part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

AO3 link (better rewritten version of this fic on ao3)

pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader

content: suggestive, angst, hurt/no comfort (for now) probs grammar errors srryy

wc: 2k

a/n: hear me out, I thought about writing a jealous!reader oneshot with Arthur but,, I got a bit carried away and so many ideas came into my mind so I was thinking about making this a mini series with a pt.2. Let me know if you’d be interested in a pt.2 <33 (gif from pinterest)

Nothing was more relaxing to you than fixing some of Arthur’s shirts and pants while sitting outside your shared tent.

Seated on a small cushion placed on the ground with your back against one of Arthur’s chests your hands worked delicate but precise movements mending the cotton of his favorite black shirt. The rays of light sparkling from the east coast of the flat iron lake at Clemens Point casting a golden halo around you and the usual buzzing of camp making you feel at ease, letting you loose yourself in your thoughts.

During these moments your mind often drifted to thoughts about you and Arthur, the way he would make you feel all warm inside like a young naive teenager with just his soft glances and loving touches, how he would make you dream some of the craziest things for a couple of outlaws like yourselves like having a proper family with him, getting proper married before god and maybe even owning your very own ranch at some point.

Your dreamy stream of thoughts was soon interrupted as Mary Beth’s light footsteps on the dry grass could be heard coming towards your direction, with a strange expression you couldn’t quite decipher on her face and a small letter in her hands. As she saw you sitting down near yours and Arthur’s tent her fair features twisted into an anxious manner, her expression resembling the one of someone who just ate a whole lemon in one go, her steps faltering almost imperceptibly before continuing her path towards your shared tent.

“Hiya Miss,” she said in a chirpy tone, her voice higher than usual as she stopped in front of you, her eyes looking around avoiding your confused gaze as she played with the paper edge of the letter in her delicate hands.

“Arthur hasn’t come back yet ?” Strange. Her voice cracked a little at the end. She quickly cleared her throat with a small smile. Mary Beth's usual cordial and friendly façade cracked the more she was near you, letting you see her unusual unease.

“‘M afraid not, he said he was going into town for some ‘deputy thing’ with the Grays, why ? Did something happen ?” you replied imitating Arthur’s low voice and accent as you put down his shirt which was now fixed and your sewing kit. At your failed attempt at imitating his accent Mary Beth let out a small laugh, covering her smile with her free hand, relaxing just a tiny bit before regaining her previous composure.

Smoothing out the white envelope in her hands she handed it over to you, as you took it you couldn’t help but notice the sender’s name written in what you called a ‘fancy cursive’. You weren’t exactly good at reading or writing but the fancy ink swirls made out a familiar name.

The sender was Mary Linton.

“It’s for Arthur, it arrived this morning,” she told you looking at you with something in her eyes you couldn’t quite make out. Was it a shared distaste for the woman in question or was it perhaps pity toward you what you could see reflected in her eyes ?

You weren’t a stranger to who Mary Linton was, having joined the gang when you were eighteen and Arthur fresh of twenty-six you knew who Mary was, how she was Arthur’s first love, the woman he almost married if it wasn’t for her strict father not approving his lifestyle. The woman who completely shattered his heart.

You knew that after his breakup with Mary he was distraught, drinking and sleeping around almost every night before eventually getting one of the girls he slept with pregnant with his son Isaac. How he, from time to time, went to Eliza’s cabin and visited them, never failing to bring sweets and shiny toys for his Isaac who met him with a toothy little smile every time Arthur visited them until one day the only thing Arthur was met was an empty robbed cabin and Eliza’s lifeless body hugging Isaac’s one.

For almost a year you helplessly witnessed Arthur, the gang’s main enforcer, spiraling more and more into a toxic lifestyle. He began to drink more, often found sitting near the campfire drunk every night, his actions during jobs sloppy and reckless not sparing a single ounce of mercy for whoever dared to wrong him. His mood around camp bringing everyone down until one day you decided you had enough.

He had just come back from a job went wrong with Hosea, the older man's sour mood perceptible from miles away as he hitched his horse and quickly walked away to his tent, leaving Arthur behind talking pretty much to himself how it wasn’t his fault and he didn’t do anything wrong, the pungent scent of alcohol surrounding the space around him. Seeing the scene in front of you you quickly put down your cleaning rag and marched towards him giving him a loud earful in front of everyone in camp not caring that he was a 6’1 massive killing machine of an outlaw and eight years older than you and that you were the last addition to camp making you a nobody in the eyes of what was basically Dutch’s golden child. You simply had enough.

From that moment onwards Arthur started to get better, letting go of his usual whisky bottle and surprisingly starting to pay attention to you rather than avoiding or despising you, eyeing you with respect each time you expressed your opinion around camp, coming to your tent almost every night for advice or just to talk about life opening up to you about his family and past love building day by day an unexpected friendship which blossomed years later into your current relationship.

Seeing her name now again after so many years left you with a sour taste in your mouth.

You took the letter and placed it on Arthur’s nightstand as you thanked Mary Beth and began to tidy up your things.

The sky was beginning to lose its rosy color making space for a deep blue when Arthur came back, the gallop of his and Dutch horses announcing their arrival into camp.

You were chatting with Karen and Javier at the round table near the fire when you felt his hand on your shoulder, the scent of wood and gunpowder filling your nose letting you relax under his soft touch. He bent down to quickly kiss your cheek, a small show of pda which left you all warm inside, almost letting you forget about the letter. Almost.

“Hello sweetheart,” he said in his usual low tone near your ear, a shiver traveling down your spine at his vicinity a soft blush making its way into your cheeks.

“Miss Jones, Javier” he greeted your company before taking your hand in his calloused one letting you up from your seat and guiding you towards his tent leaving Karen and Javier sharing knowing glances between them.

As soon as you walked into your shared tent he made quick work of closing the flap before taking your face in his hands and kissing you. His soft kisses soon turned into hungry ones as his right hand left your soft cheek to trace down your neck then your collarbones before settling on your hips using your hips to guide you to lay on the bed.

“missed ya a lot today sweetheart,” he breathed on your neck as he positioned himself on top of you before kissing your sensitive spot, your eyes closed as your soft hands traveled onto his hair, tugging at his dirty blonde strands.

“got you in my mind the whole day, damn near made Dutch real name slip in front of them Grays. Jus’ couldn’t help but think ‘bout your pretty face.” he continued to kiss your sensitive skin, his words and his lips working like magic on you. His hands exploring your body inch by inch toying with the buttons of your white shirt.

As you open your eyes to look at Arthur you couldn’t help but remember the envelope sitting on his bedside table.

“Arthur,” you sighed trying to keep your voice stable but failing miserably as his teeth playfully bit your neck. The pleasure and the warmth of his body on top of yours was heavenly making you melt like butter under his touch but you were too curious to see what was in that letter to continue, your hands came on his shoulders to try and get the man off of you. “darling you, fuck, you’ve got a letter.”

As soon as you finished your sentence Arthur stopped his actions at once, his hands dropping on the soft mattress before getting up into a seated position beside you. He sighed as he ran his hands into his hair before taking the letter, his eyes quickly scanning the sender’s name before opening the envelope.

As his eyes read the elegant handwritten letter of Mary you couldn’t help but feel your heart beat out of your chest with anticipation, you knew it was stupid to feel this way but you couldn’t help but worry. Why is she mailing him after all these years of radio silence ? What did she want from him and how exactly did she know how to contact him ?

Deciding it was best to feign ignorance than to straight up get defensive and be viewed as possessive with Arthur you scooted closer to him, your head resting on his shoulder as you asked, trying your best to keep your façade, from who was the letter.

“Mh, nobody jus’ a sorry fellow I met.”

Your heart sank.

He lied to you. He lied to you without even an ounce of hesitation. A small ‘Oh’ left your lips as you didn’t know exactly how to respond, mind racing with many thoughts, the knowledge of his lie felt like an iced bucket of water was thrown at you, freezing you in your spot unable to move. A sense of nausea overtaking your body.

With a swift movement, he folded the letter and put it in the bottom drawer of the nightstand where other papers filled the small space. Turning back to face you he put one of his large hands on your cheeks caressing you with a delicacy that in that moment only made you further nauseous about the situation. His lips met your forehead, then your nose descending further down to your lips, too caught up in your thoughts you sat there unmoving. Arthur sensed your unusual attitude.

“y’alright sweetheart ?” he asked, you internally scoffed at his seemingly concerned expression. The nerve he had to be asking you that after he blatantly lied to your face.

“yeah just tired that’s all.” you dismissed him shifting on the bed and laying down on your side of the bed. You needed space to think, your mind going haywire. Was this the first time she mailed him ? Why was that as soon as you mentioned a letter he seemed to already know it was from her ? Why did Mary Beth act so strange when giving you the letter ? Why did he lie ? Why.

You wished you could let this go, forget about everything and melt back into his warm embrace, but you couldn’t. You had to find out what was going on.

Later that night when the outlaw was fast asleep beside you and the only sounds that could be heard were his soft snores that filled the space in your tent you found out that the other papers in the drawer were not random papers.

The drawer was full of Mary’s letters.

[talesofesther]

a touch of emotion

Connor x Reader

Summary: After the meeting with Kamski, Connor feels conflicted and lost, luckily you're there to hold his hand through it.

A/N: DBH is one of my main comfort games, and it was about time I wrote a little something for my favorite boy from it. If anyone would like to see more of Connor here, let me know. <3

Masterlist

"Why didn't you shoot?" Hank inquires, narrowing his eyes inquisitively.

"I just saw that girl's eyes… And I couldn't…" Connor answers back, his voice edging on desperate. "That's all."

A howling wind prickles your skin like tiny needles. It was such a cold day, no wonder you hadn't been keen on coming out here today. Leaning back on the hood of Hank's car and pulling your coat tighter around yourself, you watch from afar as Connor tries to justify his choice, even if it had been the right one to make.

He intrigues you. Because for someone who keeps saying he's just a machine trying to accomplish a task, he acts way more human than a lot of people you know. Even on the day you'd met him, he was already all curious and talkative, you couldn't recall meeting any android like him before.

Connor has changed ever since you started working together, you realize it now more than ever. He's becoming softer, personality starting to shine through the cracks as his decisions become increasingly emotionally driven.

"Cyberlife's last chance to save humanity, is itself a deviant."

Kamski's words echoed inside your mind, as did Connor's panicked and distressed expression when he promptly denied it. Ironic, you think to yourself; he shouldn't feel as troubled as he does if what Kamski said is not true.

And that same feeling now lingers. Once they were done talking, Hank took a few steps away to make a call, most likely to the precinct judging by the scowl on his face; and Connor can't stand still, he's pacing around, fidgeting with the cuffs of his blazer as the snow shifts under his feet. There's a permanent frown on his eyebrows, he looks almost… lost, his LED with an insistent yellow color and gaze unfocused on the distance.

You worry your lower lip between your teeth, torn between reaching out to him or keeping to yourself. The snow falls heavier now, and you can feel the tips of your fingers slowly going numb. You've always liked the cold, yet it seems the cold doesn't like you.

Between the snow, the frozen lake, and the white horizon of the frigid weather, Connor stands out. He's holding onto his own arms, hugging himself, and you find it endearingly human, as if he's subconsciously trying to find a way to comfort himself.

You lay your palms flat on the hood of the car and push yourself away, walking up to him before you can think things through. The snow crunching under your feet doesn't seem to call his attention. "Connor?" You say gently, reaching out to him with your hand but stopping short of actually touching him. You hesitate. When did he start making you nervous?

"You okay?"

Those warm and tender brown eyes of his regard you with curiosity, lips half parted as he struggles on what to say. The LED on his temple switched from blue to yellow and blue again. "I- yes. I think I'm fine." Snowflakes are clinging to his hair and falling softly onto the skin of his cheeks; they compliment his features, always so gentle.

You offer him a small, comforting smile. He's still figuring himself out. It was okay, you were patient.

"I'm… sorry," Connor begins again, avoiding looking you directly in the eyes. He purses his lips and closes his eyes for a moment longer, and you doubt you've ever seen any android be this expressive.

"I compromised our investigation," he pauses, "I should have been more efficient." And reprimands himself.

You're shaking your head before he's even done talking. "No, don't say that," you take a step closer to him as your heart holds your reasoning hostage, one hand wrapping around Connor's wrist to keep him with you. "Don't say that when you've made the right choice, Connor."

There was a beat, Connor's face does something complicated that you cannot read, and when he looks up at you again, his gaze is almost too much. The amount of emotion he looked at you with nearly made you choke on air.

"But… we didn't learn anything." His voice is quiet, barely there, as if he doesn't care for his own argument and is only looking for an excuse to hear more of your voice.

"I don't care," the words fall from your lips before you can debate if you should even be saying them out loud at all.

Connor seems surprised, caught off guard as his eyebrows raise just slightly at how fast and true you spoke. His eyes keep searching your face for… something. You couldn't be sure of what exactly he was looking for. Maybe even he doesn't know yet.

Your heart stumbles on your chest when you see Connor gulping and his eyes avoiding yours again. Only then do you realize that the hand you held his wrist with had drifted lower, your fingers now gently grazing his palm. His skin feels comfortingly warm and soft, a pleasant touch sending goosebumps down your spine.

It was all foreign territory to him, you knew it, felt it in the way he tried timidly closing his fingers around your own. His movements are slow, uncertain, and tentative, bordering on afraid.

How naive of you, to be having such feelings for an android. Yet when he's the most caring, honest, endearing, and gentle person you know, how could you not?

Hank told you once; "I think you're breaking our android huh." He'd said it right after Connor had gone through the trouble of finding an umbrella just so you didn't have to stand under the heavy rain, even if you tried telling him you didn't mind. And you'd taken it as a joke back then, not really understanding the hidden meaning behind your older partner's teasing look.

Yet as you hold onto Connor's hand now, feeling the way his thumb shyly brushes your skin, you wonder if he feels it too, if he's willing to feel the same as you do. If you could dare to hope.

"All I care about," you speak slow and careful, syllables heavy on your tongue. You clear your throat so your voice doesn't sound as tender as you feel. "is that… that you didn't let him manipulate you, that you followed your heart." You bring your free hand up to his chest, right on top of where you can faintly feel his thirium pump working overtime.

Connor looked to be about to speak, perhaps to try and correct you about your choice of words, yet all he does is open and close his mouth, eyes trained on yours and LED swirling with a permanent yellow color. For a moment you wonder if he's analyzing you, and worry about what he may find. His hold on your hand tightens ever so slightly; you don't think he realizes he's doing it.

"I'm glad you didn't pull the trigger, Connor. I'm proud of you."

It's barely a second, his LED flashing red before going back to yellow and eventually, slowly, blue; but you see it. He blinked a couple of times as if processing your words or how to feel about them.

"I-" Connor's eyes seem hazy, their tender brown only a thin ring around his blown pupils. His fingers now tangle with yours. "I feel-"

"Alright kids, let's go." Hank's voice sounds all too loudly as he unintentionally breaks the bubble that cocooned you and Connor. "Fowler wants us back in the precinct." The lieutenant speaks with an annoyed undertone as he stuffs his phone back in his pocket.

You're still caught up in the feeling of Connor's skin on yours, in how you're now so hyper-aware of just how close he's standing to you. Connor, it seems, isn't much different.

When there's no answer, Hank finally looks your way and gestures you over; "come on, get a move on, I don't wanna hear another lecture about arriving late," he insists, before plopping himself into the driver's seat, murmuring something about damn love-birds.

Despite the cold, you can feel a warmth coming up to your cheeks. Without mustering the courage to meet Connor's gaze, you focus on the way his hand fits so perfectly with yours. His fingers are awkwardly intertwined with yours, holding strong and gentle at the same time.

Connor seems reluctant to let go. It hits you that perhaps he won't. You could dwell on a thousand reasons of why, or not think at all and simply bask in the feeling. But right now time isn't on your side.

You take a deep breath, and risk a glance up at him.

Any words you were about to say suddenly feel clogged up in your throat. Oh, Connor tilts his head in that endearing way you're so fond of, yet the look in his eyes is one you've never caught before; you can't name it, it feels dangerous to try, but he looks as if he just realized something.

"Come on," you tug on his hand, just about managing the timid words, "we have to go."

Connor follows quietly, his hand steady on yours until you reach the car and are forced to part.

As Hank drives, you watch Connor through the rearview mirror; there's a newfound lightness to him, a warmth to his eyes that makes you feel fuzzy inside. And when he catches your gaze, and smiles, you know he feels it too.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

Connor’s taglist: @milkiane@v1ci0us

[hihomeghere]

Fishing in the dark | Arthur Morgan / Reader

Word Count : 1.3k (a little guy) Summary : You and Arthur have a private evening away from camp on the Dakota River. Warnings/tags : Cursing, unprotected piv, talk of nudity (both male and female), cursing, reader can swim, s3x in the river, established relationship, set in chapter 3

The Dakota River was now your favorite place to be at sunset. The cool breeze coming off the sparkling water, your body cushioned by the bed of grass. The way the setting sun cast a golden light over everything it touched.

Getting away from the gang for a while had been Arthur’s greatest idea yet. After all that mess in Valentine had led you to Clemens point. Sat on the east coast of Flat Iron lake, near the town of Rhodes. Getting eaten alive by mosquitos while the heat of the Scarlett Meadows sun beat down on you.

And although you thought maybe a room in Rhodes would have been a better way to keep each other company, you couldn’t beat this view.

Arthur stood on the shore, fishing pole in hand. His tall silhouette dark against the golden light, his shadow growing longer on the rocks. What a sight, every subtle flick of his wrist, his bicep tensing and he pulled on the pole. You didn’t even know why he was still fishing so late. He had already caught dinner, which you had prepared over a small fire. While along the shore you had picked some burdock root and common bulrush for camp, knowing that Miss Grimshaw could find some use for the plants. At long last the sun fell below the horizon, a sliver of burnt amber spreading across the sky before being enveloped by a dark blue. The moon slowly rose above you. A beautiful yellow spotlight peeking through the trees.

Arthur stood, still as a statue, as though he was carved of marble. A wicked thought entered your head, slowly you moved to unlace your boots. Pulling them off until you could dig your toes into the grassy floor beneath you. Then you untied the strings to your skirt. Letting the fabric fall, along with your shirt. Leaving you standing in only your chemise, and it wasn’t long before that was discarded as well.

Arthur had heard the slight rustling of fabric behind him, but he was honestly too preoccupied with the pole in his hands. Enjoying the quiet serenity of the river. That was until you ran butt ass naked into it.

“Darlin!” He yelled his eyes widening in shock as your laughter joined the sound of water splashing.

“Come on cowboy!” You called submerged to your waist, your breasts above the water for any passersby to see. Maybe it wasn’t your best idea yet, the freezing water chilling your bones.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He chuckled, unfortunately amused by your actions even though he knew he shouldn’t be.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” You called back, teeth chattering by the sudden drop in temperature.

“It looks like you’re giving anyone that passes through a free peep show.” He called his hand resting on his gun belt as he not so casually adjusted himself. You stepped back further into the dark water until only your shoulders and up were visible.

“When did you become such a prude?” You chided a teasing smile on your lips.

“When someone could lay eyes on my woman.” He said laying down his pole, crossing his arms over his chest. You felt a shiver run down your spine, whether it was from his words or the cold water you couldn’t tell.

“Well get in here and claim your woman before someone else does!” You called, a shit eating grin spreading across your face.

Arthur sighed, looking down as the brim of his hat shielded most of his face from you. Your grin only grew as he unbuckled his gun belt, letting it fall to the ground. He pulled his suspenders off his broad shoulders. He shook his head, his own grin growing on his face as he began to pull off his clothes.

“You’re gonna get it girl.” He warned, his eyes taking on a dark haze. His lips pulling back into a smirk, looking down at you like prey. An electric shock of anticipation ran up your body as he finally pulled off the last layer, his cock springing up against his stomach. He stepped forward, wading into the water. “Jesus!” He yelped, a shiver running through him.

“It’s not that bad!” You called with a laugh.

“Not that-“ He shook his head, “Christ I can’t feel my toes.” He muttered swimming over to you, his arm wrapping around you pulling you close. You wrapped your legs around his waist as you held onto his shoulders

“Hey there.” You grin, watching the water droplets run down his face.

“Howdy.” He muses, you place your hands on his chest, feeling his heart beat against your palm.

“Still cold?” You ask sweetly.

“Very.” He chuckles.

“I think I could warm you up.” You say biting your lip.

“Please do.” He says softly as you lean forward. Your nose bumping against his as you stare him down. He leans forward pressing his lips against yours. His tongue swiping along your lower lip as he pressed you down onto his pelvis. Clenching around nothing as his cock bumped against the nub of your clit, a soft moan leaving your throat.

“I can feel that.” You said softly, biting your lip as you looked into his eyes.

“I’m sure you can.” His chest rumbling as he chuckled. He moved his hand from your waist and reached down between your legs. The tip of his length catching against your entrance. “Think you’re wet enough?” He teases, his teeth glinting in the moonlight as he smirks.

You bite back a rebuttal as he slips inside you with ease, he swallows your gasp as his mouth covers yours. Groaning into your mouth, a deep almost primal noise. One that sends pleasure shooting through your body. You whine as he pulls out slightly, only to press your body down onto his pelvis. His cock rubbing against that spot inside you.

He knows this dance like the back of his hand, how to make you tick, more specifically how to make you scream. The hand that’s not holding your hip with a vice like grip moves up your body, his hands splayed against your stomach. Before reaching up to cup your breast, pinching your nipple.

“Arthur.” You gasp, feeling him rut against you, growling against your neck like a wild animal.

“Feel so good darlin’.” He huffs against your neck, nipping and kissing as he continues his attack on your pussy. His cock thrusting deep strokes against your walls. Your body is buzzing, your toes curling as he brings you closer and closer to your peak. He can feel you flutter around him, his lips quirk up. He moves his hand down to between your legs, rubbing your clit.

You cry out, a pitiful noise as you cum around him. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your brows knit together as your jaw hangs open. He smirks, tilting his head back as a low, shit, leaves his mouth.

His hips start to stutter as he pounds into you, trying to reach his orgasm while you’re still working through yours. He’s quick behind you, his hands holding you so close against him you’re sure you’ll have bruises. He thrusts into you one last time, a choked groan rumbling in his chest. You hold onto him as his dick twitches inside of you. Painting your insides with his seed. You smile up at him lazily, watching his face contort in pleasure.

“Shit darlin’.” He huffs, his chest rising and falling rapidly against your own. The bite of the water is no longer a thought as his warm body presses against yours.

“You warm now, cowboy?” You tease brushing your nose against this neck, pressing a kiss over his pulse point.

“Very.” He chuckles, “But I’d like to get my beautiful girl out of these waters now.” He says grabbing a handful of your ass before throwing you over his shoulder. “I ain’t done with you yet.”

[victoryrifle]

Arthur and Bloedbad at Flat Iron Lake

[zombiefox-x]

Red Dead Remption 2 Scenery (17/?) Stormy Day Near Flat Iron Lake.

[appalachiancowboy99]

Fireside

Arthur Morgan x CurvyFem!Reader Pure unadulterated smut, 18+, MDNI (Minors Do NOT Enter) Warnings: sexual content, oral sex, cowboy giving

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

It was new territory for both of you: this game of stolen glances and shy smiles across Camp, finding excuse after excuse just to feel the thrill of your fingertips dancing over his arms and chest. And then there were those moments where he'd seize any opportunity to pin you up against the side of Pearson's wagon, pressed close against your body just to make you feel the heat and solidity of his frame against yours, no matter how dangerous or reckless it might be. Despite how much he cares for you and how much he enjoys your time together, it's an impossible task to keep his mind from spiraling down every possibility in which he'd be damning you to the same fate, to make the same mistakes he had with Eliza and with Mary, leaving you a shell of the woman you once were. Even if he's riddled with doubt and fear, he won't let you slip through his fingers like a fading dream. It's been quite some time since he's felt so drawn to someone that he can't rationalize why he can't- why he won't stay away. He doesn't quite understand it himself, but for the first time in his life, he ain't fighting it, not with you.

It is no accident that he found himself in this current predicament; setting up a makeshift camp with you outside of Rhodes just to spend some alone time with you. He had made sure of it, insisting on not heading back to Clemen's Point after seeing how pretty you looked all cleaned up and excited to join him on his run to town even if it was just for a pack of cigarettes at the general store. Determined to have some peace away from the commotion of camp, he veered his horse off to the side of the road, leading you through the thicket of trees stretched out alongside the expansive fields of Lemoyne, heading to a clearing just before the edge of Flat Iron Lake. God, was it a good choice. Instead of hearing another riveting story from Mr. Pearson's days in the navy or having you get whisked away for any late-night tasks for Ms. Grimshaw, he's kneeling fireside, watching you fold out his emergency bedroll for the both of you, imaging all the possibilities that the night holds; particularly all those that end with you spread out beneath him.

“C’mere, baby.” His voice is laden with desire as he outstretches his hand for you to take.

"Hmm?" You ask, stopping to glance over your shoulder, only to see his rugged features awash in the orange glow of firelight. Crystalline eyes pierce your heart, crumbling down the walls that protected you and shielded you from the pain of never knowing what love could be. No, there was no idea, no concept of love until he came crashing into your life all those months ago. Love with Arthur is like opening a fresh wound: ripping into your heart and seeding himself so deeply inside of that aching muscle that you fear one day he’ll just bleed you dry and leave you with the dull ache of his memory. However, his presence alone is like a soothing balm to your weary and wounded soul, healing you like the hands of god himself and reassuring you that he’d never leave; he’d crawl through the pits of hell and back just to be spared a passing glance. You trusted him with your life then and against all the nagging self-doubt screaming in your mind, you trust him now.

He can hardly tear his gaze from you as you come closer, his eyes hungrily taking in every inch of your curvy form from the supple sway of your hips to the way the corners of your plush lips curl into an affectionate smile. You place your hand in his as you lower yourself onto his lap, the grass and weeds beneath you tickling your legs just as your knees meet the ground on either side of his hips. Even if you were to pay him no mind, he'd still relish the chance to be this close to you, to see the delicate little imperfections scattered across your skin, to feel the warmth of your love radiating off of your body like a roaring furnace, and admire how your eyes flicker with a sense of hope he'd long forgotten. In the mess of smoothing out your skirts to hide your thighs from his wandering gaze, a lock of hair breaks free from the bun on your head, flopping down on your face in a single ringlet. He reaches up to tuck it behind your ear, his fingertips skimming softly over the supple flesh of your cheek, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. A wave of affection washes over him as he gazes at your face illuminated by the flickering light of the fire, and he can barely contain himself. He longs to shower you with compliments and affection, to give you the love and attention that you so rightfully deserve, but he can't. He has no words; believes there are no words to describe exactly how a single brush of your skin against his makes his heart stop and his mind cloud in a thick fog with nothing to picture but you. You make him feel like a damn fool, a fool so caught up in love that he can't distinguish his left from his right. Words are meaningless here- showing you is the only way.

You never thought you’d find yourself in this predicament: a handsome man like Arthur guiding you toward him, stealing a kiss from your lips like a man starved for the slightest bit of affection. Nor did he think he'd be holding such a beautiful woman in his arms, a woman deserving of so much more than he could ever give. Good things like this don’t happen to you, nor do they happen to men like him, but against all odds, you’re both here wrapped in each others’ embrace without a care in the damn world.

Your plump, pliable lips press against his with a tenderness rarely afforded in the quick, passionate encounters you’ve found yourselves in these days. Tonight, there will be no rush of hands lifting your skirts, no hard press of his cock entering you without warning; tonight, he’ll take his time, drawing out each orgasm after agonizing orgasm from that pretty pussy like you deserve. Arthur breaks away from your lips abruptly and latches onto your pulse point, drawing out that little whimper that sends his head spinning. Your breath is but a whisper as his name drips off your tongue like a fine brandy: silky smooth, "Arthur.." Just as you expect him to reach your collar, unbutton your blouse, and ravage your flesh, he pulls away. Your eyes shoot open only to see him taking off that old gambler's hat while leaning back.

Through a half-laughed whisper, you say, "What're you-" Before you can finish protesting, he rests his back on the plush grass beneath you both, his hat clutched in hand. He sets it aside on a nearby log before turning his attention back to you with a wolfish grin.

“Gonna love you like ya deserve. C’mere,” he murmurs, eyes roaming over your flushed face and heaving chest.

With that, his hands were back on the swell of your hips, thumbs gently pressing into the soft cotton of your skirts, coaxing you with a gentle yet firm pull that guided you away from the comfort of his lap and over his stomach until you're kneeling just above his chest. His eyes lock onto yours, silently pleading for you to rest your fullness on him; he needs to feel every ounce of you as if his life depended on it. You hesitate, looking down at him from above with your pretty skirts pooling over his chest; his face peeking out below a sea of sage green ending just below his chin. Silently urging you to finally give in and settle yourself onto his chest, he reaches upward and gently grabs hold of your waist.

You can’t.

Y’all are already in a compromising position out here in the open. It’d take just a single person to glance in the direction of your camp by the lake to see Arthur delving under your skirts by firelight. His boldness takes you by surprise, a sweet gasp filling your lungs as he leans up, pressing a gentle kiss to your aching cunt through your dampened drawers. That's all it takes for you to give into his touch and rest your hips upon his chest. Your sweet musk alone sends a shiver of pleasure down his spine, pooling straight into his stiffening cock. A low growl of satisfaction leaves his lips in appreciation for your willingness to let him please you. Your eyes are trained on his head ruffling beneath your skirts before looking up at the night sky, noting how the faint white glow of moonlight breaks through the canopy of leaves and limbs, casting shadowed shapes upon the forest floor. His gentle kisses shift from the apex of your desires, the scruff from his beard pleasantly scratching against your skin. While he traces the little blue lace detail on the hem of your drawers, the low timbre of his voice buzzes against your thigh, “Can I take these off of ya?”

There's no denying the desire that runs through you at the thought of being bared to him in such a risque position; to undress yourself and have him beneath you, feasting upon your quivering cunt as if he were savoring you like the very last meal he'd ever taste. Oh, how you remember the first time you felt the wet warmth of his tongue darting out of his lips, pressing against you to show you all the ways in which a real man loves his woman. In truth, Arthur had been the first to awaken those romantic emotions within you, to ignite the spark of desire and affection that had been suppressed for so long. Society had labeled you a spinster, a woman unworthy of love and affection, but he had shown you that you were worthy of so much more than some horseshit label. He had taken your first kiss, been your first intimate touch, and with every moment you spent together, he showed you that you were beautiful and deserving of the kind of love written in those books MaryBeth lets you borrow. The thrill of feeling him once more makes your blood run hot, leaving you with no other choice than to hum softly in agreement. If this is what he desires, then who are you to deny him?

Slowly, you rise off his chest, lifting yourself up to your knees. Your fingers nimbly work to undo the ties that hold cover to the last remnants of decency you have left. You can feel his eyes on you as you undress, watching your every move with an intensity that sends shivers running down your spine. As your skirts fall away, leaving you exposed and vulnerable, you gaze down at his face, the flush of desire dusting his features in a faint reddish hue. His eyes remain locked on yours, unmasked desire blazing in their depths. You begin to work on your blouse and chemise, eager to bare yourself to him, but Arthur's impatience gets the better of him as he struggles with the buttons and ties fastening your clothing. His fingers move quickly and feverishly, desperate to get you stripped down and exposed to his hungry gaze. Through his struggle, he moves his hands back down to your drawers, pressing his thumb against the seam of your body to watch the light fabric catch between your folds. Between your soft gasp and his feigned murmur of forgiveness, he takes hold of the thin fabric and rips it right down the seam of your best set of undergarments. "Arthur! Them's my last good pair," you scold, but it does no good: he's too far gone.

His lust-blown pupils take in the sight of the dark thatch of hair separating him from your aching desire. Oh, for heaven's sake, you internally chastise yourself. Someone could stumble upon your little camp and see you naked as the day you were born, mounting his face like your first ride on a new saddle. But the instant his plush lips meet your seam, all doubt, and all fear subsides, giving way to burning passion. Your back arches, instinctively pressing your hips upon his wanting, salivating mouth, and burying his nose into your plump mound. God how he's missed this, missed taking you so fully and unapologetically. Your sticky sweet nectar coats his lips like the finest honey, driving him wild for a taste of your supple sweetness. His tongue flicks out of his mouth, pressing flat against your slick heat, parting your folds in search of that little bud of nerves screaming his name. You are all that he can taste, all he can breathe, all he can feel.

Darkness clouds his vision as his eyes flutter closed, though flashing behind his eyes is anything but: the image of your face twisting and contorting in agonizing pleasure erases all thought and memory from his mind, leaving only you in its wake. Soft crackling embers, gentle knickers from his steed, the lewd squelches of his tongue lapping at your core, and the sweet flighty sounds escaping your lips create an orgasmic orchestral hymn he's longed to hear these past few weeks. His cock swells, pressing uncomfortably against the rough jean fabric of his usual working pants. Rutting his hips upward, he finds that the tight seam rubs him in the most delicious way: pressing against his cock as if you were leaning back to palm him while he eats you out.

Just as his hips grind upward to find some torturous relief, your hips involuntarily rock against his tongue, guiding him exactly where you need him to be. The strong, wet, muscle glides over your clit, swirling so slowly that your thighs tremble with each expert pass along that tiny bud screaming his name. Embers from the campfire crackles and burns far too close to your bodies not feel the sweltering heat baring down on your skin. Yet, it pales in comparison to the feverish flush that gathered in your face; it spread across the apples of your cheeks to the tips of your ears, leaving them burning almost intolerably. You found yourself struggling to catch your breath as desire worked its way down your throat, squeezing out all the air in your lungs like the first drag off a cigarette before its buzz envelops you completely. His tongue only leaves you for a moment, using it to murmur, "That feel good, baby?"

His voice rumbles through your cunt, causing you to clench around nothing. He needs no answer. He already knows how much you're enjoying this, how much you've been needing to feel his mouth on you by the soft little gasps in between a string of expletives following his name; his favorites being, 'O-Oh Arthur,' 'Oh fuck,' and 'God, pl-please, Arthur.' Pride swells in his chest knowing that he's the only man that's able to ravage you like this. You belong to each other, heart, body, mind, and soul.

Lubrication leaks from you like a damn fountain, coating your pretty little slit like it just begs for him to enter your aching core. And that's exactly what he finds himself searching for. With a small forward thrust of your hips, his tongue parts you, pushes your cunt open, and penetrates you with its wriggling mass of muscle. It wasn’t like his cock filling you, hitting your womb with every thrust, rubbing you so impossibly deep that you could see stars, but it was enough to shatter your pride and make you forego all composure and decency, whatever sense of the word it may be. The very tip finds that soft spongy spot inside, licking and writhing with each dip in and out, all while his nose presses against your clit. “A-Arthur,” you groan. “I’m so close.”

Oh, he knows you're close. Your cunt quivers around his tongue, pulsating in time with the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. Your creamy slick coats his beard, nose, and hell, even his cheeks as you properly use him to reach your end. Everything around you is spinning. Nothing exists beyond this moment shared between two lovers shrouded by nightfall. No, nothing else matters except Arthur's mouth devouring you, drinking you like cold water on a hot summer's day. You're his solace, his sustenance, something worth truly dying for. And if he smothers to death beneath your soaked cunt, then he'd thank God for such a heavenly way to go. His hips rise and fall, undulating as if he were fucking into your tight, gummy channel; it's all he can imagine, all he wants to feel is fucking you and you being fucked. Flicking his tongue inside of you, hitting that sweet spot, pulls you closer to the edge. Your hands are frantic, never taking purchase on any one place until they find the mess of chestnut hair atop his head. It takes everything in you not to rip his hair out as both of your hands take fistfuls into your palms. He growls into you, panting heavily for what little air he's able to take in. Finally, his tongue retreats, moving back up to your clit to give you one hard suck that sends you spiraling over the edge. From the top of your head to the tips of your toes are awash in electricity, burning, shaking through you like a thunderous wave as your climax takes hold. You scream his name, but he doesn't stop attacking your clit with the gentle flick of his tongue through hard suction. No, he doesn't stop, making sure to rip another mind-shattering orgasm out of you until he allows himself to come. You fall forward in an attempt to move from him, but he holds you down with such strength that you're forced to stay seated. You block off his airway, smothering his nose with your mound as he continues his ministrations on your clit. You feel like you're dying, shaking and sweating like a fever has taken your body over, until another orgasm rounds its peak. With one more jerk of his hips, he spends himself in his jeans; cum leaking out of him like a stream, soaking into his union suit while your cream drenches his beard in a frothy white delicacy. Once you gain your composure, you glance down at him to realize that he can't breathe. "O-Oh God, Arthur. You alright?" You pull away from his mouth, giving him a moment to catch his breath as he looks up at you with fiery, hungry eyes. The flame of the campfire casts shadows over his face, the light illuminating him in a warm, golden glow. His beard glistens with your essence, and he gazes up at you with an expression of reverence, silently worshiping what power your body has over him. As you attempt to lift yourself off of him to give him some much needed breathing room, he clamps down on your thighs, preventing you from moving. That familiar smirk draws up the corner of his mouth and a spark of desire flickers in the ocean of blue surrounding his lust-blown pupils, "Where you think 'yer goin'? Ain't done with you yet." ---------------------------------------------------------------------- A/N: Hi! I really hope y'all like this little drabble. My great friend @photo1030 inspired me to post a little something, so I have her to thank for igniting my creativity again. It's my first time posting anything like this, so feedback of any kind would be greatly appreciated! So again, thank you, C, for being my first supporter <3

Other creators I enjoy/drew inspo from: @rivetingrosie4 @coltermorning @subpopizzy @amorgansgal @immajustvibehere @twola

[gallaghersgal]

winter sleepover!! carmy 🔥 indoors and the fire is also for “please make it spicy” 🫢

sex by the fire || carmen berzatto

pairing: carmy x fem reader

warnings: NSFW 18+ p in v unprotected and all that jazz. just soft vanilla sex. and cookies !!

a/n: this is unedited and unbeta’d bc i am so so sleepy. thanks sm for requesting 🫶🏻🫶🏻

a weekend getaway in a secluded little cabin in the woods was exactly the kind of break you needed. fall semester had been hell for you and your boyfriend was well aware of that, which is exactly why he’d booked this trip. sydney was perfectly capable of running the restaurant for a few days, and everyone knew not to call carmy unless it was absolutely necessary. that left the two of you with the peace and quiet you both desperately needed.

the trip had been a complete surprise. carmy had packed your bags for you, picking you up from campus after your last exam with a mischievous grin on his face and whisking you away for the weekend. the cabin was downright adorable, just a single room with a large bed, a little kitchenette, a bathroom off to the side, a couple arm chairs and a TV by a big window, overlooking a gorgeous view of the lake. and of course, the fireplace.

it had taken the two of you a few tries to get the fire going, but now you were rewarded with the gentle warmth and the soft crackling sound as the fire burned steadily behind the iron grate.

you lounged on the bed, snuggled up between the many decorative pillows, waiting patiently as carmy placed a pan of cookies into the stove. he set a timer, tossed the dirty dishes in the sink to be dealt with later, and made his way back to you.

“hey baby,” he whispered, crawling into bed beside you. “are you enjoying y’self?”

you smiled at him, all perfect and pretty with his hair mussed and a little dash of flour lingering on his rosy cheek. “very much so,” you murmured. you closed your book and sat it on the bedside table so you could give your full attention to the man in front of you. his eyes shone with love and mischief in the dancing light of the fire, and you couldn’t help but pull him in for a kiss.

he tasted like the bittersweet chocolate chips he’d used in the batch of cookies he’d made, lips warm and pliant as you deepened the kiss. rough palms landed on your hips, pulling you until you rested in his lap.

“so,” you started, pulling away to look him in the eyes. “you gonna fuck me by the fire, bear?”

his parted lips turned upwards into a little grin, hands already roaming up under the hem of your sweater. “well, sweet girl, when you put it like that,” he laughed softly, bringing you in for another kiss as his fingers began to tug at the little bow on your pajama pants. the knot came undone quickly, and you shuffled around until your pants and sweater had been discarded. you sat atop his thighs in nothing but a pair of pretty lace panties, tugging his shirt over his head until your palms could lay flat against his warm, bare chest.

“my pretty boy,” you cooed, kissing along the column of his throat. your hips rolled against his own, the flannel of his pajama pants soft against the inside of your thighs. he was half hard already, you could feel him rubbing deliciously against your core, and a soft whine escaped your lips as he kissed you again. “want you, carm. c’mon.”

carmy chuckled, lifting you off his hips long enough to discard his pants and boxers in one go. then he was pulling you back, pushing your panties to the side and giving his cock a few quick strokes before lining himself up and sliding in. the stretch was familiar, an easy little burn you’d come accustomed to, but it never failed to draw an obscene moan from your lips.

��shh, tha’s it. good girl.” his hips began to shift up into you in gentle strokes, pushing in deep with a muffled groan against the curve of your shoulder.

you hummed in pleasure, slumping against his chest as he planted his feet on the bed for more leverage. “fuck- ‘s so good,” you whimpered, curling in closer and latching your lips onto his neck. any semblance of composure in your voice dissipated, your words coming out as gentle, high pitched whines. “carmen, oh fuck, carmen!”

“sounds so pretty when ya say it like that,” he said, his words nearly a growl as they came through gritted teeth. “fuckin’ angelic. say it again baby, will ya?”

“carmen, jesus- fucking- carmen, please! ‘m gonna-“ your head felt too heavy to hold anymore, but one strong hand supported your chin to draw you in for a delicate kiss. the contrast was exhilarating, sharp thrusts of his hips balanced against the softness of his lips against yours.

without so much as a warning to carmy, your vision was whiting out and your body was coursing with red hot pleasure. your whole figure shook in his arms, lewd moans turning into softer whimpers as he chased his own climax with erratic thrusts.

“fuck- yeah, that’s my girl. jus’ a li’l more baby, you can do it.” he grunted, fingers digging into your hips as he slammed against you. you fell quiet, leaving nothing but the obscene sounds of sweat slick skin over the gentle roar of the fire.

with one final, deep stroke he came inside of you, lips finding yours in a messy and passionate kiss. you could have stayed there in his arms forever, listening to the fire and his soft breathing as the two of you came down from the high. but of course, nothing lasts forever, and it was only a matter of minutes before the kitchen timer rang out, reminding you of the batch of cookies waiting in the oven.

you hummed, rolling off carmy and collapsing into the fluffy mattress. he smiled down at you, thumb running over your smudged lipstick before leaning in for a quick kiss.

“i’ll get the cookies out, an’ then i’ll get ya cleaned up. that sound good?”

you nodded, too sleepy and sated to form any coherent sentence. your eyes fell closed, listening carefully to the sounds around you. the clang of the oven door. the creak of a cabinet door. a soft hiss of pain, probably from your boyfriend touching the still hot pan. water running in the sink. soft footsteps coming back in your direction.

carmy cleaned you up with a warm washcloth, tossing it haphazardly towards the laundry basket and crawling back into bed beside you. the two of you laid there, naked and happy, with the plate of cookies balanced precariously on your thigh. when the sweets were gone and the fire was dying down, you let your eyes flutter closed as you snuggled into his side.

“goodnight, pretty girl,” carmy murmured, moving the plate to the bedside table and wrapping you securely in his arms.

end.

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

Can I request a drabble where Arthur comforts a female reader who has a broken heart? The reader's ex-boyfriend cheated on her and left with another woman.

Here we go! I took the liberty to name Reader's ex Jim (pretty random name for that place and time so I thought it would fit alright.)

I hope you'll like it anon!!🙌

࣪ ˖✧ The World is living.

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Warnings/Tags: Mention of cheating, reader's ex is a loser (boo him), reader is in a pretty bad mental state but Arthur is here to save the day, cursing cause he's mad as hell someone hurt you. ✦ Words: 1,5k ✦ a/n: As Anon had requested a drabble I tried to keep this short! Takes place in Clement's Point because the lake is so good for that kind of work, reader is part of the gang. Clearly this drabble is a big hug to all my sis out there who have been poorly treated by their ex🫶🏻

You were sitting by the shore, just behind camp. Flat Iron Lake was always beautiful at that time, just before dawn. Frosty, pastel colors on the sky and the water surfaces, melting into a soft shade of pale lavender and teal blue. You could only hear the occasional chirping of birds, splashing of an adventurous fish jumping out of the water, and lonely howls of coyotes.

The World was living.

You couldn't understand how. How did the World was still turning while you were hurting that much? It should have stopped. It should have. This was the only option after what you had been through.

You felt tears watering your eyes again. You couldn't sleep, as often lately, so you just had decided to come and sit here in the sand to do something, anything else than just lying in your cot, alone in the cold night, alone in the cold silence, alone in the cold emptiness. Alone, so alone even though you were surrounded by people at camp; it didn't mattered. He was gone now, and everything felt tasteless without him, everything looked drearier, even the beautiful morning scenery under your eyes.

You were now crying hard. Damn it, you didn't even knew you still had water in your body for it. You had cried so many times in the past few days your eyes were permanently red, your cheeks scarred by two trails of dry tears; you felt like one of those oranges that people squeeze to get the juice, leaving behind only a corpse of fruit devoid of all substance.

You couldn't do it anymore, it hurt too much. You buried your face in your hands, sobbing once again, trying to let out the sorrow that was eating you up from inside like a noxious parasite since he had left you.

"Y/N? Is everythin' okay?"

You tilted your head up, a slight feeling of panic and shame crashing on you as you searched for your interlocutor.

It was Arthur. He was a few meters away from you, empty bucket in his hands. He probably was on his way to the lake to fill it, but had heard you crying. You weren't too surprised to see him this early, Arthur had never slept much, he was always up before you in normal time, already helping everyone around camp.

He looked at you in the eyes, waiting for an answer. He seemed genuinely concerned; you realized you hadn't seen him for a while since he had been on a difficult job for weeks, he probably should have came back during the night, but you were far too deep in your own dark thoughts to have noticed it. He was clearly clueless and surprised about your state, his arms hanging awkwardly by his sides, his blue work shirt's sleeves rolled up carelessly.

"N-no..." You only answered, trying to wipe what you could of the literal torrent of tears flooding out of your eyes, but it just wouldn't stop, you felt even more ashamed. You must have looked pitiful right now.

Arthur let go of the bucket, letting it fall on the ground without an ounce of care. He then slowly approached you, and sat down in the sand next to you, leaving a little space between your two bodies. He didn't look disturbed or annoyed, but almost as stoic as usual. Except for his eyes. His eyes were telling a hundred stories even if he didn't wanted it. Their azure color bright and deep, you almost recognized a hint of sadness in them, as if he was pained seeing you like this. 

"What's happenin' to ya, miss?" He inquired, voice deep and maybe a bit more empathetic than usual. He wasn't extremely expressive in usual times, so yet you could feel just by his presence how he cared about your well-being.

"It's Jim... He... He slept with one of these pretty girls from the Parlour House and he left me for her..." Saying it was making it all even worse. It was making it all too real. You struggled to get those words out, your tone cracking up as if they were crushing your vocal cords.

More tears, your eyes shutting close in a pained expression, the ache in your heart physically hurting you, as if someone had opened your thoracic cage and was crushing it with his bare hands. In a way, that's exactly what he had done to you.

"Goddamn piece of shit..." Arthur mumbled before looking at you, his intense indigo stare fixated on your face. He felt genuinely sorry, and outraged for you. Who in the world could have to audacity to hurt such a sweet girl like you? He was starting to clench his fists, feeling his blood boiling, a silent kettle on a burning fire. After a few seconds of hearing you cry, he couldn't hold it anymore, empathy getting the better of his rage, and opened his arms to gently pull you against him.

His strong, wide body enveloped you, and you let him. You buried your face into his chest, not really thinking about it, your hands wrapping around his waist, and gripping tight on his shirt. Looking clingy or odd was your last concern, you were way too blinded by your pain. You started crying loudly, wanting to make everything go out of you, your pain, your sadness, Him, everything.

"Yeah, that's it girl, let it all go..." He encouraged you, in a calm and quiet whisper. One of his hands had found its place behind your head, gently caressing it, the other resting around your waist. He carried you, as you screamed your pain to the World, as you poured all these gnawing feelings outside of you.

"He's a damn fool, Y/N. You deserve way better than him, lemme tell ya." Arthur murmured to you, voice still deep and caring. You could also hear behind that a hint of genuine anger in his tone, as he truly was pissed at Jim for having harmed you like this. "And you're gonna be okay, alright sweetheart?"

You slightly nodded into his chest, barely able to answer something properly. His scent and warmth were enfolding you, and you felt like you were somewhere else now, somewhere sunny. Somewhere pleasant. Somewhere better.

As the minutes went by, and his embrace didn't loosen, you slowly started to get out of your personal darkness, breath calming, thoughts clearing. You were taking in the fact that usually, Arthur wasn't frankly fond of hugs or other physical attention, and you felt thankful. He was doing this just for you.

"You're gonna be okay." He repeated like a silent vow. You felt like he was going to make sure of it. And for the first time in days, you honestly believed these words. You were going to be okay. It would take time, of course, but you just knew you would, as certain as the Sun was rising and setting every day.

You gently pulled back, both of you still holding each other in your arms, sitting on the sandy shore, but not as close, so you could look at this face. Your tears had soaked his shirt. You tried to apologize for it, but he quickly opposed it, telling you he had been covered in far worse than your tears. You smiled a bit, knowing he was right.

"Thank you so much for that Arthur..." You told him, genuinely feeling so grateful.

"Eh, I may be a cold-hearted killer, but I wouldn't have let a sweet lil' flower like ya cry..." He asserted, a slight grin on his face. You noticed how he looked a bit reassured himself, less worried. Maybe, just like his affection towards the other members of the gang, Arthur actually cared much more about you than what he was letting everyone see.

He carefully wiped the last tear from your cheek, thumb feeling rough but gentle against your skin, before getting up, his hands leaving your body but not going too far away as he proposed one of them for you to take and help you get up. You gladly took it, enjoying the warm contact of your fingers on his skin.

"I just feel like... I'm not enough..." You concluded with a pained tone, your eyes looking down at your feet. The fact that on top of having broken up with you, Jim had left you for another woman, was absolutely destroying you, making you feel like you were worthless. It was also this feeling that was so hard to handle; so hard to live with.

"Listen t'me." Arthur told you a bit more firmly, his eyes searching for yours. He knew how you felt, he felt bad about himself every day of his life. He didn't wanted you to feel like this in any way, ever. "Don't let this bastard make ya feel shitty. You're a beautiful, sweet, kind young woman, that is the truth." He asserted, his hands squeezing yours in a comforting gesture before letting go of them.

"Thank you, Arthur..." You said once more, feeling like you were repeating yourself, but he didn't seem to mind. He was walking back to where he had left the bucket, grabbing it to finish his chore.

"Ah, no worry, miss." He said to you with a smile, now feeling better as you felt less depressed. "Let me tell ya, this piece of shit better be far by now, 'cause I'm goin' to beat the Hell out of him if I ever see him again." He added, still smiling, but you knew he was being dead serious, and he was way more than capable of it. You almost chuckled, thanking him for the third time and telling him you wouldn't mind if he did.

He noticed the little grin that had curled up your lips. He loved it. His days at Clement's point weren't the same without your bright smile and your pleasant presence.

The Sun had completely risen now, the camp slowly emerging from its slumber. The first drowsy voices of your companion softly filling the air, yawning, saying greetings, some already teasing, merging with the sound of nature around you.

The World was living.

And now, so you were.

[stonelions]

i miss red dead redemption 2 im still thinking about that time i trotted arthur out to the big island on flat iron lake, stumbled across the shipwreck, found a pirate hat and put it on, drank the stash of pirate rum also, then drunkenly chased iguanas on foot for the next ten minutes

like when will a video game ever live up to that again

[roamingtigress]

Dutch being all smug while The Count can walk on the water while poor Hosea and Silver Dollar are back there struggling

[zhukzucraft]

Wild Life - Chapter 2

A fan-made Life SMP session project by Zhuk and Schmomo

>Chapter 1< or >Read it on Ao3<

“So you’re breaking up with us,” Martyn said, matter of factly.

“Is this supposed to be shocking?” Cleo asked, “You leaving to go be with Etho, instead?” She laughed a little, cycling through her inventory for her iron pick. 

“It’s nothing personal!” Bdubs insisted, quickly, “I just feel bad for the guy, you know?”

“He is washed up,” Grian agreed, his voice carrying from up high where he was building up their tower of cobble. 

“Exactly. Wait, no! No, he’s not!” Bdubs huffed, “But it was harsh how we all ditched him.”

Yesterday had been a mad dash for resources, like all first days in the Life games tended to be. Bdubs’ plan for starting the Life game challenge had remained the same as always: stick to Etho. But that hadn’t really played out the way he wanted it to. When he’d circled up with his group near the exposed iron vein on the side of the mountain, everyone had realized at the same time an important fact: He, Impulse, Cleo and Skizz were all dogs. 

Etho was not. 

“He’s a cat, Bdubs,” Martyn said, his tail swishing about in warning behind him, “A filthy feline, if you will.”

“Shouldn’t we be building bridges?” Bdubs tried, his own short tail quite flat against his body.

“No, we’re building a tower,” Grian called from above. 

Cleo snorted, trying to cover her smile with her free hand. 

“The man is lost without me,” Bdubs continued, “And I really just want to check on him, is all. Don’t you trust me?”

“Not at all,” Cleo said with a smile, “But go on then, find your cat boyfriend if it’ll calm your anxious heart.”

Bdubs rolled his eyes, turning away and padding to the edge of their platform. After the iron had run dry, Skizz and Impulse had ventured further up the mountains. Bdubs knew his history with fall damage well enough to stick to more solid ground. Cleo had decided to join up with Martyn and Grian who were discussing some grandiose plan to take control of the entire lake. He had followed them without a second thought. 

Now, he stared out at the vast expanse of water before him, “You know, we really should build a bridge–”

“No bridges!” Grian shouted, “That’s the whole point!”

Bdubs threw his hands up in the air, defeated with his teammates–former teammates? It was unclear at this point. Bdubs was about 65% certain he would come back to them. Maybe less so now that this base Grian and Martyn were insisting on would prevent him from any kind of sustainable horse travel. 

He pinched his nose and jumped into the water, shuddering as the cold temperature hit him. He pushed through, diving down past the many salmon and cod to head to shore. By the end he was doggy paddling, which was fitting he supposed. When he reached the shore line he shook himself out, his ears floppy atop his head and smacking him ever so lightly. 

His comms buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out. 

Solidarity has made the advancement [Diamonds!] Smallishbeans > ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Smallishbeans > HE’S THE FIRST ONE?????? Smajor1995 > just wait for the swimming in lava message to appear soon enough Skizzleman > i don’t have anything to contribute but as another S name i felt the need to say something GoodTimeWithScar > same! Grian > Your username starts with G, scar GoodTimeWithScar > are we starting our own train now, G? Solidarity > DOES ANYONE HAVE FOOD THEY CAN THROW DOWN MY HOLE?

“Poor fella,” Bdubs sighed out without even a hint of pity. He put his communicator away. He glanced around, seeing the remnants of other players from the falling leaves and missing dark oak trunks. He decided to keep to the edge of the forest, just in case. After a few hundred blocks, the dark oak gave way to a plains biome and–

“HORSE!” Bdubs shouted, sprinting over to the magnificent herd of beasts. There were six of them, all deep browns and blacks. Some were even spotted with white. “What beauties,” he praised as he petted one of the wild mares, who shook her mane out at him. He hauled himself onto her back, only to be bucked off. He was no stranger to the process, however, and kept at it, taming the entire herd by the time the sun was shining directly above him. 

“Now I just need a saddle,” Bdubs said aloud, before frowning. Right. He needed a saddle. What were the odds he’d stumble upon a dungeon anytime soon? He wondered if they were using the leather recipe in this game. That would be oh-so-fortuitous. 

He hadn’t been paying attention, and the horse he was seated upon had wandered further into the plains, toward the great big snowy mountain they’d all pillaged for iron yesterday. He wondered if Skizz and Impulse were still up there. Why were all his friends moving into such horse-hostile environments? Bunch of scum, the lot of em. 

The land opened up in front of him and he let out a surprised shout of terror. He quickly jumped off the horse, only to land precariously at the edge of the gaping ravine. 

That was a close one, Bdubs thought to himself, imagine being the first to die. And to fall damage too. 

He scurried backwards, giving himself a few blocks of distance. Sheepishly he looked around to see if anyone had seen him shrieking. Luckily, no one was around. 

Where the heck was everyone? Had no one decided to settle in these plains? He frowned, turning all the way around before getting himself dizzy. How was he supposed to find Etho with everyone hiding? Everyone was still green for void’s sake! There was no need to be so un-neighborly yet. 

“Cowards! All of ya!” he shouted out to no one in particular, cupping his hands around his mouth to make sure his important message carried. 

“Is someone out there!?”

Bdubs startled, looking around for the owner of the voice. 

“Hello!?” 

He narrowed his eyes, following the voice several blocks to the right. He stopped right before the ground gave way to another hole. 

“OH THANK THE VOID!”

All the way down below, surrounded by dripstone, was Jimmy. In full diamond armor. 

“BDUBS YOU HAVE TO HELP ME!” Jimmy shouted, “I'VE GOT HALF A HEART AND NOTHING TO MY NAME!”

“I don’t know about that,” Bdubs called back, sitting down on the edge of the hole, “You’re covered in diamonds.”

“I’ve got no wood, no tools and no food,” Jimmy lamented, “Please, do you have any food to spare?”

“How’d you manage this?” Bdubs asked, his ears perking up.

“There was some mild panicking when I dug into lava,” Jimmy said, “Very mild. I may have thrown half my inventory into it. These are minor details. Anyway, can you spare a mutton? I’d take it raw at this point.”

Bdubs cringed, “You’re lucky Scott didn’t hear that. He’d never let you live it down.”

“Scott’s dead to me!” Jimmy shouted back, “He and Joel and Etho found me just to laugh! The nerve!”

“Etho?” Bdubs blinked, honing in on his mission with laser focus, “You know where he went?”

“You get me outta this jam, I’ll take you straight to him, I swear on my half of a heart.”

“And one of your diamond pieces,” Bdubs added, standing back up. 

“You’d take the shirt off my back in my most trying time?”

“If it’s made of diamonds? Of course!” Bdubs replied, rummaging through his inventory, “After all, my hand might slip and grab my lava bucket instead.”

“ALRIGHT!” Jimmy shouted, “Just please! I can’t live down being yellow first again.”

Bdubs chuckled, taking mercy and flooding the hole. Jimmy quickly swam up, clawing his way onto solid ground and giving himself a firm shake to dry himself off. His long fluffy golden tail rained water droplets everywhere.

“Ah, a fellow dog of culture, I see,” Bdubs noted.

Jimmy cracked a smile, “Once a big dog, always a big dog. Woof, woof.” He picked himself up, taking off his diamond boots and handing them over. “Now please, some meat would be nice.”

“Oh I don't have any food on me,” Bdubs replied casually, slipping the armor on. “Should have probably grabbed some before leaving my crew, now that I think about it.”

Jimmy let out an anguished cry, hands shooting out to take hold of Bdubs shoulders. He dug into the iron armor there, “Are you KIDDING ME?” he shouted, close to tears, “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through!? Wave after wave after wave of creepers and zombies hounded me down there. Half a heart, Bdubs! I could trip and it’d be the end of me.”

“I’ve got a bed if you want to set your spawn here,” Bdubs offered with a bright cheery smile. Jimmy screamed out in aggravation. Bdubs patted his shoulder.

“Oh, that explains it.”

Jimmy and Bdubs turned at the sound of a third voice, and emerging from one of the rolling hills of this biome was Mumbo Jumbo of all people. 

“Mumbo!” Bdubs exclaimed, giving a friendly wave. “And on top of a mound!”

“Hmm? Oh! Yes! Once a mounder, always a mounder,” Mumbo replied with a grin, carefully hopping down the blocks to make it to their sides. His skin black and white tail shot out for balance. “Although, I’ve graduated to new heights this go-around. You could say I’m a mountaineer, now.”

“Well, ain’t that nice,” Bdubs complimented, “Are Skizz and Impulse with ya then?”

“Oh yes!” Mumbo assured, “BigB too.”

“Lovely catching up,” Jimmy interrupted, eye twitching, “But we have pressing matters at hand! Mumbo, do you have any food on you, bud?

“Hmm? Oh. Oh right, food. That would have been a good idea, wouldn’t it have been.” Mumbo realized aloud, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

“YOU PEOPLE ARE IMPOSSIBLE!” Jimmy screamed.

Bdubs laughed, patting Jimmy’s shoulder and spreading his other arm out over the horizon, “Look, we’re in a plains biome, I’m sure we can find ya something to munch on.”

“All the animals are gone already!” Jimmy snapped, “This is the life series not Hermitcraft!”

“There’s plenty of horses,” Mumbo pointed out, unhelpfully. 

“I CAN’T EAT A HORSE.”

“Not hungry enough, eh?” Mumbo replied. 

Jimmy paused mid scream to laugh, “Alright, that’s a good one.” He then returned to screaming, “I’ve got two ticks left in my hunger bar before I starve to death. And that’s gonna be on both your consciences now, I hope you know.”

“I’m sure I can convince Etho to part with some snacks when I find him,” Bdubs assured.

“Isn’t Etho a cat, though? At least, that’s what Impulse told me,” Mumbo said, “Why are you looking for him?”

“Because I’m me, Mumbo, that’s why,” Bdubs snapped. 

“Right,” Mumbo said, “Should have expected that. Anyway, if you’ll excuse me I need to collect some redstone down in that ravine. No reason, of course.”

“Of course,” Bdubs played along. He waved as Mumbo pushed past them, black and white spotted tail wagging behind him. He turned back to Jimmy, “Now which way did Etho go?”

Jimmy sighed,  “He went further up, toward Scar’s place, I think. Have you been there yet? Last I saw him he was making some sort of shanty on the lake edge.”

“And that’s where we shall go,” Bdubs announced. 

“I can’t sprint,” Jimmy said, looping an arm around Bdubs’ as a preventative measure. “Don’t you dare leave me behind.”

Bdubs laughed, but acquiesced. Slowing his pace down as they walked through the peaceful meadows. It was strange to see so few mobs and people. Eerie, really. But eventually from the fog appeared a new structure at the lake's edge. A fishing hut made of oak and spruce, already with a nice pier jutting into the water. 

Scar came into view first, arms waving about as he spoke to three other players. Even before he rendered, Bdubs could tell the tallest silhouette to be Etho, most likely standing beside Joel and Scott based on Jimmy’s previous recollection.

“ETHO!” Bdubs shouted, abandoning Jimmy completely to sprint over to him. 

Etho’s head shot up, and there was a soft crinkle around his eyes as they lit up in recognition. “Oh snappers, it’s a Bdubs!” he exclaimed, lifting  his hand to wave at him. 

“Why, hello there, Bdubs,” Scar intercepted, coming in between them before Bdubs could go in for the hug, “Welcome to my dock.”

“Right,” Bdubs nodded. “It’s a nice dock.”

“Thanks, I made it myself. Took all my wood,” Scar continued proudly, his gray and black tail swishing dangerously behind him.

“That’s not even true,” another voice snapped, and Bdubs quickly saw Lizzie coming into view. She was munching on a fish, her small ears folded close to her head, “I made the dock. You only made the shanty.”

“Details,” Scar waved off with his ever present smile. 

“Food!” Bdubs shouted, pointing at the half eaten cod in Lizzie’s hand, “Jimmy needs some! Lizzie can you spare a fish  for the starving man behind me?”

“Oh, Bdubs,” Joel groaned, his striped tail drooping in disappointment, “You actually helped him?”

“He was supposed to stay in the hole.” Scott clicked his tongue, shaking his head. 

“Dogs, amiright?” Joel offered cheekily. Bdubs couldn’t help but let out a petulant little huff at that. 

By that point Jimmy had finally staggered over to them, doubling over to rest his hands on his knees. “One tick! One tick left and I die before your callous eyes!”

“I’ve got food, Jimmy,” Lizzie assured, digging through her inventory, “But you’ll have to swear your undying loyalty to me first.”

“FINE!” Jimmy agreed. 

“See, this is how you get into so much trouble, Jimmy,” Scott commented, “You agree too quickly to things.”

“The man’s on death’s door, Scott. You can’t blame him,” Scar defended, even as he took out his own cooked cod to eat in front of him.

“To seal the deal I shall give you this!” Lizzie announced, handing over a bone. 

“Am I joke to you?” Jimmy growled, holding the bone, “You expect me to eat this? Just because I’m a dog? Har, har, har, everybody.” He pretended to give the bone a bite, only for his jaw to snap right through it. He blinked, surprised, nostrils flaring and bringing the bone to his mouth to properly chew on it. 

And then he ate it completely. 

“Oh,” Lizzie said, dumbfounded.

Joel started to laugh, “Did he seriously just–”

“There’s a terrible bone joke just waiting to be made here,” Scott snickered, politely covering his smile with his hand. 

Jimmy’s face colored, “Shut up! Just hold on a second,”

“Did it work?” Bdubs asked, intrigued. His floppy ears did their best to perk up.

“It…worked,” Jimmy confirmed, eyes widening 

“So I can punch you now? Thank void I’ve been having to hold back this whole time–” Joel started, pushing his way forward and winding his arm back.

Jimmy screeched, high pitched. Etho’s arm shot out to grab Joel by the scruff of his shirt while the poor golden retriever quickly ran behind Bdubs. “It didn’t FILL me up! I’m not anywhere close to healed yet. Get away from me, Joel!”

Lizzie stared at one of her bones, appraising it. Carefully, she raised it to her mouth and gave it an experimental gnaw. She grimaced.

“Let me try it,” Bdubs pawed at the bone, curiosity having gotten the best of him yet again. He immediately managed to snap it in half with his teeth, despite missing several. His eyes widened, “Huh. It’s not half bad!”

“This must be a dog thing,” Lizzie murmured, putting a finger to her chin, “I mean you can feed bones to wild wolves so it sort of makes sense.”

“Wait a tick,” Jimmy said, straightening up, “Wouldn’t that…Wouldn’t that mean…” He let his voice fade off as he rifled through his inventory to pull out a piece of rotten flesh. 

“Oh that is vile, Jimmy!” Joel snapped. 

Jimmy took a bite. His eyes widened. “NO WAY! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?”

Bdubs tilted his head to the side. Jimmy handed him another piece of the zombie flesh and he took a brave bite. An explosion of flavors hit his tongue all at once. Savory rich barbecue with just a hint of heat at the edges. He could feel himself salivating for more as he gobbled up the supposed rancid meat. “Oh my! This is gourmet!” 

“Are you telling me, I’ve been panicking for the past few hours when I could have eaten any of the 40 pieces of rotten flesh in my inventory!?” Jimmy cried, sinking down to his knees. 

“This is amazing,” Joel snickered, “I’m glad you dragged us out here, Scott.”

“I’m full of great ideas,” Scott preened, flicking his hair back to emphasize the point. His blue gray tail swished behind him for added effect.

“Anyway,” Etho said, finally making his way to stand by his old friend, “Fancy seeing you here, Bdubs.”

“Etho!” Bdubs shouted, remembering the whole point of the day. 

“Shouldn’t you be with your pack?” Etho faux sniffled, turning his head to the side. 

“I came to check on you!” Bdubs insisted, pushing toward him. “Sure, I was led astray momentarily, but here I am in the end! That’s got to count for something, right?”

“I’m not letting more people move in with me,” Joel growled, putting his foot down. 

Etho patted Joels’ shoulder, lifting his other hand to scratch the back of his own neck, “Ya see, Bdubs, after that whole debacle, I kinda joined my own alliance. A Fe-liance.”

“Oh.” Bdubs took a step back, wounded. “Oh, I see.”

“Aww man, Joel,” Etho caved immediately, turning to the tabby cat, “Can’t we keep him?”

“Absolutely not.”

“But look at him. How could you say no to that face?”

“Easily,” Joel said. Scott laughed. 

“Gentlemen,” Scar clapped, grabbing everyone's attention once more. Lizzie made a loud ahem, her tail lashing out in warning. Scar quickly amended, “And Lady. Although this has been quite the joyous reunion, I do believe you three came here for business?”

“We came for information, actually,” Scott cut in, taking a step forward, “From Lizzie, really. I hear you’ve got quite the advantage in this game, this time around.”

Lizzie blinked owlishly, “Whatever do you mean?”

“Oh, she’s good,” Bdubs whispered to Jimmy and Etho, who were standing closest to him. 

“That’s the same look you pull half the time,” Etho huffed, crossing his arms.

“Game recognizes game,” Bdubs nodded. “Did I say that right? Gem taught me that one.”

“Joel told me everything,” Scott said bluntly. Joel’s ears pinned back, betrayed. 

Lizzie scowled, turning to her husband, “Joel! You had one job!”

“I didn’t know it was a secret!” Joel snapped, tabby tail lashing behind him.

“Of course it was a secret!” Lizzie huffed. She crossed her arms, glaring up at Scott. “Well, you already know, then. No fall damage.”

“No fall damage?” Etho repeated, eyes widening a fraction. 

“At all?” Bdubs added. “Well, wouldn’t that be nifty.”

“Interesting,” Scott continued tapping his chin, “What else do you know?”

Lizzie glowered, “Maybe that’s all I know.”

“Oh, come on now,” Scott started, his tone lilting as he bent forward to get closer to Lizzie’s face,  “You expect me to believe the great LDShadowlady spent all of her imperial days as a cat and learned only one thing?”

“Oh, Scott,” Lizzie said, turning her head shyly to the side, “You’re gonna make me blush.”

Joel visibly scowled. 

“Anybody got blocks?” Etho asked, “I gotta try this no fall damage thing.”

“Oh, it’s amazing Etho,” Joel egged on, eager to latch onto any distraction from his wife’s annoyance at him, “I went all the way to the height limit. You saw!”

“I did see,” Etho agreed with a light laugh. 

“Lizzie’s got cobble in her chest,” Jimmy pointed out, uncrouching from the chest he’d been rifling through.. 

Lizzie whirled around at him, “Jimmy! I saved your life and you’re going through my things?”

Etho grabbed two stacks easily, turning towards Bdubs, “What do you say, wanna give it a shot with me?”

Bdubs reddened, but he took the offered stack, “Oh, well, when you ask so nicely how could I possibly refuse?” Then he pocketed the stack and put his hands on his hips, “Are you CRAZY? I’m no cat! You think me a FOOL?”

Etho cackled, “Just keeping you on your toes, is all.” He wiped at his eye, and hopped up onto a block, “I’m still gonna check it out for myself, though.” 

Bdubs watched with growing wariness as Etho ascended upwards. He could hear the bickering around him start to die down as all eyes veered toward the white cat in the sky. 

“You know, this has me thinking,” Scar started, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “We could be a whole traveling circus. Think of all the trapeze arts! No safety nets. It’d be spectacular. People would pay a fortune to see it. And there would be absolutely no clowns.”

“Shh,” Joel shushed, “He’s gonna jump. Jump into my arms Etho!!” he extended out his hands, only to be nudged in the side by both Scott and Lizzie adding up to one solid tick of damage against him. 

Etho did jump and, without a drop of water,  landed on his feet before them. His tail pointed straight out for balance and his own eyes were wide like even he couldn’t believe it. Then he turned toward his audience and asked, “Did that make you jump?”

“Oh, BROTHER,” Bdubs lamented, rolling his eyes. Hopefully, his lambasting would cover up the jealousy and admiration festering just underneath the surface. 

“I didn’t go that far up,” Etho admitted sheepishly after a moment, stepping away from his stack, “But you know what, Bdubs? I bet you could water bucket clutch from that height.”

“No way,” Bdubs said.

“Perhaps we should change the saying from scaredy cat to scaredy dog,” Joel goaded. 

“Good one,” Scott replied flatly. 

“It was NOT,” Jimmy snapped, “Don’t listen to them Bdubs! You don’t need to prove nothin’.”

“Of course I’m not doing something that stupid,” Bdubs assured. 

“I’ll give you this saddle,” Etho offered. 

“Alright,” Bdubs sighed, pulling out the stack of cobblestone and starting to hop up into the sky. He ignored Jimmy’s squawking and Joel’s cackling, instead focusing on not slipping off his precarious tower. As he reached the halfway point he realized very quickly how stupid he was being. “Committing to the bit never did me wrong before,” he murmured to himself. He blinked and then snapped aloud, “Except for every time it did! What the heck am I doing up here!?”

He stared down at his audience and pursed his lips. He couldn’t mine down to them now. He’d never live it down. He’d bring great shame not only to himself but to all of dogkind. Plus, he really did want a saddle. 

“You’re a professional, Bdubs,” he reminded himself, shaking off his nerves and squaring his shoulders. He pulled out his bucket of water, counted to three, then counted to three again, and then finally psyched himself out enough to just jump at the number two. 

BDoubleO100 fell from a high place. ImpulseSV  > OH NO! IntheLittleWood > First Blood TangoTek > Jimmy you can breathe now! ZombieCleo > I let you out of my sight for FIVE MINUTES

Bdubs opened his eyes at spawn and let out a frustrated scream. He stomped around trying to let the anger out. Oh, he was going to murder Etho, his eternal alliance be damned. He started hoofing it to the otherside of the lake, lamenting his lack of horse. His lack of anything. Especially with the sun already starting to set. It wouldn’t be long until night befell them. 

“Bdubs! Over here!” he heard Jimmy shout. He turned his head to see that both Jimmy and Lizzie were running toward him, meeting him about halfway. 

“We grabbed your stuff,” Jimmy said quickly as he started chucking items out of his pockets and onto the ground. 

“I gave Etho quite the tongue lashing too,” Lizzie assured, “Put the fear of the void in ‘im for messing with my dogs like that.”

“Your dogs?” Jimmy questioned. 

“I gave you each a bone, didn’t I?” Lizzie reminded him. 

“I’ve got a bone to pick with a certain someone,” Bdubs interrupted, pushing past them after accounting for his relatively small amount of things.  He sprinted the rest of the way and in no time he found exactly who he was looking for. 

“ETHO, WHAT THE HECK!” Bdubs shouted, glaring as the white cat seemed to curl in on himself nervously. His white ears pinned so close to his head they became lost in his unruly hair.

“I swear I was gonna put down some water as a safety last minute,” Etho muttered, not looking him in the eye. He rummaged through his inventory and pulled out a horse saddle, “You still want the saddle?”

“I don’t want your BLOOD SADDLE!” Bdubs bellowed, stomping his foot for added effect. “I want my life back!”

“Uh,” Etho started, glancing over to his alliance for help. 

Joel stepped in easily enough, “Sorry, Bdubs, we don’t speak dog.” He grabbed hold of Etho’s arm, pulling him away, “Etho! Scott! Uh, we should go work on the base! That isn’t here!”

“Right,” Etho agreed as he allowed himself to be dragged, “We’ve got a tree to build.”

“You’re even building trees without me, now?” Bdubs called out, “I hate you!”

“Quite the tragic break up we’re witnessing, huh boys,” Lizzie commented, shaking her head solemnly where she stood between Jimmy and Scar. 

“What, you and Joel?” Scar blinked. 

“What? No! Bdubs and Etho!” Lizzie snapped. 

“But you’re sticking with me right? Not following your husband out there? I take loyalty very seriously here, Lizzie,” Scar warned. 

“Of course!” Lizzie waved off, “That man’s dead to me.” She ignored the strangled cry of I heard that from Joel, instead giving Scar a bright cheery smile. He echoed it and the atmosphere seemed to grow a bit tenser, enough for Jimmy to take a wary step back. 

“Timmy, where are you going?” Scar asked, turning towards him.

“Yeah, Jimmy, you’re one of us now, remember?” Lizzie cautioned. 

Jimmy swallowed, “Uh, right, about that. You know, you two being cats, and us being dogs–”

“The circus doesn’t discriminate,” Scar waved off. 

“You took the bone, Jimmy,” Lizzie reminded him sternly.

“Erm, Bdubs, what do you think?” Jimmy tried, turning desperately to the silent pug still watching the trio retreating in the distance.  

Bdubs ignored him entirely, instead screaming out “WAIT!” at the top of his lungs. 

Jimmy blanched as he watched his fellow dog sprint away from him, calling out a desperate plea of, “Don’t leave me here alone!”

Bdubs caught up to the cat trio easily enough. He stood right in front of Etho, who still looked too sheepish to meet his gaze. With his sternest glare he demanded, “Give me the saddle.”

Etho gave a nervous chuckle but handed over the item all the same. “So…we’re good now? No hard feelings?”

“Nope,” Bdubs answered with a cheery smile, “You’re absolutely dead to me!” He then swiveled round, racing back to  join Lizzie, Scar and Jimmy where he left them. 

“Oh, thank the void you didn’t abandon me,” Jimmy sighed out in relief. 

“Abandon you? No! Never!” Bdubs assured, throwing an arm around the taller dog, “We’re bone brothers now.”

Lizzie cheered and Scar gave his own approving cackle as he swept them all in for a group hug. From within the inner circle, Bdubs continued, “Alright, new family, here’s the deal. I’ve got intel I can share about a whole host of these TRAITORS on this server.”

Still, even as he shared all he knew about the locations of the other players and their species, he couldn’t help glancing behind his back every now and then, just in case. And each time his eyes met only the empty landscape, he felt the cold wrap around his heart just a little bit tighter.

[photo1030]

Leather and Lace - Chapter 23: Colter - The Winter Storm

Summary: After a major job goes seriously wrong, the gang is driven out of the area. 

*This beautiful image comes from @gem-likes-rdr

*Thank you to @appalachiancowboy99 for being my sounding board.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter - TBD, but there are a handful of future chapters that were posted ahead of time

Shouts and chaos reign through the Van der Linde camp as it is hastily packed up. The stale odor of fires being doused with water chokes the air as sooty particles bounce into the sky like summer fireflies. Wooden boxes and crates crack loudly as they get hastily slammed shut, and wagons creak as the gang’s few possessions get roughly tossed inside. Ms. Grimshaw’s sharp voice barks instructions at the members who stayed behind while groups went out on their respective jobs. Your head rings, throbbing from anxiety and fear. You have never seen the gang so disheveled and unhinged and it is most unsettling. You are still trying to piece together what happened as you tend to the bloody wounds of your friends who are laid out in front of you. 

Apparently this ferry boat heist that Dutch and Micah had been planning for weeks went horribly wrong. The delectable smell of a take worth $150,000 in bank revenue was too tantalizing to pass up, but it also came with high risks. Arthur had tried to steer the fools from it, even Hosea tried. But their collective reasoning fell on deaf and indignant ears. So wanting no part of it himself, Arthur left the camp in a huff with Hosea to work their own real estate job instead. 

Dutch and Micah had taken a collection of the remaining outlaw misfits up to the town of Blackwater, the new up-and-coming port city of West Elizabeth. The town proudly buzzes with new businesses and commerce, with citizens and visitors flocking to the growing community. It is a lucrative area, brimming with lumber, mining, and port travel businesses along the Flat Iron Lake and its tributaries. 

Details of what transpired on the ferry boat are still unclear, as there was little time to explain what happened. But afterwards, Dutch and the others came tearing into camp like the devil himself was chasing them, hollering to anyone within earshot to pack it in. No time for pleasantries, just throw the shit in a wagon right this minute and move. 

Like a cloud of mosquitoes that scatters off of calm water when a stone is thrown, everyone explodes into an almost rehearsed motion, hurriedly moving to their respective areas to toss whatever humble belongings they have into crates. 

Fortunately, because you and Arthur share a living space now, he is able to pack up the belongings for the both of you, trying his best to be careful with your things while you are occupied elsewhere, hovering over the wounded. Arthur dismantles the tent quickly with the help of Reverend Swanson before he moves to assist you with packing the medical tent next. 

You try to remain calm, balancing packing supplies with tending to your injured friends, when out of the corner of your eye you see little Jack, his eyes filled with fearful tears of confusion. His mother has him sitting on the end of one of the wagons where she can keep a watchful eye on him, making sure he doesn’t get trampled under someone’s hurried feet. 

He sits perfectly still, nervously nibbling his fingers, as a constant in a whirlwind of commotion all around him. A hard lump forms in your throat as your heart aches for the poor child who is scared and confused as to the swirling chaos which is dangerously close to swallowing him up whole. Amazingly, the boy never seems to have too many issues with living out in the open and on the run like this. But when he sees the people who are always protecting him with their own fear pooling in their eyes, it causes Jack’s little body to shake with a new kind of panic. 

Slowly turning your face away from Jack, your gaze falls back to your monumental task at hand. Davey and Jenny are laid out in front of you, both groaning and gasping in pain from the gunshot wounds they sustained in the Blackwater robbery. Your attention skips between the two of them, changing bandages and administering tinctures and tonics in an effort to ease their pain. Reverend Swanson even offers up some of his morphine to help. And they will certainly need it for the journey ahead. 

Both Davey and Jenny’s injuries are severe and they shouldn’t be moved at all, but that is simply not an option. A sharp pang of guilt washes over you that you can’t do more for them so you patch them up as best you can, trying to make them comfortable. You then proceed to pack what you can while still staying within arms length of both of them, watching over them like a hawk. Ms. Grimshaw would normally assist you, but she’s got her own hands full right now. The whole camp has been given the directive to be packed and in place to move out as soon as possible. 

You place the last of the medical supplies into a crate to be placed into Arthur’s wagon when Dutch stalks through the area, gauging the progress of the camp’s dismantling. 

“Come on, people, we got to move!” he hollers, urgently sweeping his arm towards the lot of nerve-wracked gang members. 

“What about supplies?” interjects Mr. Pearson from his station, his face red with exertion as he heaves the last crate into the chuck wagon. “Food stocks are low.”

“No time”, barks Dutch. “We’ll just have to see what we can pick up along the way.” 

“Along the way to where?” you ask incredulously, eyebrows raised in challenge, as there has been no mention of a plan or destination of any kind. But you forget yourself, and more importantly, who you are talking to.

Dutch quickly spins on you, his dark eyes flash in your direction, his shoulders taught, pulling him even taller and more menacing. 

“Nevermind about that.” The words are growled out slow and low in a warning that makes you instantly recoil. “It is not your concern. I’m handling it.” 

But your stubbornness gets the best of you, as that answer is simply not going to placate you, not when your family’s lives are in your hands. You shake your head, face twisting up in disbelief as you look down at Davey’s blood-soaked body. 

“But what about-”

“Not now, Y/N!” Dutch’s deep voice raises in volume to immediately end the conversation. ”Just look after those who need medical attention and let me handle the move.”

Your eyes skip over to Arthur for help, but his face is set in stone with a grim expression that you cannot place. 

“Just do as you're told, Y/N”, he says flatly. 

That is all that Arthur can mutter before heading over to finish packing your shared tent.

—----------------------------------

Following the shootout, Blackwater and the entirety of the great Plains and Tall Trees region are put on lock-down. Pinkertons are brought in to cover the area to patrol like a dog ravaged with fleas, looking for the elusive Van Der Linde Gang. The Pinkerton Agency is a private security guard and detective agency that is known for their ruthless and sometimes violent tactics. Prominent companies and rich businessmen began to hire these groups shortly after the Civil War as bounty hunters of sorts to protect their interests and to help put an end to the “lawlessness of the Wild West”. 

Upon hearing that these men have now joined local law enforcement in chasing you all down makes your blood run cold. Suddenly the gravity of what your gang does, Arthur in particular, hits you full on. This “Robinhood-esque” lifestyle is no longer as romantic a notion as you once believed. And you are not so naive to deduce that if Dutch Van Der Linde is their target, then Arthur’s neck is surely in danger of a hangman’s noose as well. 

The whole territory is left in chaos in the gang’s wake. The ferryboat was a hailstorm of gunfire, killing lawmen and civilians alike. The law is not able to confirm if the gang was able to escape with the ferryboat money, as the cache has yet to be recovered. And this leaves the locals in a flurry, digging in gardens and backyards to see if the money was stashed anywhere where strangers fitting the gang’s collective descriptions were rumored to be lurking. 

Truth be told, the gang could not escape with the stolen money and instead, stashed it in an undisclosed location in Blackwater known only to Dutch and Hosea. They will have to come back for it when it’s safe and who knows when that will be. Dutch knew this would not be an easy job, but his arrogance has left nothing but destruction behind. 

But it wasn’t just those poor souls on the ferryboat who suffered. The “Blackwater Massacre”, as it is being referred to in the newspapers, has resulted in casualties to your family as well. John took a hit to the arm during the heist and Charles suffered a badly burned hand. But they got off lucky. 

Davey Callander was hit in the gut. It’s bad, too. The bullet tore right through his belly. You try to dress the wound as best you can to quell the bleeding, but you know it’s not good. His brother Mac was also shot at the scene, but apparently was not able to escape with the others. Whether Mac has been caught or killed, no one knows for sure. 

And then there’s Jenny. Sweet Jenny Kirk. She took a bullet, too, the fragment ricocheted around in her chest like a ball kicked around a schoolyard. As you hold your hand over her wound, watching the viscous red liquid pool around your fingers, you know in your heart what’s coming. Her soft brown eyes look to you, seeking that confirmation of whether she’s dying. But gazing into her ever-paling face, you don’t have the heart to tell her the truth.

“Everything is going to be fine, Jenny.” Smiling softly, you gently run your fingers through her hair before cupping her cheek. “I need you to relax and take it easy. I know it hurts and I’ll do everything I can to make it stop.” A tear rolls down the side of her face as she whimpers and nods, placing all of her trust in you.

And then there's Sean. Sean is missing, as well. He was last seen tucked behind a building, about to be swarmed by Pinkertons. He’s another one that was left behind, no one knowing whether he is dead or alive. 

Having nowhere to escape to, Dutch pushes your lot up into the Grizzly Mountains of Ambarino. It is a hard path and the gang leader is convinced that the law will not bother with the chase up there. With the situation becoming dire, he decides that you all would have to flee the area completely until this mess blows over. The threat of the swarming law is oppressive as it chases your group, strangling you all from any resources or salvation. There are few options for respite and none of them are too pleasing to begin with. 

As the procession of wagons rumbles further north, a helacious storm settles in, swallowing the gang in bitter cold and ice. The persistent snow covers your tracks into the mountains but it is a hard and treacherous journey. You make the dangerous trek up the mountainside and fortunately manage to lose your pursuers in the process. But that seems to be the only bit of luck the gang has been granted. 

Sadly, the atmosphere inside your wagon grows even more grim as Jenny’s labored breathing starts to slow as her battered body begins the final stages of failure. You knew it was a lost cause before you even hit the foothills of the mountains, but watching her life ebb away before your eyes tears at your heart nonetheless. 

Her poor body shakes as the cold winds wrap around the wagon, the constant rocking of the hard wooden platform that she lays upon offering her little relief as you try desperately to make her as comfortable as possible. You take her hand into yours, squeezing it tightly, and sing softly to her as she creeps closer to permanent relief. The fear of death that shadows her tired eyes begins to waver as she focuses on the comforting melody of your voice, a lullaby that tenderly floats into the air. 

And then suddenly, Jenny’s sweet face goes slack and her torment has ended. It takes you but a moment of staring at her young freckled face to wrap your mind around the reality of it before you and Abigail share a tearful look. Not a word is spoken between the two of you. You simply nod in acknowledgement to your friend as you look down at Jenny again. You are not looking forward to the painful task of telling Lenny. You set your lips to Jenny’s cold forehead before your hand ghosts over her face, closing her eyes. 

With a deep sigh, you now turn your full attention to Davey. You don’t know the Callender brothers too well. They always seemed too rowdy for your taste. But Arthur likes them well enough, taking a drink with them on occasion. 

But Jenny is a different story. She came into the gang just after you did. Being younger than you, she tended to stay more with Tilly and Mary Beth. She was a bit of a tom-boy, as they say, but sharp as a tack and sweet as honey. And particularly sweet on one Mr. Lenny Summers. He loved reading and discussing books with her. And that common interest created a beautiful little budding romance between the youngsters. She already knew how to read, but Lenny was helping Jenny develop her skills at it. You’d often catch them sitting at the fires together, coyishly touching shoulders and exchanging sweet blushing glances.

And poor Sean. Your mind quickly skips to him as you readjust yourself to check Davey’s bandages. Whoever caught Sean may put a bullet in him just to stop his mouth running. Karen acts like his absence doesn’t affect her so deeply, as if they weren’t so close. But you’ve heard her crying softly at night and noticed his shirt tucked into her bedroll. 

As the caravan of lost souls trudges ever onward, the sun begins its descent for the day and Arthur rides out ahead to try to find shelter from the merciless storm. You have your hands full caring for Davey, but you can’t help but worry for his safety, as well. 

Arthur is strong and as resilient as ever. And Dutch is leaning on him heavily to get the gang out of this mess that he’s made. Dutch wears Arthur like a shield, using him to take the brunt of the poundings, sending him off to do dangerous work. But as much as you hate to admit it, Arthur is the gang’s best hope at surviving this latest miscalculation. You have hardly even seen him since the gang rolled out of the valley let alone spoken to him. You want nothing more than to wrap your arms around him to make sure he is okay, to give him the support he needs, and to have him comfort you in return. But that is not possible at the moment, and that lack of connection with your love leaves you feeling empty and hopeless. 

Tucked away in the wagon between the injured, you cannot even see the outside world, let alone Arthur. You have no idea where he even is. You can only hear the world around you, as the frigid wind howls next to your ear, causing the canvas over top to shake and snap loudly. Abigail reaches up to light the rusty lantern that sways from the roof of the wagon as the darkness of the end of the day settles upon you all. The flame is small and fragile within the glass globe, struggling to keep itself going, just like the hope in your heart. 

Reverend Swanson walks along the side of the lead wagon and up towards the front of it where Dutch and Hosea sit perched on the bench, driving the poor horses onward in the unrelenting weather. 

“We need to stop soon,” Reverend hollers up to them, his voice getting muffled in the wind. “Jenny’s dead. And Abigail says Davey’s not doing too well either. We’ll need to find a place, “ he adds with a knowing look.

“We’ll all be dead soon if we don’t get out of this storm,” grumbles Hosea. The old man tucks his chin into the collar of his coat, wrapping his arms around his thin frame even tighter to try to stay warm.

Dutch nods in an attempt at consolation. “It’ll be alright,” he affirms. “We’ll find shelter soon. Arthur is out there looking for a place.”

And just like that, as if called out of the darkness, a shadowy form emerges from the swirling snow. Arthur’s unmistakable blue coat and trusty horse come into view, a faint yellow glow from his lantern acting like a beacon. 

“I found a place,” the seasoned outlaw shouts over the howling wind. “Not too far up ahead.” Arthur’s face twists up against the frigid air, his mouth turning down into a frustrated and annoyed scowl, his eyes just as icy and angry as the weather. 

Arthur turns Buck around to head back the way they came, and eventually leads the gang to settle in an abandoned mining town known as Colter. 

*This fantastic images comes from @rosesrdr2photography

_________________________________________

It is early evening by the time the gang arrives at the small collection of broken-down buildings known as Colter. The sun’s absence has plunged the world into darkness, making it exponentially colder. Hosea climbs down from the wagon with stiff joints and hurries over as fast as the deep snow allows his old knees to move to inspect the nearest building that looks inhabitable. He heaves his shoulder into the door, thrusting his lantern inward to cast its fragile illumination upon the interior. The room is bleak and dreary, covered in cobwebs and dust from a time long forgotten by the last inhabitants. But, at least it has walls and a solid roof. And more importantly, it is empty. 

“Bring him in here!” Hosea calls out over his shoulder into the dark. Arthur and Bill carry Davey inside on a make-shift gurney with you and Abigail following closely behind. The rest of the group falls in as well, desperate to get out of the wagons and out of the elements.

Your red-stained fingers hover over Davey’s bandages again, noting with disappointment at how much more blood has been lost since you last checked. Out of the corner of your eyes, you catch Abigail fidgeting above his chest and mouth, looking for signs of life. 

“Davey’s dead”, she announces with a matter of fact tone laced with disappointment.

Abigail’s statement halts you in your tracks. Your eyes dart between Abigail’s wind-chapped face to Davey’s lifeless one, before your gaze falters back to the wound that your hands are currently buried in, the blood already coagulating and becoming cold. A defeated sigh drags your shoulders down even further, and with a heavy heart at having lost another, you slowly retract your hands, fixing the blanket around Davey’s body like a death shroud. 

The room sits heavy with sorrow. The expressions on everyone’s faces are a mixture of both sadness and exhaustion and one that is collectively shared by the entire group. 

To his credit, Dutch senses the need of his people, the need to be cared for and consoled. You all need that guiding light to focus on if you are to make it out of this hell alive. Dutch steps into the middle of the small gathering, and proceeds to address the gang with a speech, trying to rally you all together as morale is at an all-time low. Like the father figure that you all so desperately need and share, his deep voice carries softly, yet firmly in the dead air. It is this that is Dutch’s greatest gift:  the gift of charisma. 

He ends his impassioned speech with “Get yourselves warm. Stay strong. Stay with me.” And then Dutch immediately shifts into survival mode, as there is no time for sadness. He needs to get you all refocused on the hardship that still lies ahead.

“We’ll get some supplies. Mr. Pearson, Ms. Grimshaw, I need you to turn this place into a camp.” Both loyal gang members nod in unison at their understood roles. ”Arthur, come with me. Let’s head out and see what we can find.” 

“In this?” Arthur tosses his arm towards the storm that rages all around you, threatening to snow you all in and suffocate you. 

“Yes,” Dutch declares emphatically. “We should go now before it gets worse out there and then we can’t get out at all. Come on.” Dutch huffs and turns to head back out into the cold.

You silently watch as Arthur just rolls his eyes in annoyance before he obediently follows Dutch outside. A cold and unsettled feeling washes over you as Arthur shuffles out the door behind his mentor. You are still trying to piece together what happened back in Blackwater, but the whispers indicate that it was not good at all. The fact that your friends’ blood covers your hands and clothing is a bad enough indication. 

But you overheard Javier talking about how Dutch shot an innocent woman. Your mind scrambled upon hearing that. While you are well aware of how dangerous Dutch Van der Linde can be, you just couldn’t believe that he would kill an innocent bystander for no reason. 

Once outside, Arthur fixes his coat collar high around his cheeks to block the whipping winds. And finally having a moment alone with Dutch, he takes the opportunity to ask what has been plaguing his mind since you all left. 

“What happened back there on that boat?” Arthur’s skeptical blue eyes hold Dutch’s dark ones, waiting for an explanation that he feels he’s owed.

“We missed you, Arthur. That’s what happened.” Dutch’s curt answer doesn’t provide any sort of information other than deflection with a slight hint of blame. “Now come on. We got to see if we can come across Micah or John. They’re supposed to be out there lookin’ around.” 

He quickly stalks away to head towards the horses again, leaving Arthur standing disgruntled in the snow before he can even counter his point. Dutch throws his leg over the Count’s saddle, waiting impatiently for Arthur and Buck to pull up next him and then they head out into the frigid weather once more. 

He should probably be sitting inside, trying to get warm, but the swell of anger and annoyance is more than enough to keep Arthur warm at the moment. None of this would be happening if Dutch and Micah had listened to him. But no. And now, friends are dead and missing, the law and Pinkertons are hot on your heels, and the gang is chased up into the middle of nowhere, freezing and starving. 

The two men are not out too long before Micah meets them along the path. His body is covered in snow, Baylock’s mane crusted with ice. “I found a homestead with a fire lit a little ways back,” he informs the two riders. “Might be able to get some resources there.”

“Alright good, let’s take a look,” agrees Dutch. And the three of them plod along in the snow, back down to where Micah found the small ranch. 

Upon reaching the top of the hill, Micah points down towards the property he found. There is a main house with some smaller buildings scattered about. And there is, indeed, a fire illuminating out into the blue of the night. They make their way down to the house, maneuvering around fence posts and small paddocks. They dismount and stash the horses at the edge of the property to make their way on foot, careful not to be noticed

“Alright,” whispers Dutch, “You two stay hidden out of sight. I’ll knock on the door and see what we’re dealing with. We may get farther with one freezing man out in the cold than three of us wielding guns.” 

Arthur and Micah quietly nod in unison, a rare instance of camaraderie, and each find hiding spots crouching in the snow behind a chicken coop and a wagon, diligently watching Dutch as he approaches the dwelling and knocks on the door. 

He is greeted by a man who is naturally uneasy at seeing someone arrive at his door at this hour and in these weather conditions. Dutch puts on his best friendly face at the sight of the skeptically scowling host.

“Hello, friend!” Dutch smiles brightly with that trademark silver tongue and charm. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but you see, my people and I got lost in this storm.” He pointedly waves his arm behind him towards the swirling snow. “And we’re hoping you might be able to help us out a little.”

From where they are sitting in the ice-crusted snow, Arthur and Micah watch the exchange between Dutch and the man, but suddenly, something catches Micah’s attention, causing him to abruptly sit up.

“Arthur!” he hisses, causing Arthur’s cautious eyes to leave Dutch’s form and dart in his direction. “There’s a body in this wagon!” Micah flips over the canvas that is covering the wooden structure he is hiding behind to reveal a corpse, dead at least a day with a bullet hole in his chest. “Somethin’ ain’t right here!”

And before he knows what’s happening, Arthur’s ears are assaulted by the loud cracks of gunfire. The air explodes into gunshots and shouting from all directions of the property. Quickly looking to cover Dutch, Arthur sees the man that greeted Dutch is dead in front of him with two more coming out of the house. Dutch backpedals, but makes quick work of them, while more men swarm the house from all around. 

Now, say what you will about Micah Bell, but he is quite skilled with a gun, like it is an extension of himself. And being paired up with Arthur, the two easily take care of the collection of men that pour from the house and surrounding areas. Bullets mingled with wooden splinters from ill-aimed shots graze Arthur’s head, but he is a man ruled by instinct and reflexes, and the pounding of his heart gets pushed to the far reaches of his brain. Bodies quickly begin to fall, deep crimson blood staining the pristine white of the powdery snow. 

The commotion settles almost as quickly as it began, calming once more to a deafening silence before Arthur and Micah are able to safely approach the house to join Dutch on the small porch. Dutch looms over one of the men that lays in a heap in the doorway, nudging him with his black boot. 

“O’Driscolls” Dutch spits the name with disdain, his breath frosting like a halo above his head in the cold. “What the hell are they doing up here so far North?” He looks about again as if to find the answer in the room inside the house. “Well, whatever it is, nevermind right now. Check the place over, we got people waiting for us,” he nods in determination. “Grab whatever you can that would be useful, food, blankets, medicine.”

As the three men split up to comb the property, Arthur heads into the barn to see what he can find there. The scent of old, mildewing hay and unmucked stalls cascades into his nostrils as he crosses the threshold of the barn. His blue eyes scan the sparse area which is already looking thread-bare. A huff of disappointment escapes his chapped lips as he meanders listlessly, picking up random items such as a few oatcakes for his horse and a rope, but nothing too significant.  

A shadow catches Arthur’s eye, his head snapping to attention in one of the stalls. Before he can make heads or tails of things, a body darts out of the shadows and jumps him from behind. The person hurls their meager body into Arthur’s much larger one, throwing their arms around him in a feeble attempt to knock him to the ground. Apparently another O’Driscoll hiding in the shadows. 

However, the idiot has no idea who he is dealing with and Arthur quickly flips the man over his shoulder as if he were tossing nothing more than a bag of feed. The wind is knocked out of the man’s lungs as he slams flat onto his back, blinking the stars out of his eyes as Arthur is quick to grab ahold of his jacket and begins to land blow after blow to the intruder’s face. Arthur’s fists angrily pummel into skin and teeth, as the sound of bone crunching and blood spurting from a busted lip and nose quickly escalates to mix with pathetic whimpers and sings through the brisk air. 

The commotion draws Dutch’s attention from where he is combing the fallen bodies for clues as to why the rival gang is here on this property. From outside he hurries over to the barn to make sure that Arthur is not in need of assistance. But Dutch stops short at the sight, mildly amused to see his right-hand man not only just fine, but has caught one of the trespassers. 

The younger outlaw pauses, eyes intensely burning into the man beneath with his arm pulled back, threatening to deliver another blow.

“What are you all doin’ here?” Arthur shouts angrily.

The O’Driscoll cowers in fear as Arthur looms over him. “N..Nothin’! I swear!”

A sickening sound of blood squelching fills the air again with another punch to the teeth. 

“Now, I sure don’t believe that.” A wickedly sadistic grin crawls across Arthur’s face, his breath circling in the air like that of a fire breathing dragon. 

“I ain’t gonna ask again, what are you all doing out here?!” Arthur shouts, spittle flying into the man’s face. 

“It’s…It’s a train. A train is coming through. Colm has us getting ready for it.”

A heartless chuckle rumbles from Dutch’s chest from where he stands in the doorway watching the interrogation. “Well, alright, then.” He turns to head back to the house with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Arthur, I'll trust you to take care of this.” 

Arthur barely has time to process this information before he hears screaming coming from the main house. With his captor distracted, the O’Driscoll wrenches himself free from Arthur’s gloved hands and tries to flee, sprinting out from under Arthur’s grasp. 

Tripping on his own two feet, the O’Driscoll tries to make a break for it across the yard. But he only gets so far before Arthur smoothly pulls his gun from his holster and calmly puts a bullet in the man’s back, landing him facedown in the snow. With that matter taken care of without so much as an afterthought, Arthur turns his full attention towards the continued ruckus coming from the house. 

“What the hell is it now?” he mutters under his breath, and quickly stalks over to see what the next issue is that he has to deal with. 

Taking the porch steps two at a time, Arthur barrels into the house to see Micah chasing a frazzled woman around a table as she is screaming in terror, hurling objects at him in self defense. Micah’s hands are held up, trying to placate the woman, but one could tell that he’d pounce on her the second he got close enough. Whether he was trying to calm her, or torment her even more, who knows, but either way, Arthur is infuriated at the sight. Arthur quickly rushes forward, shoving Micah out of his way, and putting himself between the two. 

The poor woman is almost feral at this point, eyes wild, her hands desperately clutching any object she can get her hands on to try to defend herself.

“It’s alright, miss, we ain’t gonna hurt ya,” Arthur tells her, his voice low and soft, using the same tone he uses with Buck when he gets spooked. 

The woman slowly ceases her screaming, her chest heaving in exhaustion as she tries to catch her breath, panicked eyes darting all around the room. Dutch comes up behind Arthur, also trying to calm the poor woman who is shaking like a leaf. 

But the calm moment is all too brief as a fire quickly starts to spread across the floor from a lantern that was knocked over in the uproar. 

“Come on, we gotta get outta here,” mutters Dutch. “Time to go.”

Dutch is quick to grab a large blanket from the living room, wrapping it around the small woman before directing her out of the house. Orange and red flames quickly crawl up the side of the walls of the dwelling like a spider as the four of them duck out of the house. Arthur tucks the woman against him to protect her from the elements, escorting her outside as the house begins to catch fire, engulfed and smoldering behind her. 

“We ain’t good men,” he informs her, “but we’re better than those others, I guarantee.” 

The poor thing quietly submits as Arthur carefully lifts her small frame up onto Buck’s saddle before climbing up himself and settling in front of her.

“They….they killed my husband,” she whimpers.

“You’ll be safe with us, miss,” assures Dutch as they begin to move away from the house. “What’s your name?”

“Sadie. Sadie Adler,” she mumbles as she turns her chin over her shoulder to watch her home and everything she loved so dearly burn to the ground. 

*This fantastic images comes from @rosesrdr2photography

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

A/N: I decided to break this section into multiple chapters like I did with "Feelings Revealed." This is the setup chapter, more drama (and love) to come!

Tag List: @rivetingrosie4​ @bimbo-dollz​ @pine4pple-b0i​ @redwritr​ @kuri-chans-blog​ @queer-sadie-adler​ @joelmillerswifey​ @gimmethosedaddymilkers​ @pcotarelo​ @delilah-grimes​ @maemortem​ @wistfulwisteriawitch​ @lilacxxdreams​ @mentallyillfrogs​ @absolutegeek​ @spurz​ @sophiaj650​ @uniqueclodzinevoid​ @lookingformaurice​ @pawoui​ @randomidk-123​ @yyiikes​ @eddiemetalheadmunson​ @twola​ @kmartkiddieisle​ @red-dead-simp @regwishesshehadmagic​  @rhehr241​  @earwen-x​ @akariver75​ @djennty​ @nervousmumbling​ @xliliths​ @unbotheredbeeeee​ @onnetonprinsessa​ @kittiowolf210​ @ezrynn​ @suhiss @arthurmargon​​ @codnerd1999 @queer-sadie-adler​​ @alice-vanderlinde​​ @sweetandstoned21​​ @j4llyf7sh @spooky631​​ @m0r4rx @ilovrxats​​ @i-69-urmom​​ @ddbluesie @ivuravix @nervousmumbling @sickvictorianangel @tirededuxhours @ezzythereal1 @chloepluto1306 @ivys-valentine @spiritcatcherxo @lea-khena @brccklynbaby1 @foundynnel @readingcoco @carmelamontezlikr @ultraporcelainpig @sofiaa-xcx @namesaretomainstream @miphy @cookiesandcreaminthetardis @loveheartabby @daisybvck @julialoopeezz @a-court-of-valkyries

*I tagged people who expressed interest in the continued story. If you’d like to be added or removed, please let me know. There are a few that would not let me link, so I apologize if this doesn’t ping some people. 

[hihomeghere]

66 kieran duffy? not enough great writers for this poor boah </3

Word count : 750

Warnings/tags : Cursing, handjob, talk of naked woman’s body.

Prompt : Were you touching yourself?

He hadn’t meant to catch you in such a compromising situation, honest he hadn’t. He just needed to get away from everything. The assholes round camp, always giving him shit no matter how many times he proved himself. No matter how many times he said he wasn’t a damn O’Driscoll. But the fish didn’t care who he had been, or who he was now. He had walked a decent ways away from camp, alongside flat iron lake.

He scanned the water, looking for ripples in the water. Then his eyes landed on your naked body. Dropping his pole at his feet with a dull clank on the dirt. He froze, terrified you had heard him. You didn’t seem to hear him at all, your hands running down the valley of your breasts. It was such an innocent task, simply washing the sweat and grime from the day off of your body. Like a mythical creature, an angel or some sort of nymph. The sun shining off the water onto your body, creating beautiful rays along your bare hips and stomach. His dick twitched in his pants as your lips fell open in a soft sigh.

Suddenly his brain connected with the rest of his body, his feet leading him backwards into the tree line. His back hit the harsh bark of the tree, hidden underneath the canopy of the forest.

His cock pressed painfully against his jeans, his balls felt full and heavy. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, sneaking a glance around the area. It seemed to only be the two of you near the lake, at least this far away from camp and the road.

He cursed himself, fighting whether or not to get some much needed relief.

If any of the men from camp found him like this, Jesus they’d do worse than geld him. He knew how protective everyone was of you, if anything they’d just be happy to put him through pain.

His eyes fell upon your body again, your face up towards the sun. Soaking in the heat of the sun, while your bottom half cooled in the lake. He was throbbing now. He couldn’t take it any longer, no matter how he fought he had to give him.

You were so beautiful, your wet hair sticking to your neck and back.

And so kind. It was what had drawn him to you, other than your beauty. Which he hated to admit he had noticed at first. Made him feel dirty, although not as dirty as he felt now. He felt like a damn pervert, yanking his hard cock out of his pants. He let out a soft groan as he squeezed the base, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

As much as he wanted to savor this, he knew he had to be quick. Fisting his dick in his hand, his knees buckling under him. Pleasure shot up his spine, another moan slipping past his lips. Water droplets running down your breast, along the curve of your soft stomach. Dear Christ just a bit more, he ran his palm over his slit and he was gone. His breath stole from his lungs. Sticky spent covering his hand, he panted leaning his head back

“Were you touching yourself?” Fuck. He shoved himself back in his pants, his eyes going wide as saucers as he looked up at you. Still dripping from the lake, your chemise near transparent against your body. When did you get out of the lake? A small smirk spreads across your plump lips.

“N-No ma’am!” He stutters, flushing under your gaze. “I wasn’t staring neither!” He says shaking his head, shoving his hand behind his back. Hiding the evidence of his shame from you.

“That’s a shame.” You said softly, shaking your head. His breath caught in his throat at your words.

“What- what do ya mean miss?” He sputtered, swallowing thickly.

“Said it’s a shame,” you said nonchalantly, your shirt and skirt under your arm as you set your hand on your hip. “Would have loved to watch.”

For the second time today Kieran swore he couldn’t breathe. His mouth opened and closed like a damn fish as you smiled up at him sweetly.

“Maybe next time.” You said over your shoulder, as you walked away. Swaying your hips as the sand from the shore rubbed off of your feet onto the grass.

He finished putting himself away, zipping up his pants as he ran after you. Your wish was his command.

[twola]

I’m a slut for semi-public sex and I know you’ve written multiple fics for this but what if Arthur X reader actually get caught instead of almost 👀

Caught

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

"Far enough" from camp is not far enough.

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

Your giggles are drowned out by the kisses that Arthur showers upon your lips as the two of you stumble further into the wooded area outside the camp, along the shores of Flat Iron Lake.

“Think this-,” You pant, “Is far enough?”

Arthur presses his lips to your jaw, “Depends how loud you’re gonna be.” He drawls playfully as he starts to pull up your skirts. 

His groan, however, is what you shush when he moves one hand between your legs.

“No drawers? You naughty little thing you.” He hoarsely grits out as he cups your whole cunt in his palm, warm to the touch and making you gasp.

All you can do is smile coquettishly as you step back from him and lay yourself down in the grass, pulling your skirts up past your hips and swinging your legs open, “C’mere, cowboy.”

Arthur is down on his knees in an instant, undoing his pants and drawing out his already hard length. At least he had the wherewithal before to strip himself of his gunbelt in his tent before finding you and dragging you into the woods as nighttime fell across the camp.

In a tangle of limbs and clothing, you moan as he sinks his cock into your heat, with the practiced familiarity of a lover, one so knowledgeable about your body that he know’s he’s wound you up enough for him.

Arthur balances on his forearms above you as he starts to roll his hips, and you throw your arms around his shoulders as you whine with each cant into your body, completely losing yourselves in each other’s passion.

Until you are interrupted, that is.

A gun clicks in between your gasping breaths. Arthur stops mid-thrust and you both slowly turn your head in the direction of the sound.

A revolver is pointed at Arthur’s frame, its barrel shaking in the moonlight. Now that you look at it, the whole gun is shaking. Actually, the person holding the gun is shaking.

You scream for a moment before Arthur places his hand over your mouth and snarls at the intruder.

“You’ve got three seconds to put that gun down and get the hell out of here, boy.”

Poor Kieran Duffy immediately points the gun at the ground and steps backward, his skin pale and his figure trembling even more than usual.

“One,” Arthur growls, pushing up on his arm to loom over you. He releases his hand from your mouth and you look fearfully at Kieran with wide, frightful eyes.  Arthur places his hands on either side of your neck in the grass. His cock twitches slightly, still halfway buried in your cunt.

“Two.”

As he grits out the word, his hips press forward, and your head turns up to face him, incredulous at his audacity, but you cannot stop the moan from escaping your throat as his cock carves deep inside you, your hips being pushed forward by his own. He no longer glares at the intruder, staring down at you with a feral, dark hunger set into his features.

He takes a breath, looking back up at Kieran, who has finally found his feet and starts backpedaling. Without looking away, he draws his hips back and forcefully, quickly thrusts down into you, making your neck arch as you throw back your head and scream.

Kieran stumbles back through the bushes and is finally out of sight.

Arthur snarls again, his fingers digging into the grass by your head.

“ ‘M gonna,” he thrusts hard into you again, making you cry out, “kill that damn-” thrust, “O’Driscoll-”

Each and every roll of his hips slams you into the ground, and you shamelessly cry out each time the tip of his cock hits that spot within you, so deep you could swear you could feel him in your guts.

“Arthur-!”

He groans aloud as he grinds his hips into yours as you clutch around him, keening his name as you come. Arthur follows you over the edge, releasing deep in your cunt.

As you regain your senses, you clutch at him, rubbing reassuringly at his forearms as he pants atop you. The deep set lines of aggravation along his forehead haven’t dissipated. 

“Arthur-…” you whisper softly, gently, trying to calm him down. You know that look in his eye, the look he gets when he has a job, when the ruthless outlaw surfaces.

He extricates himself from your hips and leans back on his knees, tucking himself away as he rebuttons his pants.

Arthur does not look at you as you press yourself up to sit, your free hand pulling your skirts down to your knees, at the very least.

“Arthur.” A little more force behind your voice this time.

His gaze meets yours, and you can see his jaw working as he mumbles, “Mhm.”

“Don’t do anythin’ to him.”

Arthur grunts noncommittally in response.

“Arthur.” You reach forward and place your hand on his chest, “I’m serious.”

Pushing himself up from his knees, he brushes the grass off his pants before holding his hand out to pull you up.

“Fine.” 

He pulls you up and you immediately wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face into his chest in some kind of hope to break the aggravation he’s fallen into. You tip your head back and lay your chin on his sternum, trying to appear cute as you blink up at him.

He leans down and places his lips on yours as he wraps his arms around you in a conciliatory manner. You smile into the kiss.

You pull back a step and wring your hands slightly, “Promise you won’t do anythin’ to him?”

He grabs your hand and places his lips against the back of it, “Promise.”

You smile again at him, and as he lets go of your hand, you lean up and kiss him on the cheek, your lips scratched gently by his short beard.

“I’m gonna head to sleep then, g’d night, Arthur.” You say with a yawn, stepping backward away from him.

“G’d night, Darlin’.”

Arthur watches you walk back to the camp, and immediately the scowl returns to his face. He leans over to pick up his hat from the ground, places it on his head, and stalks in the other direction.

-

Kieran Duffy knows he’s in for it. He knows he’s on thin ice with Arthur, even if he had saved his hide at Six Points. Of all people to stumble upon… why did it have to be the damn enforcer of the gang?

He makes himself scarce around the camp that night, staying even closer to the horses’ hitching posts than he usually does, dragging his bedroll to the other side of where the horses are circled up from the camp.

Maybe Arthur wouldn’t find him if he stayed real quiet in the night.

“O’Driscoll!” 

Maybe he was the unluckiest goddamn fool in the world.

The aforementioned enforcer of the Van der Linde gang stalks toward him, anger radiating off of his frame. Kieran is able to make it all of two steps backward before the wind gets knocked out of him. Arthur slams Kieran back into the tree behind him, his hands clamped on Kieran’s shoulders, easily holding the smaller man inches above the ground.

“If I even see you lookin’ in her direction, O’Driscoll - you’re gonna wish I let Bill geld you.” Arthur snarls at Kieran, who nods, terrified, his hat falling to the ground and rolling several feet away on its rim.

“Got it?” Arthur pushes Kieran’s shoulders back into the tree again, unimpressed by his lack of answer.

“G-got it, M-mister Morgan.” Kieran stutters, and crumbles to the ground as Arthur lets go of his shoulders.

“You should be thankful I promised her I wouldn’t hurt you, O’Driscoll. She’s a far better person than I am.” Arthur turns dismissively back to camp, leaving Kieran a stuttering heap of unlucky limbs against the trunk of the tree.

Kieran lets out a long breath, watching Arthur return toward the lantern lights of the camp.

Unlucky fool indeed.