#it fucks me up to play RDR2 and then go through life’s motions with the mindset of a man dying of TB

[meeks-just-wants-to-scroll]

I knew Micah wasn’t a great guy but I was a fool to think he had any redeeming traits.

[fanfiction-inc]

Can I get Arthur Morgan

But of back story having met a sweet but wild woman let’s say they meet during Colter. She’s literally lived in the mountain and survived and ends up with the gang.

First meeting hmmm he’s just like oh what in the heck is this crazy woman and she’s so nice to me and snuggly and sweet and wtf she just decked a man flat on his ass?!

ONTO REQUEST with back story in mind.

But they end up sweet on one another And the letter from Mary comes.

Reader ends up tagging along due to reasons and she can’t stand when Mary basically is tugging at Arthur’s emotions. He’s never seen the reader looking at anyone so angrily.

But they end up having first NSFW time and Arthur is a mess of I’m not worthy snd reader is like I say you are and if I gotta F-squeak toy sound-ck it into you I will.

DONT feel the need to go with everything I said I just like to give prompts and let people fly free! Love your writing!!!!

Feel free to ask back for anything RDR!

I had so much fun writing this request! 😍 I hope you enjoy!

(AN: As always, smut is under the cut!)

You have had enough of this woman, her very presence and mannerisms sickening you as you walked along behind your love interest and his former girlfriend.

This woman was working him through every emotional attachment that was left lingering, and she tried to play on the fact they used to have a relationship to persuade him to do this or that for her.

What finally had you huffing and puffing, glare like pure daggers towards the woman with every emotion spawned from the fires of Hell, was when she tried to convince him to run away with her.

To change him into an "honest man".

A "good man".

Arthur Morgan was as good of a man as he can be!

He was kind, smart, caring, and if this woman couldn't see it then it was her loss.

Arthur lost attention at times from Mary's woeful story, catching the gaze you gave to the woman as you walked on and helped him with the task he had been asked to do.

The rage in your gaze, the balling of your fist, and how your body was tense.

He's never seen you like this, always such the charming and sweet little thing when you two are together.

All giggles and smiles, kind gazes and warm embraces.

He didn't know what to make of it, even when you two return to camp and you haven't spoken a word to him.

It wasn't his fault that Mary was like this, he had no part expect being a passenger among your anger train towards the woman who didn't deserve him.

His mind went to ways he may have upset you when with Mary.

Did he stay too close?

Did he not make it known enough that he was taken in some form of relationship with you?

He followed you back to your tent, seeing how your hands were shaking at your side, his taking yours and causing you to turn quickly and face him.

The moment those big blue puppy dog eyes met yours, you melt, calming in his presence.

God, you loved this damn man.

"(First name)-" He was cut off by your words when your form pressed in against his own, lips brushing his in a gentle lip lock.

It took him a millisecond before he was returning the kiss, hands letting yours go in exchange for coming up to cup your cheeks and hold you closer.

It was like fire between you two, the kiss heating up even without words needing to be exchanged.

He only pulled away when your fingers looped in his belt, eyes catching your own.

"(First name), darlin'... What if m'not enough for ya?" Your questioning gaze meets his own and he swallowed thickly. "I don't deserve a woman like ya. So sweet on me, stealin' m'heart each time y'smile and that damn contagious laughter.."

He stopped speaking the moment your finger placed against his lip, watching your expression shift to a far more sweet and loving demeanor.

Yet lust still stayed in those eyes that left him dreamy, lost in thought as he stares.

"Arthur Morgan, if I have t'fuck it into ya that y'deserve me, I will." He felt his cheeks warm when you began unbuckling his belt, the audible gulp sounding in the air making you pause.

"Are y'sure?" He questioned in a breathy whisper, licking his lips when your hands move up his chest, grabbing the collar of his shirt to pull him against you so your lips rested against his ear.

"Absolutely, Mr. Morgan." He visibly shivered, melting when feather like kisses trailed along his jaw and down to his neck, now being hyperaware of just how you make him feel.

His hands come down to grasp your rear, soon hiking you up with a squeak from your lips so your legs wrapped around his waist.

So he could grind his growing hardness against your pants covered core and let you feel what you do to him.

His fingers came to the buttons of your shirt, working to get them undone ad yours worked on his vest, letting the article fall off his form unceremoniously to the dirt below.

He catches your lips following a tilt of his head, humming in satisfaction when your shirt is off and your bare breast are exposed to the humid air of the camp.

Arthur Morgan was savoring every second of this, loving how hot and needy your form grew when he laid you on the cot and busied his mouth with a perky nipple, earning the most delicious of noises from you.

Each breathy sigh when his tongue flicked over the bud and how his teeth just barely grazed the sensitive flesh earning a hitch in breath.

It was pure music to his ears.

Soon enough it was his turn to groan, the sound a low rumble rising from his chest when your hand snaked its way into his trousers, taking him in hand.

"My God, woman. You're drivin' me wild." He huffed out, motions pausing as his eyes flutter shut and savor the slow rhythm you had set with each pump of his member.

"Isn't that the point, Mr. Morgan?" You joked sweetly, giggling when his eyes open to send you a playful look, his lips moving from your breast to kiss down your abdomen and pause at the trousers blocking him from your drenched sex.

Your hand had to pull away from the way he lowered himself, his fingers looping in the waistband of your pants and gaze flickering up for a single second.

A silent question was posed.

"Go ahead." You cooed, body shivering in pure delight at the way his gaze shifted to something more...needy.

He has waited so long to do this, and now he was gonna savor every second of it.

He reveled in the view of you once your pants were off, a verbal moan leaving his lips when he stole a lap at your core, hands moving to catch your shifting hips.

He kept his gaze locked on your own, not giving a damn who heard your lewd noises that spilled out with each suckle and lick at your sensitive bundle of nerves and needy hole.

Savoring the way your chest raised with each quickened breath and how your eyes fell half way when he found the right pace to bring you closer and closer to the edge.

Each hungry lap led you closer and closer, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging with a sweet, delicious moan as the levee broke and he was flooded with your slick, cleaning you of every drop he could.

He rose up with a chuckle, your blissed out expression making his heart flutter.

It encouraged him, made him happy to know he could make you feel so good.

His tongue darks out, licking at what was left on his lips and back of his hand wiping at his chin.

God this man looked sinful doing such.

"Sweeter than honey." He commented, grinning at the rising blush decorating your cheeks.

Your fingers grab his pants again, pulling him in for a kiss as he moved to get his shirt the rest of the way off.

His pants soon followed, now nude to you for the first time.

Of course, you've seen him from the waist up when things got too hot for multiple layers.

Bare chest exposed and slickened with sweat from whatever activity he had been doing.

Your fingers traced over the flesh, resting over his heart to feel it racing as he positioned himself between your legs, gaze seeking your own for approval once more.

"Arthur, please just fuck m'like ya mean it." You pleaded with him when the tip of his cock brushed over your slickened folds, hitting your clit and making your thighs tremble.

He gave a smirk at your words, hips moving so he could sheath his length within you.

He's slow, savoring the way your core accepts every inch of his shaft until his hips are against your own and face pressed against your neck, delivering tender kisses to aid in the process of you adjusting to him.

You're like a well oiled machine, moving in sync to advance the process.

Breaths shared between open mouthed kisses and noises silenced by the other, excluding the wet, skin hitting skin noises that begin to overtake the tent.

Raw, needy, he fucks you like a man desperate to never lose you, to never be without you in his life.

Each pump brings him closer and closer to the edge, just like the feelings building like wildfire in your core.

"Arthur!" Your tone is breathy when it reaches his ears, the only warning besides the sudden clamp of your walls around him and the new octave your tone takes to your release.

He groaned out when he finished within you, your walls stealing everything he has and weight resting on his arms as he tries to combat the high and not crush you.

"I told ya y'drive me wild." He chuckled out, breathless and moving to his side, bringing you with him so he stays buried inside you for the time being.

"Do y'still feel unworthy of me, Arthur?" You questioned gently, fingers tracing designs along his chest, head resting against his shoulder.

"No, all because ya reassured me." He admits, kissing the top of your head.

"Good."

RDR2 TAG LIST:

@lise-soontobemarried  | @imtootiredforreddit | @morgans-cowbaby | @btsloversaregreat | @sokkasdarling | @the-internet-ruined-me

[dreamdaddydutch]

Pairing: Javier x reader (written as gender neutral) Warnings: Smut 18+ Word count: 2,238  Summary: Set around the time the gang begin to come under strain and Dutch starts to loose control. The reader takes themselves away from the camp to be able to just ‘breathe’ for a moment and think - Javier (established relationship) comes to find them and make sure they’re okay. The tension they both feel is hard to get rid of, it’s in their shoulders, the weight plays heavy on their minds, but Javier knows what will help.

- Like quite a bit of my fanfiction/general writing at the moment, this was very much written as a response to everything that’s happening in the world at the moment and the uncertainty. It’s been a long while since I wrote any rdr2 smut!

As you stand at the edge of the cliff overlooking the valley you know you should return to camp and that the others will soon start to worry.

Why did everyone have to worry all the time? The over-bearing nature of some members in the gang was enough to drive you crazy at times. But it wasn’t just that, no, it wasn’t the concern for your well being which annoyed you, rather it was the concern of one individual, Dutch van der Linde. When anyone was gone for too long the whole camp could hear Dutch fret. For someone who claimed to love his gang and refer to them as a family, he didn’t particularly come across as trusting these days. 

When you sign you hope your shoulders will drop, releasing some of the tension you’ve been carrying with them as you relax, but it doesn’t work. There is one thing you know for certain that will help you to let go and unwind but it’s difficult with everything else that’s been happening to get the time alone and where you’ll be undisturbed.

Nothing is certain anymore, things you thought would take just a few weeks to be over and done with are taking months. You look forward to the next Season but when it comes it’s just the same. There is nothing worse than feeling trapped and right now that’s all you feel and the frightening thing is that it’s beginning to feel like it will be like this forever. An owl lands on a branch near you with a catch in it’s mouth, there was a time where the brutality of this would have turned your stomach and you’d have had to look away. But now you watch the creature with sympathy and understanding as it rips into it’s prey with talons. Everything is just trying to survive.

It’s a partially starry night, the kind that you and Javier loved when you were first together and things were easier. He’d tell you stories about the stars and the names behind the constellations, you couldn’t always be sure if these were well known myths or whether they were of his own creation but either way it didn’t matter. Javier was such a wonderful storyteller and you knew he’d make a wonderful father.

You leant against a tree trunk and sighed again knowing that in a moment you would really need to turn back to camp before a search party was sent out to look for you. But then you heard footsteps behind you, a second went by as you panicked wondering whether it was friend of foe. Your hand went straight to your pistol.

“Hello?” You said, trying to sound as strong and sure of yourself as you could.

“Y/N is that you?”

You breathed a sigh of relief, noticing this time that your shoulders really did seem to relax somewhat, “Javier….”

“There you are I’ve been worried, did something happen?” He asks as he appears in front of you. Although it’s dark you can still make out his features, his dark eyes sparkle in the moon light and really you feel annoyed that you didn’t work out it was him before. His scent was carried on the wind, leather, woodsmoke and a woody aftershave with hints of juniper berries. 

Your pistol away, Javier took you into his arms, “Is everything okay?” He asks softly stroking your hair. 

You’ve been holding back the tears for weeks, just wanting this moment of peace and intimacy where you could cry and be honest with him. The tears don’t take much encouragement to flow so Javier holds you tighter and nuzzles into your neck, “I promise everything will be okay,” he reassures you.

Anyone else and you wouldn’t have believed them but with Javier you do, you have to. There is no one you trust like you do him.

“I just want to be free of all this uncertainty, I just want to be safe and for things to go back to normal,” you confess as you pull away. 

Javier still holds your arms, then one hand reaches for his handkerchief which he uses to wipe away your tears, “It will, I promise. I’m sorry y/n what can I say? I know I haven’t been there for you as much as I should mi amor.”

You can tell how hurt he is and that he truly regrets not being able to be there more for you now. For a second you find yourself hating Dutch for how much he demands of Javier and the others, but you believe in Javier even if Dutch can be hard to trust. 

You nod and kiss his cheek, “Nothing to apologise for, I love you Javier I just need a bit of time with you away from the others is all. I just need to feel close to you,” you confess.

Javier kisses you deeply without a word, his hands trail into your hair and gently massages your head down to your earlobes.

“Javier take me to the other place,” you beg as the kiss breaks. 

He searches your eyes, feels the pulse at your wrist and knows exactly what it is you need from him. He too has felt it recently, the darkness that seems to ever creep closer. He knows that unless something changes and soon it is only a matter of time before it falls to pieces. Javier just hopes that whatever happens it doesn’t tear you apart and that somehow you will survive this. He has hope it is possible.

For now there are few words that could comfort you it’s all been said before and the longer the darkness drags out ahead the more the words are repeated. The more you hear them the more hollow they start to sound and you begin to question whether everything will return to normal again or if this is now the reality you must live with.

Javier leans in, instinctively you close your eyes and he presses a gentle kiss to each eye and then your nose. He wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace, one of the only places where you feel truly safe. When his lips meet your the fear melts away and nothing exists outside of that moment apart from the two of you now connected. 

When Javier pushes you back onto the soft grass it’s gentle and he falls with you, his weight feels like a comfort blanket smothering you in protection and understanding. 

With Javier there’s an intimacy that you’ve never felt with anyone else, it took so long for the two of you to let one another in or even begin to get close to one another considering how long you had known each other. That now when you hug or kiss, when you touch one another, taste one another and in those moments when he enters you and you become one. That is your purpose in life, the greatest peace and joy you could ever know is born when you make love for the first time. 

So now despite the chaos around you and all the noise, there is a silence that descends as he takes your lips in his own, as he grinds against you making you softly pant and your need grow for him. He sets you ablaze and speechless.

His hands make quick work of removing or undoing the items of clothing necessary for the two of you to become one. It’s just one hand, he’s skilled at that, the other strokes your cheeks and comes around your neck holding you in place as he continues to kiss you, muttering words of love and promises in between breaths. 

You can feel his length pressed hard against your core, despite his trousers still being in the way you can feel his excitement as it meets your heat.

“Javier…” you moan when the kiss breaks, another kiss to your nose, your forehead and he’s stroking your hair, soothing you and promising you that no matter what happens it will be okay in the end it has to be. 

He palms at your chest through your shirt, squeezes your nipple between his thumb and index finger. A knee pushes between your legs to open them and so he is able to apply pressure to your most sensitive part. 

Already so hard and pre-cum leaking from his cock, he uses this to help slick your entrance. When he slides into you there’s a moment where it hurts because it’s always in a quick, fluid motion and being outside as you are there was little time for foreplay, no that would come later. But for now he glides into you, you’re ready from just kissing, his dry-humping and his sticky lubricant. You gasp, he covers your mouth and smiles that wicked smile that lets you know you belong to him and him alone, but that he loves you and would never hurt you. 

Once inside you clench around him, his eyebrows furrow a little as they do when he experiences extreme pleasure and he lets out a soft gasp as he beings to slowly move in and out of you. At first these thrusts are slow and shallow, he allows you to stretch to his length and girth, allows you to get used to that feeling of being completely full up on him and then when you start to relax into his arms and begin to thrust your hips upwards in time with his, then the pace quickens.

You know it won’t take him long to come, again in private he enjoys to take his time. Edging the both of you is one of his specialities but now there is a necessity to come, to be close. It’s practically animalistic as he continues to grind against you.

One of his hands is reaches for your face, his thumb tenderly rubs over your bottom lip leaving you a quivering mess, opening your mouth to allow his thumb to slip in between as you suck him.

He bucks his hips faster and his eyes screw tight, you know sucking him like this drives him crazy, that he’ll be thinking about what you look like when it’s his cock in your mouth instead of his thumb. Again it’s the connection that makes it so hot, he fucks you as you suck him and everything is so gorgeously connected. 

His other hand reaches down between your legs to pleasure you in rhythm with his own body, determined that you should come before him. 

Although this pleasure is short lived and within no time at all you will be back at the camp, the bliss the two of you experience during this moment is like nothing you’ve felt before. As your orgasm starts to build everything else trickles into nothingness, it’s just noise somewhere in the distance and doesn’t mean anything. The darkness can’t hurt you but neither can the light, nothing is allowed in between your two bodies as they dance in the night. You can tell from the expression Javier is wearing and from the way he moans your name that he too is feeling it. He too has been able to completely escape from his daily struggles and the pressure he so constantly feels. 

You know he loves you he says it all the time without words. 

His kisses show you and it’s in the way he strokes your hair and squeezes your hand when he knows you’re afraid. 

You reach orgasm just a few seconds before before him, the sound of your moaning as you climax combined with you tightening around him is all he needs to be sent over the edge. 

As he comes he cries out your name, not caring if anyone hears as he spills his seed inside of you.

As his body shudders he kisses your neck, soft gentle kisses and words of reassurance. The moment your orgasm is over it doesn’t take long for the creeping dread to return, but it’s different somehow. That weight you were carrying on your shoulders and all the tension that was cascading through your veins from the top down somehow has melted out from your fingertips and toes.

Making love to Javier is a grounding experience that reminds you you’re loved, reminds you that you’re safe and that it really will be okay in the end.

Lost in your thoughts you don’t notice Javier staring at you, a slightly concerned expression on his weary face.

“y/n?” He says softly to bring you back to him.

“Sorry Javier…I’m here,” you smile up at him.

“You okay?” You realise that he’s still inside you, you like it when you lay for a few minutes after orgasm with him like this. Staying connected for as long as possible, joined together as one.

When Javier finally pulls out and zips up his pants he is silent, he ensures you too are done up and tucked up warm. He stands slowly so to keep his balance, still clearly a little wobbly after his orgasm. 

He reaches down to help pull you to your feet and into his arms, he rubbed your back slowly, “Better?”

“Yes.”

He pulls you in for a final kiss, one that’s slow you wish never had to end, before he takes your hand and accompanies you back to camp. 

[exquisitley-obsessed]

I’m (right) here

This is technically a part two: you can read part one HERE

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: Arthur lost sight of y/n on a hunting trip and it turns out the Pinkertons have hold of her and are doing everything they can to beat information about Dutch out of her. Arthur’s only goal is to get her back but he’s beginning to realise that if he does, nothing will be the same.

Word Count: 5568

Pairings: Arthur Morgan x Reader

Warnings: Torture, murder, bruises, scars, cuts!!

A/N: Currently playing RDR2 so please no spoilers <3 Literally took five minutes for me to fall in love with this damn fool and so felt like I needed to write something angsty for him. 

REQUESTS OPEN <3

MASTERLIST

That had to be a broken rib.

Y/n gasped as she tried to roll away from the steel capped boot that had just gutted her; the chubby, squat old man at the other end of the boot was the more aggressive of her two captures - Steven was his name, or something like that. 

It was his plump, well-rounded face that she had woken up to sometime ago, sneering down at her with this sickening gleeful look. It was understandable, by his terms he had struck gold by capturing y/n l/n, proud member of the Van Der Linde gang.

“You still don’t want to talk?” He husked out, hands on his portly hips. Y/n simply spat in response, a mixture of saliva and blood. Days had passed. Weeks maybe, it was difficult to tell when stuffed in a cage in a windowless room.

They came and they went, her captures. Steven and Tony were their names, or at least, that’s what they called each other. So far all they had revealed was that they were Pinkertons, and desperate for information on Dutch Van Der Linde. The beatings were consistent, another day without information, another beating – more painful than the last.

But y/n already knew that nothing could break her vow of silence. She had been dragged into this cage loyal to Dutch and she sure as hell would find a way out of it still being loyal – they’d have to kill her otherwise. It appeared that would be the direction of things anyway.

They were getting tiresome, annoyed, frustrated. Constantly checking their watches and disappearing for long lengths of time, leaving her aching and alone on the concrete floor watching the free flies mock her as they crawled the walls before flying away. It was easiest when she was asleep, it didn’t hurt so much then, like small shelter in a hurricane.

They’re coming. She had rhythmically repeated the mantra to herself a thousand times by now, a prayer. Dutch and Arthur, those she who she was currently dying to protect – they would come. They had to.

 ***

“We’ll find her Arthur.” Dutch said for what felt like the thousandth time. Arthur was sitting glumly inside his camp, ignoring his company as his eyes bore into his map, spotted with pins and small notes.

“I know.” He huffed back without much thought, his mind somewhere else. It felt like so much time had already been wasted, and Arthur has resorted to spending every waking moment tracking y/n, at least it kept his mind occupied.

Pinkertons weren’t necessarily nasty men, he’d sure as hell met worse, but they were by no means men to be trusted. Honour among thieves didn’t apply to them.

Sighing heavily his eyes drifted from the map above his bed to his collection of photos pinned nearby; him, Hosea and Dutch, his mother, an old newspaper clipping and the most recent edition was the printed photo of y/n that he had taken on a hunting trip.

He put it up there after getting it printed, a few days after her disappearance. Somewhere in his mind he validated the action through it only being a reminder of his task. 

He liked the photo. She looked the same as ever, same braid, same work pants, John’s old shirt – her eyes were crinkled slightly as she smiled at the camera her jaw slack as if she were about to start laughing. Actually, she wasn’t looking at the camera, she was looking behind it – at Arthur.

It was strange to see the way someone looked at you, those moments which you normally don’t get to see at all, and yet he had it captured in time and hanging above his bed. Something about this whole situation had awoken something he thought he had buried a long time ago, but that’s always the way with old feelings, they don’t really go away you just start convincing yourself that they’re not there anymore as you suddenly become busy with someone else. But now he had no distraction, and with all this time, this torturous time without her – he was remembering.

“God’s sake,” He muttered under his breath, collapsing in his chair and flicking through his journal for the hundredth time. It was escapism really, reading old passages and admiring old drawings from a few weeks ago; pretending as if he were back then with nothing to fear.

He hadn’t realised how much he drew her. It seemed obvious now, flicking through the creased papers where loose sketches of y/n seemed to dot every other page. He had never questioned it before, just always thought that he could remember her figure a lot easier than others – the shape she took when she was hunched on her horse, how she always sat in the same crumpled poor-excuse of a chair every morning when he brought her a coffee. When the gang had had a small party, out of everyone it was her he remembered when sitting around the fireplace, lips parted slightly as she half-sang.

Everything was different now, even he couldn’t deny it. But God, he hated it.

What would this mean? When they got her back, if they got her back, what would happen then? Another cycle of burying his feelings, he could see himself already back at Mary’s beck-and-call, desperate for a distraction. Maybe there was a part of himself that didn’t want to see her again, that just wanted to see her safe and then disappear – could he seriously continue to live an elaborate lie he had formulated years ago, when he was only a boy? Who was that fair to?

He cussed again low under his breath. The past few days all he’s wanted to do is escape his mind, calm his rushing thoughts, tame them into something he could tolerate. Hazily, he noticed somewhat raised panicked voices out in the main camp. He could do this; he had done it before, burying feelings. The voices sounded excited. Maybe he was simply destined to live a life of half-loves. Footsteps were now moving toward his tent.

“Arthur!” But he had already picked up his gun and was headed through the folds of his camp. He had survived his feelings for y/n once before, of course he could again.

***

“Your own family left, y/n…” She cringed at how sympathetic Tony’s voice was, as if he were on her side. “They’re gone…there’s been no sign of them for weeks now. They’re not coming.”

This was apparently their plan for the time being. Whispering false truths to her about Dutch, how he was spotted on the other side of West Elizabeth, three days ride from, well wherever the hell she was.

“No,” Y/n gasped, her ribs grinding against the ground, bone and concrete. The lashes on her back felt like they were writhing as the leather whip in Steven’s hand dripped her slick blood.

“Stop!” Steven exploded, y/n was hazily aware of the whip being catapulted across the room, “Stop protecting them y/n! We’re here to help you, for God sake they-”

“Help me?” She hissed. He didn’t hear.

“don’t care about you! Look-” Steven grunted, hauling a chair from the desk to the front of her cell and throwing himself in it, “Life has been nothing but unkind to you y/n, we can see that,” Y/n squeezed her eyes shut as another dull, aching throb radiated from her back, “We’re at a point now where we can forgive you for all of your past crimes…you could walk away from this a free woman…marry a good man, whatever the hell you want…we just need something in return.”

She couldn’t meet his eye. Couldn’t begin to accept what he was telling her about her family but, the reality was, where were they? Weeks he said, weeks waiting in agony for the moment they’d come for her only to be left day in, day out, entirely and utterly alone. 

Y/n felt herself being lulled in to a numb state, all she could pitifully think of was that she wanted to go home: she wanted fresh clean clothes, Pearson’s warm soup, a story from Hosea, a hug from Dutch – when was the last time someone had touched her in an affectionate way?

“Please…” She wheezed through her shattered lungs as her eyes rolled, “Just leave me alone.”

This apparently wasn’t the right answer. Steven, in one fluid motion, swung the chair out from underneath him, hurling it at the cell. Colliding against the steel bars, the wood promptly splintered like fragile bones.

“You stupid bitch!” He exploded, “You can’t see help when it’s fucking standing in front of you! You refuse it like a fucking idiot!” He was gasping for breath as he bellowed, his podgy skin flushing scarlet, “No wonder you’ve ended up like this...all alone…” He was spitting at her, stalking across the front of her bars like a predator homing in on its prey. Y/n felt dull tears dribble down her cheeks as she began to drown in how utterly helpless she was. Crumpled on the floor, unable to move, unable to breathe. “This...” He stopped stalking, his pulsating eyes glaring down at her over his rounded cheeks, “This…” He repeated, lowering himself to her level, “is why deep down…you’ll always be an orphan.”

Y/n watched him curiously, he hadn’t acted like this before. He had always had control. She then focused on Tony behind him whose eyes were avidly watching a pocket watch as his flicked it back and forth between his fingers nimbly.

“We best get going.” Tony finally spoke into the silence, swinging his coat on before checking the bullets in his pistol.

“Not yet,” Y/n’s heart dropped as Steven turned back to her, “They aint getting you back.” He spat at her, his voice low, almost as if he was laughing at her. Y/n watched in silent trepidation as he pushed his key into her cell door and slung it open, “At least…” Y/n moved her eyes back to Tony, pleading for him to do something, “They aint getting you back alive.”

Lying there, face down, unable to move, y/n found herself desperately coming to terms with her own mortality as she heard the click of the gun; summoning all her strength she tried to raise her head to look at him but his steel capped boot struck her clean across the cheek. Choking out a feeble cry she then tried to use the momentum of the kick to roll away from him, but it was futile. With her body broken beneath her there was nothing she could do, and all too soon she felt the cold, lifeless tip of the gun’s barrel pushed against the back of her head. This was it. Her pathetic, ruthless, pain-filled life – this was the climax, the pièce de résistance. The final click sounded followed by a short explosion before finally, darkness.

****

“I told you to only blow the god-damn doors off!” Arthur hollered at Sean who merely gave him a meek look and a shrug of the shoulder. Irish idiot, Arthur thought. The explosion was only supposed to take out the chains and bolts encasing the front doors, but the underestimation of the TNT had caused a shudder through house’s frame, resulting in the roof crumbling in on itself.

“Okay boys!” Dutch commanded, getting off from his horse and assessing the damage, “They know we’re here now which is fine…there’s more of us than ‘em I can promise you that.” He turned back to the gang, patrolling across the front of them like an army captain, “One objective: get in there and find y/n…you see any Pinkertons…gun ‘em down. They messed with us…with our family.” Slowly and in unison, the Van der Linde gang pulled on their masks. “Aint nobody messes with the our family and survives…nobody.” They moved in.

Arthur turned left with Charles, moving swiftly through the large, white manor house they had tracked the Pinkertons to – and God what a job that was. Weeks had passed of tracking and losing sight of the Pinkertons, putting everyone’s necks on the line trying to find the whereabouts of y/n. At first, they had been so sure she was in this old, abandoned farmhouse. They planned meticulously their attack for a week before attempting, only to discover it was some O’Discrolls cooped up in there – y/n nowhere in sight. 

Realising how much time had been wasted, they quickly went back to work, until Micah’s loudmouth made things blow up in the local town. Time and effort were then directed to moving camp somewhere safe, no one allowed to go after y/n during that time – it was also during this time that Dutch and Arthur had a rather explosive argument. 

But they were finally here, finally had tracked her to this bulky manor house out west, and if she weren’t here… well, Arthur couldn’t think about that.

“In here,” Charles’ voice rumbled as they moved past some double doors. Sharing a quick glance with Charles, Arthur jolted forward, the doors snapping back out of his way as he moved into the room. Looking around, he noticed how it looked like it was crumpled in on itself, planks of wood, an old piano, a large cabinet that had been picked clean years ago. All signs of life felt distant and foreign, as if someone hadn’t lived there for years – still, Arthur couldn’t lose hope. He turned back to Charles shook his head and they moved on.

****

Y/n blinked for what felt like forever, her heart racing as a high-pitched whine completely dominated her hearing. She hadn’t expected to still be conscious so it took her a minute to gather her bearings. Slowly, fuzzy outlines hardened into shapes and then, objects. Something had exploded, something was happening. Y/n moved and her whole body burned but it didn’t matter anymore – something was happening.

Fumbling for a second, she dragged herself up, her legs threatening to give way underneath her as she clung onto a fallen beam for support. Looking around she saw Steven rolling around near her, his face contorted into that of agony as one of his legs sat stuck under a pile of rubble and brick, a low gurgling, gasping noise whining from his throat. Sweeping low, y/n swiftly plucked up his gun and felt adrenaline start to pump through her – she had the power now.

“I can help,” Her ears still ringing as she coyly smiled at the chubby, little man at her feet. “Make the pain stop…I mean…”

Y/n, without thinking, raised the gun to his head and shot. Blood splattered across the room. Letting out a long deep sigh, y/n felt herself snapping back into her body, her arms and legs now feeling a little more like her own. Looking over she saw Tony collapsed; maybe passed out, maybe dead. It didn’t matter.

Panic rose quickly inside her, she needed to get out. She didn’t know what was happening or what had sparked the explosion, but this could be her only chance to escape - she needed to get out now. Swinging herself clumsily around the corner she opened the door and peered out, her eyes greedily racing across all the new sights and imagery. She tried to move as light as she could across the creaking floor tiles, her legs limping and stumbling over one another beneath her. Maybe there were other people in the house, maybe she was just being overcautious. She didn’t much care. She just needed to get out.

Successfully reaching a flight of stairs, she began to pick her way down, half hanging over the barista, the world spinning around her. Then, she heard a noise, heavy thumps and distant voices – she wasn’t alone. Panic rose like bile and suddenly, she was racing down the stairs, another flight followed by the next – out, out, out. The next flight, almost there, keep the gun in hand. God it’s so heavy. The world spinning around her, the adrenaline not slowing down until she scrambled down that last flight of stairs until there in front of her were the doors, opening out in a grassy barren knoll ahead.

She didn’t care about the pain anymore, or the fact that all this movement had cracked open all her cuts and lashings – she ran. She ran faster than it felt like she had ever run before, racing forth into the greenery and the open night sky. The stars gleaming down on her as she sprinted through the tall grass, feeling the wind move through her, an explosion of smells - the world alive around her. Then, a figure arose from her right. Instinctively, she stumbled down into a crouch, hiding herself in the shrubbery.

“Any sign of her?” Someone called out, fear latched onto her heart, she already knew she was the ‘her’. She tried to make out the voice, but it felt like the whole world was swimming in her head.

“No…I think John found some dead bodies in the attic. He said they were real fresh though.” Another voice, a different accent. Why wouldn’t her head unscramble itself? She felt her stomach lurch at the name – she knew a John.

“But I thought…” She heard her own voice softly choke out as she rose to her knees, swaying back and forth as the Earth moved underneath her.

“So…she aint here?”

“Doesn’t look like it…there are signs she might’ve been…they’re going to burn down the house down though.”

Looking up over the spikey tops of the greenery, y/n tried to make out the dark silhouettes barely visible against the inky night sky.

“What the hell are we going to do?”

“They won’t give up…not when it comes to her…”

“Not when it comes to anyone, Javier. We’re family. No one gets left behind.” Y/n felt a sob explode out of her – it was them. Hosea and Javier, talking about her, looking for her – saving her. In the same second another explosion erupted, this time, it was to begin the fire. Bright and beautiful, greedily eating up the dry wood of the abandoned home and exploding light into the universe. The bright and beautiful universe in which her family were here, her family that had come for her.

“Hosea!” She tried to shout but it came out as a wheeze, her voice stuck somewhere in her broken throat as she dragged herself to her feet, stumbling forward towards the figures. “Javier!” She tried again, but no noise. Nothing. Something desperate arose in her, what if they couldn’t see her? What if they left her without realising they had found her, she was here, and she was safe now. She went to shout again, her feet stumbling beneath her.

Her hair was completely loose, her clothes torn, her body broken. The heat of the fire warming her skin and yet, her skin wasn’t warm, it was burning. Fresh blood dribbling down her body as her wounds split. She wanted to scream again but something stopped her.

“Y/n…” All he said was her name. Looking up all she could see was Arthur. He was walking between Hosea and Javier, away from the house, looking at her. He could see her.

“Arthur-” She tried to say his name, but a sob shattered her lungs. She silently begged him to come to her, to touch her as she began to crumble. And, almost as if he heard her, he jolted forwards, his face enigmatic as he reached out for her but just as he was about to reach out for her – she jumped back, as if he had shocked her.

She had this God-awful look in her eyes then, all glossy and confused, like she didn’t quite recognise him. Like she was questioning him, staring at him as if she couldn’t quite make her mind up about something.

“How long’s it been.” God her voice was quiet, barely audible over the sound of the fire, the shouts of Hosea and Javier as they called for the others.

“Since what?” Arthur heard his own voice softly rumble, all he wanted was to soothe her, touch her, keep her safe.

“Since I went missing Arthur?” She looked numb; her were eyes wide, her mouth half open, a salty mixture of tears, dirt and blood dribbling down her cheeks. Arthur had not realised a single question could make him feel so guilty.

“Um…maybe a few weeks…”

“Maybe?” She let out a shaky breath. He felt like a small stone settle at the bottom of his gut – guilt.

“Four weeks yesterday…that’s when you went missing.”

And there it was. Y/n’s mind felt like it was crumpling in on itself, beginning to choke on the feeling of betrayal. Four weeks. Four weeks they had left her there, maybe searching, maybe not. She had lay in that poor excuse for a jailcell for a month, she had been dragged past her breaking point, she had faced pain like she could never had imagined waiting every second, every minute for her family to do what a family does, to protect her and yet, where were they?

“Y/n, girl, there you-” Dutch’s gruff voice swam into her mind as she twisted away from Arthur. The blazing red of the fire and the inky blue of the night sky, all of it blurring into a complete and utter mess.

“Four weeks….” She was surprised at how meek her own voice sounded, she hated it venomously. How was it that she had become so weak? How had she gotten here, to this moment? “Where were you?” She turned back to where Arthur stood, his head bowed like a scolded runt and Dutch, his hand half outstretched towards her, his euphoric face crumbling. “How could you let…”

“Y/n we were looking for you…I promise we were looking…” Dutch began, already stumbling into his defensive tone. Y/n wanted to believe him, but then she blinked and suddenly she was back in her cell, the ominous faces of men she was savagely scared of hovering above her, sneering at her as they told her how her family had disappeared, left her behind, just like her parents did. She blinked once more, and they were gone.

“You were supposed to protect me-” Suddenly, she exploded, “We’re family! What kind of a family does that to one another…you left me there…you left me there with those men…”

“I know baby-” Dutch began again.

“No!” She was gasping now, unable to breathe – the smoke and the sobbing choking her, “You don’t know…if only you did…if only you knew what they did to me Dutch….” Her cheeks throbbed as she tried to resist a guttural sob, “I thought I was your daughter.”

“You are-”

“No…I aint.” Her legs were shaking now, the fire and sky crashing together once again, “You don’t do that to your daughter, you left me…you left me behind.” Suddenly the grass felt so soft, “You left me...” The grass was so gentle compared to the concrete of her cell, the soil softened, responded to her touch, moved with her – earth and flesh, “You left me just like they did…”

Resting back, she dug her fingers deep into the earth and looked up. The sky was hot, the soil cold. Her world being torn open around her, exploding and rearranging into something new.

Nothing would be the same.

*****

“Oh…you scared me.” Arthur murmured, his eyes flickering up to the ghostly figure at the mouth of his tent.

“Sorry I-” Y/n stood awkwardly between the folds of cloth, dressed in only her night things with her hair loose down her back. She looked young, a little like how she did when they had first met. Arthur also noticed then how delicate she looked; it had been like that for a few weeks now.

Dutch had basically carried her back to camp, leaving her with Ms Grimshaw so her wounds could be tended to. Arthur had checked in on her regularly during the first few days, he liked it most when she was asleep, it gave him time to watch over her without feeling as though he was intruding.

“No, it’s okay,” A sloping grin melted into his cheeks, “Stay...please…I got, uh, oatcakes and beer.”

“Wow…my lucky treat,” Arthur watched with concealed warmth as a smile pattered across her cheeks. It had felt like forever since he had seen her smile. “Sorry for intruding, guess I just wanted to be close to someone for a ‘lil bit. Can’t sleep, y’know,” Moving into his camp, she curled herself up on Arthur’s fur rug, resting her back against his side table; it was her position, whenever she had snuck into his tent she had always somehow folded herself into that specific corner and he had never dared question it for she would always aggressively insist she was comfortable.

“Yeah, I understand. I’d be lying if I said I don’t feel like that most of the time.”

“To be honest, it wasn’t made very clear when I signed up to this gang…” Y/n grinned at him, “Maybe then I would’ve rethought my application.” Arthur chuckled.

“True…they don’t exactly give you a run down before you start living a life of crime.” Moments like these were more regular the past few days. Moments where he found himself relaxing into the familiar rhythmic conversations with y/n that he had always had, it was comforting, a reminder that the pain was temporary. “How you holding up?”

“Fine,” She smiled at him, a real smile, “Ms Grimshaw works a miracle.”

“That she does,” He shuffled slightly to rest his back against the wagon next to his bed.

“Nothing really bad happened to me physically…I mean, nothing I can’t recover from.”

“And you will, with time, you always do.” She smiled at him again, but this time her eyes lowered after meeting his – was she nervous?

“I guess the only problem is…Dutch aint shifting outta protective mode any time soon.”

“He’ll get over it…” Arthur chuckled, “I think he’s just mad at himself y’know. You know how much you mean to him.”

“Yeah, yeah,” She nodded sleepily. “I know Morgan.” God, it killed him when she called him that. Suddenly, y/n’s face twisted up in a grimace and she jolted up, her hands stretching toward her back.

“Y’okay?” He asked nervously after a moment.

“Fine…fine…” She winced, rubbing at her shoulders, “Just not quite 100% yet, y’know.” He eyed her for a moment as she pushed her hair out of her face, trying to massage the spot in her shoulder that was causing her pain.

“Here,” He surprised himself by saying, “Let me do your hair.” She eyed him; an eyebrow half raised her lips slightly parted. It seems neither of them had expected him to raise that offer. “Oh c’mon, remember how I used to braid your hair before shooting lessons with Dutch?”

“Feels like a lifetime ago…” She murmured; a faint smile painted on her lips as her eyes clouded with a distant memory

“I ain’t forgotten how to,” He smiled at her and she smiled back, shyly. A pause. “Please y/n. I know I can’t do much to help you right now…I’m no good doctor, I’m a god damn idiot when it comes to words and, y’know, comforting people. So, please…let me do this.” He watched as her lips parted slightly into a distant smile, her eyes lighting up.

“Okay Morgan…if you really want to braid my hair I guess I’ll have to allow it. Just do a good job of it okay.”

“Who you trying to look good for?”

“Oh, you know me Morgan…everybody and nobody.” Arthur chuckled to himself. She plodded herself down on the floor next to his cot and, shifting over, he planted his legs like trunks either side of her, creating a small cove in which she could tuck herself.

He went to move her hair to the back when he noticed his hands shaking ever so slightly, his heart rate jumping too. Arthur tried to calm himself then and there but couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by the feeling of her, the warmth along the inside of his claves as she curled into him, resting her head lightly against his right knee. Desperately trying not to hurt her, he scooped up her hair and used his fingers to softly comb behind her ears and down her neck, ensuring he had caught every soft wisp.

Silently, he cursed his fingers for being so calloused, spitefully thinking of how his fingers might be grazing her soft skin. Sweeping all her hair to the back, he watched as it loosely tumbled down before softly combing his fingers through it. He promptly forgot about how much he hated his hands, forgot his hatred of how he had always been so large and gruff, unsubtle and mean. Instead his mind became full of thoughts of her.

How different her hair colour looked in the orange candlelight compared to daylight. How long her hair tumbled down her back when loose and how he hadn’t noticed considering she always had it tied back. How he could see the skin of her neck peeking at him as her hair began to sway when he braided it. How that skin sloped down into the loose collar of her night shirt. The way her shoulders and back moved with her steady breath and, if he listened carefully, how he could hear it. Steady, strong, safe. It seemed all too quickly the braid twisted to a finish in his fingers.

“You got a tie?”

“Course,” She sleepily murmured. God that killed him. The way her eyes drooped, the way she moved without being conscious of what she was doing to him. She placed the tie in his outstretched palm and seemed to not realise that her delicate hands had brushed so softly against his rough ones.

“I’m scared,” She piped up as his fingers returned to her hair, her voice ever so slightly dreamy.

“That they’ll come take you again?” Now done, Arthur relaxed back into his cot a little but refused to move his legs, desperate to not disturb her.

“No…well yes but…” She melted deeper into the cove of his legs without thinking, “I’m scared that what they did to me, what happened in those weeks…I’m scared it’s going to be with me for the rest of my life, affect me for the rest of my life, I mean.”

“But-”

“Sorry, I know it sounds silly-”

“No…it doesn’t,” Arthur leaned forward, catching her eye, “There aint anything silly about what you went through, but…I know for a fact that it won’t affect you forever.” A beat.

“How?”

“Because you’re so much more than what happened to you in those four weeks. You’ve lived through hell; we all know it, and yet at the end the day – you’re more than any of the people who have hurt you.” He watched her looking at him, trying to figure out the enigmatic feeling written on her face, but the conversation moved swiftly on.

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened in those weeks?” She whispered, not blinking, “Where you all were?”

“We were looking for you y/n, and that’s the God honest truth,”

“But-”

“But nothing y/n. For a while uh…things got complicated. We lost track for a bit and you paid for it, I’m sorry.” He looked down, wondering how far he could take this, “Y’know, I thought that you were dead, just for a moment…I was destroyed.” Her face remained enigmatic, “Now I’m scared to turn away from you for one second, I’m afraid I’ll lose you again.” It felt like he was crossing into unmarked territory.

“You’ll never lose me,” She breathed, “Not really.” A knot tied itself into existence in his gut.

Their eye contact never broke. It felt like it never would. Looking at her then, he felt like there were a million things he wanted to say to her, like there was so much of himself he had yet to reveal to her. The parts of himself which, in all honesty, cared for her more than he ever realised. Sitting there, with her tucked against his right knee, he couldn’t help himself.

Almost as if he were in a trance, he began to trace his fingers along the hair behind her left ear before scooping up her braid and shifting it to the side, how comforting it was to know that she was right there, under his fingertips. His left hand moved to her shoulder were he gently shifted the white cotton of her dress so that it slipped down, exposing her black and beaten shoulder. Slowly, and without breaking eye contact, he brought his lips down and pressed them against her colourful skin. She shivered into his touch as his beard grazed her bare flesh, but she never looked away. He kissed her again, moving up closer to her neck, his eyes fluttering shut. He was so close that she could feel his breath fluttering across her exposed neck. She relaxed into him, almost daring him to go further until she noticed something – he was crying.

Soft beads rolled down his cheeks as he kissed her again, and again, and again. Softly, y/n started to hear his whispers warm into the silence.

“I’m sorry…”

“I can protect you…”

“They won’t ever hurt you again…”

“I’m here now…”

“I’m sorry…”

“I’m here…”

 Maybe y/n was right, maybe nothing would be the same. But change didn’t seem so scary anymore.

requests open <3

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