#of course Micah and Dutch would get trampled

[normalcarrots]

Chat, it’s almost 2 am rn

[marvel-redemption-omega]

Of Outlaws and Family

Chapter One: New Beginnings

A/N: So I have RDR2 beat to 85% completion (the compendium isn’t finished but the story section is) and I CRIED when my precious Cowboy died! I had high honor and helped John so there was that at least I suppose... This has eight parts so uhh be prepared for this. It’s a helluva ride. It follows the story in the game for the most part, I changed some missions and added in a few for my own personal reasons (OFC x Arthur) so yeah... Don’t worry, there’s gonna be a happy ending! I promise. I have a lot of the story already planned it’s just a matter of getting the next chapters cranked out. Also Hosea and Dutch are a thing in my eyes... Dutch never corrected nor denied Hosea when he said “the curious couple and their unruly son” soooo I took it and ran. 

I am from the south and I drop ‘d’s, ‘g’s and do a buncha (<- example) other stuff when talking irl so I’ve added that into the story and tried to keep the same type of dialect (is that the word I’m tryna think of?) as they have in the game with accents. I also am trying (and editing) the Irish accents I have for Sean and Molly! If you think anything can/should be changed, please lemme (<- another example) know! Or if you can’t figure out a word/phrase I’ll help or have it in parenthesis if I know some people might have a hard time getting the accent if they’re trying to speak it aloud to hear it for themselves (my friend does this occasionally).

Warnings: Cursing, typical gang violence (shoot outs/shoot ups/gangs,bushwhacking. etc), mentions of death/dead gang members

Please enjoy! Hearts and repubs are appreciated!

My work is not to be posted elsewhere; I will post it to my AO3 and dA if I so choose.

Word Count: 3,246

“Faster, Girl, faster! Go! We gotta get home before them!”

“You think you can outrun us? You owe us, Little Lady!”

“Get her!”

“Don’t let her get away!”

“Fancy, let’s go! Hyah!” She urges her horse on and leans forward, stirrups tied high on the sides of the saddle. The brown mustang tosses her head and breaks from her gallop to a flat out bolt. “Atta girl, c’mon.” The trees and rolling land all blurs as she and Fancy run along the road, she barely registers the white blip of a horse at the four way cross.

“Whoah!”

“Sorry, Mister! Can’t talk! Gotta run!” She turns slightly in her saddle to call the apology over her shoulder as her mare continues to carry her back home. The small band of people, behind the man she narrowly missed, watch her in curiosity.

“There she is!”

“Don’t lose sight of her again!”

“Try and cut her off before she gets over that hill!”

A group of seven men, each on their own horse, fly by as well, sparring not even a glance their way. The owner of the white stallion is stunned for a moment before he calms his horse and turns around.

“Bill, Micah, go after her and help with those damned O’Driscolls. We’ll continue on to get settled. Once we’re good, if they’re not back yet, we’ll go search for them. Come on,” he instructs and watches as aforementioned duo break off and tail the lady’s assailants.

“Dutch, why did you send them? You know how he acted with Mrs. Adler. Was it really wise to send both of them unsupervised?”

“Arthur, are you doubting me? We’re almost there and it shouldn’t take too awful long to set everything up so we won’t be too far behind them,” Dutch turns his horse back and clicks his tongue as they continue on.

“Looks like that was the last one, Ma. Want me to go start the bonfire?”

“Yes please, James. Take Fancy out to the paddock on your way. I left her hitched to the porch,” she answers and leans her gun against the wall. “I’ll get the horses that didn’t spook and start dragging these guys around back.” The boy runs out the back door and she can hear murmurs to her horse and the soft nickers in a sort of reply as he does as told. She sighs and opens her front door.

“Hello, Ma’am, we just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Seems like we didn’t need to come help.”

Two men push their way inside as she darts back towards her table, picking up a rope lying on it. She lassos one of them and yanks him to the floor, hog tying him as a shotgun clicks as it’s cocked. The other man holds his hands up at the boy who is aiming the gun at him, startling back a few steps.

“Bill! Don’t just stand there! Do something! Untie me!” the hog tied man grumbles as he rolls onto his shoulder to look at his friend.

“And end up shot or like you? No thanks, Micah. I’ll stay here,” he snips and glances down. She uses the moment of interruption to her advantage and lassos Bill too, dragging him closer before hog tying him as well.

“James, hun, go start that fire. We might have more than I thought,” she orders and takes the gun from him as he passes. He shoots a glare over his shoulder to the strange men and dashes out the back door.

Dutch and Arthur look at the house where Bill and Micah’s horses are grazing. Arthur gives him a pointed look, which Dutch sighs at. They climb down from their horses and lead them to the porch and try to quietly walk up, checking around them for any traps or followers. The door is slightly ajar and a women’s voice, the same from earlier, filters out.

“You two have some nerve. Now tell me, what does Colm want now? I done told him I ain’t joining his stupid gang and I won’t warm his bed. If you think that I’ll do it for either of you then you’ve got another thing coming and not even half a mind between the two of you!”

“Well, Darlin’, you might be right about that. There’s not half a brain betweenst those two, but I do take offense that too you think we’re with that dirty, yellow bellied scum, Colm O’Driscoll.”

“Who the hell are you?” A shotgun is pointed at the two newcomers, and Arthur’s lips twitch up as his and Dutch’s hands go up.

“Dutch Van der Linde and this here is Arthur Morgan. I sent Bill and Micah here to help you with those fools, after you nearly trampled me,” Dutch smoothly states, walking forward as he speaks. She backs up to the other side of the table and raises her brow.

“Ma! Ma! There’s two mo-” James freezes at the back door, eyes wide as all attention focuses on him. “They’re already here. What do you want with my Ma?! She ain’t got no money! She don’t want no dirty O’Driscoll!” He shouts and moves so he’s beside his mother, eyes narrowed.

“That’s a tough little boy you have there, Ma’am. What’s his name? And yours?” Dutch stands just on the other side of the table, hands still up, no move made to untie his men, nor is there anyone else in the house, and he hasn’t reached for his pistols either.

“James. His name is James. And I’m Scarlet. Scarlet O’Hara,” Scarlet lowers the shotgun and places it on the table. “So if you’re not with Colm, why are you here? My…” she hesitates and glances at James,” his father isn’t in trouble is he? He’s not part of a gang.”

Arthur and Dutch share a look, glance at the grumbling duo on the floor, and back to Scarlet. They shake their heads and James wraps his arms around his mother’s waist, head resting on her stomach. She wraps her arm around his shoulders and leans down to press a kiss to his mop of dark brown hair.

“Considering we don’t know his father, by name or otherwise? No, we aren’t here about him. When I realized you we’re running from O’Driscolls, I figured you might need help. So I sent these two men to try and help you; though from the looks of your yard and what you’ve done to poor Bill and Micah, well, you didn’t need our help.” Dutch has a way with words, Scarlett will admit that. He’s charismatic and charming, easy on the eyes too. She likes him.

“Well, Mr. Van der Linde, care to help me drag the bodies out back to the pit? We burn any ones that manage to get too close,” she offers and hands James a knife, motioning to the men on the floor. “Cut ‘em loose, but don’t cut them or yourself, James.” The boy nods and cuts the rope on their wrists and backs up to Scarlet, leaving them to cut the rope on their ankles. He sets the knife on the table.

“Damn woman put these too tight to slip out of,” Micah mutters under his breath as he slices through the rope on his legs. He gets to his feet and helps Bill up as well.

“I think we can help with that. Any chance of more O’Driscolls coming this way?” Arthur leads the group out the front door, glancing at Scarlet over his shoulder.

“Maybe. I planned on burning down the house and headed out tonight. I have a wagon down yonder with our stuff and a horse. I was gonna saddle up Fancy and Shamrock and sneak there with James,” she admits and ducks her head a little in embarrassment. Dutch studies her for a moment as they gather the dead men and move them to the backyard.

“I have an idea. You’re free to say no of course, but we could always use more people. We could help give protection to not only you, but to your boy too. James seems like a smart kid, we’ve got another boy just a little younger than him. I’m sure Jack would love to have someone his age to play and hang out with.”

Ooooh, curse this man’s charisma. He’s bound to know I’ll do anything for my boy. Curse him, Scarlet thinks, hesitating in kicking her guy into the small, dug out pit. James helps roll the guy down then busies himself with the O’Driscolls horses, leading them to the pasture as he talks to calm them. There’s kindling starting to catch the logs and clothed bodies of the dead already in the pit.

“I always said I’d never run with a gang, though I fear as I don’t have much other choice. Not now anyway. They won’t stop coming after me and it’s not like I can hide here forever. They’ll find me eventually. I can’t have that. They can’t find out about James,” she confirms, voice filled with conviction. She nods to herself and turns to face the four men. “Dutch Van der Linde, you have yourself a new member. Just tell me all I need to know.”

They finish up the litter of bodies as Dutch and Arthur list the rules of the gang and all it entails, or what they feel they can share around James, with some protest from Micah, then all head back inside. Scarlet ushers them to sit around her table as she fixes them lunch, sending James to feed and water the horses when he’s done with his plate, which he obliges without protest. She keeps busy by cleaning the dishes and packing them as the men talk amongst themselves.

When James comes back inside, having fed and watered the small groups’s horses too, Dutch suggests they head out. He volunteers Arthur to stay behind and drive the wagon when she decides to leave and join them. Scarlet thanks them and sends them on their way with a promise to not be too long with the last of the packing.

It doesn’t take too awful long to get three full double-saddlebags put on the horses. James is sent to lead all the horses to the fence and hitch them to posts in preparation of saddling. Arthur offers to help James and Scarlet nods in thanks as the males head out the back.

Once the trio of horses are saddled, Scarlet ties Shamrock’s reins to Fancy’s saddle horn so he doesn’t spook when she lights the house. She helps her son get into Fancy’s saddle and rubs the brown mustang’s nose, up the white blaze between her eyes.

“Stay, Girl. I’ll be right back. Calm,” she coos to the horse and steps away. Arthur is waiting in his saddle, Fancy’s reins in hand to keep her calm, though Scarlet is positive she won’t spook and tells him as such.

It takes less than two minutes for her to grab her hidden cash and light the bedroom on fire. She leaves the door open as she walks down the front porch and towards the five horses, two being ones from the O’Driscoll members. She climbs into the saddle and Arthur hands her the reins, James sitting in front of her.

“Let’s go get your wagon and then head out. I think we can make quick work of the trip,” he suggests and James tilts his head up to look at his mom.

“Can I ride by myself please?”

Scarlet bites her cheek and hesitates a moment before nodding and slipping from behind him. She unties Shamrock’s reins and tosses them over his head and neck before hopping to his back and adjusting in the barely used saddle. He startles a little but settles down once Scarlet gives his neck a pat and reassures him it’s only her.

“Alright. I’ll lead you to the wagon, and then we can tie those extra horses to the back side of it so they can’t run off. I can ride your horse or lead him back if I ride Fancy. James can ride in the back of the wagon. Shamrock will follow wherever his momma, Fancy, goes,” she plans, though she’s talking mostly to herself until the end, and walks Shamrock to the hitching post to take the reigns of the O’Driscoll horses. They toss their heads and nicker softly as she ties the reins to the horn, leaving plenty of slack so her legs don’t get caught. “That should do it.”

“Lead the way,” Arthur gestures for her to lead and watches as James clicks his tongue and Fancy prances up behind Shamrock. He follows behind the boy and mother, smile on his lips.

“You know, I gotta admit, that was some fine handling of gang members. You sure you’ve never ran with someone before?”

Arthur’s question startles Scarlet slightly and Shamrock spooks, prancing to the left and pulling the two tied horses with him. She rubs his neck and soothes him before straightening in the saddle and kicking him slightly. James lets the reins rest on the horn, hands rubbing Fancy down as he sings her praises.

“No. My brothers are part of one, or were. I’m not sure anymore, haven’t heard from them in awhile. My parents weren’t too happy bout it but they were grown and both could handle their own with the best of them. Last I heard from them, I think they was in Blackwater. But that were years ago. Long before I were even pregnant with James,” her eyes stay trained on Shamrock, blinking back the withheld tears.

The thoroughbred-mustang cross tosses his head and neighs at her discomfort, slowing from a gallop to a trot despite her order to sped up. He pulls enough so the reins are from her hands and he turns to look at her, nickering softly. Fancy speeds up to trot as close as she can beside them, gently nipping at Scarlet’s boot.

“Mama?” James inquires, concern and fear in his quivering voice. She slouches in the saddle, hand going slack on the reins. She leans forward and whispers something to Shamrock before sitting back, looking at her son with a sad smile.

“Just miss my brothers, your uncles….that’s all, James. I wish you coulda met them. I wish I knew what’s happened to them or at least where they are,” she admits and reaches into her shoulder bag. She drops one sugar cube into her right hand and leans forward to feed it to her stud. She holds her palm out for Fancy who happily eats it, then turns to each horse tied to Shamrock, coaxing them softly to take the sugar. She holds her hand out to Arthur who hesitates a moment. “It’s just a sugar cube, ain’t gonna poison your horse. I’d be stupid too,” she chuckles as he accepts the horse treat. His horse tosses his head as he pats his neck.

“Well, I guess you’re right. Can’t be too careful though,” he huffs a small laugh as he rubs his horse’s neck as it nickers happily.

“Mm. That’s the wagon, just ahead,” she nods to a wagon stashed between several trees and bushes. Arthur moves his horse to her other side to get a better look at where she’s pointing. It hadn’t been a far ride, and there’s a horse already tied to the front, pawing at the ground in wait.

“How did you get to own three horses? If you don’t mind me asking,” Arthur asks as they slow to a walk until they reach the tied wagon. Scarlet shrugs as she slips easily from the saddle and leads Shamrock to the back to tie him to one of the trees and undo the other horses.

“My mom. Fancy was hers. Well, technically my grandmother’s but when she couldn’t take care of them my mother offered to take them and well, when I was ready to leave she said I could have Fancy since she don’t ride no more. Said it would be good for her to be with someone she trusts and who would actually ride her and take care of her. She’s pretty old, thirty five or six I think,” she admits and kisses Shamrock’s nose when he puts his face in hers.

“Shamrock was born a few years after I was, so he’s roughly my age. Maybe five years younger. That,” Scarlet points to the horse on the wagon, “asshole is Shasta. He is a moody jerk who I sometimes have to fight just to put up for the night. I got him in a race. Before I were pregnant with James, I would race Fancy. Bets for money or horses were traded, depending on my opponent.

“So I beat the guy who owned him. I felt bad though cause Shasta was young then, only two at the time. His owner, a real rich prick, hit him in the face with the butt of his pistol. So I lassoed the guy off Shasta and hogtied him. Fancy just let me do my thing since she’s seen almost everything, my old girl.

“Shasta spooked so I tossed the guy on Fancy and caught Shasta, lassoing him and calming him. When I climbed into that man’s saddle, I swear he didn’t even have him broke, just listening out of fear. He immediately started bucking and kicking like crazy. I wore him down and tied him to Fancy so I could rid him of the horrid saddle. It was too big for his back! I beat the guy up a bit and yelled at him about his abuse of the poor horse and made him swear to be better. Then I looted the saddlebags and the guy for all he had on him and dropped him and his saddle on the side of the trail we were on after cutting his wrists free. I rode with Shasta tied to Fancy back to my old place and have had him since,” she recalls, chuckling at the memories of that day.

“Sounds like you like gettin into trouble, or at the very least, causin it. Should I ask Dutch to rethink this invitation? We don’t need any more trouble,” Arthur jests, climbing off his horse to help unsaddle the O’Driscoll horses.

“Nah. I’m not gonna be the cause of it. I usually just wind up pulled into it. We can change Shasta with these two so they can’t break away and run off on us. I’ll ride him and my two will follow. Unless you’d feel comfortable tying him to the back,” she rambles as she helps James into the back of the wagon before moving to help Arthur with the saddles.

“Two horses work better than one. I think I’ll let you handle unhooking Shasta though. Sounds like he’s a right brute when he wants to be,” he hefts a saddle and puts it in the remaining room in the wagon, ruffling James’ hair in passing. James sticks his tongue out at the man before clambering closer to the seat and waiting for them.

“Aha, yeah. You’re right. He’s a brute alright,” she chides and rounds the front of the wagon after adding the second saddle on top of the other one. “Go ahead and slip their bits out and I’ll settle Shasta, get him dressed in Fancy’s saddle.”

[zeldadeservesbetter]

Arthur's Breaking Point, Part 1

((So, I'm playing RD2 at 3:30 a.m., right? I just donated a little over $60 in the camp funds, and i stocked us up on food an medicine and got Dutch a new setup. As I'm leaving to make more money, MISS GRIMSHAW waltz's up to me, and has the nerve to tell me she has "noticed" that Arthur hasn't been putting in the box lately. He shrugged it off and said he would, but honestly i was P I S S E D. so this is a lil snippet of how i believe Arthur should've reacted :D enjoy!))

((P.S., if my writing is bad please forgive me! I'm still a beginner at fanfic, which is why I'm writing this, to get my skills up. If something is wrong, or you noticed something that's a little mixed up, please let me know so i can improve 😭😭))

All day, Arthur had been snatching saddlebags and robbing stores in Valentine, causing havoc in the town but also not being identified thanks to his new and handy sack hood. $60 and a whitetail buck was all he could muster up, but it was rewarding to know he could feed people at camp.

Upon entering camp, Arthur noticed how everyone had been gathering around the stew pot, looking as if they hadn't eaten in days.

Getting off his horse, Arthur proudly lugged the deer off, trudging over to Pearson's wagon to hook it up, earning a shocked look from him but not a single glare from anyone else.

Sometimes, it felt as if he were underappreciated. And it showed, too.

Arthur just sighed, now a hopeless wreck from all that hard work he'd been doing today, but still happy enough to donate to camp.

Stuffing the remainder of his money into the tithing box, Arthur huffed, smiling fondly when Dutch gave him a thumbs up and a "good job, son.", making him feel almost instantly better.

Then as he was leaving, Miss Grimshaw approached him.

"Mr. Morgan..." She started, hands on her hips.

"Yes Miss Grimshaw?" Arthur sighed, his arms hanging effortlessly alongside his hips.

"I've noticed that you haven't been putting as much money into the camp funds... And well..."

"I'm sorry, miss... Just been busy with things.. You know? I'll make sure to donate more often, i promise." Arthur answered, almost sounding like he was just ready to collapse on his cot.

"Well, promises don't keep us fed Morgan." Miss Grimshaw finished hastily, ready to stomp off had it not been for Arthur's loud and annoyed "godammit woman!"

Everyone at camp had heard, their heads turning to the pair, wondering what would happen next. Of course, Abigail covered Jack's ears and walked him off to read a book with him.

"Almost every goddamn day i come into camp with a buck on my back and rabbits on my side!" Arthur seethed, all his bottled up anger finally pouring out.

"Well then you must bring in ghost animals, i don't see us being fed properly and the lot of us are hungry!" Miss Grimshaw had tried to bite back, visibly making Arthur even MORE angry.

"DON'T YOU TALK TO ME ABOUT HUNGER! YOU AIN'T EVER SEEN HUNGER, NOR WILL YOU EVER SO LONG AS I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY ABOUT IT!" Arthur hollered, finally fed up with his (bullshit) camp.

"I slave for you all, i give you all my shares, i buy you chickens, horse posts, i even bought Dutch a new livin' space! I feed you, put medicine in your mouth, and bullets in your guns!" Arthur rambled on, his voice hoarse and hollering throughout camp. As he was yelling, he had been over at his space packing his things into a bag that he would just hook to his horse's saddle to get out quickly.

"All i ever get back is bitchin' and fussin', AND I AM DONE!" He finished, not realizing nearly everyone he considered dear had been gathering around him. He hadn't noticed, but a few tears had rolled down his cheek. He'd never felt so angry in his entire life, not even when Micah had joined the group. And not to mention, his anger was directed towards his family. The people he held close to his heart.

Muffled voices had tried to drag him back into camp, to talk to him and reason with him, but there was no reasoning.

If they weren't grateful for him and his deeds, they clearly didn't need him.

As he attempted to climb onto his horse, he felt a hand grab his arm, preventing him from running off. It was John.

"Arthur... I-I... Never knew you felt that way..." John had said, his expression worried and pained.

"Because you never ask. You never care about me- goddammit can't i just get a 'thank you Arthur' or 'we love you Arthur' every once in a while?! That's all i want!" Arthur bit back, making John jump slightly.

The rest of the camp could do nothing but watch as Arthur broke down in front of them, they watched as he sobbed and screamed, his body trembling at every word that escaped his mouth.

"I'm outta here. You don't need me- and i see it." He had finished, after arguing with a hurt John.

Arthur hopped onto his horse, completely ignoring John, he even thought his horse trampled his foot as he rode off quickly. Part of him wanted to go back to make sure he was okay- but he knew if he did he'd be sucked right back into camp, the exact opposite of where he wanted to be right now.

He was sure at this point Dutch wanted to exile him, to disown him and tell him he wasn't his son, but he couldn't help but love the man he considered to be his father. They had been through so much together, and it was a genuine shame it had to end like this. But Arthur stood up for himself, something he had never done. He never knew how to love himself, or stand up for himself, but seeing how everyone had reacted, he learned quickly.

(( ill honestly probably write part 2 in the next few minutes, but who knows 😂😂. I hope you enjoyed it, and the next one is gonna take place in a place you all experienced in the prologue- Colter!))

[ladyboltontoyou]

Arthur Morgan x Reader: Blown Away. 2

Warning: Cursing, violence, gore, death, panic attacks, angst.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

A/N: I didn’t expect to write another chapter but tbh I really like this plot. Hope this is what you two imagined! Cheers!

It was so hard at first. Changing how you ate, how you behaved, how you spoke. It was like learning how to do all those things from scratch. You slipped up constantly, calling everyone sir or ma’am, repeatedly apologizing to the point where some people got annoyed.

Most of them were sympathetic and understood. Sadie immediately took you under her wing, almost treating you like her own daughter. She was by your side almost every minute you were there. Arthur was the exact same, but he took it so far that he found himself sleeping outside your tent every night.

The first night Dutch had called you a burden. You heard him whisper it to Hosea as Sadie helped bandage your arm and clean your busted lip. But over the weeks he changed completely. When you had finally opened up to them it was like their paternal instincts kicked in. It felt nice to be cared for, you hadn’t felt that kindness since you were a child.

***

“Oh, that was awful.” You sighed and set the revolver down on the cart beside you. Arthur had taken you out for target practice, insisting you needed to learn how to defend yourself. “I don’t think I can do this, Arthur, I’m sorry.”

“Why don’t we try something a little easier, then?” Arthur took his shotgun off of his horse and handed it to you. “Now, with this type of gun it’s impossible to miss. As long as they’re not too far off. If someone’s running at you,” He put his hands on top of yours and cocked the gun. The loud noise it made sent a weird giddy chill through you. “They won’t stand a chance. Shoot that tree and see what it looks like.”

You aimed at the tree he pointed at, a large pine a few yards away. Pulling the trigger always made you nervous, only because of the loud noise. You hated loud noises. Your whole life our father had used noise to intimidate you. Slamming doors, stomping around the house, throwing things.

“You alright?” Arthur asked.

“Oh, yeah, sorry, I was just thinking.” You sighed and lifted the shotgun in the position he guided you into. You kept both eyes open, something he always told you to do. It’s not like you were going to miss the tree though. The blast from the shell would surely spray the tree and then some.

The loud boom that came from the gun temporarily made you deaf and you stumbled back from the kick. Arthur grabbed your arm to help you steady yourself and got ready to shower you in compliments to reassure you.

“Wow, that, that felt amazing!”

Well, not the reaction he expected.

This type of adrenaline was much better than the type you were used to. You wanted more of it. You cocked the gun again and fired in the exact same spot, this time the kickback not affecting you as much.

When you turned to Arthur with that proud smile on your face his heart melted. He’d never seen you look like that. “Look at you, girl!” He laughed with a smile of his own. His praise made you feel even more confident. You were practically beaming. “You wanna try the bolt-action now?”

“I want to try every one of them. Not the handgun, I don’t like that one.” You said and handed him his gun back.

“Yeah, not my favorite either.” He grunted as he swapped out guns, checking to make sure the rifle was loaded and ready. “What do you say after this I teach you how to fish?”

***

“I just feel so awful sometimes.” Your voice was raw as you shook in Arthur’s arms post panic attack. “It’s hard. I grew up listening to the man that was supposed to protect me call me such awful things. For so many years. It’s all I’ve known. And I don’t know what I did. He used to be nice. Then when my mom went missing he just changed.”

Arthur held you close and ran his fingers slowly through your hair. Normally when you had panic attacks it was Sadie who calmed you down but she was out in Valentine buying horse supplies.

“I guess, maybe it was his way of coping. The drinking, maybe he missed her and didn’t know how-”

“I’m going to stop you right there, (Y/N).” Arthur said firmly. “Don’t you try to excuse what he did. There’s nothing in the world that could justify what he did to you.” He ran his thumb over your cheek where the last remaining tint of your bruise remained.

He was right. Maybe it was your mind trying to convince you it wasn’t as bad as it truly was in order to protect you. It would have been nice to think it wasn’t that way, but you wanted to remember. You wanted to remember how evil he was, it would be dangerous to forget.

“You did nothing to deserve it, either.” He continued while your body slowly stopped shaking. “You know that, right?”

You nodded and parted from him to sit up. “Hard to believe it too much though. I mean, I know it’s not my fault. But at the same time, hearing that you’re useless your whole life…” The way Arthur was looking at you made you feel a bit guilty for pouring all this out on him. “I don’t know. I don’t know. It’s just hard to get that image of myself out of my head.”

Arthur nodded as he listened to you. “Well, you won’t be hearing that anymore. I promise that. And if anyone around here so much as teases you, let me know. Sometimes John gives a little too much tough love and it’s hard to tell if he’s joking or not. Sean too.”

“I’ll be okay, I think.”

“Course you will. You’re the strongest woman I know.”

***

Another week passed and you slowly felt your self esteem rise to a healthier level. You could look in a mirror and see the beauty everyone always talked about. You could eat without feeling disgusting afterwards. All thanks to Arthur and a few other people close to you.

“You’ve got no idea how glad I am,” Arthur sat down beside you in the grass. “That you’ve realized how great you actually are.”

You put down the gun you’d been cleaning and turned to him.“You tell me you’re glad I realize my worth, I wish I could say the same to you.” You replied. It was something you’d been thinking about for a while. Arthur was one of the nicest men you’d ever met, almost as kind as Hosea. But the way he talked about himself sometimes upset you.

Arthur furrowed his brows and he moved his lips as if he was searching for something to say. “I don’t… I’m not-”

“Dutch Van Der Linde!”

No. 

Please, god, no.

Your blood ran cold as soon as you heard that voice, and your body froze so suddenly you couldn’t move at all. You had gone into shock.

Arthur stood up and drew his sawed off shotgun from his belt, turning to face the three men riding into camp. He moved to stand in front of you until Sadie could get to you and lead you to safety.

“Come out, Dutch! Where you at? Hosea?” He taunted and pushed his horse further into camp, knocking over some barrels full of produce. Apples spilled everywhere and Mary-Beth let out a shriek as one of the other men almost trampled her.

“(Y/N), come on. Let’s get you down here.” Sadie whispered when she finally reached you, pulling you towards the back way out of camp. “Don’t you worry, Dutch will have this handled in no time. And if he don’t, I will.” Her last sentence sounded like more of a promise than a threat.

“You sure got some nerve, coming up in here!” Arthur yelled as he walked in a straight line to your father.

“Arthur, prettyboy Arthur!” Your father laughed and pulled back on his horse’s reins. “You know why I’m here, give me my daughter or my men will open fire.”

It was bluff. You knew it was bluff. You looked over your shoulder as Sadie guided you away, and when you saw the man you never thought you’d have to see again your heart fell five stories. Thankfully you were far enough away where he didn’t notice your movement.

“Wait, I want to see. I need to see.” You hissed as Sadie tried to get you to go through the woods.

“What? Are you serious right now?”

“I need to see, Sadie, please.”

She chewed on her lip and sighed before pulling out her two pistols. “Alright, fine, but you crouch behind here and don’t move.”

You crouched with her behind two thick oak trees. You could see Hosea and Dutch had come out and were trying to cool down the situation.

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about, Mr. (Y/L/N).” Dutch said calmly. “Last time we saw her was the night before we left.”

Your father laughed and pulled out his handgun. That caused everyone watching to reach for their own, but the paid guns were quicker. They whipped out their matching rifles and aimed directly at Hosea and Arthur.

“Arthur,” Your breath hitched in your throat and you almost ran out of cover. “Sadie, they-” She shushed you quickly but you couldn’t stop the whine of helplessness that escaped your lips.

“Just let them have her, Dutch.”

Your jaw clenched when you recognized Micah’s voice. He was the only other person in the world you hated. He’d been nothing but unhelpful the whole time you’d been there. A few days after you arrived he introduced himself a little too personally. Nothing too foul, he just flirted with you for a solid three minutes while Arthur had went to get something from Dutch. When you made it clear you weren’t interested he pushed harder for a few days until you snapped. After you humiliated him in front of the whole camp he made it his soul purpose to annoy you.

And there he was, blowing their cover just because he could. Everyone looked visibly frustrated and beside you Sadie could be heard breathing in a way that screamed murder.

“Listen to your friend.”

“I’m only gonna tell you once, you son of a bitch. Get the hell out of here or I’ll kill you here and now.” Arthur said and cocked his shotgun. The other paid gun that was originally aiming at Hosea turned his sights onto Arthur.

That was the window Charles needed. He drew his shotgun out and emptied two shells into the paid guns. He killed one of them and got a good shot on the others shoulder, blowing his arm off. Screams filled the air and the two horses ran off into the woods, dragging the bodies with them.

Your father waved his gun around as he searched for a target in the midst of his confusion. It happened so quick he had no idea what even happened. Arthur and everyone else with a gun emptied their bullets into the man, his body shaking with impact before falling off of his horse when it ran off.

He was dead. He was finally dead. As much as the Van Der Linde gang had helped you heal there was only one thing that could give you complete closure. Knowing your father would never be able to hurt you again.

When the gun smoke cleared you saw Arthur clutching his side, Charles and Hosea helping him sit down on the nearest surface. Which, of course, happened to be the table where the vegetables and fruit were cut.

You ran out from your cover, running as fast as your bare feet would take you. As you neared the middle of camp a few people turned your way.

“(Y/N), wait!” You could hear Susan Grimshaw call out as you ran past her, but she’d have to pin you to the ground if she wanted you to stop.

“Arthur!” You called out as you rounded the table he was laying on. His shirt had been removed and you could see a rather concerning wound in his side. “Oh, oh, oh my god, no, no,”

Arthur pushed through the pain and reached up to take your hand in his to calm you down. “Hey, what’s the matter? I’m gonna be alright.” He grunted over the voices that were getting way too overwhelming. “I’ve had worse than this, it ain’t no big deal.”

You blinked away the tears while Sadie walked up beside you, out of breath from chasing you. “Come on, (Y/N). You don’t need to be seeing this.” Everything was too much. The smell of blood was assaulting your gag reflux. People were talking over each other and John kept asking where the medicine cart was.

“Sadie, please!”

Sadie’s eyes widened and you could hear Arthur chuckle. A few others quieted down and glanced over at you, they’d never heard you yell like that.

Hosea came over with an armful of supplies, liquor, some bandages, herbs and stitching materials. “Alright, this will only take a second. It’s not too bad.” You knew they were all lying to make you feel better.

“You hear that?” Arthur asked and you looked back down to his paling face. “It’s gonna be alright, (Y/N).”

***

It was alright. By some miracle he avoided infection and healed up perfectly. The whole time you’d been scared to death he was going to die on you. You’d grown so attached to Arthur over the past month or two, and if he died right when you were getting better… Thinking about that possibility made your heart hurt.

“I told you it was going to be alright.” Arthur said as Hosea and Charles helped him walk around. The wound was almost fully healed and he had just started to be able to walk again. Since it was such a huge wound it had affected some kind of nerve leading down his leg, making it nearly impossible to walk without pain. If that nerve hadn’t been affected then he would probably be walking on his own.

You smiled nervously as you watched him walk around the outside of camp, trying to resist the urge to jump in and help. Jack was at his heels cheering him on with compliments and singing, even promising to make him a flower necklace just like he made his mother.

“Alright, that’s enough for now.” Hosea said as they neared a bench. Him and Charles helped lower Arthur down into a sitting position. “There you are. You think you’ll be fine there for a while?”

Arthur waved them off, he hated feeling so helpless and dependent. But it was obvious he was extremely grateful for everyone’s help. Before he met you there would probably be a voice in the back of his head taunting him and telling him he didn’t deserve the help he’d been receiving. It was nice to not hear it anymore.

“I’m gonna go pick those flowers now, Arthur!” Jack said as the two men walked off.

“You go do that.” Arthur grunted as he got comfortable on the bench.

When Jack ran off you sat down next to Arthur and smiled at him. He looked at you and couldn’t help but smile back, even though he didn’t know why you were smiling. “What?”

“Nothing.” Your smile grew wider and you had to look away. “I just, I’m really happy.”

“Good.” Arthur wrapped an arm around your shoulder, ignoring the pain from stretching out his abdomen. “You make me happy.”

The sweet talking always made you soft. It felt like roses were constantly blooming in your heart when he would talk like that. You leaned into him and pressed a kiss against his cheek. “You make me happy too, Arthur. Thank you.”

[arthurs-wife]

Forever - IV

New Hanover, 1899

Jedediah’s last several encounters with Molly had been no better, he kept seeing the woman already dead or just out of his reach. He had spoken to the woman for perhaps 20 cumulative minutes in his seven hundred years of life and he was madly in love with her, his bones ached every night of his existence.

Sometime in the 1600s (he couldn’t tell you when) the Irish civil wars broke out and Molly was the leader of one such band that was completely demolished by the English. Jed had found them slaughtered.

In the 1700s he devoted his life and time to helping the poor as they starved at the hands of their rulers.

She was starving, dying, shot, stabbed, trampled. She was everywhere.

He moved around Ireland as much as he could go before he couldn’t stand it anymore, convinced the woman was following him.

With the egress of Irish folk to America, Jedediah wondered why he just hadn’t left Ireland yet. The woman haunted him and he wondered if it wasn’t because he had slaughtered villages in his Norman days. It was his eternal hell. So he emigrated to the last place on earth he thought he would go.

In the 1850s, he held a brief position as a constable in London, the only town worth living in, in his opinion. He was amazed by the technology, the contraptions they had created in the last 700 years. Towers, bridges, stagecoaches?

The reprieve from his ghost was short lived as during 1850, there was a rash of killings focused on prostitutes, one including the familiar red hair.

Was no place on earth safe?

Of course he had tried to take his own life several times, none of it worked. He kept waking up like the stubborn bastard he was. He wondered where on earth there was a volcano to throw himself into and came up on Hawaii, which was on the opposite side of the colonies.

So he sailed across the ocean to start his new life in New Hanover in 1898, hoping to shake himself from the curse.

He settled in a town called Valentine, too weak to move onto Hawaii. He was tired, it had been almost 50 years since his encounter with Molly. He checked his nonexistent watch, only 50 to go.

America surprised him.

By the road one evening he found a girl, almost as tired as he was but far younger. For the first time in many, many years he felt hope, a purpose. Her name was Izzy and he loved her dearly. It all fell apart when they came to Horseshoe Overlook for shelter with the Van Der Linde gang.

There she sat, miraculously alive and unharmed, in the arms of the ring leader himself, Dutch.

He couldn’t help but stare.

“Arthur who are your friends here?” the man boomed, good naturedly but Jed detected a hint of testiness.

“Jedediah,” the man he had come to know as Arthur grunted, “his daughter, Izzy.”

His heart warmed, it was the first time someone had said it out loud. He held his daughter close, kissing her head.

“Will you be staying with us, Mr. Jedediah?” Dutch asked, moving up to him slowly as if sizing him up.

Jed’s eyes were continually drawn to Molly and he eventually nodded.

“For as long as you’ll have us.”

As Jedediah rocked Izzy to sleep that night in front of the fire his heart raced. Would they be attacked tonight? What hell would happen to them? What misfortune had he brought upon these fine people?

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up, startled.

“She asleep?”

It was the same flawless Irish accent he had heard in 1333, the same bird song voice flowing through his soul. She had on a sweet smile that reached her eyes. Jed looked down at Izzy and chuckled.

“Out like a light.”

“Susan set up a tent for you two,” she gestured to the front of camp, “if you’d like to set her down there.”

Jed nodded and stood up carefully, scooping up the sleeping child in his arms and following Molly and her swaying dress to the new tent. Setting her down gently, he pulled a blanket up to her chin and straightened, turning around to face Molly, who had not left.

“Molly O’Shea.”

God.

“Jedediah Porter.”

“It’s nice to meet you Jedediah.”

“Please, miss, just Jed.”

She smiled, the sun became a little less bright.

To Jed’s complete surprise, Molly O’Shea stayed beautifully alive over the course of the next few months, although the gang went horribly to shit. It was punctuated with brief peaks of leading Molly out into fields as she cried over Dutch, his inability to love, and why couldn’t I have met you sooner, Jed?

Oh, Molly.

He remembered picking a flower, a bright white orchid, pale as her skin, and tucking it behind her hair. He had grown to know her as much as he could in three months, the longest he had ever had the pleasure of being with her. She stitched his wounds, caressed his scars, his many, many scars.

“What’s this one, Jed?” she asked one night in Shady Belle. She was drunk, as per usual, trying to forget the man who was slowly descending into chaos, tracing the edges of a particularly nasty scar on his forearm.

This was when I poisoned you, dear.

“Steel accident,” he lied, “bit broke off when I was tempering it and… came off and cut me.”

She seemed to believe it and continued tracing, moving up to another scar, and another one, until she reached his neck, his jawline. They stared at each other a long moment, the sun sinking behind them. It set her hair alight, waving in the breeze like seagrass. He pushed some out of her eyes, thankful he had the chance to feel something so gentle between his fingers.

“Jed, I…”

Breath caught in his throat, chest tight, he waited, yes my love?

A scream from camp brought them both back to earth, a headless man on a horse jerked them all back firmly to reality. They could not stay here any longer.

Jed never got the chance again to be alone with Molly, and after several more months by her side she stubbornly clung to the unravelling leader of their gang.

In deceit, Jed was able to find Izzy a new home in Saint Denis after most of their gang had fallen apart. She clung to his leg as her new underground home took her in.

You’ll be safe here baby.

It’s not safe with me anymore.

He still heard her cries in his ears as he lay down every night.

It wasn’t long after he lost Izzy that Molly fell apart. Jed admired her loyalty to the man, her unwavering pledge to stay by his side through the darkest of times. Jed found himself on a rock looking out over a waterfall in their new camp in Ambarino, more alone than he had ever been.

Molly had disappeared shortly after Izzy. Jed had searched and searched for the woman he had been avoiding his entire life but had come up empty. Maybe she would come back. Voices brought him back to the camp and he turned to see Micah dragging Molly into camp, stumbling around in her pretty green dress, disheveled to hell.

“Found her drunk in a bar in Saint Denis,” Micah said triumphantly, throwing her to Dutch and smirking. Jed rushed up in a rage but held back. He didn’t want the wrath of Dutch to come down on him, though he didn’t think the man would care much now anyway.

“Miss O’Shea,” Dutch sighed, “how jolly.”

“It’s Molly, you sack of shit!” she cried, losing her footing as Micah let go and stood back, “oh Master of everything, the lord almighty!”

“Calm down,” he spat, hatred in his eyes. The camp gathered around at the commotion, staying back as Jed did.

“I won’t be ignored, Dutch van der Linde!” she said, pointing heartily at him, standing up for herself finally, “I ain’t him, I ain’t her, I ain’t any of your stooges! You don’t owe me nothing, I don’t owe you nothing! I’ll spit in your eye!”

Dutch stood there calmly, muttering various “calm downs” and what have you but it seemed to make her worse. The poor woman had reached her breaking point. When this was over, maybe she could finally be convinced to leave with Jed, make a break for it on their own. Get Izzy back and start again.

But then she fucked up.

“I told them!” she yelled, and the camp when silent.

“I’m sorry?” Dutch whispered, threatening to be lost in the wind as everyone held their breath.

No, Jed thought, not Molly… Molly wouldn’t betray the location of their camp to the Pinkertons… would she?

“Yeah I told them,” she repeated, “and I’d tell them again! Now I’ve got God’s ear!”

“You told who what?” Dutch stated calmly and Jed saw the rage bubbling up red from the man’s collar.

“Mister Milton, and Mister Ross,” the woman rattled off, pacing, “about the bank robbery, and I wanted them to kill you!” It wasn’t hatred coursing through her voice, but sadness. All the lonely nights she spent in the grass, Jed knew not a word she said was true. He exchanged glances with Arthur, who just shook his head slightly.

“You did what?” Dutch’s voice had finally risen and he pulled out his pistol, aiming it dead at Molly. She didn’t seem to care.

“I loved you, you god damn bastard!” she cried, curling her fists and shaking them at him, “go on, shoot me! Kill me!”

Jed’s heart broke in pieces, eyes welling up with tears. Arthur stepped in, putting a hand on Dutch’s shoulder and trying to reason.

“She’s crazy,” he shook his head, agreeing with Jed, “she ain’t worth it.”

Dutch shook him off, but lowered his gun anyway, taking a step towards her. Jed breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe this would work out.

“You told on me?” Dutch said, “you betrayed me?”

“Oh,” Molly barked a laugh, “you’re not so big now, are you?”

“Quiet!” Arthur snapped, turning to Dutch and lowering his voice, “just calm down.”

“Arthur?”

“She’s a fool,” he repeated, “get her out of here.”

“You know the rules,” Dutch warned.

“Not so big are we now, your Majes-”

A shot cracked out and Molly reeled, blood spurting from her stomach and heart as she fell back and hit the ground. Bill cried out and Jed whipped around to see Susan holding a shotgun, Susan who set his tent up for Izzy. Susan, who now looked murderous. Susan, who didn’t bat an eye at Jed when he rushed to Molly’s side.

“She knew the rules, Arthur!” she snapped coldly, “what the hell is wrong with you?”

Dutch seemed surprised as Jed rushed over, gripping his gun tighter.

“Jed?” he hissed.

“She was lying, you cold bastards!” he shouted to no one, “all she did was love you. And all you did was push her to the side!”

Dutch raised his gun and aimed it at Jed, who didn’t flinch.

“Go on, you coward.”

He had been stabbed, shot with an arrow, even poisoned once, but Jed had never been shot before. The white hot, searing pain through his chest sent him flying back next to Molly and he screwed his eyes shut, feigning death for the thousandth time.

“Get these bodies out of here and burnt!” he heard Susan cry, “and get back to work!”

He was heaved up by someone and carried away into the forest. After a while he was thrown down roughly and he heard Molly thump next to him.

“I got this, Bill,” he heard Arthur’s voice say calmly. Footsteps thundered away from him. Jed cracked an eye open and saw Arthur kneeling next to Molly, doing something like praying but not quite. He sat up and held his chest, watching as Arthur did a double take and push himself back.

“No, no, wait,” Jed said quickly holding his hands up, “please don’t… please don’t go anywhere.”

Arthur fixed him with a strange look but stopped.

“I saw you get shot in the heart,” he said quietly, looking at the tatters of Jed’s shirt.

“Yes, I…” Jed started for the second time in his long life, “unfortunately I can’t die.”

“Well,” Arthur finally said after some internal discussion, “wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen you die with my own eyes. How long have you…” he gestured to Jed.

“About seven hundred years.”

“And you’re not bored?”

“I’m getting there, Arthur,” he chuckled, wincing at his shoulder.

“I’m sorry about Molly,” Arthur said, “I know you two… got along.”

“Yeah we did,” Jed sighed, looking over at her, “would you mind if I took her and buried her? She doesn’t deserve this.”

“Sure,” he said, standing up and holding out a hand to help Jed, “what about you?”

“I will be long gone after this,” he replied, groaning as he stood, “trust me, you won’t see me again.”

“Didn’t think I would,” Arthur nodded and coughed heartily. Jed frowned. Arthur had looked just like his old brother, Banon, many years ago. Was everyone he met doomed to die? Well, yes, considering he’d outlive them all.

“Save them, Arthur,” Jed pleaded and shook his hand one last time.

He watched as Arthur sped off back to Beaver Hollow, and began digging his love’s grave again.