#im slowly starting my hunt through peak on the games side!

[catgirlhell]

"early 00s Atlus jrpg" did you ever play Demi Kids (GBA)?

now THIS is the kind of early aughts shit i've never heard of that im glad exists

[the-awkward-outlaw]

Hi! Before anything else, I just wanted to say that I absolutely adore your writing! So the scenario I had in mind: Arthur gets severely injured on a job and reader gets really protective (She also gets extremely angry angry at whatever happened/whoever caused it. Tbh it was probably Micah). She then cares for Arthur day by day until he’s better. He says he doesn’t want to be fussed over but in reality he secretly likes it.

Thanks for sending this, Anon, and thank you for the compliment! 🥰 Fluffy Arthur is my favorite Arthur (I would fucking die for this man!) 

Masterlist

Read on AO3

You don’t like the look on Micah’s face. Not one bit. Then again, you’ve never trusted the slimy man leading you and Arthur down the muddy road of Valentine. He’s so damn arrogant and he always acts like his plans are going to go as smooth as butter, but then they almost always end in gunfire. There’s just something about him you don’t like. 

Arthur’s by your side too, but if he’s as nervous as you are, he doesn’t show it. He and Micah trade some snappy remarks. They’ve never really liked each other, that much is obvious. Arthur holds your hand lazily, something he always likes to do when you’re both out and about. You squeeze his hand, wanting to let him know something doesn’t feel right. He squeezes back. 

“Just relax, cowpoke,” Micah simpers, walking slightly ahead of the two of you. “This doctor's dim. I went and talked to him earlier, scoped the place out. This job’s on the level. You and your girl just go in there, rob whatever he’s got hidden in that back room, and get out. Easy as pie.” 

“If it’s so easy, why didn’t you rob him when you was scopin’ the place?” Arthur retorts. 

“Because I was playin’ injured, cowpoke. Besides, he’s likely to go snippin’ to the sheriff, what with him being next door. I ain’t so dumb as to rob the sheriff’s neighbor without someone to back me up.” 

Arthur sighs. “Why do I get the feelin’ this is gonna end in us shootin’ our way out of this damn town?” 

“Because that’s how Micah rolls,” you say, making sure he can hear you. “I ain’t ever known anyone so keen to trade bullets.” 

“It ain’t gonna be like that! You both act like I go around, asking people to duel,” Micah growls. You roll your eyes. With Micah’s record, he might as well be doing that. 

Micah leads you over to the doctor’s office. Then, leaning on a pillar holding up the building, he looks around, feigning innocence. “A’right, Y/N, you go and hold that doctor down. Arthur, go get the backroom. Should be easy. I’ll keep watch here, make sure no one suspects anything.” 

“Why don’t you go rob the backroom and I’ll keep a watch on the street?” Arthur says. 

“Because it’s my job, Morgan, I get to call the shots. Now do this quickly before someone sees us three lookin’ too chummy out here.” 

Arthur mutters something but goes inside. You go in a second later and immediately pull out your pistol, aiming it at the doctor. “What you got in that backroom?” you growl. 

The doctor, his face pale, licks his lips and raises his hands. “N-nothin’, I swear. Just a…. A friendly card game for folks willin’ to pay higher stakes.” 

“Well why don’t we drop in on these high-payin’ folks?” Arthur says. He gestures with his revolver for the doctor to lead the way to the backroom. The doctor knocks on the metal door and a slot opens, revealing a pair of eyes. You and Arthur hide as to avoid being seen. 

“J-just me,” the doctor says. “I brought some food and whiskey for you boys.” 

“Eh, it’s only the doc.” 

The door opens and you grab the doctor by his collar and shove him down into his exam chair, pointing your gun at him so he can’t run off to tattle. Arthur heads into the room and there’s immediate yells and a gun goes off. You hear something heavy fall, but you’re sure it’s nothing. Arthur’s more than capable of taking care of himself. That is until you hear someone inside laugh and say, “We got ‘im, boys! Arthur Morgan himself!” 

Quickly, you smash your gun into the doctor’s head, knocking him out, then you dash into the room. There, you’re met by four O’Driscolls and a saloon girl. Arthur’s on the ground, sitting against a wall, a dark circle on his lower left side blooming wider. He’s groaning in pain, the gun knocked from his hand lying beyond his reach. 

Before the O’Driscolls can point their guns from Arthur to you, you pull your trigger, taking them down with such speed it surprises even you. The saloon girl screams and backs into a corner. 

“Don’t shoot!” she pleads. 

“Arthur!” you whimper, ignoring her and going over to him. As you lean down to inspect him, he suddenly grabs your pistol and aims it at the saloon girl, who had managed to get a hold of one of the corpse’s guns. He shoots her and she falls. 

“Oh, Goddamn it, Arthur!” you say. You unbutton his shirt and see a bullet wound below his ribs. 

“It-it’s nothin’, darlin’.” 

“Don’t look like nothin’. Come on.” With enormous effort, you help Arthur up to his feet. Then you haul him to the doctor’s exam chair, push the doctor’s unconscious body out of it, and plop Arthur into it. 

“Okay, honey, stay with me. We gotta get this bullet out.” 

“I’m fine, sweetheart. Just… let’s get out of here. That sheriff’s an idiot, but even he must’ve heard them gunshots.” 

“I’ll be quick, Arthur. Just hold still.” 

You run around the room, gathering instruments and bandages. You find a set of long, thin tongs, the perfect shape to do the job. Removing a bullet is a nasty business. You had it done once when you’d been shot in the leg years ago. It was one of the most painful things you’ve ever endured. 

After gathering your things, you scour the doctor’s shelf up front. Micah peaks in.

“What the hell is taking so long? I talked the sheriff down since you couldn’t manage to keep things quiet.” 

“Shut the fuck up, Micah. Arthur’s been shot. Just keep an eye out, make sure no one gets nosy.” 

He rolls his eyes and leaves the room again. After hunting through the shelves, you come along a bottle of something labeled as aspirin. You’ve heard of this stuff, it was recently discovered to be a pain killer. You grab it and a bottle of unopened whiskey and go back to the room. 

You shove several pills down Arthur’s throat and then pour some alcohol onto his wound. He yells out in pain, but then you instruct him to drink it. 

“Arthur, this is gonna hurt like nothing else. But we gotta get this thing out,” you say sympathetically, holding the tongs. 

He’s sweating profusely, but he nods and grips the arms of his chair. You work the cogs of the chair so it leans back, giving you a better angle. Then you go to work. It’s excruciating pain for him and you apologize as tears leak from his eyes. You pour more whiskey on the wound as you work, but you have to dig a bit to find the bullet. Finally, you grab it and pull it out. He gasps as you hold it up. 

You quickly bandage him up, though you’re not satisfied with the job. Now there’s the problem of hiding his bloodied shirt so you can get him out of here. You help him to his feet and lead him to the front room and then quickly dash out to the horses, ignoring the blood on your hands. After retrieving his tan coat, you help him slide it on and then out to the horses. Micah’s waiting next to them, clearly impatient. 

“So much for me bein’ the one who starts the gunfire,” Micah growls. 

“Shut the fuck up before I put a bullet in your head,” you snarl. It takes all your strength to help Arthur up into his saddle, but he’s a trooper. He does his best to act normal as you all walk out of town, but it’s clear he’s in a lot of pain. 

As soon as he’s in Horseshoe Overlook, you walk him over to his cot and he plops down into it. He pants heavily and you put your hand on his chest, sitting down by his side. 

“Easy, honey. You can rest now.” 

He grabs your hand, comforted by your presence. Slowly, you undress him, flinging his ruined shirt to the side. After closing the flaps of the tent so the others won’t see him lying half naked in his bed, you rejoin his side. 

****************************************

Over the next couple of weeks, you care for Arthur, hardly letting him leave his cot. He keeps pleading with you to stop fussing over him, that he’s an adult who can care for himself, but he loves it. He loves how protective you’ve gotten over him. Hell, Micah isn’t even allowed on this side of camp anymore. He’d probably have better chances of fighting off a cougar than you. Even Sean knows not to come over and rib Arthur for being laid up, even though he means it all in good fun. 

Every day, you’ve gone out to collect fresh herbs from the surrounding area that will help with his pain. Not only that, but you usually bring back a rabbit or a turkey, some kind of small animal. Instead of giving them to Pearson though, you cook them over the scout fire and give Arthur as much as he can eat. He complains that he’s going to gain more weight than he’d like, but he secretly likes that you’re doing it. 

Every night, he pulls you into his arms, stating you can’t go around being strong for the both of you all day. You love cuddling with him like this, hearing his heartbeat beneath your head, his warm skin against yours, his fingers tracing your scalp or back. 

Of course, sometimes these evening cuddles lead to further activities, but you never let him be the dominant one. Usually he’s the top, but when he’s laid up like this, you won’t let him. Instead of being disappointed, he finds it incredibly sexy how you take control of things. He definitely intends to let things go this way after this. 

Hosea comes up to him one day while you’re out collecting herbs. He’s one of the few people who can safely walk this close to your tent without fear of getting their ass kicked. He takes a seat next to Arthur, who’s writing in his journal. 

“That girl eased up on you yet?” Hosea asks. 

Arthur smiles softly. “No. Honestly I don’t think she intends to until this is barely even a scar anymore.” He gestures down to his bandages. 

Hosea lets out a soft chuckle. “She’s tough, that girl. I’ve never seen Dutch so afraid of talking to someone before. Pretty sure she’s the only thing preventing him from coming over to you and begging you to get out there and ‘make us some money’.” 

Arthur laughs. “Dutch is scared of her, huh?” 

“You would be too if you saw how she looks at pretty much all of us. I’m surprised Micah’s still sticking around, honestly. She, uh, clocked him in the jaw the other night when he made it sound like you messed up in that doctor’s office.” 

“I did mess up, Hosea. I wasn’t prepared enough. I just thought it’d be some ranchers who got more money in their pockets than most folk in that town. I didn’t expect those damn O’Driscolls.” 

“It ain’t your fault, son. But you’ll be fine. Hell, you ain’t allowed to be anything else with that girl looking after you.” 

Arthur chuckles again. “So she really gave Micah a good one, huh?” 

“Oh yes. He’s got this big ol’ bruise on his face now. Like I said, I’m surprised he’s still in camp when she’s here.” 

“Hosea, I uh, I been thinkin’. I wanna marry her.” 

Hosea sits up straighter. “You sure? I know how your last engagement went, Arthur.” 

“That was completely different, Hosea. I was young and dumber then. This ain’t the same. Y/N ain’t Mary. She’s…. She’s far better, and she makes me feel like I ain’t just a killer and a bad man. I… I don’t know how to describe what I feel about her, Hosea. All I know is if I don’t ask her, it’ll be the biggest regret of my life.” 

Hosea smiles and puts his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Well, I’m happy for you, son. Being married was the best thing I ever did, and Y/N’s a special woman. You’d be a fool for not asking her.” 

Just then, Hosea looks up to see you coming over, your hands full of herbs. He waves to you, in which you return it. He gives Arthur a curt nod and heads off. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Arthur says, closing his journal. You return the greeting and sit down by his feet, getting your things together to start grinding the herbs up. 

“Hold on, sweetheart. Before ya get busy, come here.” 

“Why?” you say, looking up at him. 

“Just come here. Please?” he says, holding his arms out to you. 

With a soft smile, you get up and crawl into his arms, letting him fold them around you and hold you close. He kisses your head softly, never wanting to let you go. He wants to ask you right now to be his wife, but the timing feels wrong. He wants it to be special, wants you to know how much he adores you. 

“Thank you, darlin’, for everythin’ you done.”

“Of course, Arthur. I’d do it all over again if I needed to.” You place a soft kiss over his heart that makes him almost swoon. He knows now that he will never stop loving you. 

Just as he’s about to say something, Strauss comes over and interrupts. “Herr Morgan, I have another job for you.” 

“What is it, Strauss?” he asks, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“I lent money to a fellow named Downes. Thomas Downes. I need you to reclaim the debt. Beat him, if you must.” 

As quick as lightning, you leap up and glare at Strauss. Arthur’s told you how much he loathes this sharking business. You’re tired of it too. It’s a foul business and one you want him having no part of. 

“If this money’s so important to you, Strauss, why don’t you go get it yourself?” you snarl. 

He looks at you haughtily. “Because, Y/N, people are happy to take money from a man like me, but less willing to give it back.” 

“Well then maybe you need to grow a damn spine for once and do your own damn dirty work. Either that or find another way of making money for the gang. One with less… filth.” 

“I am the one feeding you and the other women in camp-” he begins but you shove him so hard he takes several steps back.

“Bullshit! How many days have Arthur spent out there slaving away to bring down animals and sling ‘em back to camp? You ain’t feedin’ no one but yourself! How many folks have we all robbed and stolen from, while you just go out peddling a few bucks here and there. You’re a sad, lyin’, miserable sack of shit who has no place here! No get out of my sight before I put a bullet in your skull!” 

Strauss, his eyes wide and his lizardish lips parted, starts heading away from you quickly, his tail between his legs. As he scurries off, you scream at him one last time.

“And if you ever tell my man to get your damn money back, I’ll throttle ya, is that clear?” 

He doesn't respond but you know he heard you. After letting out a long sigh, you turn back to Arthur, who’s looking at you surprised. 

“What?” you say.

He swallows. “Damn, darlin’, that was-” 

“Long overdue?” you say. 

“No, well yes, but I was gonna say that was one of the sexiest things I ever seen.” 

You blush and smile at him. 

“You got anymore of that energy left in ya?” he says, his eyes sliding down your body. 

“Why?” 

“‘Cause I was thinkin’ you better close these flaps and show me what else you got.” 

With a giggle, you do as he says. Then you take him so hard Arthur will never forget this afternoon. In fact, he will hold onto it for many years and on the days when he needs you physically but you aren’t around, he’ll use it to help relieve the pressure while being alone. 

As the two of you go at it, he wishes again to ask you to marry him, but you’ve got him groaning and panting so hard he can barely work out two words. One thing is clear to him though: not marrying you will be the dumbest thing he could possibly do.