#arthur morgan & original character

[nataliabdraws]

arthur sketches featuring my OC Ramona

[shiningcullen69]

Arthur’s journal, featuring some propaganda of my Charthur baby.

[jennyartkim]

Ehhhh xd emm ups

[eccentricallygothic]

The Farmer's Bidding

Pairing: Dark!Arthur Morgan | Gender-Neutral Spouse!You. 

Description: Days when you're irrationally needy are Arthur's favorite. Because it is then you willingly do all his depraved bidding.

Part 2 to this but you can probably read it as is.

Warning(s): Dubcon (just to be safe), dark!Arthur, house wife kink, denial, torture, begging, degradation, humiliation, brat taming, nipple biting, kissing, unprotected sex, dick riding, sex pollen, forced marriage, enemies to fuckers, one spank, Arthur calling your hole pussy once just because he is a condescending asshole. Minors do not interact.

Type: Request (anon), here.

.

Unbeknownst to you, Arthur had taken notice of your altered behavior the moment you had walked into the small dining area that was a few steps away from the kitchen this very morning, pot in hand that you had placed on its stand in the middle of the table before serving him his breakfast. 

Unlike your usual hateful self, today was one of those such days where you could not resist your husband. Could you really be blamed though? When he sat on a chair with his legs spread in the most manly manner possible, focused on what he was doing while his mouth released clouds of smoke every now and then? 

No, you reckoned not. 

So you had been availing every possible chance since this morning to brush past him, rub against him, linger over him and just make any physical contact that you could manage to get him to react. 

But Arthur had chosen to bite back his amused smirk while he had pretended not to notice you nearly whining out loud because of his faux obliviousness to your advances. Instead, he would continue to suck on his cigar and write away in his journal until you became so frustrated that you ‘accidentally’ tripped over your own feet in such a way that you landed right in his lap. 

The next few moments had been a fleeting blur. Your brain had only caught on when you were pouting and whining while sinking down on your husband's stiff shaft. 

But Arthur wouldn't be Arthur without his teasing. And so his rough and scarred hands restrained your hips tightly in place once you were resting on his balls, his grip thus disallowing you from creating the friction you so desperately craved.

“Now, how about this, baby?” His words were guttural and so they added to the heat between your legs. “You act like you’re better than all this mess…” You grunted as your nails dug into the hard skin of his manly shoulders. But Arthur did not relent. Your hole clenched and unclenched to try and aid itself in the discomfort it felt. “Ya act like you’re too good for me…” You whimpered as your forehead collapsed against his. Arthur’s darkened eyes stared into yours. “But I don’t pay you no mind for just half a day… and you turn into a silly lil’ critter…” Your face was already ablaze, but his words did not fail to add more warmth to it. 

They never did.

You still refused to speak hence openly admit your harlotry and stubbornly tried to rock yourself against him once more. He heavily chuckled and it sent shivers down your spine and up where your bodies connected. 

“Hng!” You shivered with a wince. 

“You know what to do, baby” when you whined in response, Arthur tutted you like you were no older than a little baby and leaned in to take a little lick at your nipple. You shuddered as you realized that the upper strings of your apron had been brought loose and your husband had ripped the buttoned opening of your dress so to reveal your chest to him. 

“N- No…” You tried to stand your ground. 

Arthur had once told you that he liked the fighting bit the most. 

Because crushing your pride and getting you to admit that you were his little slut so he would fuck you harder was what it was about. 

“Yeah, baby?” His voice was soft and playful. But you knew better than to take it lightheartedly.

You could see it clear as day in his lust clouded eyes. 

He had taken it as a challenge.

Arthur twirled his hot tongue around your erect nub, creeping one hand down to your privates and giving a good caress to them, his long fingers somehow reaching every crevice and bump.

“Ah!” Your back arched and the muscles in your thighs began to twitch when the rough stubble of his face began to drag itself towards your neck, his balmy lips finding their chapped way to your throat before he pressed a soft kiss to your sensitive skin.

You whined again, feeling your face scrunch in a pleading manner as you twisted and writhed, desperate to move your hips. Arthur knew just the way to kiss your neck. The amount of lip, tongue and teeth he put in each time he did it tightened your loins in a way that deprived you of your rational faculties and made you do whatever depraved bidding of his that he desired. 

“I know, baby, I know” he cooed with faux sympathy while he stroked your intimates in such a torturous manner that it added to your need but was not enough to satisfy it, his mouth sucking the marks of his ownership into your delicate skin. “And ya know how to help yourself here. You know the words, remember? I taught ya them myself” you cried out helplessly, on the verge of sobbing as you gave one last push to your weak knees so to rebel against the ironhold he had on your waist.

But strength had never been a debatable factor between Arthur and you.

“Please, hubby, please!” You caved in at last, pouting as you felt the words scald your tongue. “Please, fuck me! Please!” 

Arthur chuckled and the vibrations that sent up your seeping walls nearly made your head spin. “Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?” And the cruel hand that had been holding you back was finally let up, causing your hole to almost swallow his heavy sack. “Now fuck that cute lil’ pussy silly on my cock.” A harsh crack of his fingers against your ass set you obediently into motion. 

.

[drizzledrawings]

Cowboys are often secretly fond of each other

[miller-n-morgan-2]

Take Me Home

2. Gunslinger

Arthur Morgan x Texas Red!Reader

A/n: thank you guys for the warm welcome back and for reading the first part! I hope to be getting the Joel series reposted soon, but for now, I'm just going to be uploading these.

Summary: With the newest outlaw settled into camp, Arthur takes on yet another role within the group: Teacher.

Warnings: canon typical violence, guns, talk of blood and brutality. Backstory mentions misogyny, and has detailed descriptions of arranged marriage. Mild language, some angst, mostly still just an introductory chapter.

WC: 3.3k

“I know what Dutch said,” he nodded, approaching closer and crossing his arms. “I still expect something in return for my services.”

You scoffed. “I ain’t got nothing you would want.”

“Sure, you do…” he trailed, standing right in front of you and reaching down towards your hip. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat, even just having him this close to you. When his hand met your gun, pulling it away from its holster, you relaxed just a bit more. “How is it you shoot so fast?”

You haven’t seen much of the nature of Agua Fria, but you’re glad you’re able to, now. You’d town hopped a few times within the city, letting new faces get a look at yours. But there was a sort of pressure in those crowded areas, and it doesn’t feel like that in the Van Der Linde campsite. 

The gang has taken well to you. It’s been a fortnight since you joined up, the ragtag gang of outlaws, thieves, and gunslingers had been welcoming, given your display on just the day after your arrival.

Dutch has yet to send you on any jobs, mainly because of something you revealed to everyone around the campfire a week ago. 

“How does one shoot a rifle?” you pondered curiously, the silence of the group making you anxious.

“Boy, you better be pulling my leg,” Dutch himself butted in, shaking his head in disbelief. A cigarette hung from his lips, but he pulled it away to stare you down. 

“Well, I just…” haven’t ever shot one before. You’d trailed off before any further mockery could be made, but it was too late.

“You mean to tell me, that in eighteen years of life, you never managed to fire a rifle?” Arthur chimed in, though he was in on your secret, this revelation still surprised him. What else were you hiding?

“If y’all are just gonna mock me, I’m turnin’ in.”

Dutch laughed, and everyone else in the circle made an attempt to undo the harm done. 

“Javier ain’t even played a damn note, and you’re gonna sleep?” John cut in, his gravelly voice full of resentment to your attitude. Maybe you were a bit touchy, but it’s not like you’d ever had close friends to joke around with before. Much less people who got away with poking so much fun to your name.

“Who cares if he can’t shoot a rifle? He’s got a faster shot than all of you with a pistol,” Tilly piped up, her sweet voice just about putting all the other men in their place. She looked at you with contrition. “I’m not very good with those big guns, either.” 

“Thank you, Miss Tilly,” you tipped your hat, sitting back down on the log next to her. 

That was another thing… You couldn’t bear to break the young girl’s heart, although she would have to find out eventually that you were not in fact the man she thought you were. 

Arthur chuckled under his breath watching the interaction, going back to the drink in his hand with a shake of his head. He wouldn’t say anything, he promised he wouldn’t… but some of these occurrences were just too amusing, he couldn’t help his genuine reactions. The slanted jokes about male anatomy towards you, usually coming from John, Sean, or even the calendar boys. The way that you nearly had a heart attack when Miss Grimshaw offered to help you out of your clothes to wash them. Even now, the sweet words from Tilly and the funny way you looked at your feet to avoid meeting her eyes. 

He’d been surprised, if he’s honest. He thought that with all her romantic notions and storybook thoughts that Mary-Beth would be the one to fancy a new gunslinger… but maybe you just weren’t her type. Perhaps it was the red hair that deterred her, he knows for sure that was the case when Sean tried his luck. Good thing Karen was there to catch his fall. But sweet Tilly had no idea what she was in for.

He’d teased you about it over the next week, and finally today, when it was time to show you the ropes of a rifle. Dutch insisted that running with them required knowledge of more than pistols and revolvers, and who better to teach than the enforcer himself.

“Like this?” you asked, trying to place the gun correctly. 

“Yeah sure, if you wanna blow your arm out of socket.” His low chuckle, followed by a drag of smoke was not helpful, and neither were his words, but your position was just too funny.

“I believe this is where you’re s’posed to be helpin’ me,” you replied, a fiery bite in your words. You’d been learning to warm up to people’s teasing, although it was still a long road to go. 

He stood to his feet from where he lounged by a tree, coming up beside you to kick your foot out a little. “Can’t stand like a tree, kid… you’ll tip over in the wind.”

He pulled the butt of the gun into your shoulder, making sure you wouldn’t give out when the gun fires. 

“Alright, the shootin’ part should be easy for you. Just hold strong, that thing’s gonna kick back a hell of a lot more than any handgun.” 

You pulled back the bolt, raising the barrel until you could aim properly. The glass bottle on the tree branch down the way looked like an easy enough target, but when you fired, you weren’t ready for how much pressure the gun would push on you, and you stumbled back into Arthur. 

“Mind your step, will ya?” he teased yet again, and it took everything in you to just ready your stance and try again without saying a word. 

You took a deep breath, pulling back on the bolt once more. You had a good idea as to how much you needed to push back this time. Finding the bottle again, you pulled the trigger, closing your eyes at the explosion and faintly hearing the sound of broken glass in the distance. 

“I did alright,” you turned to Arthur, a narrow gaze in his eyes as he looked from you then back to the tree. It was quite a distance away, and he was surprised you’d hit so accurately already. Then again, you were kind of known for your accuracy… but you’d never fired a rifle.

“Yeah, more than alright,” he reasoned, taking the gun from you and turning to take a shot for himself. “Now ya just gotta work on speed. This ain’t nothing you can keep on your hip.”

He fired one round after another, each bullet hitting the same branch on a tree until it fell from the trunk completely. Wow. 

He smirked over his shoulder, and your face probably gave him an even better reason to be smug. You were clearly in awe of almost everything this man did. Taking care of his horse? In awe. Carrying supplies from the wagon into camp without having to make several trips? In awe. Even now, his accuracy and reaction time. He was so skilled, and you wondered if you’d ever match him. 

“Now,” he said, setting the rifle by the tree. “I don’t just go about teachin’ folk how to shoot for free.”

“But Dutch said that-”

“I know what Dutch said,” he nodded, approaching closer and crossing his arms. “I still expect something in return for my services.”

You scoffed. “I ain’t got nothing you would want.”

“Sure, you do…” he trailed, standing right in front of you and reaching down towards your hip. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat, even just having him this close to you. When his hand met your gun, pulling it away from its holster, you relaxed just a bit more. “How is it you shoot so fast?” 

Honestly, you didn’t have a clue. Everything you did to get faster, you’re sure he’s already done, and a million times over. 

“Nerves, mostly. My hands start shakin’ whenever I get a challenger, they start itching to shoot real bad… guess that’s why.”

He nodded, but was unsatisfied. Your answer was vague and unconvincing.

“What’d you do to learn? You obviously ain’t shot another gun but this one here, tell me how it came along,” he raised the pistol in the air, his skilful hands spinning it over a finger with ease. 

“I guess s’a long story.”

“And since you learned your way around a rifle so well, we got nothin’ but time.”

You sighed, stepping into the shade of the tree closest to you. You leaned into it, crossing your arms and watching as he continued to handle your closest ally in his steady hands. 

How do you even start this story? How does it even get told? You’d never uttered a word about your past to a single person since it all unraveled. You weren’t sure he’d stick around to hear it all, or maybe if he did, he would think you to be foolish. 

But this Arthur Morgan, with his tough exterior and gruff voice had a soft spot. He was gentle when need be, kinder than most. You suppose he derives it from Hosea, given that the man practically raised him into manhood. 

“You know, I used to be a little rich girl,” you chuckled, watching for his reaction. It was surprising to him, but he waited, almost as if thinking you’d retract it as a joke. “Yeah… lived on a big orange grove in South Carolina.”

“You’re kiddin’ me,” he let out when he realized you weren’t messing around. 

“Had a rich daddy and a rich mama. My entire lineage has gotta be worth a couple million at least.”

“Then why on earth are you here? You’d have to be crazy to leave that behind,” he gripped your pistol tightly now, his entire stance leaning on his left leg as he narrowly watched you lounging against the tree. 

“Oh, I had a good reason,” you scoffed with wide eyes. 

“Good enough to leave behind a family fortune?” 

He’s a man. Every man you’ve ever met is the same. They pay no mind to you anymore because you look like one of them now. But before? It was practically a brawl at every public event you attended. You hope that Arthur does not prove to be like the rest. You’ve already been so sure that he stands out, it'll break your heart if you were wrong.

“I know it may not seem like it, but I used to be quite the stunner. I attracted quite a few suitors.”

He nodded, looking you up and down in one glance before coughing a bit and averting his eyes. You hid yourself well, but if he tried hard enough, he could imagine how you would look in more feminine apparel. He liked what he was imagining. 

“I don’t doubt it…”

“Well, my dad was in control of who would have my hand, and as you can imagine I wasn’t fond of that fact… He picked one of his old pals from Virginia, another big farmer like himself, wealthy beyond belief and probably thirty five years my senior.”

Arthur was still, blinking a few times. He doesn’t understand. Yes, you would have had to marry someone you were not interested in… but the situation seemed ideal otherwise. 

“You would have been well taken care of, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh sure,” you nodded, but there was a smirk on your lips. “I would have been just dandy until he found a reason to kill me like he did his first two wives. My father never believed the accusations, of course, and the evidence had been conveniently destroyed… but I knew better.”

He let out a low whistle, finally looking back to your gun and wondering if its origins were about to come to light. Yeah, he thought. That’s a pretty damn good reason.

“So you ran off?” 

You gave a small nod, remembering the last time you ever saw your home and family.

“When I was eighteen I was shipped off to Virginia with a caravan, but before I could be delivered to old Thomas Arlington’s doorstep, I hid overnight in a stable. I stole a horse and headed west a bit.”

“How far west?” 

“West Virginia,” you chuckled. “I got to lurk around there a while, I started dressing all boyish and helped a travelin’ musician with his shows. After he settled down I found that very gun on the ground of a saloon. No one ever claimed her, so I polished her up and started practicing draws. I got pretty good, made bets on shootin’ games to get by.”

“You just… picked her up and started shootin’?”

“It sounds quite dull when you put it that way,” you laughed, holding your hand out to take the gun back. You’re not expert with this thing, can’t even spin it half as well or efficiently as he does… but you might be the best in the world at drawing it from your holster. “I’d never shot anyone before, until one man got real upset that he lost a shooting game to me. It was my first duel… and I won. All because of a game. It was that can game we played after I got here.”

“I figured as much. I ain’t never believed anyone could shoot faster than me until I saw you that day. Paid close attention to those bullet holes.”

He was being far too kind. It’s not like you were anything like him. He had it all. Strength, skill, wits, and as you learned with every glance, the looks to kill.

“I ain’t any good beside the one shot I know how to take.” Your confession meant more to him than you realized.

Yeah, he thought. You can draw, but before today you’d never shot a rifle. You’d never used a knife. Likely never robbed a bank or a stage coach or anything of that sort. Aside from duels, you’re clean cut and inexperienced… your nickname holds far more weight than he’s sure you can actually hold. Ruthless killer? More like a hustler with a bit of blood dusting your fingers. You haven’t made any ground compared to him, yet you’re the one they know far and wide. 

“Let’s make a deal,” he started, his steps carrying him quite close to your form, nearly hovering over you. “I’m gonna make you one of us. Teach you everything you need to know. Fightin’, stealin’, sneakin’ round… all of it. And in return, you’re gonna teach me how to shoot faster than you.”

He knows it’s built on a prideful notion, but he reckons you don’t care, because he’s offering you far more than you can give him. Obviously you agree, because even if you try to teach him, you are almost positive that you don’t even know the secret to your speed.

“Alright, cowboy… I’ll shake on it.”

And you do, squeezing his hand tightly.

-

You find yourself settling into the camp a lot easier than the weeks before. The names of the people here just roll off your tongue, whenever you see them, a greeting is spoken. You’ve also been able to sleep soundly in your tent despite the fears of the animal sounds out in the distance. You’ve come to realize that you aren’t alone in the wilderness, and you have a sort of family to keep you safe, now. 

Arthur continues to show you the ropes, giving you tricks and quick witted thoughts for situations you would never have thought to put yourself in. They all are illegal situations, of course, but you listen intently, and learn each step with an absorbent state of mind. 

Even if he doesn’t outwardly show it, you think Dutch is happy about your progress, given that you are not only an asset to future jobs, but also because you seem to blend well with everyone. He definitely views his gang as a family of fugitives, and now that you’re one of them, he’s become warm with you, even calls you ‘son.’ 

There is one member of camp that to date, you haven’t gotten into conversation with. Hosea Matthews. The man seemed to be the fatherly type, and nearly everyone in the gang had a sort of paternal view of him in some way. You reckon Arthur has taken the man to be closer to him than actual blood. The great Mr. Morgan doesn’t often share details of his past, but you’ve heard here and there about the rascal that was his father, dead and gone when Arthur was a kid, but not soon enough. 

It was a Tuesday morning, after a round of stale coffee when he first sat down beside you for a friendly chat. You couldn't have possibly known the contents of the topics he had in mind, but you were about to be bombarded with them in the most gentle way you reckon a man can speak. 

“Mister Gunslinger,” he began, a gentle clap on your shoulder to garner your attention. “I’ve heard you’re getting to be the best man at camp.”

His friendly chuckle eased your nerves, but you brushed off his words anyway. 

“Not sure ‘bout that. Just learnin’ the ropes,” you nodded along to your own words, hoping they caught well with him. 

“Arthur told me you picked up a rifle for the first time a few days ago and blew him out of the water,” he mentioned, the tone in his voice suggesting he wanted his compliment to land. 

“He’s bein’ far kinder than I deserve,'' you scoffed, shaking your head this time. “Nearly took my shoulder out of socket on the first shot.”

“But you broke a bottle on the second,” he returned, likely quoting your dear mentor’s own words. “How did you learn to shoot that pistol of yours, anyhow?”  

Hosea knew everyone’s stories. He was the father of the camp, albeit not the leader. He knew everything about everyone, and he took care of them. You took one look at him and decided you could trust him from day one… but that didn’t mean he should know everything.

“Well, I found this gun a while ago, just started shootin’ it till I hit somethin’.”

He leaned forward in his seat, another chuckle rolling off his tongue, but the question went unanswered in the way he’d hoped for. He took a breath, turning to face you a bit more… He decided to be straight with you. 

“I’m sure you’ve probably got things in your past you’re not too proud of. I’ve heard the name ‘Texas Red’ in quite a few towns now. I guess I’m just curious about what you did before the gunslinging days.”

“Oh…” you trailed, completely unsure if elaborating on your past, even without context, could force you to accidentally spill something you didn’t intend to. So you took the safe route. “Not much to tell. Ran away from home, stole a horse and headed west. Found this gun in an old saloon and the rest is history.”

He saw through the act, but didn’t let on. He didn’t want you to feel like you needed to hide things, but similarly, he didn’t want you to feel pressured to talk. This camp was a safe place. As long as you kept to the rules and helped out, you didn’t need to do anything else. You could just live freely and have your being. 

“Listen, son… I know it’s probably hard to open up about things you’ve gone and left in the past. Every person here has a story, somewhere they came from or something they did. If you ever want to talk about yours, I’m always up for good conversation.”

You looked into his eyes, and they were full of contrition, full of compassion. You guessed there wasn’t a bad bone in this man’s body. 

“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

He nodded once before standing up and heading down to the river bank, likely to fish. 

You wonder if he has suspicion of you, or if he knows more already than he’s leading onto. But then you think, no. He’s just a kind older man that actually gives a damn about the younger folks here. He didn’t seem to have any biological sons or daughters, but this camp was full of family he could call his own.

You think you're starting to call them family, too.

Tags: @photo1030 @sheepdogchick @snoopysshark

[moeitsu]

I like to imagine these are some of the sketches in Arthur's journal when he's drawing Kate :")

Credit to Lee Walker and Jason Lohmeier

[purehypnotic]

can i kindly req for arthur morgan hcs,, he falls in love with reader?? -🩷

thank you SO SO much for this request !! it’s our pleasure, love you! hope we did you justice

🧸🏜 arthur morgan x reader, falling in love HCs 🏜🧸

gender neutral, sfw

𖤓⋆｡° ✮ 𓄀⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 𖤓⋆｡° ✮ 𓄀⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 𖤓⋆｡° ✮ 𓄀⋆⭒˚｡

-Arthur slumped in his seat near the bar, thumbing a chipped glass of whiskey. The sun was beating down mercilessly on Valentine, and Arthur found relief in the shade of the saloon.

-until he saw your body fling across the window outside.

-ever the good samaritan, Arthur scrambled to check on you. He tripped on his own feet to rush and survey the situation, expecting the worst reasons as to why you would be thrown so harshly.

-His hand flew to his mouth to stifle a chuckle when he saw a riderless horse and your ankle tangled up in the reins.

-Arthur bit back a smartass comment as he went to help you up, when a few things about you caught his eye.

-first, your outfit was buttoned wrong, as if you had rushed to throw something on.

-second, you weren’t wearing spurs (who the hell doesn’t wear spurs around here?)

-and third, you flinched like a feral cat when he hauled you up by the waist. Arthur had a sneaking suspicion of what was going on.

-“You don’t know how to ride a horse, do ya now?” He squinted at you.

-You lifted a finger to the man’s face, ready to spit back at the accusation when you locked eyes with him.

-Something in his gaze told you he wasn’t trying to belittle you, just offering a hand.

-Lowering your hand, you let out a sigh of frustration. You had run for so long, had fought with everything you had, but still couldn’t figure out how to mount a damn horse. But the blue eyed man in front of you seemed like he knew. He seemed sturdy, reliable, and you had given up all dignity when you caught yourself nearly drooling over his build.

-Grabbing the reins of the horse, you hung your head and held them out to Arthur’s chest.

-”just help please”

-He explained each piece of equipment, showed you how to approach the pony without spooking it, and he found himself laughing when you struggled to jump atop the saddle.

-He offered you a boost, letting his hands linger on you for a bit longer than necessary. You let out a laugh of victory, and the pure joy on your face knocked the breath from Arthur’s lungs.

-With the rush of his racing heart, Arthur impulsively hauled himself up behind you.

-”This alright?” He asked in a low voice as he reached around you to grab the reins. He adjusted himself so he could speak closer to your ear, and his movement caused your back to press into his chest.

-(he did it on purpose).

- Arthur spent the rest of his day taking you on a tour through some backroads, teaching you to steer the whole way through.

-It was the most peaceful evening he’d ever had.

-You made conversation easy. The strange way his heart pounded made him loose-lipped around you, and he gladly told you snippets of his life.

-He told you stories about growing up in the gang, about tricking John into taking showers, about Hosea teaching him to read. And you accepted each story as if they were nuggets of gold. (he loved that)

-You had eventually opened up to him about being a runaway, explaining that you had never needed to learn to ride before going on the run. His heart squeezed to think of what you must have seen.

-As the sun dipped low and the sky turned purple, Arthur realized he had guided your horse toward camp out of habit.

-Despite being a hardened, tough man, Arthur couldn’t let you go.

-He pressed a kiss to your hair and decided that another addition to the gang couldn’t hurt.

𖤓⋆｡° ✮ 𓄀⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 𖤓⋆｡° ✮ 𓄀⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 𖤓⋆｡° ✮ 𓄀⋆⭒˚｡

as always,

love katie 💌

[baleful-blurbs]

we have : more rdr oc content. I love josephine so much it's actually a clinical diagnosis. ( arthur suffers from it too. )

[fish0009]

shiretur morgan and john horseton

[morning-star-joy]

when men like you come around masterlist

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x OFC!Ethel

Summary: One of the most important lessons Ethel Taylor was taught in life was when you meet a bad man, pull the trigger and run. She's done it before, and she's ready to do it again when she crosses paths with outlaw Arthur Morgan. But something stays her hand, and when she ends up as the newest addition to the Van der Linde gang, they quickly become thorns in each other's sides, up until they're the only two that can pull off a big job posing as a doting, newlywed couple.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, mentions of a past abusive relationship (emotional & physical abuse), mentions of murder. Rivals to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, lots of sass from both Arthur & Ethel. High Honor!Arthur with some Medium Honor vibes. Ethel POV written in second person, Arthur POV written in third person.

Chapters:

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

(more chapters TBD)

“You alright, Miss?” he asked, his voice a rough drawl.

You glanced from him towards the lawman that had been hot on your trail and shooting at you a moment before, now dead weight dragged far away along the dirt by a limp foot still caught in a stirrup, Lord knowing who would find him and what mayhem would follow.

“You just killed a lawman,” you said, looking back towards the man currently not pointing a gun at you, and so for just the moment, you didn’t point yours at him.

His worn hat was perched on his head to protect from the blaring sun, black brim covering his eyes, but you swore that you saw a twitch of his lips before he shifted in his saddle, glancing behind him towards where you had left the other dead body in the dust, before the man turned back and replied matter-of-factly, “So did you.”

Ethel & Arthur art by my wife @cowboycyns

[nataliabdraws]

Since you all seemed to like my last Ramona and Arthur art here are more!! They are so fun to draw

[mrm0rgansw0man]

Can I request something real quick?

Arthur founds out he has a daughter but she’s living in the streets type orphan…

i got WAYY too into this story lol i hope you enjoyy!! Xx

i took a little bit of creative liberty with this one and it was just a blast to write

Daughter of Legend

"She looks just like you, Arthur!" Dutch said, elbowing Arthur arm and wiggling his eyebrows.

"There's no way..." Arthur mumbled, his voice sounded distant. His mind was somewhere else.

"Arthur! We need to go talk to her at least. I mean, look at the girl!"

"Oh fine!" Arthur grumbled. There was no way. She couldn't be..unless... No... Wait... Oh god-

"Hey! Why don't you men jus' take a picture of me if yer' gonna keep starin'! Piss off!"

That voice pulled Arthur from his thoughts, and drew a laugh from Dutch.

"So sorry, little Miss!" Dutch said, raising his hands in the air. "We just-"

"No! Men like you only want one thing from a girl like me- and you can't have it! You friends with the men who came after me the other night? If you come any closer I'll scream!" The girl spat. And fucking god it just broke Arthur's heart. Was it really her?

"Honey.. we're not here to hurt you. Promise." Arthur said, looking the girl in the eyes. Icy blue, just like his. "I jus'..."

"You..." The girl started, cautiously making her way towards Arthur. The southern drawl of her voice sounding all too familiar. "Do I... Are you...?"

"Is your name Victoria...?" Arthur asked softly, his voice raw with emotion but also full of hope.

The girl's eyes welled up with tears, her mouth was agape. Dutch had taken a step back, watching in awe from a distance. Now he understood why Arthur had reacted the way he did.

The girl nodded viciously. She knew who she was talking too, but she couldn't dare believe it to be true. Because what if it wasn't him? Even though she knew it was.

"Victoria Morgan..? Is that your name?" Arthur breathed out. Was is real?

"Yes!" Victoria cried, covering her mouth with her palms. She shook her head viciously. This was real, this was happening. It wasn't just a hopeful daydream she allowed herself to indulge in anymore. Her whole body shook the fore of her sobs, she began to fall forawrd.

Arthur ran forward, catching his little girl in his arms.

"Daddy!" Victoria sobbed, she wrapped her arms around her father and sobbed into his chest. Not even his strong and secure arms wrapping around her could calm her. "Oh it's you it's you I thought you forgot about me! I thought you left! I couldn't find you! Dad!"

Victoria wailed. A sound so painful and raw, it was barley contained by Arthur chest. He silently wept, a steady stream of tears flowing down his face.

"Oh my sweet baby girl.." Arthur said shakily. He cradled Victoria's head in his hands. Just like when she was a baby. It quieted her down a bit, just like when she was a baby. "I looked so hard for you and yer' Mama.... So so hard baby.."

"She's dead daddy..." Victoria whispered. "I- I-"

"Shhh Shhh honey it's okay." Arthur said softly. "You don't need to tell me nothin' now. I'm with you now. I'm never lettin' you outta my sight again."

"I've been so scared.. I tried to find you, for years daddy. I needed you so bad." Victoria whispered.

"Look at me." Arthur said, pulling away from Victoria slightly and holding her face so he could look her in the eyes. "You will never leave my side again. I'm gon' protect you. 'M here now, you just try and forget everythin' that happened to you over all these years. I'm gonna take care of you now."

"Nothin' else matters now that I'm by your side?" Victoria said with a sad laugh. Arthur returned the laugh. He used to say that same thing to Victoria when he'd come back to visit her injured. To stop her from worrying.

"That's right baby, that's right." Arthur said, using his thumbs to wipe away Victoria's stray tears.

"Arthur.." Dutch started, not really sure what to say. "Go..go get your little girl back to camp. I'll finish everything up here. But we need to talk when I get back."

Arthur nodded gratefully. Victoria ignored anyone and anything that wasn't her father, feeling safe in his arms but still stuck in that constant mode of survival and terror.

"I never though I'd see your pretty face again." Arthur said with a light chuckle. "You've grown t'be such a beautiful young woman.. I'm s' sorry I couldn't have been here to watch it happen."

"It's okay." VIctoria said with a smile. "It wasn't by choice, on either of our parts."

"Mhm." Arthur nodded. He smoothed down the ruffled bits of his daughters honey blonde hair. "You're 15 now, god there's so much I need to tell you. S'much we need to talk about.. C'mon. Let's get you home."

Arthur scooped up Victoria in his arms, and made his way over to his horse. He got Victoria settled before climbing on behind her. Neither of them could believe this was real.

"I never thought I'd see you again..." Victoria said softly. Arthur took one arm off the reins and squeezed his daughter in a hug. "Your Arthur Morgan? The gunslinger? And was that Dutch Van Der Linde?"

"That's right honey." Arthur chuckled. "I forget last time I saw ya' you were too young to know I had a name other than 'daddy.' "

"I only knew your last name, cause I heard mama call you Mr. Morgan a few times." Victoria said with a sigh. "I never even knew her name...."

"Eliza." Arthur said softly. Victoria nodded, though she didn't speak. He understood, I mean, what was there to say?

"When she.. y'know. She knew the people were comin'. She sent me out the back door, told me to run straight into the woods near the house. To get in deep, and told me not 'to come back, to wait there for her. She never came to get me. I stayed hidden till the next mornin' before I went back to the house and found her."

Arthur let out a deep and heavy sigh. Sweet Eliza, murdered. Gone. Dead. Her last act was to protect their daughter. God the woman she was. Arthur could shoot himself in the foot, if only he had done things differently.

"Do you know who they were?" Arthur asked quietly. Victoria sighed, running her hands through her hair as she began to think back to that horrible day.

"I remember her sayin' something about a bunch of 'Irish bastards' but that's 'bout it." Victoria said, so casually. If only she knew the information she had just given to her father.

Arthur's head swam, he couldn't hear anything other than the pounding of his heart in his ears.

Irish bastards.

Irish fucking bastards.

O'Driscolls.

a/n: will definitly be doing a part two of this! i get wayyy to invested in these requests and drabbles lol Xx

[jennyartkim]

I have so many ideas or Arthur and and arg! 😩✨✨✨✨

[gemini-forest]

Phoebe already accepted Sadie as her mom. She just wants to know if Arthur would.

[drizzledrawings]

Arthur doesn’t know what lesbians are