#rdr 2 x reader

[ruewrote]

𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦.

PAIRING: arthur morgan x fem!reader WARNINGS: micah & dutch :|, no use of y/n GENRE: angst SONG INSPIRATION: so bad by brandon colbein WORD COUNT: 1.8k NOTE: been thinking about writing this for a long time

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you’d watched arthur morgan slowly unravel, day by day. it started with small things. the way he’d pause just a second longer before mounting his horse, how his coughs began to punctuate conversations, no longer hidden or stifled. 

you noticed the way he’d wince when he thought no one was looking, the way his hand would linger on his chest, a silent acknowledgment of the weight bearing down on him. others noticed too. you could see it in the way they glanced at him, a quick look of worry followed by an easy dismissal, as if it was just another one of life’s inconveniences.

but you couldn’t just brush it off. arthur’s pain lingered with you, a silent ache that settled in your chest every time you saw him push himself too hard, every time you saw him struggling and yet refusing to let anyone lend a hand. he’d never accept pity; you knew that better than anyone. 

so you found your own quiet ways to care for him, slipping in small gestures you knew he wouldn’t push away. freshly baked pastries left near his tent, a flask of warm tea, a blanket folded and placed by his bedroll on colder nights.

little things to make his days just the slightest bit easier. you didn’t ask him how he was, didn’t force him to acknowledge his own suffering, but you made sure he knew someone was there, watching out for him in ways he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, do for himself.

it broke your heart to see him like this, knowing there was nothing you could do to stop the disease eating away at him. you’d seen the light in his eyes dim, felt the inevitable march toward the end. and yet, even as he weakened, he kept doing right by others, pushing himself to help where he could, to be the man he’d always been.

it was as if he wanted to make up for every wrong, every dark corner of his past. his actions were quiet but relentless, like he was holding on to some last thread of purpose.

you’d give anything to change his fate, to make this illness disappear, but all you could do was be there, offering him small moments of comfort, easing his path in whatever way you could, even if he’d never know just how much it mattered to you.

one memory in particular stayed with you, etched deep in your heart. a quiet night around the campfire, the sounds of soft conversation humming through the still air. you’d been watching arthur from across the fire, his frame hunched with exhaustion, shadows heavy under his eyes. it seemed like each breath came a little harder, and there was a weariness in his face that he couldn’t quite hide.

after a moment, you crossed the space between you, reaching out to him without a word. he looked up, surprised, as your hand found his, firm but gentle. his gaze flickered between your face and your hand, unsure. you could feel the hesitation, the instinct to pull back, but you held on, giving his hand a small, encouraging squeeze.

he gave you a weary, questioning smile, but he didn’t resist as you slowly guided him across the campsite, leading him toward your cot.

when you reached it, you gestured for him to sit, but arthur hesitated, looking between you and the cot as if weighing his options. "you don’t have to fuss over me like this," he murmured, his voice barely more than a rasp, still carrying that stubborn pride.

but you could see the exhaustion in his eyes, how close he was to simply letting himself rest.

“arthur, just lay down,” you said, soft but insistent, a playful note in your voice as you looked him in the eye. his lips quirked into a small, reluctant smile, with a resigned sigh, he finally sat. easing himself down until his head rested in your lap.

you leaned back, your fingers instinctively reaching to run through his hair, the movements slow and gentle. you could feel the way his body slowly relaxed beneath your touch, surrendering to this rare moment of peace.

as you brushed your fingers through his hair, he let out a slow, shuddering breath, the last bit of tension leaving him. for once, he seemed to fully let go, his hand still loosely held in yours, the roughness of his palm warm against your skin.

neither of you said a word. the only sounds were the crackling of the fire nearby, the soft murmur of voices, and his breathing – a soft, crackling rasp that tugged at your heart. but he was here, safe, his body unwinding under your care, and that was all that mattered.

in the light of your lamp, his face softened, losing its usual hardness, the creases of worry and pain smoothing away as his eyes fluttered closed. you continued stroking his hair, your hand steady and sure, holding onto him with all the quiet affection he never asked for but deserved so deeply. 

watching him like this, vulnerable and at peace, you felt a deep warmth fill you, a gentle, aching tenderness. this man who carried so much, who never took a moment to rest, was finally allowing himself this one small reprieve, and you were grateful, so very grateful, to be here, to give him this, even if only for tonight.

as the fire crackled and the camp murmured around you, arthur’s hand in yours, his breathing finally easing, you held him close with a quiet love you wished he could feel forever.

you’d been at it for hours, scrubbing shirts and wringing out trousers, hands raw and red from the icy water. the laundry basin was set up near dutch’s tent, and normally, you liked the quiet solitude of the task. it gave you time to think, to unwind from the endless chaos that surrounded life with the gang. but tonight, the low murmurs drifting from dutch’s tent broke through the silence, the voices unmistakably those of dutch and micah.

at first, you tried to tune them out, focusing on scrubbing out a stubborn stain. but then arthur’s name came up, and you stilled, catching micah’s snide tone as he muttered something about “the old dog losing his bite.” you shifted slightly, just close enough to make out dutch’s quiet, frustrated sigh.

“arthur’s just… lost his edge,” dutch said, his voice laced with irritation, as if arthur’s decline was somehow an inconvenience rather than a tragedy. “he’s not the man he used to be. maybe it’s time he steps aside.”

you felt a pang of anger stir in your chest, but you tried to keep your head down, hoping it was just idle talk. arthur had done more for dutch and this gang than most of them put together. he deserved a hell of a lot more respect than this. but micah just laughed, his voice dripping with that familiar arrogance, a sneer you didn’t have to see to picture.

“yeah,” micah snickered, “seems like he’s got one foot in the grave and the other slippin’. might be best if he sat this one out. save him from breakin' what’s left of his pride.”

your hands tightened around the shirt you were wringing out, and you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing over. arthur sat nearby, close enough to hear every word. his face was turned away, but you caught the slight slump of his shoulders, the way his head dipped, a flash of something almost like hurt in his eyes. 

something inside you snapped.

dropping the shirt, you stood up, abandoning the laundry as you marched over, your footsteps firm and steady, every muscle tensed with anger. “that’s enough,” you said, your voice cutting through the night air, louder than you’d intended. 

the entire camp fell silent, eyes turning to you in surprise. dutch froze, his expression one of shock, while micah, of course, just looked amused, an infuriating smirk tugging at his mouth.

“oh, and what, you gonna fight his battles for him now?” micah taunted, his tone mocking as he leaned back, clearly enjoying the attention. “is that what arthur’s been reduced to? needing someone to defend his honour like he’s some poor damsel?”

you took a step closer, meeting micah’s smug gaze with a hard, unflinching stare. “no, micah,” you said, voice steady, laced with all the contempt you felt. “arthur doesn’t need anyone to fight his battles. he’s proven himself over and over, for years. he’s earned more respect than most of us here. especially you.”

micah’s smirk faltered, and for a moment, the only sound was the crackle of the fire. you turned to dutch, your eyes sharp, unyielding. “arthur’s been the backbone of this gang. he’s sacrificed more than you realise, and he’s been loyal to you through everything. so if he’s struggling now, maybe instead of tearing him down, you ought to show a little gratitude!”

micah huffed, rolling his eyes, but he was quieter now, his usual bravado dampened. dutch’s face was unreadable, shadows from the fire flickering across his features. arthur shifted uncomfortably nearby, clearly unsure how to react, but you caught his eye for a brief moment, a glimmer of gratitude in the depths of his tired gaze.

you turned back to micah, your voice low and steady. “and if you’ve got nothin' but cheap shots to throw at a man like him, maybe you should take a long look at the kind of man you are.” 

for the first time in a long time, micah had nothing to say.

a tense silence settled over the camp, all eyes on you as your words hung heavy in the air. micah glared, his mouth twisted in an ugly sneer, clearly about to throw out another insult to reclaim his pride. you took a step back, ready to walk away and let your words sink in, but something inside you stopped. 

a hard, fed up feeling had built up over the days and months, an anger you’d swallowed time and again while micah ran his mouth unchecked.

without another word, you turned back to him, clenched your fist, and swung. your knuckles connected solidly with his jaw, sending him sprawling backward, out of his seat and into the dirt.

the impact echoed through the night, and for a split second, the camp was deathly silent, everyone staring wide eyed as micah lay there, stunned, his hand reaching up to his jaw.

you shook out your hand, feeling the sting in your knuckles but satisfied, looking down at him with a steely gaze. “and that’s from me, you sad sack of shit.” you said, voice low but unyielding. micah struggled to sit up, too dazed to respond, and for once, there was no taunting sneer on his face, no quick comeback.

you turned on your heel, walking away without another glance, feeling the eyes of the entire camp on your back. 

as you left, you caught arthur’s gaze, his eyes shining with something between surprise and quiet admiration.

a faint, grateful smile tugging at his lips.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

© ruewrote 2024.

[moonlightkitties]

Christmas/Winter Themes Prompts

These are the fics I will be writing every day up in December until Christmas! Most of them are fluff but I have a few angst ones I'm going to write. I'm so excited to write these!

First Snowfall of the Year (Sean MacGuire x Reader) - Celebrating the first snowfall of the year in your new homestead, you and Sean sleep in and spend some time with each other.

Snowball Fight (Micah Bell x Reader) - After doing all your chores and just wanting to rest, Micah ruins it by throwing a freezing cold snowball at your face.

O' Christmas Tree (John Marston x Reader) - John is struggling to put the Christmas tree up while you sort through decorations.

Snowy Horse Ride (Arthur Morgan x Reader) - After a long day of chores, you and Arthur relax by taking the horses out in a cozy snowy ride.

Snowstorm Cuddles (Charles Smith x Reader) - After getting stranded in a snow storm while on a hunting trip, you and Charles share body heat to help warm up.

Christmas Movie Marathon (Michael De Santa x Reader) - Having nothing to do, you and Michael spend the day watching every Christmas movie you find.

Gingerbread Houses (Trevor Philips x Reader) - After getting gingerbread houses for both you and Trevor, you get home and ask him to make one with you. Trevor being Trevor, makes it into a competition and gets frustrated when the icing doesn't keep the walls up.

Christmas Cookies (Wade Hebert x Reader) - You and Wade make Christmas cookies and get flour everywhere.

Peppermint Mochas (Dave Norton x Reader) - Wanting to spoil your older, exhausted husband, you surprise him by making peppermint mochas.

Christmas Lights (Steve Haines x Reader) - You force Steve to take you to go look at Christmas lights.

Pretty Kitty (Lenny Summers x Reader) - You and Lenny find a cat in the snow and take it home.

My Big Strong Man (Bill Williamson x Reader) - You watch Bill chop firewood from the porch of your home.

Mistletoe (Dutch Van der Linde x Reader) - Going to a Christmas party at the Marstons place seemed fine and dandy, until Dutch tries everything he can to get you under the mistletoe.

It's Beginning to look a lot like Christmas (Michael De Santa x Reader) - Michael hasn't been spending a lot of time with you now that he makes movies. Feeling bored, you take the Christmas decorations down from the attic and start decorating.

Northern Lights (Charles Smith x Reader) - Celebrating your first Christmas in Canada, Charles takes you to see the northern lights.

Winter Blues (Arthur Morgan x Reader) - When Mary shows up, unannounced, at your and Arthur's snow covered homestead, what should have been a happy December day, turns into an anxious one as you wonder if Arthur still loves her.

Ice Fishing (Kieran Duffy x Reader) - It's your first time ice fishing with Kieran and he makes sure he has everything before the long weekend.

Christmas Dinner (Dutch Van der Linde x Reader) - You and Dutch go to your parents for Christmas dinner and he hits it off with your father.

Ice Skating (Jack Marston x Reader) - You and Jack have been dating for a few months now, when it starts snowing and the lake has been frozen over, you convince him to ice skate.

Sledding (Kieran Duffy x Reader) - After buying a sled for the kids, you and Kieran spend the entire day pulling them around and pushing them down hills.

The Fat Man (Trevor Philips x Reader) - Ever since he was a child, Trevor Philips was scared of Santa. When you and him have children, he swore he wasn't going to introduce them to "the fat man." After pouting and begging him to let you do Santa with them, he reluctantly agreed.

Twas a night before Christmas (Lenny Summers x Reader) - Lenny reads "A night before Christmas" to your kids.

Sick on Christmas (Orville Swanson x Reader) - It's Christmas morning, and instead of opening presents like you wanted to, you're stuck in bed battling a really bad cold with Orville to help you.

Christmas Eve (Arthur Morgan x Reader) - After putting the kids to bed and putting the rest of the presents under the tree, you and Arthur slow dance in the living room.

Surprise! (Bill Williamson x Reader) - Bill has been weird all week, very giddy and anxious for Christmas day. When it comes, he brings out the one thing you have been wanting for YEARS; a blue merle border collie.

[21witnokidz]

IN THE GHETTO

Chapter 7

It’s been a while since you and Arthur had each other for the first time and to put it bluntly y’all just can’t stop.

You two are always finding excuses to sneak off from the rest of the gang and get busy. Arthur would slip into your tent and make love to you during the night and y’all would cuddle together and talk before he goes off to his own tent to not get caught.

Arthur is the one who has to be extra careful though. He knows if he messes up and gets you pregnant it’s going to be on him. Bessie will especially be on his ass. He also doesn’t want the gang to know y’all have been seeing each other since that’s gonna be embarrassing for the both of y’all so y’all try to avoid it.

You’re still sure the whole gang knows that the two of you are sweet on each other though.

But it’s not like you guys are even trying to be discreet about it. Arthur’s always leaving roses and gifts near your tent. You’re always making sure he has his coffee done just right in the morning. And y’all just won’t stop staring at each other. Everyone just decided to stay quiet because they knew how innocent young love could be. If only they knew what non-innocent acts y’all got up to during the night though...

So now here y’all are coming down from your second high that night.

“You know you’re my girl right?”

Arthur kissed your lips sweetly. He loved to call you his girl. He liked the idea that he was your protector and you could depend on him for things.

“I’ll always be your girl”

You laid in his chest and kissed it.

“I’m going to rob a house with Hosea tomorrow. You gonna be alright while I’m gone?”

“Actually I wanna go with y’all this time”

This made Arthur perk up in curiosity.

“I thought you didn’t wanna take part in that kinda stuff?”

“Well I don’t wanna be away from you tomorrow. Besides I wanna see what stuff I can get for myself”

“Like what?”

“A hat”

“That’s it?”

“I always thought your hat was cool and you never let me wear it so I wanted to get my own. A much cooler hat just to spite you”

“It’s not that my hat is cool it’s just important to me. It belonged to my dad”

“I thought your dad was abusive?”

“He wasn’t always like that. He used to be nice. He was nice when he bought this hat. I was with him when he bought it”

“You think I’m nice?”

“Nah you’re mean”

Arthur laughed and kissed your head. You fell asleep laying on him and usually Arthur would leave once you were asleep but he decided to stay a little longer just to feel your bare skin on his. Unfortunately a little longer turned into the whole night and he fell asleep in your tent.

“Where’s Arthur and Y/N?”

Bessie asked

“I don’t know I figured they went off to do something you know how they are”

Hosea said calmly peeling an orange

“No they haven’t eaten their breakfast yet”

She got up from her seat and began looking for y’all. She first checked Arthur’s tent. Empty. Then she checked yours.

“JESUS MARY AND JOSEPH!”

Bessie’s screams woke you two up and y’all immediately knew y’all were in for it. Bessie seeing you two naked on top of each other could never in any scenario turn out good.

You two tried to hurry your clothes on while trying to come up with a lie.

“Y/N said she was cold so I-I was only sleeping with her to warm her up”

“Yea! We were only naked because our clothes were wet”

“Exactly! We went swimming at night in our clothes and got cold so we took them off and slept together!”

Y’all thought the story was good and believable but Bessie wasn’t buying it. She pinched y’all by the ears and dragged you out.

“DUTCH!!! HOSEA!!! Come here!”

Now all eyes were on you and Arthur. God you just wanted to die.

“I found Y/N and Arthur asleep on top of each other!”

“So?”

“Naked!”

“Well we all knew it was gonna happen eventually”

Dutch admitted with a snicker

“But they’re just children. Do they even know the dangers of sex? Do they even know what sex is?”

“Honey these ‘kids’ have stolen things and killed people. I think they know what sex is”

Hosea tried to calm his wife down.

Everyone just kept bickering about something that wasn’t even their business. You’ve had enough of this.

“If me and Arthur want to enjoy each other then why is that so bad!? It’s not your business anyway and it’s not a problem. We know how to be safe and we’re both responsible so what’s the issue?”

“The issue is that you two are still kids. You’re not even married!”

“That’s right!”

Bill agreed

“Shut up!”

You and Arthur said in unison

“Bessie were not kids. We’re mature and the truth is… we love each other. It doesn’t matter what y’all think because we’re not gonna let y’all decide what we do that makes us happy”

Arthur spoke and everyone went silent.

“You love me Arthur?”

“I do”

Pearson started to clap at the confession but stopped when he realized no one else was clapping.

Arthur grabbed you and kissed you hard on the lips.

“Jesus you two. Just because we know you’re in love now doesn’t mean you have to do this in front of everyone”

Dutch stated. He just walked off and rode his horse into town.

“Arthur you wanna go do that house robbery now?”

Hosea asked

“Yea. Y/N said she wants to come too”

“But Y/N said she wanted to stay here with me and help out. She did promise that”

Bessie objected.

“That’s right I did. You go on Arthur I’ll be here when you get back”

Arthur squeezed your hand before letting go and leaving off with Hosea.

-

You and Bessie were sewing up some clothes.

“So how long has this been going on?”

Bessie demanded

“Just a few days… I don’t know I lost count”

You said in a daze. You could only think about Arthur Morgan. He said he loved you. That powerful emotion that can make people go insane is what he feels for you.

“My god you really are in love. Well all I’m gonna say is don’t let him knock you up before proposing first”

“Uh huhh…”

“Are you listening? God Y/N how are you supposed to go on knowing your an unmarried woman who’s not a virgin?”

That statement snapped you out of it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If you ever decide that maybe Arthur isn’t the one, other men aren’t gonna like that you’re not a virgin. It’s either you make this thing with Arthur work or it’s over for you”

“What are you talking about? Me and Arthur love each other and I’ll be glad to marry him. We’re not ever gonna break up and that’s that”

You picked up your sewing kit and moved away from her.

-

Arthur and Hosea were about to rob the house but Hosea stopped and gave Arthur a 5 dollar bill.

“What’s this for?”

“You’re a man now. You keep that and buy something nice for Y/N”

Arthur stared at the bill in his hand.

“Ya know Bessie said something about getting married. I think I’d like that. Marriage with Y/N”

“Oh-ho. Marriage is a serious thing. You sure you ready for it?”

“I see how you and Bessie are. All you gotta do is keep her happy right? Happy wife happy life. I know what makes Y/N happy. I think I’d be a good husband for her”

“That’s not all. You gotta go through arguments and fights. There are a lot of obstacles to marriage”

“And I’m ready for that. If being a husband means getting to make her happy everyday then there’s nothing I’d rather be”

“That’s good. Not many boys your age think that way”

Hosea then caught a whiff of Arthur’s sent.

“Did you actually take a bath without anyone having to ask you?”

Arthur just rolled his eyes and approached the house ready to scare the residents out of their sleep.

“Development Arthur this is development! The influence that girl has on you is even getting you to pay attention to your appearance for once!”

-

After the robbery was a success Arthur went into town to look for rings. He didn’t want to propose that night because he had to be sure you were ready. He still wanted to be prepared though because he knew he was ready.

He found a real nice diamond ring. It was perfect for you he felt. So he bought it with all the money he had in his wallet. He was broke but at least satisfied with his purchase.

[stray-cat-with-internet-access]

Arthur? 😳

[bigboy-lovers-unite-writes]

Imagine slapping their asses 🙏🙏

•Dutch; immediately pissed off, depends on who slapped his ass, he might push his cigar into their arm or something out of anger. Will grumble if it's his partner and shoo them away, smokes enough cigarettes after that to take away ten years on his life (it definitely made a camp deafening sound when they slapped it)

•Arthur; the most shocked face ever, just has to stand there for a minute to figure out whatever the fuck just happened. Will stumble over his words, before glaring at the person and chest bump them a few times, but secretly he's nearly popping a boner 💔💔

•John; eye twitches, trying to hold back grabbing his revolver and threatening the person. Says something sarcastic and crosses his arms like the dumb child he is. Will definitely be so damn embarrassed that he flushes as red as Sean's hair. Definitely blabs about it to Abigail later and gets huffy when she laughs

•Hosea; jumps a foot in the air and his body bends like a banana 😭 he's not mad, he'd never get mad, but he is a bit embarrassed about that. He sighs softly, tells a little story about his youth and how he would be able to handle it when he was younger as he rubbed his sore ass, then says he's too old for all that 🫶🫶

•Javier; yells out the loudest Spanish he's ever said, nearly falls forward from the shock of it as both hands go to cover his ass. Can't see it since he pulls his poncho up over his entire face, but he is burning bright red and thinking about it for the rest of the month. Will never trust being around the person again, will side eye them and cover his ass with anything if he's around them again 😢

•Bill; Two different ways this could go. One, he's drunk as a bitch and he hurls a beer bottle them and starts cursing and chasing them all over yelling about how he's no queer, even if it was a woman that slapped his ass, or he will just glare and threaten them a little bit and try to intimidate them if by god he's not drunk

•Kieran; actually stands up straight for once instead of being like a shrimp literally 24/7. Looks like a bug when you pick up a rock, eyes all wide and face flushed even pinker than it usually already naturally is. Definitely looks spaced out the rest of the day, probably can't stop thinking about it for sure

•Sean; gasps and is completely over dramatic, falling and pulling whoever slapped his ass down with him. Definitely tells everyone that the person slapped his ass, and he sounds strangely proud about it too..

•Lenny; poor boy doesn't know what to do, he's stuttering and gripping at his favorite book that he was reading, glancing around as he tried to say something. Might quirk a smile after a while, but it's whenever that person isn't around (he's so embarrassed don't do it again he can't handle it 💔)

•Micah; immediately cracks up and dares the person to slap his ass again, sticking it out slightly. He then promptly slaps that person's ass twenty times harder than they slapped his. It becomes a little game between the two whenever they see each other

•Charles; the absolute politest, might get a bit grumbly. 'oh my' is the first words outta his mouth 😭 will ask them why they did that and if it was supposed to be funny. He's like a mother in this sense, but also can't stop grinning since he actually liked it ❤️

[slaughter-kin]

i have something inappropriate to say

[hihomeghere]

Salt and Pepper | Arthur Morgan / Reader

Word count : 1.4k Summary : Arthur notices his hair is starting to gray. I saw a post on here about Arthur with salt and pepper hair and I couldn’t stop myself hehe. Warnings/Tags : talk about death, getting old, Arthur loves his wife, no tb, Arthur and reader own a house, mention of past gang members, cursing, lots of fluff, self deprecation on Arthur’s side, bullets, mention of weight gain (in a positive way)

“Godamn ugly bastard.” Arthur huffed, his gaze piercing as he looked into the mirror. He hadn’t meant to have himself a pity party this morning. In fact he was feeling quite fine this morning before looking in the small bathroom mirror. Waking up next to you always puts a spring in his step. Especially when he’s waking up in a real bed, underneath a soft quilt that you happened to sew in some free time. Mismatched patches and all, it was his favorite thing in the small home you two shared. Hell, you were becoming quite domestic ever since the house was completed.

But he wasn’t exactly expecting to find gray hair sprouting from his hairline. He wasn’t that old, was he?

“Jesus.” He sighed, inspecting further he realized it wasn’t one or two gray hairs, it was almost twenty. Hidden under his longer than normal locks after forgoing a haircut for the last couple weeks. He was surprised you hadn’t noticed them, especially with how much you loved to run your fingers through his hair. Although, he loved it just as much, maybe even more.

God, he needed to get rid of these before you saw them. He was sure you had some tweezers around here somewhere. He opened up your drawer, rifling around for your tweezers. Bingo. His hands gripped the small piece of metal, a triumphant smile on his face.

It was only once he looked back up into the mirror, determined to fix this issue before you woke up, that he noticed you padding into the bathroom. Rubbing sleep from your eyes, you wrapped your arms around his middle.

“Mornin’.” You hummed, laying your cheek against his bicep, smiling sweetly at him through the mirror.

“Mornin’.” He said, clearing his throat.

“What do you need those for?” You asked, eyeing the tweezers in his hand. Caught red handed, he tried coming up with some excuse.

“Nothin’ sweetheart.” He said, giving you his signature smile, kissing your forehead. He slipped the tweezers into his pocket for safe keeping, at least until he had a free moment without you around. After all those years on the run and he could come up with nothing, Hosea would have been so disappointed in his lack of an answer. He swore he could hear the old man chastising him now.

“For a former outlaw you sure are an awful liar.” You tutted, shaking your head, slipping your fingers into his pocket and pulling out the tweezers.

“Well it ain’t my fault,” He huffed playfully, “Could never get nothin’ past you anyway.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. You removed your hands from around his waist, leaning back on the sink as you looked up at him.

“Spill.” You said raising an eyebrow, your arms crossed over your chest.

Knowing he’d been caught, Arthur hung his head, a low sigh leaving his lips.

“It’s just-“ He cursed, turning to look away from you, “Well I’m goin’ gray.” He admitted, not meeting your eyes.

“And?” You asked in such a nonchalant manner.

“And?” He asked looking up at you, his brows furrowed.

“So you have some gray hairs.” You said with a shrug, “You’re acting like the damn world is ending.” You chuckled softly, a smile tugging on your lips.

“Well-“ Arthur sighed, pursing his lips, he didn’t want to be vain but damn it, it did feel like the world was ending.

“Honey.” You said softly, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Ain’t nothing wrong with some gray hairs.” You said, shaking your head, looking so goddamn patient as always. What he did in a past life to deserve you he would never know, he definitely didn’t deserve you in this one. You smiled, running your thumb over his couple day old stubble. He couldn’t help but sigh softly, leaning into your touch.

“Just makes me feel old ‘s all.” He shrugged, closing his eyes.

“Arthur.” You said softly, he opened his eyes. His bright azure pools looking into yours. “Getting old means we’re still alive.” You said pointedly, not missing the way your fingers trailed lightly down his chest.

He sighed softly, anyone who said he was the most like Hosea had obviously never had a one on one conversation with you. You had shared the same dry wit along with being just as wise as the old man. Sometimes he wondered if the two of you were more closely related than just being adopted by him as a kid.

As your hand settled over his heart, he couldn’t help but remember a time when you didn’t have this place. When his next breath had been an undeserved blessing. When you and Charles had pulled his broken body off that godforsaken mountain. You were right, he should be grateful for these gray hairs and new lines on his face. Should be grateful that he made it this far out west with you, where the air was dryer and slowly his lungs didn’t hurt as bad with each breath.

If anything he should be grateful that you’re here, here in this house. The house that he built specifically for you. That you’re not buried six feet under like most of the fellow gang members. That you didn’t catch a bullet like Lenny or Sean, how he wished they could have had the chance to grown old. Even as mouthy as Sean was, the poor bastard didn’t deserve that. Lenny was just a boy, foolish enough to be sucked in by Dutch’s silver tongue. He shook his head trying to clear any thoughts of the past.

God, along with the fact that somehow both of you still happen to be standing, the fact that you chose to stand by him after everything you went through makes his head swim. You could have left him at any point, hell he had begged you to leave after his death sentence. And yet, here you were.

“Guess you’re right.” He said, a small smile tugging on his lips.

“Course I am.” You teased, a smile spreading across your face. You leaned forward, brushing your nose against his. He accepted your silent invitation, pressing his lips against yours. So soft and warm and inviting. He could feel you smile against his lips. That small smile warmed him from the inside out, nearly making his toes curl.

Jesus, he was lucky. More than lucky, he still couldn’t figure out how he had tricked you into marrying him. He wanted to be the best version of himself for you, he had made a promise to try every day to be a better man for you. You shouldn’t be tied down to a miserable old fool like himself.

As if you could read his mind, which he often suspected you could, your soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Besides,” You began as you pulled away, “I like the salt and pepper look.” Arthur scoffed, shaking his head.

“Really?” He asked, raising a brow.

“Really.” You nodded, running your hand through his hair. “Think you get more handsome every day.” If anyone was getting prettier every day it was you. Your hair was longer, cascading down your shoulders in waves. No longer tied up in a tight braid or bun. You looked relaxed, at peace. You became softer once you both settled into your new lifestyle. Not just emotionally, although you still had that fire which had first drawn him towards you, like a moth to a flame. You were physically softer, your harsh edges smoothing out as you started to eat and sleep better. Your curves became more prominent, and he certainly didn’t mind having more to hold onto late at night.

Maybe you truly did feel the same about him. He had never known you to lie. A blush settled on his cheeks at the thought. He shook his head, a small chuckle rumbling through his chest.

“Yeah, alright darlin’.” He says taking your face in his hands, kissing you again before you had the chance to embarrass him further.

Maybe getting old wasn’t so bad if you had someone to grow old with.

[grugruel]

hi, can you please write more of Arthur morgan😭I love your writing so much!🫶

Thank you!🫶 It makes me so happy to hear that you enjoy my writing, it really spurred on my motivation!😌 Still, I've been trying to write this for weeks, but ended up rewriting and starting over. Now im finally done, hope you enjoy this too!🥹

You've Kissed Me For Less

Pairings: Arthur Morgan x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: Arthur wants to teach you hunting. But as your effort proves fruitless and the weather fouls, Arthur needs to keep you warm in the cold hours of the night.

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: forced proximity ish, pinv sex, sideways sex, cream-pie, petnames (sweetheart, girl, honey, darlin'), fingering, slight handjob, tension, flirting.

AN: The arrow misses. Not proofread!

Knock, draw . . . Hold . . . Aim, and . . .

"That's right . . . Atta girl."

Crack.

The furry beast jerked in surprise. Looking up, it's ears twitched and turned, attempting to determine the source of the sound. It's dark eyes alert and contrasting, standing out from the light snowfall filling the air.

She stood on unsteady feet, the broken twig beneath her boot throwing her off balance. "You're thinkin' to much, girl," he whispered, his warm breath caressing her neck, making her hair stand on end. "Release."

Siddled up to a tree, they were out of sight from their prey. A large pair of hands guided her arms, and a strong chest pressed firmly against her back. In the cold landscape they found themselves in, the reassurance from the heat of his body was duely welcomed.

She inhaled, holding it for steady aim. But restless and unfocused, she moved her weight from on foot to another–the snow crunched beneath her heel.

Her breath caught in her throat as the beast whipped in her direction, and their eyes met.

Release–the arrow pierced the air.

The gentle beast grunted and wheezed, fleeing as it bounced out of sight.

And where it had stood, her arrow struck bark. The shaft now coated in snow as the force of the blow shook the spruce and rid its branches of the bright, clamoring weight.

"Well," he began, attempting to hide the amusement from his tone. "It ain't easy . . . It's only your first."

She chuckled, her bow arm slumping to her side. "We've been at it all day, Arthur. Thats the fourth shot I've missed."

"Plenty of time to work on your trackin'."

She grunted, throwing her head back in frustration.

He'd wanted her to learn hunting so she could fend for herself if the need ever arose. But as long a she had him, it wouldn't. And if truth be told, she preffered it that way. Secretly sighing in relief each time the arrow missed it's target.

That day, they'd awoken with the sun, and been after the same deer all day. Poor bastard. He should really count his blessings, had Arthur been the one holding that bow they'd been heading back to camp within the first hour or so.

But the weather hadn't been a hassel. Soft clouds had sprinkled light snow all morning, only just coming to an end. But the air was clear and hellishly cold, enough so for the humidity in the air to freeze and glimmer as the mid-day sun shone upon them.

"Were in headwind." She shrugged. "And the poor thing darted off into the woods, we could continue tracking it from there," She said, and pointed toward the otherside of the lake. Surface frozen and snowed over, footing wouldn't be a problem.

"That so?"

"Well, yes-- what? What you grinning for?"

"Poor creature," he quoted, jerking his chin to the side. "You've been missin' on purpose."

She scoffed. "You think too highly of me, Arthur. I would gladly miss if I'd had the aim for it. But as it stands, I'm a poor shot with a bleeding heart."

"Nah, I think of you just right, sweetheart. But we needa eat." He pointed toward the treeline. "And the food just ran off."

She sighed heavily. He was right, but that didn't mean she'd be happy about it. "Well, let's go then. But I cant promise we'll be eating deer tonight ."

No," he began, a smirk spreading scross his lips. "But I can." He took the bow from her hand and the quiver from her back.

Alright, there were no more blessings to be counted.

"Your faith in me is lackluster, Arthur."

He scoffed and stepped onto the ice, nodding for her to follow. "First I think to highly of ya, 'n now its lackluster . . . Would you rather have me wither away . . . Starve to death?"

The ice sang beneath their feet as she thought about it, and her eyes automatically turned to his broad shoulders and thick arms. Her mind drifting to that hard chest and strong hands. "No . . . That'd be a damn shame," she said. "But I do have the basics down, would I really have to I could probably find myself some game."

Arthur chuckled, then stopped. "Tell you what . . . We passed a cabin, head back there and set up shelter," he said and looked toward the sky, the sun passing it's peak. "We're too far out, and probably won't be makin' it back to camp before dark. And I'll track down dinner."

"Really?"

Arthur kneeled down by the shore, examining the tracks. "Nah, don't want you to kill unnecessarily."

She was awed. That man possessed such kindness but was so careful with showing it, and she couldn't imagine why.

Her chest warmed and cheeks blushed, she hoped the cold could be played of as an excuse. "Thank you, Arthur. Truly," she smiled at him. But she wanted to convey her gratitude properly, for it was no small favour he did her.

"No need to thank me, honey. I understand."

But that wasnt enough, so- without thinking, she removed her glove and leaned down. Her hand found his jaw, and her lips his cheek. Gently, she pinched the sharp edge with the pads of her fingertips. And gently, she pecked his face with soft lips.

It was supposed to be a friendly gesture, but as her warm fingers met his cold skin and the stubble along the sharp edge tickled her lips–a trickle of longing brushed her insides.

She'd been sweet on him for a while, which woman wouldn't be? He could be soft and masculine, tough and sweet. He was a manly man, broad shouldered and handsome. He helped her lift heavy things, not because he assumed she couldnt do it, but because he wished to be of help.

She could not think of one thing she yearned for more.

So this touch, it must've been her subconscious. How many times she'd thought of brushing his cheek in gratitude, she could not remember. This time was no different.

As the sun shone on his face, and he'd done her this kindness, her mind must've gotten tired of all impulses stopped by her conscience and simply moved for her.

Now there they were, neither knowing what to do next.

Their eyes were locked on eachother, and Arthur's lips were parted as if he wished to say something but couldn't quite.

"I, I'll just-- I'm heading back, then. To that cabkn-" she began to gesture in the general direction, her mind keeping her tongue busy by rambling. "What am I saying, you can track me," she joked, awkwardly laughing, flustered by her own impromptu affection.

"I can . . . I'll find ya'." Was all he said, still kneeling and looking up at her.

Good, good good good. Before she knew it, she'd already turned around and began making her way back. Embaressment prickled her face, a thousand small needle points taunting her, and Arthur's reaction did nothing to ease her mind. She'd been a fool.

-

Night was closing in and the wind was picking up. Heavy snow began to fall, but thankfully, the cabin was abandoned and the roof was intact, protecting them from the weather, but not the cold. She managed to get a fire going in the old hearth, but it helped very little with warmth when the walls were ramshackle, allowing drafts and especially rough wind draw through.

Shivering down to her bone marrow, the girl hugged herself tightly. "Fuck me," she swore beneath her breath. "Ridiculous." The weather had changed within an hour, completley flipping the serene day into a hellish night. "Could think were in the damned arctics."

She'd endured 3 hours by her lonesome, thankfully forging for firewood before the storm set in.

But she couldn't help but worry for Arthur. He was a rugged man, but even he had limits. She kept thinking It'd all be alright once he got back there, to her side. But what could one man to about the weather?

With the cold came the hunger, and the regret not long thereafter. "Damn conscience," she muttered, her stumache growling.

She could barely see the trees surrounding the cabin, the snow doing more to sabotage her sight than the darkness. It was falling so thickly she could barely see between the flakes.

"Sorry for bein' late," announced a voice.

Startled, she turned toward it–the door opening had sounded like another howl from the wind. Trough the heavy curtain of snow, Arthur emerged, flakes swirling around him as he entered the cabin and the glow of the fire embraced him. "Damn tracks got muddled . . . blown over," he said, the overflow of irritation noticeable in his demeanor and tone. He looked weathered, clothes roughed up from the storm, hat collecting a nice layer of snow, cheeks and nose rosy. "Deer would've been too heavy in this shit," he gestured toward the snow and slammed the door shut behind him. "Got us some rabbits instead."

Wearing an incredulous expression, she had to laugh. She'd been worried about him being alone in this shit storm, fearing he might've frozen to death. But no, he brought rabbits, that's all.

"What's so funny," he asked, preparing the animals before placing them above the fire and taking a seat next to her.

She glanced at him. "That's all you got to say? You got some rabbits?"

"I already apologised to ya."

She scoffed, amazed by his resilience.

The annoyance began to melt from him, the heat thawing his mood. "What? I dont get a 'thank you' this time? You've kissed me for less."

She froze, narrowing her eyes on him. Those familiar needles pricking her skin again. "You didn't magically happen upon an extra blanket or so, did you?" She changed the topic, and as if to prove her point, a particularly violent shiver descended upon her.

Arthur shook his head, then removed his jacket and placed it around her shoulders. " 'Fraid not," he said, then handed her the cooked meat.

He wore another jacket beneath, but it was thin and unsufficient, in her opinion.

"Thank you," she whispered, and kissed his cheek once more. But there was no embaressment this time. Their eyes met, silently communicatingas mouths were to occupied with chewing. She suspected there'd been a lack of words even without the chewing. "I've kissed you for less," she agreed, then redirected her gaze into the fire.

-

They spent the next half hour in quiet as they ate, nothing but the howling wind and crackling fire to keep them company.

Eventually unrolling their bedrolls and attempting to sleep, a few short words for communication when needed. It proved difficult, however, for the night wore on and the temperature continued to drop.

She could hear her teeth clattering in her skull, even with Arthur's jacket on.

"You're still freezing."

"A-are you not?" She stuttered. The hearth was cramped with their bodies side by side. " 'M sorry if I w-woke you." She hated the idea of her body shivering so much it cost him his sleep.

"You'll get pneumonia, girl. We need to get you warm."

"H-how you figure t-that?"

"Well, I-- hell, let me warm you up."

She didn't stop to think before she spoke, proving a common theme. "Do it, Arthur p-please. Before my t-t-teeth shatter."

She heard a rustling behind her, and then she felt him slip into her bedroll. It was tight, but enough space for then to move around. "We needa get those off you," he murmured, voice gravelly.

She nodded profusely, feeling the familiar contours of his chest against her back. He removed both the jackets from her shoulders until there were nothing but the two thin fabrics of their shirts between their bodies.

She sighed, it felt like a radiator against her back. "F-Feels better already," she said, her dtutter subsiding and shivers calming.

"Good, you're alright, girl," he comforted, wrapping one arm around her waist as she propped her head on the other. He pulled her closer, leaving no space for the heat to escape.

Feeling his hand on her like this felt . . . Heavenly. As if his large hand was molded just to fit her curves. "I want more . . . Arthur. Warmer."

Without a word, he removed his shirt and got back into position. If freezing to death was all she had to do to achive this scenario, she would've done it earlier. Moving to do the same, she yearned for his heat to seep into her directly, skin to skin.

The body behind her stiffened, suddenly worried. "You don't have to, girl." He stopped her.

"I-I want to, Arthur. Im fine."

With her words of reassurance, he relaxed. His hands found hers, aiding her in the removal. She'd had no time to make it clear that there was no corset covering her since hunting didn't require one.

Arthur's breathing hitched at the revalation, prompting him to clear his throat. And his hands were simply hovering, uncertain where they belonged, where they were allowed.

"First time seeing a woman without a corset, Arthur?" She teased, uncertain where this sudden confidence came from, if it simply wasthe bizarre nature of the situation, or that it was only her bare back he could see.

He chuckled. "No, ma'am. 'S just . . . I dont wanna take any liberties."

"I don't mind, Arthur," she whispered. There's no liberties she wouldn't allow him to take, she thought.

Slowly, the hesitance melted away from him, and his fingers found her ribs. She sighed, content with their feeling. They burned, but pleasantly so. The reaction from her core was the only thing growing unbareable. Gaining confidence, his hand slid lower, following the length of her ribs. Fingers stopping just beneath the hill of her breast, hus thumb stroking small circles over her skin.

She hummed appreciatively, forgetting herself.

"Feelin' good?"

"Mmmh, warmer." She was finally relaxed enough to feel the low heat radiating from the fire, but with the numbness gone, the wind grew more noticeable. At times, a strong gust of wind would seep through the walls and graze her skin. Sending new shivers and goosebumps rippling across her body.

The retaliate and keep her heat up, she nudged herself closer to Arthur, tucking her hips and rear into his crotch. This gained her a low groan, and his fingertips sinking into the skin of her ribs like gentle claws.

"Better lay still now, girl," he warned, breathing onto her shoulder.

"Why's that?" She asked, but just as the words left her lips, she felt something slightly harden against her thigh. "Oh . . ." She gasped. Feeling it through both fabrics of their pants impressed her, salivated her.

" 'M sorry, sweetheart, 'm sorry." His thumb brushed back and forth, suddenly grazing the underside of her breast. She felt a twitch below the hips.

"Sorry, s-- I dont mean to," he breathed hard, leaning his forehead against her shoulder, attempting to focus.

"You can touch, Arthur."

"Now, honey . . . "

"I want you to," she assured him, knowing he might question the circumstances.

He shook his head hesitantly. "Dont wanna go takin' advantage of ya'."

You couldn't ever." She grabbed the hand that rested beneath her breast and guided it atop her, nipple already hard from anything and everything he does. "I want you to touch me."

He relented, andsqueezed her breast, releasing a grunt simultaneously. His lips found her neck, gently placing kisses on her skin.

She pushed back against him, grinding down on his crotch. "I want more than touching, Arthur . . ."

"I don't deserve you," he groaned, hand sliding over her chest to wrap his arm around her torso, bost breasts pressing firmly against his forearm.

The arm her head rested on reached down, brushing down her abdomen and beneath her pants. She gasped as his fingers found her clit. "All of you . . . Please." Her hand reach behind her, working to unbutton his pants as she turned her head over her shoulder, and their lips found eachother.

As the last button came undone and his length was free, her hands wrapped around it, gently stroking him and reveling in the pleased moans he breathed into her mouth.

"Hold on, hold on-" he stopped her. "I'll--" he swallowed, lips stalling against her own. "We only get one chance . . . tonight." He tried to clarify. " 'N I want ya' the right way." His hand momentarily left her chest to brush his fingers over the hand that held his member.

"I want that too," she whispered.

With her go-ahead, he pushed her pants below her ass and lined himself up with her entrance, her ass neatly tucked against his crotch, fitting together like piezes of a puzzle, perfectly matching. "Atta girl," he praised and pushed inside her.

They moaned simultaneously, lips reattaching. His hand were quickly back to work, breasts and clit stimulated by his expert hands all the while he thrusted in an out of her. "Feel so good."

She couldn't help but smile, panting between kisses as her body burned for him, every singel nerve flooding with electrical currents. "Harder, Arthur. I beg you. Im . . . G-Getting close. "

Arthur slowed his pace, arm leaving her clit to hold her torso, exchanging arms so he could hook her leg onto his arm for better leverage, reaching deep, hitting her core.

She cried out.

"C'mon, darlin'." He bit her lip. "Im right here."

"Mm, mhmm," she whimpered, the pressure in her core building, ready to topple over any second. Her vision grew blurry, chest heaving and breathing hard. And then- she came. Pleasure rolled over her, Arthur continuing to thrust into her as he prolonged her orgasm. "Breathe girl, you're alright," he comforted her. Fingers playing with her nipple. "Doin' so good."

She shook, she shivered, but the cold was no longer the reason, Arthur was. "Where-- where can I-"

"Anywhere," she moaned, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Too good to me, youre too good to me," he repeated. "Good girl." He grunted, finally toppling over himself, spilling his seed inside her. With a few final ruts, they collpased in eachothers embrace, sweat coating their skin.

"Is it hot in here or . . . ?"

Arthur chuckled and kissed her shoulder. "You're welcome, sweetheart." He wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Pretty girl."

"Thank you, Arthur," she said, and kissed his cheek.

"I get both now? A 'thank you' and a kiss? What's gotten into you?"

"Well," she held back a giggle. "You did."

"Funny," he said, a grinn on his lips, foolishly proud.

[appalachiancowboy99]

After Dark

Arthur Morgan x CurvyFem!Reader Established relationship, high honor, grumpy Arthur in desperate need of release, 18+, MDNI (Minors DO NOT ENTER)

Arthur comes back to camp later than usual, with nothing but a bad disposition and a desperate need to release his pent-up frustrations.

Warnings: longer read, sexual content (oral, unprotected p in v, rough sex), mentions of violence, mentions of anger, and dabbles in sensual fluff.

Gif by: @sunwingsunset

A/N: Thank you so much to @photo1030 for not only being my sounding board in the never-ending chaos that is my writing process but also for being such a wonderful friend through it all. So grateful for you, don't know what I'd do without ya, C! <3 Thank you so much to @rivetingrosie4 for being an inspiration for my little works and being so supportive of my creative endeavors, not to mention the kind generosity of your friendship! Forever grateful for to have met you! @tortureddpoett I'm so excited to explore this budding friendship with you! Thank you so much for showing so much excitement for my work, IT MAKES ME EXCITED (EEP!). It means an absolute ton to me <3 @mr-inkslinger your friendship has been an absolute delight to explore! Thank you for posting that toe-curling smut that always has me giggling and kicking my feet! So happy to have met ya! And thank each and every single one of you for liking my first drabble and expressing interest in this next one. I'm so sorry it's taken me forever to publish this post, but hopefully, the next ones won't take me as long. I'll forever be grateful for your patience and kindness <3 But now, enough of my babbling, y'all enjoy yourselves with this one- I know I did ;)

Fuck. From the second he opened his eyes, he knew that the day was going to be fucking awful; his neck had a crick in it, his head was pounding from what little sleep he’s received over the last few nights, and now he had to trudge back out into the goddamn muggy heat to work. One disaster after another had piled up; everything that could have gone wrong, went so terribly awry that he wound up farther away from camp than he originally intended and managed to add a solid fifteen-dollar bounty to the mounting collection resting atop his head. Dutch had sent him out on a wild goose chase, following a lead from Micah that, of course, ended up being a complete waste of time. And that meant he was coming back to camp empty-handed, which almost certainly meant he'd be on the receiving end of another one of Dutch's lectures on the endless responsibilities placed upon his shoulders. He dreaded it, wanted to avoid spiraling down another conversation that would end in Dutch questioning his faith in the ever-evolving plan he’s found himself working on these days.

As if he needed any of that horseshit tonight. All he wanted was a moment of peace and quiet, a chance to catch his breath after the disaster of a day he'd just had, but instead, he was headed back to camp with nothing but bruises, a bloody lip, and a bad disposition to show for his efforts. Trees and other bits of scenery whipped by in a blur as Arthur spurred his horse onward, his surroundings melting together into a muddy mess of shapes cast by moonlight. He passed through New Hanover, his furious pace leading him down the familiar roads of Lemoyne, reaching the clearing outside of camp. Lenny and John are the first to spot Arthur approaching the thicket of trees disguising Clemens Point's main entrance. “Hey, who goes there?” Lenny’s voice echoes through the forest, bouncing off the thicket until it reaches Arthur’s ears.

“‘S me.” Arthur grunts out through gritted teeth, clearly not in the mood for any chit-chat. Even underneath the shadow of leaves and limbs, the scowl etched upon his face is easily distinguishable, a clear sign for anyone with any common sense to give him a wide berth for the rest of the night. Lenny and John, both, had a pretty good idea of what might happen when Arthur steps foot into camp and they don't want any part of it. As a result, they give each other a little knowing glance and stay in the treeline, preferring to avoid the impending shitstorm and let Dutch or Hosea deal with it instead. He strides past them in a fit of frustration, dismounting his mare with a jerky movement before she's even come to a complete stop. Kieran spots him and hesitantly approaches. That poor fool. "H-Hey, Mr. Morgan. Would ya like me to unsaddle the 'ol gal here?" Kieran's question was nothing more than an innocent query, but his expression turned the young man into a nervous wreck. If looks could kill, Arthur’s certainly could; his steely eyes are set ablaze with annoyance and irritation as he casts a hateful glance in Kieran's direction. Even Kieran knew better than to talk to Arthur when he was in this state, knowing that it would only lead to suffering at the hands of his unbridled wrath. Kieran’s eyes immediately darted to his feet, desperate to avoid Arthur’s icy gaze as his fingers trembled with the frayed ends of rope in his hands. Quickly as to not start any trouble for himself, Kieran took hold of the mare's reigns and led her away to the field of horses, putting as much distance between himself and Arthur as he could. A slight pang of guilt runs through him when he sees the way that Kieran high-tailed it out of his line of sight. He doesn't want to be harsh to the boy, he's been a useful asset to the gang, but his temper is just too far gone for him to muster up an apology. As fast as the angering thoughts snapping through his mind, Arthur turns on his heels and storms into camp in search of Dutch. His boots furiously hit the grass and reddened Lemoyne dirt as he passes by a few of the wandering eyes from those still awake at this late hour. Charles casts him a wary glance, and so does Sadie, but neither of them cares to look long enough to entertain what's about to happen. He passes by his own wagon and heads straight to Dutch's tent. Dutch is nowhere to be seen, yet the lamp light inside casts its soft golden glow upon the closed canvas flaps of the tent, indicating that he might be inside. Not wasting any more time than he has to, Arthur approaches the tent, not bothering to stop and think until it's too late. His hand raises, readying to peel back the canvas flap, when all of a sudden he hears the sweet amorous sounds of lovemaking echo through the night air.  Molly’s sweet voice gasps out between each movement of their squeaking cot, calling out for Dutch as the unmistakable sound of skin slapping skin penetrates through the thin canvas walls, revealing exactly what’s occupying Dutch’s time tonight.

“Oh, Dutch. Don’t stop,” she encourages through strained, unabashed moans of pleasure. Dutch’s deep, husky voice murmurs back something unintelligible, but the increased squeaking of their bed and the filthy little noises coming from Molly are a clear indicator that Arthur should be stepping away to give them some privacy. Embarrassment washes over him, causing a faint rosy flush to heat his face and bloom across his cheeks. For once, he's grateful for the distraction from his current frustration. On most nights, he'd find comfort in your presence, seeking you out to vent his grievances as a distraction from the ever-present aggravation that seemingly follows him around these days. But tonight, he just wants to retreat to his tent, away from everything and everyone, to try to calm down before he says or does something he regrets.

He strides past the dying campfires and tables that are askew from daily camp activities, and his mind tirelessly races from thought to thought, stealing his attention away from his surroundings. If Arthur had even bothered to look, he would have spotted your sleeping form laid out upon his bed the moment he stepped inside. You had been waiting for him all evening. After working yourself to the bone doing laundry, dinner prep, and other camp chores for Ms. Grimshaw all day long, you wandered your way over to Arthur’s tent in search of a quiet place to sit. Part of you wished to find him seated right there on his cot, wanting to simply have a conversation with the man who has stolen your heart, but to your disappointment, he wasn’t anywhere to be found. So, you waited for him.. And waited until the very idea of waiting became too tiresome and you unknowingly fell asleep.

Sneaking away from the gang for private talks with him has been one of your favorite things to do since you joined the gang so long ago. Y'all have always had a knack for avoiding the company of others. But somehow in the midst of squirreling yourselves away, both of you have come to find that you'd prefer being alone together. Eventually, this led to many nights where Arthur would seek you out just to speak his mind, allowing you to see the world through his eyes for a short while. You have not only embraced Arthur's thoughts, but in doing so, you have captured his heart all the same. If it weren't for you, he's certain he'd have lost his damn sanity long ago.

Arthur takes that dusty old gambler's hat off his head and runs his fingers through his hair, taking a moment to calm himself down. His eyes glance over the things laid out upon his bedside table before catching a glimpse of your figure awash by the pale moonlight in his periphery. Your hair is sprawled out over the small blanket you've rolled up into a makeshift pillow; curls flowing like a roaring waterfall, laying a mess, and finally free from the bun that was atop your head earlier in the day. His eyes rake over your voluptuous figure, noting every dip and curve from your plump waist and hips to the ample swell of your breast hidden by a layer of clothing. The moment his mind registers that your presence isn't a dream, his eyes soften and his mind no longer races with anger. You are his peace, the only thing in this world that he cherishes above all else. 

Sighing softly, he finally discards his hat from his hand and places it onto his nightstand before working off his worn leather jacket and satchel, resting them on the back of the chair nearest his shaving mirror. And while he's on his feet, he takes the time to carefully roll down the canvas walls of his tent, unraveling them with the quiet precision of a mouse, and securing them in a few simple knots to hide you two away from the world.

It's quite dark by the time he wanders over to the cot, dark enough not to notice himself brush against your legs as he takes a seat on the edge of the old creaking bed. The familiar, welcomed-warmth of his body pressing against your shins rouses you from your restful slumber. Your eyes flutter open to find his figure perched next to you, shrouded in a darkness so thick that you are sure you're still dreaming. His head and broad shoulders are slumped over as he begins working off his dusty boots, caked with remnants of mud and manure.

"Hmm... Arthur?" Your voice floats through the quiet darkness, laden with fatigue and clearly carrying the lassitude of someone who could fall back asleep at the drop of a hat.

He quickly glances over his shoulder at the sound of your voice, his eyes already adjusted enough to the shadows to see your tired face staring back at him with confusion. He silently curses himself for waking you. "Shhh, Darlin'. Don't wake up on my account. I'll be done in just a minute," Arthur lightly grunts out the last word as he struggles to remove his right boot.

Even in your own weary state, the exhaustion in his tone isn't lost on you. Thinking it best to rouse yourself as quickly as possible to free up his bed for him, you sit yourself up and will yourself awake with a slight stretch. "'S okay. You need rest more 'n me."

"No. You was restin' 'fore I got here. Go 'head and lay back down." He isn't having any of your courtesy tonight. He's worn out, far too tired to argue with you about whether or not it's appropriate for you to share his bed for the night.

The rest of the gang, aside from John, Abigail, Susan, and Hosea know nothing about the true nature of y'all's relationship. Although, the rest of the girls have picked up on the changes you've brought about in Arthur since your arrival so long ago now. Seeing him get all soft and doey-eyed at you over these last few weeks has most definitely tipped them off about what y'all really get up to when you're out running errands together. But they catch wind of you sleeping in his tent tonight, it will all but confirm their suspicions. And yet, you just can't bring yourself to move from the comfort of Arthur's cot with him sitting so close to you.

"What time is it?" The question falls from your lips, carried on the soft currents of a gentle breeze pushing through the tent flaps. Fine sinewy muscles flex beneath his shirt as he leans over to work off his other boot and you are powerless to admire the shape of his body beneath.

A muffled grunt escapes his mouth the moment he finally frees his aching feet from the confines of his boots, "Late," he simply replies.

You take a deep, cleansing breath, allowing the tranquility of the night to settle around you like a soft, comforting blanket. Outside these walls, no sounds of chatter or lively activity can be heard, aside from the gentle hum of crickets by the riverbank and the faint sounds of a squeaking cot stopping abruptly. The gang is unusually quiet, the air filled with repose now that Arthur's returned safely to you. Only a few stragglers tend to the campfires, their focus solely on themselves, interested in anything beyond the flickering flames; not even the sounds of Dutch and Molly or Arthur's irritation can disrupt the peaceful bubble encompassing Clemen's Point tonight.

The plush heel of your palm rubs over one of your eyes as you flit them toward the tent entrance, watching how the wind slightly ruffles the bottom of the canvas. It's only then that you realize that Arthur has tied down the walls for privacy on your account. Normally, he wouldn't bother setting up the walls before collapsing on the cot for a few restless hours of sleep. But tonight, he's gone out of his way to ensure your comfort. Your heart couldn't feel any more full of love for this man by your side, a man who puts your well-being above all else, even above his own. Never did you think that love would have been like this for you: sitting in the comfortable silence of privacy for lovers when that luxury is rarely afforded for women like you. But despite your gratitude for his thoughtfulness, a pang of guilt gnaws at you knowing he made the extra effort while you took up residence in his bed, a cot that's barely big enough for the two of you given your plump frame.

In an attempt to make up for taking up so much space, you roll yourself forward along the thin mattress and quickly slide past him, crawling toward the foot of his bed where his trunk of clothing is kept. You've decided to give him his space for the night, even though in your heart, you'd prefer to stay. Before your foot even slides off the trunk to touch the soft grass below, you're reminded of John stopping by Arthur's tent earlier in the day.

Through a half yawn, you speak, not giving Arthur the chance to catch-on to where you're headed, "'Fore I forget: John stopped by while you was out."

Arthur slightly leans back as his fingertips mindlessly fumble with the buckle of his gun belt. The slight clicking of the metal rings out as he works to remove the clunky accessory from his body. His strong back brushes against you as he moves with the comfortable ease he's come to enjoy over these last few weeks of secretly being yours.

"What about it?" His concentration is split half between himself and the presence of your body behind him.

Your words don't register in his mind until he's completely removed the belt from his body. He figures it was that stagecoach job he reluctantly handed off to John; it had completely slipped from his mind until this very moment, much like yourself. The cool metal filigree atop his trunk moves under your feet as you rest them just shy of slipping off its edge, causing the hazy memory to play out behind your tired eyes.

-

You were just settling yourself in, resting your weary body on the edge of Arthur's cot, just as you're doing now. Little beads of sweat accumulated on your forehead from working out in the intensity of Lemoyne's miserably humid heat. Grimshaw had you and the rest of the women working on camp chores, which you hadn't complained of, since it usually occupies the time until Arthur's usual return. However, the day was far too hot for you to not complain about the harsh conditions she had y'all in. Eventually, evening came and you were finally finished with the laundry, allowing you a moment's rest to seek out the comfort of Arthur's cot.

In the midst of wiping your brow down with one of his neckerchiefs you'd secretly swiped, the hard thump of boots hitting grass caught your attention. You'd anticipated Arthur's arrival, but something didn't feel quite right. The boots didn't move with Arthur's measured stride; they scuffed the grass and dirt, signaling a different, but familiar presence. The moment you look up, you spot John standing at the entrance of the tent, not at all surprised to see you sitting upon his cot as if it were your own.

For a brief moment, his brow furrowed in a mix of frustration and exhaustion. It was as if he was caught between the two warring emotions, each pulling him equally. Clearly, he expected Arthur to be back already.

"He not back yet?" The gruffness of his voice has you believe the former, rather than the latter.

"Not yet," you say in kind, hoping to ease some of his burden. "Was you needin' him for somethin'?"

John did and the news certainly wasn't going to sit well with Arthur at all.

-

When the thoughts finally coalesce within your fatigued mind, you internally grimace knowing that Arthur isn't going to like the reality of the situation. Gentleness has always been your strong suit, especially when it came to dealing with half of the bull-headed men in camp. So, you lace your words with the softest tone you can manage, "Said it weren't as much as y'all had planned on: about fifty-dollars tied up in what little him 'n Charles found."

And you were right. The news doesn't sit well with him at all. All of the compiled frustration of working a nothing-lead and now knowing that the other job didn't pay well either boils beneath the surface of his skin until he explodes like a whistling kettle. Preventing himself from lashing out at you, Arthur kicks his boot toward the other side of the tent, knocking it into the chair. The loud thunk of its sole hitting wood claps harshly and causes you to flinch, startling you fully awake from the suddenness of noise and his movement.

"Every goddamn day it's some shit," he spits through his teeth.

Although you know he'd never intentionally hurt you, the anger in his voice sends a cold shiver down your spine and your stomach flips and churns in knots. Usually, you'd blame yourself, reprimanding your big mouth for even opening up to mention something that you knew wouldn't bode well for his weary mind. But you're in too much of a shock to even consider self-deprecation as an option. Your wide eyes search through the darkness, watching the shadowed outline of the man you love heave in a deep breath to steal his nerves. His shoulders slump forward and head hangs low as he rests his elbows on his knees, utterly defeated from the compiled anger and exhaustion coursing through him.

It's at this moment that you remember the job Dutch sent him on earlier in the day; Arthur didn't want to go and had very little sleep after working on yet another lead that barely got them anywhere. If it had been left up to you, you would've made Arthur stay right here in this bed to get some rest like he deserves. You would've taken care of him so tenderly, but, as usual, what Dutch wanted would have far outweighed any of your concerns. You've learned to recognize the pattern of these situations by now, and given Arthur's aggression, assuming that today's job didn't go quite as planned would be hitting the nail right on its head. You test the waters with a quiet question, "Lead didn't pan out today, did it?"

The soft shake of Arthur's head, coupled with the shadow of his palm running over his face tells you all that you need to know: no, it hadn't gotten him any farther than where he had started. Another useless effort. Your heart aches watching him struggle with so much weight on his shoulders. No matter how strong Arthur might be, he's just a man struggling to carry his own burdens, let alone everyone else's. Ever since settling down here, Dutch has placed so much responsibility on him that you've wanted to scold the man for even mentioning Arthur's name in passing. He's worked himself thin and thread-bare, barely having any time for himself outside of the time he spends on the road traveling from place to place at Dutch's convenience.

Empathy for the man that you've fallen in love with so long ago breaks your heart, aching in desperation to relieve some of his pain. Instead of walking away, keeping to yourself, and silently shouldering any of the blame for setting him off, you choose to stay the night. Despite knowing full well that the girls will have their gossip circulating by morning, Arthur's needs are far more important than any snickering comment or playful jest that'll inevitably come your way.

You scoot back where you were and lean toward him with less apprehension than what your words had suggested. Resting your delicate palm between the broad expanse of his shoulders, you feel him tense at the soft slip of your tender touch over his shirt. The tips of your fingers glide over his shoulder and silently take purchase on the taut muscle there. With a gentle, yet firm pull, you coax Arthur back toward you.

"C'mere. Lean back 'n talk to me..." Your dulcet tone pierces through his irritation, encouraging him to rest in your awaiting arms.

Arthur slowly reclines back, allowing himself to unwind in your embrace as his much larger body sits snugly against your plump bosom. Relaxing doesn't come easy for him. Hell, you'd be surprised if it had, given the high tensions between him and Micah these days or the tiresome back and forth between the two rival families in Rhodes. He has every right to be terse and tensed up like a snake ready to strike, but you aim to comfort him even if that means you risk getting bit. Silence hangs in the air between you, aside from the gentle breaths and the occasional strained grunt catching in the back of his throat while he struggles to get comfortable against you, due to the remaining stress insisting on clinging to his tired body. Your loving hands splay out over the firm expanse of his chest, feeling the steady and reassuring thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms as you try your best to soothe your brooding lover. It's as if your mere presence cracks away at the anger lingering in the stiff tendons and taut plains of muscle along his torso until he relents and finally lets go. His body relaxes back into you as if he were sinking into the plush, luxurious drapery and bedding found in the finest hotels of Saint Denis; much like the bedding of the room he'd paid for the very same night he had whisked you away to bed you properly for your very first time.

He's silent for a long while, almost reluctant to burden you with his troubles. So, you take it up on yourself to start the conversation by spilling what had happened to you earlier in the day, thinking it might earn a laugh or two, "Well, I'm sure my day weren't as rough as your'n," you hum. "But I did fall off the dock, landing my hind-end right in that water."

The image would usually cause a humorous snort to escape him, but the irritation still bristling at his nerves prevents him from reacting with anything else other than a huff of annoyance, "I told ya to watch your footin' out there. Ain't no use to nobody if you get yourself drowned."

Fortunately, as he chides you his words begin to lack much of the anger from moments ago. But you sigh softly anyways, relenting to his incessant need to protect you from life's dangers, despite being able to handle your own, "I know, I know..."

With a few buttons of that old blue work shirt popped open by your deft fingers, the smallest opening there is just big enough to slip your hand inside and rest it up on the soft but wiry hairs at the very center of his chest. "You shoulda seen me, though," you murmur as you lean down toward his ear, lowering your tone as you press your cheek to the side of his head. "Was drenched head to toe, clothes clingin' to me like feathers on a wet chicken."

He sulks, trying to stay mad at anything and everything he can to give into the bristling anger at the back of his mind, but he can't. No, not when he can clearly envision you all soaked and surprised from falling into that cold lake. A faint smile curls up the corners of his lips and then, just as he almost chuckles, he clears his throat, holding his laugh back. However, you catch on far too quickly for him to play it off so easily.

You gasp softly in mock surprise as if offended by the idea of him laughing at you, "Arthur Morgan. Are you laughin' at me?"

That's when his temperament breaks, giving way to the huff of laughter rumbling through his chest. "I ain't laughin' atchu, per say..." he counters. "Just maybe at the thought of what ya mighta looked like comin' up outta that water: madder 'n hell, hair clingin' to your head," and as if to illustrate his point, Arthur reaches his hand backward and turns his head to try and catch a glimpse of you in the thick shadows, barely making your face distinguishable to his eyes, as he brushes his fingertips over the bits of hair clinging to your forehead from the muggy heat.

Though you narrow your eyes in mock annoyance, you lean into his calloused fingertips, accepting the gentleness of his touch while a giggle of your own creeps up into your throat, "Oh? Is 'at so? Maybe next time I find you out on that dock, I'll think 'bout pushin' ya in 'n lettin' you see how it feels."

He huffs out a skeptical breath and raises an eyebrow at the very thought of you even trying something like that with him. It'd be a futile effort and one that you truly wouldn't consider without the clear consequence of him pulling you right down with him.

And just as soon as the laughter came, it was gone again, replaced instead with a comfortable silence that settles between you two once more, giving him some space to think about what's happened to himself today. Long before the days of your arrival, Arthur would keep to himself and dwell on the ever-present burdens troubling his mind, brooding for hours. But with you, he feels a safety that men like him are rarely afforded.

"Well, if ya think fallin' in Flat Iron's bad..." he continues, "Try goin' halfway 'cross the state lookin' for a man that don't exist. Then when ya find someplace to get a drink, ya end up catchin' a few stray hits from some drunken bastard."

A soft gasp enters your lungs at the revelation. Another fight? You lean over his shoulder, reaching to take his scarred chin into your hand. It's hard to see through the inky-black darkness of the night, but even in the haziness, your eyes can make out the bruising along his jaw, the harsh scrapes of knuckles cutting over his cheek, and the jagged cut on his upper lip. It isn't a rare sight to have him come back battered and bruised by some job from time to time, but that still doesn't quell the uneasiness in your heart at him going through such pain and aggravation.

Your eyebrows furrow in sympathy for your rugged cowboy, eyes softening to match as you breathe out, "Oh, Arthur."

He's quick to dismiss your concern with a soft sigh, pulling away from you to lean forward and distract himself from your sympathetic gaze, "Ah, don'tchu go 'n worry yourself over me none, Darlin'."

Being fussed over or thought of so tenderly still isn't something he's used to; he's shown you that time and time again. But it never deters you from trying to make things better, to make things easier on him however you can. Whatever turmoil Arthur's got rolling about in his mind is far from the usual and it takes patience to understand; a patience that he finds only you can give.

You reach your hand out toward him. The delicate ends of your fingertips reach up to brush over the nape of his sun-kissed neck, grazing over the ends of his slightly overgrown hair, silently making a note to yourself that you'll trim it for him tomorrow. His body shuffles slightly backward, leaning in to accept your touch while he slips off his suspenders: pulling them down his shoulders heavy with burden, before taking his time to unbutton that tattered old work shirt you're so used to seeing around his muscular frame.

"'Sides..." he starts. "I did have some good that came from today."

"What's 'at?" you hum softly with a lilt of dryness. "Hittin' that feller back?"

He can't help the chuckle rising in his throat at the dry sarcasm touching your words. Arthur shakes his head softly, "Nah, Darlin', " the last word strains from his lips as he rises to his feet with a groan, leaving the safe comfort of your touch as he stands to undo his pants.

He glances over his shoulder, peering down at you through the darkness with a smirk curling up at the right corner of his mouth. Watching as your sweet eyes follow his every movement, Arthur turns to face you, allowing you to gaze at him as he slowly pushes the brass button through the eyelet at the top of his riding pants. The fabric opens effortlessly, revealing the red cloth of his union suit underneath. The sight of him before you, suspenders hanging loosely on either side of his long legs and his pants aching to be peeled from his strong form has your lips parted in awe at the man standing mere inches away from you.

He continues from just seconds before, "Seein' you laid out on my bed, purdy as a dream."

After stepping out of his pants now crumpled around his ankles, Arthur lowers one knee upon the cot nearest your thighs. He leans over you, using his thick fingers to tilt your chin upward, meeting his crystalline eyes. "Was one helluva sight I could get used to seein'."

The low timbre of his voice sends a shockwave of desire straight through your heart and into the aching pit of your stomach. Your lips draw up into a shy smile, and a faint dusting of pink envelops your cheeks just like the moment you'd first professed your feelings for him under that canopy of trees he led you through so blindly. Although it hasn't been long since that fateful night, the closeness of your relationship has escalated so quickly that your head and heart dizzy at the mere mention of his name.

Arthur's calloused thumb brushes over the supple swell of your bottom lip, enticing you to part them just for him. You comply, of course, unable to resist how a ghost of his touch makes you so pliant beneath him. And when he leans down to meet your lips with his own, your heart swells with tender affection. Those warm, slightly chapped, but pleasantly plush lips are heady as they connect with a passion that stokes the burning coals of desire in the very base of your core.

"Been waitin' to use that one for a while, hmm?" You hum contently while blindly guiding your hands toward the flare of muscle encasing his ribs. God, how you could worship this man and never tire of feeling how warm, how strong he is beneath your palms.

"Depends. It workin'?" He murmurs, smirking cockily against your lips.

Your mind begins to spin as the calloused pad of his thumb dips from your chin and swipes over your jawline. His fingers splay out over the side of your neck, fingertips gripping you with tender passion to hold you in place. He could easily break you, bend you with his finger and thumb as if you were nothing more than a twig beneath his rough and weathered hands. Never have you felt so small and fragile, always knowing in your heart that you took up much more room than other women. But, when you're with Arthur, he makes you feel as delicate as the petals on a beautiful flower, something so precious and worth loving; it's so much more than you'd ever experienced in your whole life. He touches you so tenderly as if you were made from nothing more than ash, a veritable pile of matter waiting to slip through his fingers at any moment.

You want to hum your praises to your lover, to let him know exactly how much you've wanted this, how much you've missed him, how well he's kissing you, touching you... But you can't. There are no words. He's stolen them from you, drawing all the air out of your lungs with his lips, leaving you gasping for the air coated in his divine masculine scent: sweet tobacco, wood ash, and mossy earth. He encompasses you, wrapping one arm around your waist as he pulls you close to his body, all the while shuffling himself forward to join you on the small cot. Your back presses against the hard wooden frame of the wagon making up the other half of his tent. He presses against you, holding you close to his strong body as he slides his right hand from your jaw, trailing it down over the soft skin of your neck, and down to your chest, where he heatedly palms your breast hidden just beneath your blouse. To have him touch you like this, like a man frenzied and dying for a taste of intimacy, has your head spinning and your heart on the verge of exploding if it hadn't already; for all you know, you could've died the moment his lips crashed into yours, and all that's left is a heaven you'd only dreamt of.

A low growl of appreciation rumbles through his chest for the plumpness of your body. Most men do not know the fine pleasures that extra curves on a woman can bring. But Arthur sure does. And oh how he worships your full figure, despite your opinions about yourself. His large, calloused palm shifts his attention to your other breast, kneading you tenderly while his lips work from your mouth, and instead, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses over your jawline and supple neck.

His name is a breathless sigh across your trembling lips as you allow your hands to explore his body in return. Touching over the large expanse of his torso and gliding your fingertips over the worn fabric of his union suit, you desperately search for the button that would bare him wholly to you. In the time it takes you to undo one of his buttons, his skilled fingers undo two of yours. Button after button unthreads upon both of your bodies, though his hands are much quicker at ridding you of your layers, leaving them strewn about on the ground until he's stripped you down and laid you beneath him in nothing more than your chemise and bloomers to conceal your decency. Arthur then crawls over you, his movements deliberate and enticingly slow as he cages you in with his hands pressed into the thin mattress on either side of your head. Shadows danced and shifted restlessly, playing tricks on your perception as you try to focus on what little of Arthur you could see through the haziness, making the absence of light feel alive. To feel him above you like this has your stomach in knots, tightening with a firey passion that's ready to snap at any given moment. Hearts are pounding, thrumming wildly against your ribcages like birds desperate to escape the confines of your chests. You hear it, hear how his breath shutters with each wild thump of his heart, and you feel it in his breath as it puffs over your cheek. He's losing himself to you and you him, slipping so quickly that rational thinking is no longer of use. You need him and he needs you.

The flaps of his union suit hang loosely from his body, allowing your hands to reach in and press flat over his heated skin. He shivers slightly at the contact, his muscles tensing and flexing beneath the tender meeting of your palms placed upon his scarred, goose-pimpled flesh. Your fingertips ghost over a scar on the right side of his ribcage, causing your face to crinkle with sorrow for what hardship your lover, this great outlaw, has had to endure in his lifetime. The damaged tissue is the result of a nasty fight he had as a young man: when someone stabbed him with the broken end of a beer bottle; they had aimed to kill him, but he had survived. The spot still aches with the memory of Hosea digging out the shards of broken glass from the angry, bloodied wound. But somehow, the way your delicate touch brushes over that old scar with such love and care causes the outlaw's skin to tingle, and his cock to ache with the pride of knowing that you love him so.

He takes his time with you here, laid out beneath him like a perfect little thing he's captured and kept safe by hiding you away in the privacy of his tent. After the day he's had, he wants to savor every bit of loveliness he's blessed with in your presence, so he can't rush this with you, not now. Arthur takes his time admiring you, letting his eyes rake over what he's able to see, and feeling what he cannot. Leaning down close enough to your face to capture that seductive glint in your glittering, lust-blown eyes, Arthur searches for any change within them as he maneuvers his right hand away from the mattress to trail along your sensitive flesh. The rough pads of his fingers ghost over your thigh, caressing the plump deposit of flesh along your middle, snaking up over your collarbones, and over your neck in search of your delicate face before sealing your mouth with his own in a kiss so tender you whimper from the initial contact.

Shivers of anticipation roll through him as your body responds to his touch: back arching off the bed, hands pulling on the nape of his neck to hold him down and assure that his lips won't leave yours, and the way your bloomer-clad hips roll upward in search of some much-needed friction. God how he could spend hours with you like this, letting his hands roam over your body to make you shiver and plead for any ounce of affection that he can give you. Your needy state is only exacerbated by the slight tremble in your thighs as he snakes his hands down over the pillowy flesh, seeking out the waistband of your bloomers. Ridding you of the cloth separating your pussy from his line of sight is an easy feat: the clad, slightly damp undergarment peels away from your plump hips with ease at the help of his precision; the Lemoyne heat causes the clothing to stick to your slightly dampened skin, but dammit if the temperature pales in comparison to how heated Arthur makes you feel. He tosses them down onto the ground, and places his hands upon your knees, spreading them apart as he sits above you to admire the feeling of your plump body beneath him.

His hand is unhurried and exacting, gently brushing his calloused knuckles down over your inner thigh, then lightly petting them over your soaked need covered by a soft thatch of hair. He can't see you fully, but that does nothing to stop his mind from envisioning how your cunt glistens with slick, all for him. The moment he presses his fingertips to your seam, parting you with the practiced precision of a lover, he lets a low, ragged breath escape his nose in appreciation for how wet you are. You shiver and instinctively try to close your knees from the pleasant surprise of his touch, and fuck does it feel good to have him brush over your folds like that.

"Always so ready, ain'tchya?" He murmurs, a teasing lilt to his voice as he takes his time in savoring the feeling of your slick upon his fingertips.

Your hips involuntarily twitch, bucking upward into his hand, seeking out his fingertips to make him swirl them over your aching little clit. You want him to touch you right where you need him, feel him right on that little spot upon that nub of nerves that makes your mind swirl and your body careen into a blissful orgasm. But he doesn't give that to you, not yet. He wants to work you over slowly, savoring every little sound he can draw out of those pretty lips. You're far too shy to answer him directly, instead favoring to cover your face with your forearms as he takes pleasure in taunting you like this. But the moment his fingertips threaten to part your folds, you let out a delicate little noise, someplace between a whine and a prayer to let him know that you're in no mood to endure his teasing tonight, "Arthur... Please."

Oh, how he loves to hear the sound of you begging; he's already half-hard at the idea of you wanting his touch, let alone hearing how desperate you are for it. He answers your prayer with a long, smooth stroke of his thumb parting your puffy, wet folds. You keen at how just a simple touch causes your stomach to flutter and your slit to clench around nothing at all. Your thighs, thick with strength, covered by a layer of squishy softness, part for him, relaxing lazily as he guides his thumb over each of your labia.

It was nearly impossible to get you to lay like this for him a few weeks ago; you'd been concerned about the unsightly appearance of your inner thighs: scarred over with dimples and imperfections, as well as the slight discoloration of having them rub together after so many years of being a larger woman. Most women that you've seen naked, don't have the same ailments upon their bodies as you have on yours. Just the other day when bathing with some of the girls in the lake, you'd noticed that even on Karen's body, a woman closer to your size, still didn't have the scars or discoloration across her skin in the same way that you have. And that night that Arthur had you laid out for him for the very first time, he'd noticed that apprehension in you, taking it as having second thoughts. But once you had explained how you felt about your own body, he hadn't even given the idea a single thought; his own body is mauled up, covered in old and ugly scars, and carrying more than three colors from all his time spent out in the sun. So, he couldn't have cared less about some scars, a little extra hair, weight, or even the discoloration over your thighs. What he did care about, however, was making sure that you felt loved in spite of it all. And now, it feels no different. To have you spread your legs for him like this, without a single worry holding you back, is a goddamn treat.

Fuck how good it feels to have the soft press of his thumb tease over your cunt, tracing the delicate path between your weeping entrance, to your swelling bud with a pressure so teasing and light that you squirm to feel more. Your plush lips tuck between your teeth to hold back any sounds that give away what you two are doing in here after dark, but it's useless; the lewd sounds of his thumb circling over your clit echo throughout the tent: a dead giveaway to anyone that dare walk by. Holding your breath like this isn't easy, not when the pounding of your heart echoes in your ears and your chest feels as if it's being seared from the inside out. A ragged gasp finally inhales through your nostrils, desperately trying to fulfill your body's need for air when you can no longer restrain your breaths.

He huffs out a low chuckle in amusement at the state he has you in: clearly desperate and in need to have your clit rubbed just the way you like it.

"Hmm.. Hear that?" He rasps out before going silent, letting you hear the sounds of your own slick being spread over your soaked cunt. He only continues when he finally reaches your clit, circling over the throbbing little nerve-ending to make you sigh out in pleasure for him. "So goddamn wet. All for me."

In a blur of movements, Arthur's chapped lips and teeth skim over your knee, slowly working their way down over your inner thighs. He nips at you, earning a few little squeaks and giggles until he kisses over your plump mound. His thumbs take hold of either side of your cunt, spreading you open to let the night air hit your wet skin. It's pleasant like this, to feel yourself spread out beneath him like a meal ready to be devoured and dammit if he ain't starved for a taste. Being eaten out has quickly become one of your favorite acts of intimacy in recent weeks; his tongue is so skilled at finding spots on you, making you come so deliciously, that most days it's all you've been able to think about. Hell, it's all you're thinking about now as his head sinks down to your core and his hot breath fans out over your aching need. His tongue slips out of that perfect mouth and flattens out over your seam, lapping at you once to earn him that little sigh of pleasure escaping your throat.

Your hands immediately seek out his head, combing through his slightly sweat-dampened hair as he swirls the blunt tip of his tongue over your clit.

"A-Agh, Arthur.. N-Not so fast," you whine out in protest, yet your hips bucking up into his mouth says otherwise. But he relents, nonetheless, giving you a moment of reprieve before he delves back in at the same pace.

He's aiming to make you cum quick and hard: slithering his tongue over your clit with the precision of knowing exactly what side and spot makes you writhe beneath him. Just left and then a little upward beneath that little hood of skin and he has you singing for him. Explicitves roll off your tongue one after another in between sweet little sounds that praise him for what effort he's putting in just for you. To hear you, feel you crumble beneath him like this is better than any robbery or score he gets out on the road. But just before he lets you come, he pulls his head back slightly and puffs cool air over your clit, making you whine.

"Shh.. Shh.. 'M gonna let ya cum, Darlin'. Don'tchu worry 'bout that none. 'M gonna take real good care of ya," he hums lowly as his lips and bristly scruff brush over your quivering inner thighs.

His promise isn't far off from fulfillment, not when he sinks his tongue into your heat and presses his opened mouth over the entirety of your cunt. He sucks hard, feeling your walls constrict around the wriggling muscle of his tongue as he laps inside your spongey center. Your thighs tremble with need as he fucks you with his mouth and slurps up your slick, drinking in as much of you as he can and relishing the tangy sweetness of your delectable taste. You throw your head back against the rolled-up blanket you had been using as a pillow earlier in the night, all while he eats you out like a man who's desperate to consume you.

But the aching throb of his cock, constricted by the thin fabric of his union suit, is far too angry for him to ignore. He's got to have you, now.

As he shuffles back up to his knees, leaving your cunt longing to cum on his tongue, you flutter your eyes open and snap your head up to try and catch a glimpse of what he's doing. Clearly, you ain't pleased with him teasing you like this, but when you feel his fervent movements, you realize that he's trying to work off his union suit. He wastes no time it peeling it away from his torso, but the moment he starts to tug it down his thighs, allowing his weeping cock to spring free, he nearly topples over and just about slams head-first into your body. Thankfully, he catches himself in the knick of time, grunting out a few curses as he grows impatient with his incapability to slide that damn fabric off his legs.

Amid his struggle to bare himself, you can't hide the giggle creeping up your throat as he curses under his breath, frustrated with how the fabric insists on clinging to his muscular legs. You help him slide the old red union suit off his body by digging your heels against the back of his thighs and pushing it down the long length of his legs until it reaches his ankles. The undergarment hangs loosely off his feet, causing him to kick it haphazardly off the side of the bed, letting it fall onto his trunk to skirt down on the grass below.

The instant his turgid length brushes over your inner thigh it twitches with the anticipation of feeling your tight, wet walls clamped around him, milking every drop of spend nestled away in his balls; spend that he so desperately wishes he could drain right inside of you. For now, however, just a single brush of your fingertips against him is enough. He has to hold his breath as he guides your delicate palm over his velvety shaft to stroke the needy ache away; if he isn't careful, he'd cum just like this. He hisses, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth as your fingers wrap around him and your thumb seeks out the weeping slit of his blunt tip. Arthur is, by no means, a small man: his legs are long, torso strong and wide, feet and hands are like bear paws, and his cock.. God, his cock is big. You could use both of your hands to stroke him and still, there'd be enough room for his tip to be entirely untouched. But you make sure as you stroke him with one hand, you pay extra attention to his tip, smearing his drooling precum over as much of him as you can, even down to the dark and wiry curls along his base and balls.

He's trying so hard to hold himself back, but with each tender pass of your thumb over that sweet spot along the underside of his tip, the last remnants of his patience crack away. You feel him crumbling like this, crumbling into a frenzied mess of low-hummed breaths and grunts through gritted teeth, and you fucking love it. Before you can even think about the desire roaring in the cavernous pit of your stomach, aching to be quelled, he smashes his lips into yours so hard that you're sure one of you is bleeding. The pain of his busted lip splitting back open is an angry reminder of the frustration still lingering at the back of his mind; he's as tensed up, pent-up, as a taut rope ready to snap.

With a quick movement, he swats your hand away, preventing you from jacking him into a fast climax. Then, in one swift motion, he grabs hold of your thighs and forcefully yanks you toward him, making the round swell of your plump ass plant firmly against the hard front of his strong body. Your thighs spread out, squishing over and conforming to the contour of his hips, the intimate contact leaving you both ragged and breathless. Your heart drums a frantic rhythm in your ears, drowning out all other thoughts and sensations that belong to you alone. It's as if your mind has descended into a tangled web of strangled noises and glorious sensations that only Arthur seems able to untangle or soothe. The faint outline of his body nestled between your thighs is a constant reminder that nothing beyond this moment, beyond him hidden away with you inside of this tent, matters.

The hard length of his turgid pride parts your folds, gliding over the slick thatch of curls usually concealing your cunt from his eyes, but with his sight hindered, he can explore every single nook, roll, and crevice without you shying away. His weight bares down on you as he holds your legs into the crook of his arms, nearly bending you in half as he drags his cock over your seam. It feels so good like this, even though you can hardly breathe with the thickness of your thighs pressing against your already plump stomach, but when the tip of his cock knocks into your clit, it makes the strained pain well worth it. The back of your hand flies over your mouth as he continues on like this, pleasuring himself and you with each agonizingly slow thrust. Hearing your ragged, strangled half-breaths, he releases your thighs, leaving them to splay out lazily on either side of his hips as he leans down to steal a tender kiss.

Upon breaking his lips away from yours, the low hum of his voice finds its way through the haziness of your lust-broken mind as he murmurs against the shell of your ear, "Gonna take ya just like this..."

Chapped lips skim over your jawline and trail to your lips, where he gives you another tender kiss filled with gentle affection: polar opposite to the rough sex-driven outlaw you've gotten a taste of tonight, but aligning perfectly with the man you fell in love with all those years ago. Scraped knuckles skim against your slick heat as he slips his hand in between you both and presses flat over the thick, dark curls at the base of his throbbing length. His fingers spread wide over his pubic bone, holding his cock between his middle and ring finger, stiffening himself outward to seek out your clenched entrance. With a slight pullback of his hips, he guides himself to your slit, catching right on the taut muscle before pressing forward and splitting you open.

A soft cry hums in the back of your throat and he shushes you so tenderly, sliding his hands over your knees and down your shins to soothe the ache he knows you're feeling. You're so fucking tight, hardly different from the first night he took you and bedded you properly back at the Saint's Hotel. It nearly shatters him when your walls flutter around him, squeezing and pulling him in inch by inch as if you were carved out just for him to sink into. He stills only for a short moment, letting you feel him nestled up against your cervix before he slides himself out and enters you again with a sharp snap of his hips. Lingering anger and frustration from the shit day he's had still pulsates at the back of his mind, desperate to be released as the tension in his body rises.

The tight walls of your cunt clench onto him for dear life as jolts of pleasure and pain rack through your body.

Behind the shield of your palm, you cry out, "A-Agh, Arthur!"

You're trying your best to be quiet, to still your ragged breaths and hide your whimpers, but he's making it incredibly difficult. Each slow drag of his cock coming out of you with a satisfying pop, only to pierce you with a hard roll of his hips, sends you reeling. You're seeing stars, shaking from the pleasurable burn of the passionate fire he's stirring within you. Strong hands grip your hips, keeping you still as his thrusts guide you into a steady rhythm that makes the old wooden frame creak and groan with every subtle and sharp movement that your bodies make. Being discreet has left his mind entirely, no longer concerned with what sounds are coming out of his tent as he fucks you good and proper. No, he couldn't care less when the sounds of your slick pussy squelches as he presses himself flush against you and groans against the pulse point of your neck.

"Don't want ya hidin' them purdy sounds, Darlin'. Let 'em out for me," he grunts out between slow but hard thrusts.

Usually, intimacy like this is savored in the shaking breaths and whispered little sounds only audible to your ears, but tonight... Tonight Arthur is something else entirely. Primal. A damn, dirty outlaw. You love this new view of him, but you can't allow yourself to let the others hear. What if someone were walking by? Or Hosea or Dutch hear you two going at it? You wouldn't be able to look at them for a week! But he doesn't give you much choice in the matter: snaking his hand down between your bodies, his muscular forearm presses against your plush belly while his thumb immediately finds your clit.

"O-Oh, God," you whine as the pad of his thumb circles over you, followed by his name dripping off your tongue like the sweetest honey. "At's it... Such a good girl takin' me so deep. Mmm.. Gonna cum 'round me ain'tchu? Gonna give me a real good one, baby?"

God damn him if his mouth ain't filthy. The way he croons out those little praises and words of encouragement has your climax building faster than you ever could have anticipated. And the swirling of his thumb? It has you shaking, whining, pleading, practically begging for your release as he talks you through it, "C'mon, Darlin'... I feel ya squeezin' me real tight," he praises, "'At's it. Focus on me."

With one more swipe of his thumb over your sensitive clit and his cock hitting that sweet spot right against your cervix, you're tensing, digging your heels into the thin mattress, and cumming around him so hard that you see white. It takes everything in you not to scream, but the strangled sound coming out of you is loud enough to warrant some head-turning if anyone were awake. The moment your walls flutter and start milking him, he falls forward and drops down onto his elbows to cage you in. His thrusts are relentless as he takes his anger out on you in this way, using every movement of his body to release the bristling anger clutching onto his mind like a damn vice grip. No matter how fervent and frenzied, he's still careful not to hurt you, always thinking about how good he's making you feel while chasing his own release.

Arthur isn't a man of many words, but when you're gripped around him like this, clutching him with your arms, legs, and your fluttering pussy, he is downright mouthy. "Oh, such a good girl for listenin' to me. Shh.. Shh. I gotchu, baby. I gotchu."

His mouth hovers over yours, claiming your lips as he kisses you hard and possessively. Moans spill out of you, traveling through the expanse of his throat until it hums within his chest and he echoes one back. To talk like this with him, in a language only two lovers could understand, is far more intimate and pleasurable than anyone could ever know. Arthur is yours and you are his, no ownership or proprietary claim, but just the pleasant knowledge that both of you choose to love each other is enough.

With a few more rolls of his hips, he's nearing his own orgasm: length twitching and engorging as his balls tighten. In desperation, he quickly climbs off of you and pulls his cock out from your core. His right hand tightens into a fist around himself, and although you can't see it, you hear the lewd, effortless slide of his hand vigorously pumping over his tip like his life depends on cumming for you.

Finally, his orgasm hits him, working its way out of his tightened balls and spurting over your plump mound and belly. If he could see his spend on you like this, it'd be enough to make him cum all over again. But both of you are far too exhausted to even consider that so soon. You're still shaking, panting heavily as he lowers himself down onto you, not caring that his sticky spend is now covering the front of his body as well, as your sweaty bodies come down from such an enormous height.

His touch traces a slow, deliberate path down your leg until his fingertips reach the softness of your hip, where he gives your flesh a gentle but firm grasp. Reveling in the smoothness of your skin and the feel of your curvy form beneath his palm, he lets out a slow exhale through his nose. The heat of his breath spills over your neck and shoulder, doubled by the heavy breaths leaving his lips as he lazily peppers your clammy skin with kisses.

After a long stretch of quiet spent nestled into his hair, breathing in the comforting remnants of campfire intermingled with his musky scent, your breathing finally begins to steady. Slowly, your senses return to you one by one, like pieces of a puzzle falling back into place. Shock and disbelief jolt through your entire being as it finally hits you how easily he manipulated your body with his own strength and skill as a lover. You'd heard of men being rough with women, but never did you think it could be this pleasurable.

Your voice finally cuts through the relative silence, carrying a deep sense of satisfaction and astonishment with it, "Wh-here in the hell did that come from?"

An amused chuckle rumbles inside his chest, slightly huffing out of his nose as he slightly pushes himself off of you to gauge your reaction, "Reckon I were a little pent up. Why? You like it?"

To say you liked it was an understatement, but you'd like anything as long as Arthur were right there with you to experience it just the same. While his right hand slides up over the plump contours of your body, appreciatively grabbing at the plushness of your stomach and breasts, he lovingly brushes a few stray strands of hair off your forehead stuck there by the sweat covering your body. You hum softly in agreement to his question, deciding that you did enjoy this different side of him you hadn't expected, despite his rough exterior.

"Mhmm.. 'S always good with you," the loving words you murmur cling to his heart and earn you a pleasant kiss that tastes like the remnants of his busted lip.

As his lips trail back down over your jawline, his beard delightfully scratches over your sensitive skin, causing you to hum in appreciation for him loving you like a man who worships the very ground you walk upon. Your own body follows his lead, fingertips glide down the entire length of his back, tracing the contour of muscle that hint at the immense strength lurking beneath. You can't help but marvel at his shape, this man you love so dearly, and how his body was molded for love and carved from such a hard life. While your fingertips glide across his muscled frame, you can feel the subtle shift of his body as he adjusts himself on top of you, notricebly more relaxed than before: a clear testamanet to the calming eddect your touch has on him.

Curiosity peaked, you murmur, "You relaxed now?" as your fingertips idly trace the two little dimples that grace the base of his spine, just above the firm and muscular curve of his ass.

An amused smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, obviously enjoying the path your fingertips are carving out over his back. He'd never admit it, but he loves it when you grab him unabashedly, palming his ass like he so often does to you. The warmth of his cock brushing over your leg, hardening much faster than he expected for a man his age, tells you all you need to know.

He agrees with you, humming softly against your chest as he inches himself down to where his mouth hovers over the plump swell of your breasts, "Thinkin' that we just might need a little more time for relaxin', don'tchu?"

A/N: Big thanks for the divider from @saradika-graphics and the beautiful gif from @sunwingsunset, please go send them some love for their work! <3

Other creators that expressed interest and drew inspiration from: @subpopizzy , @cassietrn , @coltermorning , @redwritr, @zae-heeyyy, @twola , @amorgansgal

Please do go check all the blogs I tagged! You surely won't be disappointed!

As always, sending my love - M. <3

[feinv]

what petnames do u think arthur morgan would use for fem reader,,

mmmfffgghhhfff... mr morgan.... 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

- 🎀

ᡣ𐭩 arthur morgan x fem!reader. — arthur morgan masterlist.

please you don't need your name anymore because he will just stick to pet names. all day every day.

ᯓ angel/darling/sweetheart/love.

this man physically needs to use those. that’s part of how he shows his appreciation and love for you and those pet names are like engraved on his tongue whenever he speaks to you. he will never fail to compliment you and tell you how good you look. but he never has the reason to do so either. he will bath you in sweet remarks just because!!

“how you doin’, sweetheart?” always making sure to check up on you.

“darlin’, you look so beautiful.” “‘m gonna head out for a ride. care to join, angel?” and so on!!

ᯓ sweet/pretty thing.

"ain't ya just a pretty thing? turn 'round, lemme see you," holding your hand above your head for you to swirl and show him your cute look. and his pupils are literally heart shaped staring back at your figure. he is just so madly in love with you. he can’t help himself <3

ᯓ my x girl

don’t get me started on this one. he loves loves loooovvveeessss using “my.” it makes him go insane. he still can’t believe you chose to be with him, out of all men who he believes deserve you better. so every time he implies that you are, in-fact, his, and you always confirm by blushing, he literally gets weak on his knees.

"look at ya, my pretty girl," and you look up at him, your cheeks burning with red at his praise. yeah. he is a goner.

he would steal you away from the camp during the day to just have some alone time before he went to town for hours. and you would laugh and call him crazy, so paranoid of ms. grimshaw noticing your absence. “needed to see my sweet girl, can you blame me?” pinning you to the nearest tree and kissing you like teenagers sneaking around for make out sessions.

ᯓ good girl

yeah. about that one. yeah…it’s literally canon. he would call you good girl in daily life whenever you tried yourself in something new and succeeded. and he is just there like a proud husband cheering you.

during the night, however… *mischievous smirk*

he knows it does things to you, and he makes sure to praise you as much as he can and tell you how good you are doing for him ;)

[johnpriceslamb]

Saw your requests were opened so here is just something I’ve been thinking about !

Arthur Morgan getting sweets/gifts and all from a secret admirer. Girlie is a sneaky one too. Her goal is to just see him be a bit happier because she finds him cute and handsome.

No need to do this! Just think it’s a cute idea.

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐍 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

˚₊‧꒰ You notice the way his gaze softens entirely when he looks at you. You shyly smile at him. To which he smiles back, ever so faintly. ꒱ ‧₊˚

BEFORE YOU PROCEED ! hyper-feminine! reader . fem! reader . reader is implied to be physically shorter than characters mentioned below . love sick Arthur . 1.2k words . Very quick mention of wlw Sadie . ok yes ik that teddy bears were originally made in the 1900s but this story says OTHERWISE !!

A small, bow-tipped teddy bear rests upon his bed roll.

Arthur was amused to say the least at the sight of the miniscule, stuffed version of a bear sitting quite cutely on the fabrics he slept on. This was the third time he's been gifted a little decorative trinket from goodness knows who. First time, a small pink tulip with a little bow tied at the start of its stem, the second time- a tiny sweet wrapped like a ribbon encasing something.

At first, he genuinely thought this was a sick prank played by one of the men to piss him off even further to the max. But with the constant treats he's been getting, Arthur comes to a conclusion that he has a secret admirer.

Each item he’s been kindly offered had a little correlation, he noticed. A bow.

He instantly knew it was from one of the ladies in the gang, since… well, no cowpoke would ever give him anything so delicate, better yet gifts bow-tipped in pink.

“— Arthur?”

A soft, dainty voice was heard from behind which pulled him away from his thoughts. The grizzled man turns his head slightly, away from the small teddy on his bed and to the young lady near the entrance of his tent.

You notice the way his gaze softens entirely when he looks at you. You shyly smile at him. To which he smiles back, ever so faintly.

It was obvious amongst everyone that he’s grown to have a soft spot amongst the women in camp- specially you. How his hand rests upon the small of your back to guide you away from trouble, or the way he visibly becomes stressed at the rumours of you away from camp to visit a shop in a town nearby. The only time he relaxes completely is when he hears that squeal of yours when coming back, showing off the jewellery or such you bought to the other ladies.

In your hands rests a small bowl of stew, the scent of it makes him light up just a bit.

“..F’ me?” He asks— almost shyly.

“Mhm,” you nod sweetly, offering it to him. You can’t help the faint giddiness at the sight of the tulip you secretly gifted him in a little glass of water, which rested near the ledge of his bed.

“You didn’t have to.” His large hand engulfs yours in the process of taking it, “Thank ya kindly, sweetheart.”

“Anything for you,” You give him a toothy smile. He looks at your face for a tad bit too long, before reluctantly glancing away with a deep hum.

A ghost of a cheeky smile etches on your face. You feign curiosity, peaking over his shoulder to peer at the small bear on his bed.

He notices your curious gaze. “Was a gift, if you were wonderin’.”

“Oh? by who?” Innocence feigns in your eyes. Cheeky girl.

Wispy lashes tinker softly as he eats a spoonful of the food you brought with a soft grunt at the end, indicating that the food was rich with flavour he had taken a liking to.

He hesitates for a moment, before answering. “I uh.. I don’t know.”

“…You don’t know?” You quirk a brow, giggling softly.

Something about that giggle makes his knees buckle.

“Yeah. That’s the thing— I don’t know,” He grumbles, “Been gettin’ gifts from someone in the gang. ‘S like I got some secret admirer or sumthin’.”

The light pink bow in your hair makes his eyes squint a bit.

“May I see?” You ask with a small smile.

“Go ‘head.” He gives you full permission with a slight nod to his head, the hat he adorned concealing those blue eyes.

You toddle to his bed, sitting oh-so prettily near the edge. The teddy bear was now in your lap, as you played with it for a bit. You rub its ears with the pads of your thumb and index finger.

He has a faint grin at the sweet sight.

“You gonna name it?” You ask.

“I ain’t a child,” He grunts, only to tighten his lips at the way your face meekly droops at his comment. He lets out a soft sigh, pondering for a moment.

“I dunno.. Uh.. Coco?”

“Coco?” You brighten up at the interesting name. He sees the way your smile widens at the choice of title, happy he indulged in your silly sweetness. You coo out a little ‘hi, Coco’ to the stuffie as if it was alive

Damnit, you were far too cute. He has to tilt his head down a bit to the floor so you wouldn’t see the way his temples became a soft red colour.

“Coco is so, so cute!” You prattle, taking one of his little limbs and moving it side to side to symbolise the teddy waving at him.

“Mmhm. It’d be nice to know who’d be giving me these things, so I could thank em properly. I got this.. underlyin’ sense of guilt for not being able to say thanks.”

You smile at his words. Arthur was a gentleman to women, and you were no exception to his gentle behaviour. A soft flicker in your doe eyes was apparent. Perhaps from the light, or from the way your heart melts at his sincerity. No man could compare to him in your eyes.

It takes you a bit to reply. “You’re sweet, y’know that?”

He takes one more spoonful of the stew.

“I ain’t, sweetheart.”

⋆˚🐾˖°

Arthur was gone. Gone from camp and away within the everlasting greens with another— probably Charles to go hunting for food. Food supply was running low as of now- which you made a mental note to buy some food if you ever went back to town, that is.

The perfect time to give him his little gift.

You cheekily look left and right.

Delicate flat-soles heels clicked gently on the grass beneath, tip-toeing towards his tent. With the gentle sounds of ruffled fabrics coming from your sleeves leads to the slight rustle of the wrapped-up sweet that was placed gently on his bed.

You look around to see if anyone was close by, only to toddle away sneakily- albeit a bit clumsily.

Just a few hours later, you see his figure coming back to camp, lazily hunched on his horse with game behind him. You see Charles behind on his horse— Taima. Pretty thing she was, very friendly to you.

You can’t help but admire the two men whom stroll in with said game lurched over their shoulders as they approached the area of the make-shift kitchen Mr. Pearson was lounging.

You tinker your long lashes, giving them a shy wave. You beam as they both return a wave, with Charles noticing first and giving a small nod in return as well as a faint smile.

The hunter whom adorned a feather earring was close to you, he took upon the role of a big-brother to you. You can’t help but admire him.

A nudge to Arthur’s arm gets his attention and immediately has a smile on his face as he catches a glance at your pixie-like figure from near by.

You turn around and leave the sight, probably to go help with some other chores.

Arthur’s eyes narrows a bit at the light pink coloured bow attached to the back of your head, seemingly pondering about something before going back to skinning the animal.

He feels like he knows who his little secret admirer is, but he won’t comment just yet.

⋆˚🐾˖°

He was a fool, but he wasn’t ignorant.

Each present he’s been given was obviously from a lady, someone with a good taste in perfume— considering that the teddy that he kindly received was laced with a sweet, feminine scent. Not to mention the light pink bow Coco had wrapped around his little neck.

He knew it wasn’t from Karen, she’s not quite interested in the colour pink nor did she enjoy stuffed animals.

It wasn’t Tilly either, she was more of a little sister to him, and she wasn’t a fan of sweets anyway.

Mary-Beth, perhaps? No.. That girl was smitten with the former O’driscoll member.

Abigail was taken, and Miss Grimshaw.. no way.

Sadie did not even come to his mind. He knew very well that the gunslinger would probably pick you over him in a heart beat.

All that was left was.. you.

Your acting skills were top-notch, he had to give you that. It took him almost an entire week to figure it out. Quite so did he question himself if it was you who bestowed these lovely trinkets to him- you acted so clueless when you first saw that teddy.

His blue eyes stare at the sweet that was placed on his bed. He looked like a fool, giddy feelings rushing up to his stomach as he picks up the small treat. It just had to be you.

He savours the taste of the dark chocolate candy, stuffing the wrapper in his pocket once he was done with it. The bitter-sweet flavour bursting in his tastebud once he chewed on it.

Should he confront you? He’s not sure himself. Confrontation wasn’t the best when it came to you, he’d guess that you’d probably stammer like a little bunny and squeak away.

He turns his head just a bit— and there you were, sly smile with that sweet little dimple that accentuated your bunny-like features. You were sat with the other ladies, mindlessly joining in their conversation as the eye contact you both held seemed like an eternity.

That dumb smile was on his face again.

It was you.

And he was glad it was you.

“Damn woman,” he grunts under his breath. It wasn’t in a derogatorive way, oh- absolutely not. He’s smitten. He’s quick on his feet, trudging up towards you from behind in a rapid pace. That damn smile you gave him got him feeling so shy.

You don’t expect the big smooch coming your way in the matter of seconds.

[messrmoonyy]

- Give me my sin again

Arthur Morgan x Female reader

Request- " if Arthur has a secret lover that he tells no one about and he goes to see her when he can after jobs maybe.shes so kind and devout and good that he thinks he doesn't deserve her. But he be besotted with her obsessed to worship the ground she walks on. Arthur not believing in anything but finding this good woman and wanting to be good for her but maybe knowing he can't

A/N- this is mostly a kind of dive into Arthur's head I like it idk. I also paired this with a request I had about bathing Arthur. It kinda fits. Anyway this is a lil shorter than I normally write but life had been lifing lately Imao. And this got me back into writing something for the first time in a lil bit so! Do enjoy.

Warnings- 18+ | some religious imagery, a small chunk of smut right near the end (oral, R receiving) { wc- 3.4k}

Masterlist | AO3

Arthur was not a good man . He feared he never had been. Not really. No matter how many people could try convince him otherwise. He wasn’t. He was bad. He did bad things. A good man didn’t murder, rob, manipulate.

He was no saint. So incredibly far from it.

And yet with you? Well… he felt he could be.

You with your delicate hands that soothed his bruised and battered skin, your voice like that of an angel on his shoulder that spoke to him with an airy tenderness that he did not deserve.

He was not a holy man. And yet for you he would renounce all sin and drop to his knees to beg for forgiveness and retribution. The only deity worth worshipping in his eyes. His slice of heaven always waiting to chase the darkness from his mind. If just for a few hours.

He was drawn to you like there was something mystical in your words, hypnotising him, controlling him, luring him in with nothing but a smile. He would find himself stumbling his way to your door, just to drop down at your feet and beg. Beg for you to erase his sins and show him grace, Allow him the privilege of being in your presence for a while. Because in that awful, terrible world he’d found himself in… nothing felt right but you.

And so there he was again. At your door. Standing there in the rain as he waited for you to answer. His knuckles bruised on the wood in the night, praying you’d be awake, two rabbits slung over his shoulder. As if they could be excuse enough to spend more time with you.

That he had brought you supplies. And that of course he wouldn’t mind skinning them for you. No it really wasn’t a bother.

Though deep down he knew he didn’t need an excuse. That you would always welcome him in with open arms and at times had even begged him not to leave again. But he always felt like he needed the excuse… maybe more to convince himself of something rather than you.

He knocked again. Hoping, praying you were still awake.

And you were. As if you’d been waiting. Maybe you had. But probably not. It has been weeks. 3. 4? He wasn’t sure. But weeks . Weeks that had felt like some kind of condemnation for his sins, being punished by having to stay away. Dutch in one ear, Strauss in the other. A gaggle of others behind him.

Like some guard dog sent out to attack. Kill. Rob. Threaten. And he was tired. Exhausted. He’d no chance to slip away, no chance to sneak his way to your cabin.

But he was there now.

And so were you.

“ Arthur” you looked ethereal. Stood there in the doorway, backlit by the lamp in the room behind you. You didn’t sound surprised to see him. More relieved than anything.

He knew he worried you. Knew you must be sick with it when he went away for weeks on end, no sign he was alive other than another article on the front of the paper about Dutch and the gang robbing something or other.

He walked in as you stepped aside, standing in the warmth of your small home. He’d arranged it for you some time back. Some place to keep you safe.

“ I missed you “ you said, your arms wrapping around his rain soaked torso. Your head resting against his chest, breathing out like you had just received your first gasp of air after being held underwater for too long.

“ I missed you too “ he murmured, his free arm wrapping around you. Strong. Secure. Steady. You were grounding, dragging him out of a haze he had been stuck in to coax him back to reality “ brought you these “ he said, his voice low. Gruff even. He felt like he couldn’t raise his voice in there. That if he did the illusion would shatter and he’d wake up in his tent. All of it some cruel dream to taunt him.

“ thank you “ you said, your voice soft “ I’ll skin them later “ that made Arthur smile, a chuckle escaping his lips. The first in 4 weeks.

“ darlin’ I’ve seen the way you skin game. I ain’t lettin’ you anywhere near ‘em you’ll butcher the damn things “ his voice was gentle with his teasing, but it was true. He’d once left you to it, letting you skin the game he’d brought you. Only to return to what looked like a massacre had taken place on your kitchen table “ I’ll do it “

You laughed a little yourself and nodded

“ yeah I… I ain’t the best huh “ he dropped the rabbits on the table and then turned back to you, he needed to be close to you again.

“ I really did miss ya “ he murmured, reaching out to tuck his fingers under your chin so you’d look up at him “ sorry I ain’t been around much “

He looked down at you, just looking. Admiring. You were so beautiful . So unbelievably gorgeous that it made his heart ache. So beautiful that even death would hesitate to pluck you up into his waiting arms. Because to remove you from the earth would be too vicious even for him, to devoid the planet of such beauty would be low even by his standards.

“ where y’been? “ you asked softly, leaning into his touch “ doin’ bad things again? “

“ real bad things sweetheart “ he murmured.

You never really asked him for more details. Never went delving into what dark and desperate things he found himself doing for Dutch. You'd push from time to time. But never asked anything too damning. You knew he was bad. Never asked him to confess his sins to you, you just let them lie. Let him forget them for a while whilst he was with you.

“ that mess in Valentine… was that you? “ she asked “ read about it in the papers. Claiming it was Van Der Linde boys. And I figured… that usually means you “ Arthur sighed, tucking some of your hair behind your ear as you looked up at him.

He didn’t deserve the way you gazed at him. The way you admired him. The way you peeled back each layer of terribleness to see the good hidden deep underneath.

“ yeah “ he didn’t attempt to lie. What was the need? You knew anyway “ Strauss took a bullet. Old bastards still breathin’ though unfortunately “ he murmured and stepped away from you. He felt tetchy. Needed to busy his hands.

You seemed to gather the point. That that was enough for now. That you didn’t need to know the who’s, the when’s, they why’s. He’d told you the vague outline. Skimmed the tale. And that was enough.

“ well… you gonna sort them rabbits f’me? I’ll cook you up somethin’ nice “ Arthur gave a small smile at your willingness to let his vague stories stay exactly that. To know he did bad things, but not wishing to know exactly what those things were.

And so you both fell into an almost domestic scene. The comfortable quiet that could settle around two people doing their own thing, two people just happy to be in each others company. Two people comfortable together.

He skinned the game as you pottered about doing something or other in the kitchen around him. It felt nice. A scene he could almost see himself having permanently.

Maybe somewhere back out west. Some little cabin or ranch, just you and him. And some sheep or chickens or… something. That damn rancher life Dutch had been harping on about for so long… but just you two.

A ring on your finger. A family. Domesticity that he never truly realised he’d craved.

But that was all some hopeless dream wasn’t it.

So he’d savour those moments for now. The quiet bliss. The escape from everything back at camp. His quiet comfortable time with you.

He finished the game, washing off his hands and placed himself behind you, arms around your waist and a gentle kiss to your cheek.

Those moments were his. His true escape and joy. When he could feel vulnerable. Affectionate.

You were the only true receiver of his affections. You brought it out of him. A constant deep desire within him to want to hold you. Kiss you. Love you. Something he usually tried to keep buried.

It was a tender scene. His chin propped on your shoulder, his arms around you. You often joked that it baffled you how this man that was so tender with you, so caring. So… soft. Was wanted dead or alive in multiple states.

His true moments of retribution came when he was with you like that. When he could hold you and be gentle. Pour out all his emotions and feelings via his actions.

Including the times when he was able to press you into your mattress. Your bed, his saving grace, his chance to truly worship every inch of you. And worship he did. Hands determined and insistent on your soft skin, mapping out your curves and edges to commit them to memory. Lips burning as they trailed your body to commit each inch to his brain.

The way your hands gripped at him, your fingernails piercing his skin and keeping him grounded. Reminding him it was all real he was sane. And the sounds you made more beautiful than any angel, whispering his name in his ear.

He always made sure to worship every part of you. Kissing in the most uncommon of places. His lips brushing your hip bone. The inside of your wrist. Each and every divet of your spine. Making sure you knew he cared. That he appreciated every second he had of you. That you weren’t some hurried little triste that he kept hidden away until he felt an itch needed to be scratched. That this side of things wasn’t a necessity. But simply just a way to prove his points.

He made sure you knew you were his everything. The one thing keeping him holding on to his morality, his one tether to the right side of things.

Afterwards he would lay there with you. Your body’s intwined and your fingers stroking through his hair. And he’d wonder when he’d get to see you again. When he’d be able to return to your arms. Missing you before he’d even left

And he desired it now.

It wasn’t even an inherently lust fuelled desire. But a desire to simply be close. To hold. To touch. To feel. To be touched in a way of care and to touch in a way that showed love not violence. To prove he could touch with love. That not everything he did needed to be violent.

So he turned you gently, cupping your face in his hands. And kissed you. Firm. But not rushed. Purposeful. His hands pulling gently at your hips to hold you flush against him. Some silent request for more.

But you held your hands firmly to his chest as he kissed you, like you could read his mind.

“ ain’t lettin’ you into my bed like this “ you said with a slight sternness to your tone that made him smile “ you look like you went swimmin’ in the swamps “ he chuckled at your words and nodded.

“ and I thought you enjoyed a rugged man “ he teased, his voice low and thick. He always spoke like he needed to be quiet with you. Like inside those four walls of your cabin if he spoke any louder he’d shatter the facade and you’d vanish.

“ rugged. Not filthy “ you teased with a smile and pressed a kiss to his cheek “ I’ll draw you a bath “

He watched you slip from his grasp, disappearing to arrange it. Simply because you wanted to. You didn’t have to. You weren’t the type to be some slave of a wife to a man that demanded everything of you. And he was not the type to be that kind of husband.

You simply just cared. Had too much care and kindness in your heart.

When it was ready you called him through. The whole thing still as quiet and calm as it had been since he’d stepped through your door.

The contrast always shocked him.

“ c’mon. Whilst it’s hot sugar “ you said softly, grabbing gently at his jacket from behind to help him shed it.

Being naked in front of you wasn’t always some lust filled moment. It was… natural. Intimate in ways different from those fuelled by sex. Vulnerable. Completely bare and unarmed. A way no one but you got to see him. A way he was certain he could never really trust anyone as much as you.

“need some time alone or ya want a hand? “ you asked softly, perching on the side of the tub. It was a little small. Or maybe he was a little big. Probably both.

He didn’t need your help not at all. But he’d take every single second he could have with you. Each tick of the clock was precious.

“ like my own personal bath girl ain’t ya darlin? “ he said with a smirk which made you smile, but roll your eyes.

“ I don’t think I’m as complimentary “ you said softly, dipping a cloth into the water to wash away the dirt and dust that came from sleeping outdoors and riding on horseback all day “ god the state of ya Arthur “ you sighed, gently washing over bruises and cuts.

You were used to that though. Arthur’s body had been littered in scars and bruises as long as he could remember.

“ ain’t nothin serious “ he said and it just made you sigh.

Your touch was so gentle against his battered skin. As if washing away all the bad he’d done in the 4 weeks between seeing you. As if he would step out of that tub and out of your door a new man, that he’d be restored to new from your gentleness alone. He could pretend at least.

“ need t’eat more “ you murmured softly, your fingers trailing down his side “ gettin’ skinny “ it felt nice to hear concern. For someone to worry about him. For someone to notice “ I do worry bout ya Arthur “ you said quietly as if reading his mind “ more so lately “

He sighed and nodded

“ I know my darlin’. I know “

“ ain’t never been this bad “

“ I know ” he glanced up at you as you ran soap suds through his hair, your fingers soft and gentle on the knots.

“ cant help feelin’ like… like one day you just ain’t gonna come back here “ he closed his eyes for a moment and nodded. He knew that this was how it was. That he worried you. That he caused you so much stress and anxiety “ I knew the deal when we first met but… Arthur what the hell happened back in Blackwater? “

His jaw involuntarily tensed at the mention of Blackwater. Because Arthur didn’t really know what had happened. He’d heard different accounts. Dutch said one thing. John another. The papers something else.

All he did know, was deep down even without the evidence to prove the fact, it had something to do with Micah. Micah and his impulsive tendencies

“ darlin’ “ he sighed again “ I ain’t even sure. I weren’t there you know I weren’t “ he hung his head a little and closed his eyes for a moment “ whatever it was it was bad. And Dutch… he’s got all these plans. Ranching or god damn mangoes in Tahiti I don’t know look- “ he reached out and grabbed your hand, squeezing it softly “ whatever that mess was, I gotta help them pick up the pieces. Y’know I do “

“ yeah. I know “ you said quietly

“ but once they got enough money, they can go off and have their South Pacific dreams… and I’ll be free to go where I like. Right back here. T’you “ he didn’t quite believe it himself. And it felt cruel to say it when he truly thought about it. But some part of him felt that if he spoke it out loud, maybe it could happen.

But then again. Maybe not.

You didn’t seem convinced. Not at all. That look in your eyes that seemed filled with sadness and longing. Longing for a life he couldn’t give you. Not yet.

“ sounds like a real nice dream “ you said quietly, standing up to grab him a towel to dry off

“ it is darlin. It is. And you keep dreamin’ it cause I will make it happen. I swear it to ya I will “ he wrapped the towel around him and stepped out of the tub, placing his hands on your shoulders “ I will darlin “

You gave him a gentle smile and reached up to brush the backs of your fingers across his cheek, nodding softly

“ I’ll keep dreamin “

As was the usual he ended up in your bed again, desperate to prove his point and show you his true devotion. Purging his sins with his head between your thighs.

His fingers softly traced along your folds, spreading them gently. He groaned as he felt you quiver and twitch under his touch, the feeling and sound making him more and more insatiable. More desperate to please. His thumb ran up and pressed against your clit, rubbing firmly, almost possessively like he was trying to mark the territory as his. Watching your reactions as you squirmed below him, heavenly sounds escaping your mouth.

“ so good Arthur “

Your mewling and whining was like music to his ears, he could listen to it all day. Hearing you moan out your praises only made his tongue move faster, his efforts to bring you to climax increasing. His hands gripping your thighs, using his free hand to push your hips down gently.

It was never about him in those moments. Didn’t care for getting any kind of release himself. He just cared about you. As if doing something so selfless would free him of his vengeful, selfish ways from the last few weeks.

He circled your clit, giving you the attention you needed and wanted from him, making up for his absence with every swipe of his tongue, listening to the pretty moans you made. His tongue swiped across you again and again, licking a strip over your sensitive skin just wanting to touch you everywhere.

Your soft moans and writhing movements were enough to drive him crazy, his hands gripping tightly at your thighs.

“ m’so… Arthur I- “ you spoke brokenly, your hand patting around softly before grabbing onto his “ Arthur “ your soft whimper of his name made him groan hungrily, his fingers instantly lacing with yours

“ right here darlin. Ain’t goin no where “

He hummed softly against you, feeling your muscles tighten under his tongue. He pressed his tongue flat against you, giving a long, slow lick. He was addicted to the taste, he just wanted more of you. Like he couldn’t get enough. Couldn’t get close enough. He groaned softly again, the vibrations of the sound clearly doing you wonders.

He could feel your walls beginning to clench around his tongue as he thrust it inside of you,your hand squeezing down on his and you softly mewled his name over and over . And a few more flicks of his tongue was enough, your back arching from your bed with a high pitched whine. Your thighs clamping around his head making him moan against you, not stopping in his ministrations. Fervently licking and lapping until you went slack, gently pushing at his head.

“ oh Jesus “ you whispered with a soft, breathy laugh “ I don’t know how you’re so good at that “ he smirked softly and crawled back over your body, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“ you give me enough practice “ he murmured with a smile, tilting your head so that he could kiss you.

“ did you really mean what you said earlier?” You asked quietly as he pulled back, your fingers brushing his hair back from his forehead “ that dream. We’ll really have that some day? “

He looked down at you. So hopeful. So desperate to love and to be loved. By him. He wanted to give you the world. To hand you anything and everything you wanted and needed on a silver platter before you could even ask for it.

Deep down he wished he could. A small, tiny part of him hoping that one day he really could fulfil that desire. Be… normal. A rancher or a farm hand. You, his wife. A kid.

But a louder, stronger part of him told him he couldn’t. That he’d never really escape. That something would always be in the way. Something would always stop him.

But looking down at you, that loving hopeful look. He couldn’t tell you that.

“ yeah. Yeah darlin’ we will “

[moonlightkitties]

Snowstorm Cuddles - Charles Smith x Reader

Plot: Getting stuck in a snowstorm during a hunting trip, you and Charles share body heat to warm up.

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 561

Divider by @strangergraphics !!

"The snow is only going to pick up more," Charles said from the inside of the tent that you put up.

"Then we'll stay here for the night and make our way back to camp in the morning," you say, matter of factly. You and Charles went on a hunting trip and left camp early in the morning. You were supposed to be back by now but you wanted to go up further into the mountains to see if there were "good looking buck."

You did find a gorgeous, meaty looking buck but you weren't looking where you were standing and crunched on a tree branch, making it run away.

Charles was, rightfully, annoyed that you lost the deer and got the both of you stranded in the middle of the Grizzlies Mountain and was in a sour mood because of it.

"Look, I'm sorry I lost that deer but come on, you can't be mad at me forever," you sigh, laying your bedroll out. "I'm not mad," Charles said, "Just annoyed," he finished "I told you we shouldn't have came all the way up here when we could have found better animals deeper in the woods."

Charles shut the flaps of the tent and crawled over to lay on his own bedroll. The roar of the snow and wind was loud outside of the tent and your clothes or coat did nothing to shield you from it. Your teeth were chattering and you rolled over a few times to try and get some warmth. "Are you okay?" Charles asked from beside you. "Does it sound like I'm okay?" you asked, your breaths sharp. Charles scoffed "No, It doesn't, but I wanted you to be the one to say it."

"I'll be fine though," you said, you voice shaking.

"Come here," Charles wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest. Your cheeks immediately flared up. His chest and body was warm, way warmer than yours. You were shivering slightly so Charles draped his coat over your shoulders, leaving him in his union suit and practically naked. "You don't have to do this," you say, you've had the biggest crush on him since he joined the gang but never really brought it up and now that he pulled you into his chest to warm you up, you swore your crush for him grew.

"You know I see how you look at me around camp, right?" he asked and your heart stopped. "What do you mean?" you ask, your voice quiet; from his bluntness and from the cold. "I mean exactly what I meant, I mean you practically shot up from your spot in camp once I asked who wanted to go hunting with me."

Oh...you didn't think he would have noticed.

"I-I just didn't want you to go alone, y'know?" you asked, trying to brush it off "You could have gotten taken from a bear or somethin'." Charles smirks "Sure," he said, his eyes rolling. You could feel his gaze on you but you tried to ignore it, you hiding your pink cheeks but you knew he could see. "I-I'm warm enough now," you say, trying to wiggle yourself away from his grasp "You can let me go."

"No thanks," he said, pulling you closer, "I kind of like it here."

Tonight was going to be a long night.

[21witnokidz]

IN THE GHETTO

Chapter 20

A/N: I'm sorry I've been inactive due to pure laziness so as an apology here's a long and satisfying chapter

“Alright good boy copper!”

It was your turn to take the dog on a walk and he managed to catch himself a rabbit. Despite you and Arthur splitting you still decided to keep the dog and take turns taking care of him.

When you got back to camp you could hear the loud cries of a baby.

Jack Marston, John and Abigail’s son was born 2 years ago. He’s a good kid but he can sure cry his heart out. Especially since John up and left us.

John’s explanation was that he thought the baby wasn’t his. Before he got Abigail pregnant she had already been with half the gang so it made him anxious. When the baby came out he couldn’t really tell who’s it was but as the days went on it started to look more and more not like him.

John is still pretty young but damn you thought having a baby would mature him a little.

“Hey Abigail you doing alright?” You stepped inside Abigail’s little tent.

“Does it look like it? The baby won’t shut up and his father ain’t even here. How am I supposed to do this alone?”

“You’re not alone”

“This baby needs his father!”

You took Jack from her arms and tried to rock him a little. Since you were still getting used to handling a baby you didn’t really know how to calm him down. He just kept on crying.

Abigail sighed and took him back.

“It’s ok y/n you shouldn’t have to. I just wish I wasn’t so careless. Even now Dutch and them look at me differently. The only ones who still treat me the same is the girls, you and Arthur. Y/n.. you and Arthur have known John way longer than I have. Can you please bring him back?”

You never really been on a job with Arthur ever since the break up so you really didn’t want to do this. But you were going to for your friend.

“Alright I’ll see what I can do”

You walked out the tent and let out the deep breath you were holding ever since Abigail mentioned Arthur’s name. God you wished he didn’t have such an effect on you.

You looked to see Charles heading your way.

“She ok?”

“Yea but she asked me to go with Arthur to try and find John”

“I could come with you guys”

“No you don’t have to. I know you're a good hunter but I don't know if that'll still apply to humans"

Charles sat you down and began massaging your shoulders.

“You’re so tense. I think you should rest up and go tomorrow. I saved you some food while you were gone”

“Thank you Charles” See Charles was nice but the thing is. You can’t stop thinking about Arthur. You just didn’t want to do anything about it because you didn’t want to break his heart.

“Speaking of Arthur I’m gonna go see what he wants. He was calling me earlier when I was busy so I’m gonna go check on him”

Charles walked over to the horses where he found Arthur feeding his horse.

“Arthur” Charles nodded.

“Charles! I was asking if you could teach me how to use that bow of yours. If you’d be so kind”

“Sure thing”

Charles handed Arthur his own bow and they went into the woods.

“Sorry about what happened between you and Mary”

“Yea it was never meant to be anyway”

“What makes you say that?”

“I dunno I guess things just weren’t in their right place. You ever feel like that sometimes?”

“Yea. Hey look. A boar”

The men ducked and quietly kneeled towards the beast.

“Oh Pearson will be happy with this one”

“Ok just put the arrow in the string and slightly draw it back. Not too much though”

Arthur drew the arrow and missed completely, scaring off the boar.

“Damn! It got away. I'm sorry my mind wasn’t clear”

“What’s wrong?”

“Just everything from y/n to Mary and John. This is exactly what I meant when I said everything isn’t in the right place”

“What about y/n?”

“Oh don’t play dumb you kno- oh that’s right… you don’t know”

Charles stopped what he was doing and raised his brow.

“Well I didn’t wanna be the one to tell ya this partner but before you joined us we had some history”

“She never told me that”

“I mean there's nothing between us now but I can’t lie. I think about her a lot. Even with Mary, I only got with her to try and forget about what we once had”

“You still love her?”

“Listen that don’t matter. You two are in love now and that’s it”

“I’m not sure about that. Even when me and y/n are together it never feels like she’s really there. And whenever we talk she somehow always makes the topic about something that has to do with you. I didn’t want to believe it then but I guess I always had a feeling there was something between you two”

“I’m sorry. Let’s just go back”

“No it’s fine. Just let me know how you feel about her and I’ll leave you two alone. And be honest”

“Well.. I only ever talked about this with Dutch and Hosea. We first met and got together when we were just kids. She was my first everything. God we were so young and stupid. We’ve been through a lot of things together. Done a lot of things together… said a lot of things. But like I said that don’t matter no more. You two are gonna have a baby and that’ll be the end of whatever we had”

“Baby? What the hell are you talking about?”

“When you guys were in town. I heard you talking about a baby in the store”

Charles couldn’t help but bend over laughing with his hands on his stomach.

“No Arthur you got it all wrong. We were talking about Abigail’s baby”

“Oh” Arthur scratched his neck “well now I feel stupid”

“Not to be mean but you really are an idiot. If you love that girl so much then go get her. I’m sure she still loves you”

“What about you?”

“Forget about me. I’d want her to be with the man she really wants”

Arthur just shook his head “Man you really are different from everyone else here. How’d a guy like you even end up with guys like us?”

“Sometimes I wonder that myself”

By the time Arthur and Charles made it back it was already dark.

“She’s most likely sleeping now so you might as well go in the morning”

“Thanks again Charles”

Morning

You walked out your tent to get some coffee and sat down next to Charles.

“Hi” you kissed him on the cheek.

“Y/n can I talk to you?”

“Yea what’s up?”

“Arthur told me all about you two and I realize now that I’ve been holding you back. I heard your story and you two really belong to each other. Because you’re both idiots”

You just had a blank stare and started laughing a little.

“Aw man. No, you’re right. I’m sorry for all this Charles. This whole thing has been a mess”

“Don’t dwell on it too much. I just think everything should go back to how it used to be. John should be back and you and Arthur should be together again. Even when you aren’t together you still compliment each other perfectly”

“Thank you Charles” you got up and hugged him.

You heard Arthur call your name from the horses for you to get ready and ride off.

“Ok I gotta go now I guess I’ll see you when I get back”

“Yea. And bring that other idiot back with you. It’s not the same without hearing the banter between him and Abigail”

You walked. No you power walked to where Arthur was. Now that everything was resolved you were happy to be around him again. Well almost everything was resolved. You still had to deal with Mary. Still you’d find your way around that soon enough.

Arthur had a smug smile when you approached him. “Hey troublemaker”

“You call me the troublemaker? Get real Morgan. Weren’t you the one who got John stuck in that O’Driscoll camp?”

“Who was the one who thought it’d be a good idea to shoot at birds deep in the night?”

“Who was the one who decided to burn the tent down trying to boil WATER”

“So we’re not gonna talk about that one time you almost led an actor to suicide?”

“No that was you! Don’t put that on me!”

“But you definitely made a contribution”

“Ok fine we’ll call it even”

-

“So I heard some people saying that there was a man who was camping out at the woods taking bounties”

“Yea that sounds like him. Come on”

You got off your horses and walked into the nearby town with the witnesses.

You saw a woman hanging out her clothes to dry and Arthur kicked his boot up on her wash bucket to greet her. Is he trying to show off or?

“Excuse me ma’am. Have you seen a dirty man bout yay tall” he put his hand up to his chin to show a poor demonstration of John’s height “he’s dirty and smells like dog”

“Oh you know what we should’ve gotten Copper to track him down that would’ve been easier” You explained.

Arthur lowered his head and sighed. “Listen can you just tell us where he is?”

“Well folks said he was gettin’ rough in that bar over there. I wouldn’t recommend gettin’ him riled up though I heard he bites people” The woman responded

You and Arthur just laughed. “Thank you ma’am. Let’s go”

“Y’know I never got the chance to tell you this but I’m happy for you and Mary”

“Me and Mary ain’t together no more”

“REALLY? I mean- really?? Why what happened?”

“Just didn’t feel right” he looked at you.

When you two entered the bar you already heard a ruckus.

“I told you my name ain’t John Marston. It’s Rip Van Winkle!”

“And I told you I don’t serve criminals. This is your wanted poster right here ain’t it?” The bartender pulled out the bounty and John let out a noise you could only identify as shock.

“That’s uh- that’s not me”

“Oh that’s him alright” you spoke up.

John slowly turned around with a scowl on his face.

“What are you two doing here?”

“What are YOU doing here?”

“Listen I don’t care what y’all have to say I’m not coming back”

“Abigail is really struggling without you and you’re just out here getting drunk without a care in the world“

“Y/n I put all my heart into caring for Abigail when she was pregnant. Now I come to find out that the baby ain’t even mine. It looks like it could be Dutch’s”

“Does that even matter? I thought you loved her”

“And I thought she loved me!”

“Alright I’ve had enough” Arthur came and grabbed John by the ear “yer coming back with us ya hear? You need to grow up and be a man!”

Arthur dragged him outside with you behind them and you were found surrounded by the police.

“I told you it’s them. Arthur Morgan, Y/N L/N, and John Marston all lined up!” The bartender slipped away while y’all were talking and got the law here.

“Well I’ll be damned” one of them tipped their hat. “Alright all of you come nice and easy now”

“What do we do?” You looked at Arthur.

“Just comply” he put his hands up and you and John followed.

IN JAIL

Now you three idiots were sitting looking dumb in jail. Now you finally realized why you three got that nickname. After all, before John came it used to be the two idiots. Me and Arthur. It makes you wonder. When Jack grows up is he gonna be a new addition to this unruly group of dimwits?

“I really thought she loved me” John muttered.

“She does John” you walked over to his side and put a hand on his back “and if you think she didn’t love you back then she has to now after all you’ve done for her. And to be honest, she’s not the only one who needs you. We need you. Including Arthur”

“Nah don’t bring me into this” Arthur asserted. “But y/n’s right. Some people in the camp need you”

You nudged his arm. “Ok I need you too from time to time”

“What the hell do you two know about love anyway? It’s not like you ever made it work out with each other. When we first met you two was like Romeo and Juliet and now it's all messed up. Arthur has Mary and you have Charles”

“Well actually..” you started.

“We kinda got..” Arthur continued.

“Dumped” you both said in unison.

Immediately John’s face brightened.

“So you two are going strong again!?” He said with a smile.

“We never said that-“ Arthur started.

“We’re just open now” you finished.

“Oh come on. You two are literally finishing each other’s sentences. Maybe if you two get back together then my mind will be convinced that me and Abigail can get back together too”

“Or how about if you go back to camp now then maybe me and Arthur will think about it”

“Alright”

Arthur looked at you and smiled, happy that you were ready to try again.

“Hey buddy!” You called out to the sheriff keeping watch of you three and handed him a 20 dollar bill. “Come on I know you want it”

The sheriff took the dollar and released you then shut the door when John and Arthur tried to walk out.

“What the hell?”

“She was the only one who gave me the 20 so she’s the only one who gets to leave”

They rolled their eyes and put the money into his hands and they were released.

Back at camp

Everything was back to normal now. John was back. Everyone was happy and you didn’t have to worry anymore.

You sat by a lake with Copper right next to you until you heard Arthur come up behind you.

“I ain’t bothering you am I?”

“No”

He sat down next to you and started petting Copper. “So we’re open now huh?”

“How would you explain it?” You laughed.

“I don’t know. All I do know is that I was a fool to try and get with Mary when I was the one who broke up with you. Are you mad at me?”

“A little”

“I understand. I don’t expect you to forgive me but I’m sorry”

Copper stood up to lay across you and Arthur’s legs.

You two looked at each other.

“Do you forgive me y/n?”

You put your hand on top of Arthur’s and he knew his answer.

[ramen-flavored]

Arthur Morgan, The Man You Are

[immajustvibehere]

Touch Starved Arthur x fem!touchy Reader (Part 2)

Pairing: hh!Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader (fluffly)

Part1 here!

summary: Arthur takes you and Jack out camping for two nights. Both of you have to battle your feelings for each other until you finally....

warnings: one bed trope, fluff, domestic bliss

6000 words

In the manner of Arthur’s approach, you knew he was up to something. His big hands rested on his gun belt, his expression was casual. His attempt to appear relaxed was almost perfect. You weren’t fooled so easily, though. By the smug grin that started to appear on your face as Arthur came closer, he understood that you had sensed his unease from a mile away. Your intuition was exceptional, and Arthur silently cursed himself for his own transparency. And suddenly, there were his subtle tells…the scratching of his neck, the scrunching of his nose, the restlessness of his fingers caressing the leather of the belt.

"Hey, what's up?", you asked and propped your head up with your elbow resting on the table.

"Uhm...I have a proposition to make", Arthur awkwardly sat down at the table. Thankfully, barely anyone else was around to witness this encounter. The sun hadn’t risen yet and people were only slowly crawling out of their beds. In fact, Arthur still saw the remnants of sleep in your features but the steaming mug of coffee in front of you suggested that you were diligently combating it.

"I'm all ears."

Arthur couldn’t help but detect the playful undertone in your voice. You had grown more comfortable around each other the last few days and weeks and some banter and teasing were commonplace by now, particularly in the presence of others. But when you found yourselves alone, which hadn’t really happened since last time, you’d feel like there was a more genuine connection and care for each other than either of you would normally let on.

"Ya can say no if ya don't want to but-...well, I already talked to Abigail. She said she was fine with it", Arthur started. You had no clue what he was on about, but he pressed on, "I suggested we take out Jack for a night or two. The boy needs to see something aside this patch of land and I thought...if you would wanna tag along? You know, I was fine fishing with him but I'm not sure if I'd be any good at the other stuff."

"Yes, of course", you immediately replied. Arthur wasn't sure why he had expected a rejection or a dismissal that he was stupid to suggest such a thing. You actually looked pleasantly surprised about the idea.

You smiled: "It's not just Jack, you know? I haven't left camp since we moved here, so I'll get to see some of the country too!"

"Okay, sure", Arthur said, still somewhat in surprise about what you had just agreed to. But his surprise soon gave way to a sense of anticipation, especially when he noticed enthusiasm. He couldn’t supress a warm chuckle, evidently relieved that everything had worked out.

You briefly discussed the logistics, and Arthur settled on a plan: a night between Dewberry Creek and Ringneck Creek for the first stop, followed by, if Jack was up for it, a night in a room at the Rhodes Saloon.

The following day, you were all packed up. Your horse carried a rolled-up tent, large enough to accommodate the three of you. Jack rode with Arthur, he was the experienced rider after all and would be much greater use in keeping the child from sliding off the horse. It was a fine day, the morning sun was veiled behind some clouds, offering a respite from the usual stifling heat. Rain wasn’t to be expected, the clouds looked like they would clear sooner or later.

For the ride, Jack was dead silent for ten minutes at a time but then asked any question he could come up with. Arthur appreciated your willingness to respond, particularly when faced with Jack’s more challenging inquiries that needed to be tailored for a child’s understanding. Arthur was outright impressed at your skill in addressing his questions, and kept silent, even if Jack wanted his view on something specifically.

It was a smooth ride. Once you had passed the first creek you kept looking for an ideal spot to build your camp. You watched happily how Arthur pretended to discuss the area with Jack, granting him the final say in where to put up the tent. Arthur was responsible for the tent while you went off with Jack to look for firewood. When you returned, the tent had been putt up and Arthur had already gotten out the fishing gear.

"Are we fishing again?", Jack asked with curiously.

"Well, we gotta eat something", Arthur answered.

"But fishing's boring!" Jack said back and Arthur chuckled warmly. The last time he took the boy fishing, it was anything but uneventful, though he understood that a four-year-old wasn't so keen on standing still and waiting.

You squatted in front of Jack: "Why don't you take your toys with you to the water? You can play and Arthur and I'll do the boring waiting."

"Mh, okay."

You walked over to Ringneck Creek. Arthur settled on the same spot he had been to while fishing with Javier a while back. It had a good overlook of the place, so Jack could play in the distance, while still being in eye- and earshot. You and Arthur sat down next to each other, not saying anything and prepping the fishing rod. Even when there were no words exchanges, both of you felt comfortable in each other’s presence. Arthur felt your eyes on him as he pierced a tiny bit of cheese through the hook and handed the rod to you.

“The fish get cheese for lunch? That’s mighty fine, don’t you think?”, you joked.

“This cheese? It has been mouldy for days now. It won’t do us any good. But for fish? The stinker, the better”, Arthur explained and added in a mumble, “Or so I’ve heard…”

You both threw out your line and before you quipped: “So you keep your mouldy cheese in your satchel with the rest of your food?”

Arthur watched the rings expanding around his line, then swallowed quickly before looking you in the eye. Not very convinced he answered: “No…?”

He had expected a lesson on proper food hygiene, but you only grinned cheekily: “Glad I took care of food for this trip. But you really shouldn’t do that, you know? Next time you leave camp for more than a day, I’ll pack you something.”

“Ya don’t have to do that, really”, Arthur replied out of politeness, but the idea of you walking up to him with a sandwich to take on his journeys sent tingles to his chest.

“Mh. I insist”, you said, “I’ll have to take care of you if your stomach goes mad, so I’d rather prevent that. Not that I wouldn’t like to take care of you. Don’t you never keep an injury or sickness a secret in front of me, got it?”

“Yes ma’am”, Arthur said, “You sound like Miss Grimshaw, it’s good yer away from camp for a while”, Arthur joked. Deep down, he knew that you didn’t want to control him, but that you sincerely cared for his well-being. Something Arthur couldn’t quite understand. Of course, he would do the same for you – but that’s different because he had already figured out that he liked your attention more than anyone else. No, that he liked you more than anyone else. Arthur got a little lost in his own thoughts. He wasn’t yet entirely sure about his feelings for you. Mainly because he wasn’t sure how you felt. You were so kind and caring for everyone in the gang, he sadly doubted that he was anything special.

“I missed spending some time with you. Sorry that it’s so hard to sneak away from camp”, you said after a while, bringing Arthur back to reality.

“Doesn’t matter”, Arthur mumbled. He was embarrassed that he felt his cheeks getting warm, “We got away now, didn’t we? I feel almost bad that I take up so much of yer time.”

“Please don’t”, you laughed, looking at the man next to you with a smile.

“I think I saw Sean shed a tear when he heard that you’d be away from camp for two days”, Arthur mentioned.

“Yeah. I think he’s sweet on me”, you said so casually, that Arthur was caught off guard, staring at you in disbelieve.

Arthur cleared his throat before he slowly said: “I thought he and Karen…?”

“Well, Karen is good for one thing”, you said with an ambiguous smile, not meaning serious offence with those words, “I’m good for another.”

From the distance, you heard Jack calling for ‘uncle Arthur’. Arthur sighed with a smile and handed you his finishing rod.

“Yer okay to watch that?”, he asked.

“Sure, go ahead”, you encouraged him.

Jack wanted Arthur’s help to balance on a dead tree. It was wholesome to see how Arthur helped him up on the trunk and then held his hand so he would have an easier time balancing. Then the boy would sit on Arthur’s shoulders and break a smooth looking branch from a tree, using it to play swords fighting with Arthur. You knew that Arthur was gentle with Jack and compared to some men in the gang, even to John if you were honest, he was doing a great job. Still, you hadn’t dreamt that he'd be ready to take on a whole swords fight, pretending to get stabbed when Jack’s twig poked his leg. You noticed Arthur’s stolen glances in your direction. It was as if he wanted to make sure you were watching, though you didn’t have the impression that he only played along to impress you. Arthur seemed to genuinely enjoy it.

“Caught anything yet?”, Arthur’s voice woke you up from your daydreams when he walked up to you after a while.

“No…”, you answered and admitted, “I was a little distracted.”

“Ain’t blamin’ ya. We gave you a hell of a show”, Arthur said and took his spot next to you again. Luckily, a few fish bit later on and by the time you walked back to your tent, a fire could be built and the fish were grilled. A lot of time had passed, and the sun was already low in the sky. Jack demanded to be read to from his favourite book. After you had read a few pages and Jack had settled in to listen to some more, you handed the book to Arthur. He had been busy with stoking the fire and cleaning the grit, so he was a little caught off guard by the action.

“What am I supposed to do with that?”, he asked.

“Read to the boy”, you answered with a grin.

“Why can’t you?”, Arthur asked, his eyebrows raised in wonder.

“My throat is starting to feel sore”, you lied so obviously, that even Jack could have seen through it, “besides; I want someone to read to me too.”

Arthur considered the situation for a moment before giving in. The last time he read a book to someone…well, he wasn’t sure. Was it to Jamie when he was still a little boy or to Isaac? Did he ever even read out to Isaac? Arthur was prompted into opening the book when you suddenly snuggled up to him. But that alone made him lose his voice for a moment, so he had to collect himself before starting to read.

You loved how raspy Arthur’s voice would get when he was nervous, but it soon smoothed out and he had barely read for ten minutes when you had to stop him, because Jack had fallen asleep.

“’s barely even dark…”, Arthur commented after he had carried the boy to his bedroll in the tent.

“He did have an eventful day”, you said, and Arthur had to agree. The bottle of whiskey Arthur had brought was soon opened up and half was gone by the time you could make out the first stars in the sky. A lot of your conversation was just recollecting the day or commenting on happenings on the last few days, but after some silence, Arthur started a new conversation.

"Maybe, if ya told me what the other men ask you to do, I'd feel less a fool for asking ya fer something", Arthur suggested. The undertone of his voice revealed curiosity, but he had tried to keep that intent hidden. You were surprised that he remembered what you had talked about the last time it was just the two of us.

"You're unbelievable!", you exclaimed and giggled so light-heartedly. Arthur's heart melted when he saw the crinkles around your eyes. "You just want the gang's gossip!", you accused him.

"No! I'm just sayin'", Arthur shrugged with a smile, "It would really help a lot."

You looked at him, his blue-greenish eyes staring right back at you. You were an avid eye-contact holder, it was required for your role in the gang. But no pair of eyes ever compared to Arthur's. It was his turn to catch your gaze wandering to his lips, he also noticed how your eyes fluttered, when they looked up again, and then briefly away, as if you considered something.

"Fine. I'll tell you some. But I won't tell you who asked me for what."

"Sure."

"Mhhh...it's not the craziest stuff, if you’re expecting that. Most men like when I play with their hair. Or head scratches. I told you I was good at them! Someone likes it when I feed them. Like...you know...we go pick some berries and I feed them. It can be really,...domestic, I suppose. But then it becomes a lot of fun because we try to throw the berries into each other mouths, trying to catch them. It’s great..."

You got slightly embarrassed. When you spend time with other men from the gang, you always tried to give them an experience that made them happy. Some of it was oddly intimate. It didn't bother you much, but now, speaking about it with Arthur, you somehow started to worry that you'd be worth less in his eyes. Just because you have done those things with his friends. It wasn't like you slept with them. No, none, with very few exceptional instances, have ever been inappropriate.

You were silent for a while, those thoughts taking over quickly. And yet, what should it matter? It’s just Arthur, it was okay if he knew that side of you.

You sighed deeply, still finding Arthur’s eyes glued to your lips.

"Some of them like to show off to me. It's real stupid stuff. Like 'look how quick I can draw' or 'check out this piece of wood I whittled'. I suppose these are just things they are mildly proud at...but embarrassed to show someone. I...like that, though. It's really cute and reveals something about the person. There is always something to praise or enjoy about it. And they really appreciate it."

Arthur stared into the fire, nodding his head slowly.

After a while, he started with: "I ehrm-..." Then he pulled out his journal.

"It's nothing special either...", he flipped through some pages, only to reveal a double-sided sketch of Clemen's Point. A beautiful sketch, well-observed with depth and detail. You knew Arthur kept a journal – you never knew he drew in it! And from all the sketches the other men had ever shown you, most of them could have been done better by Jack, this was honestly impressive.

"Arthur-"

"I know, 's silly", and he was about to close the journal when you snatched it out of his hand and placed it in your lap. Not daring to flip the page but studying the sketch in front of you.

"Are you kidding? It's fucking amazing."

When Arthur looked at you in disbelieve, you doubled down: "Fuck you, man. I can't even pick out things I like to praise because the whole damn thing's just-!"

"Yer teasing me..."

"Am not! When someone shows me a drawing, I often have to guess, like ‘Oh, that’s a nice bison you drew.’ And then they correct me and go like ‘It’s supposed to be a dog.’ and we have a good laugh about it…but this…Is that Dutch's horse?", you asked, pointing at the little white stallion. Arthur confirmed it. You started to point at things, accurately identifying what it was. John's tent, the chicken coop, even the figure in the distance, that only was a vague outline of a person, you identified as if you had been there when it was drawn.

"You have more drawings in there?", you asked.

"Sure. But- wait", he took the journal back, carefully skipping the pages where he had sketched you, which had happened suspiciously often recently, and only showing you the landscapes and animals. You never expected that Arthur had an eye for things like that. A doe was captured perfectly in its shy manner. A funny looking cabin, a crooked tree. For all those things, Arthur stopped and took his time to draw them. It was stunning. You felt like he had given you a better idea of what sort of a man he actually is. To say you liked that version of him, was an understatement and you started to realise this with every sketch of ducks or fish he presented to you.

"When you find someone, someone you really like. And start a family...you could draw and sell those pictures, you know?"

Arthur was shocked. Firstly, why you knew about his wish to start a family, and secondly, that you suggested his drawings are nearly good enough for anyone to pay money for.

"Y/n", Arthur lamented, almost with a painful voice. As if you were that naive girl that had no idea about how life works. That there could never be a family for him, never a different life than shooting and robbing to get to some money.

"Have you ever painted? Like with colour and a paintbrush?", you interrupted.

"Ain't worth it. I'd be no good with colour. And it's too expensive."

"When's your birthday?", you asked out of the blue. You were determined. If you had to work your ass off for it or drop to your knees in front of Miss Grimshaw, you'd get this man a paintbrush.

"No", Arthur said firmly.

"Come on!", you quipped.

"Stop it. It's just a stupid thing I do to pass some time it ain't-"

"But I love them!", you interrupted, "I really do. Every single one you showed me."

"Clearly, something ain’t right in your head then", Arthur joked and put his journal away.

"You are a charming man, Mr. Morgan," you teased back, bumping into his shoulder.

As if your words had confirmed Arthur's accusation, he comically tapped your forehead with his index finger: "Really messed up, aren't you?"

"Why?", you said, switching gears and skilfully capturing Arthur's finger that had went for another tap. It took both of your hands to open Arthur's hand, not that he resisted, but his hands were huge. And with your guidance, Arthur's hand cupped your cheek. "Is it because I like to spend time with you? Do you think one has to be mad to enjoy that? Because if you do think that...I have to give you ten reasons why you are wrong."

Arthur barely listened to your words. His senses were hyper focused on his hand which was touching your cheek. Warm and soft. Not smooth like a perfect hide, but skin isn't perfect. Hell, his hand must be mighty uncomfortable. It was calloused, beaten up, scarred. There was no rational reason why you would snuggle your face into it like it was a pillow you readied for a night's sleep.

With pleasure you watched how often he blinked, how flustered he became, how his hand twitched in excitement under your touch. As careful as you were some butterfly, Arthur’s thumb dared to caress your cheek. The movement was so small, it was like he didn’t even want you to notice that you he had dared to do that. Somehow, this rough and hardened outlaw was a real sensitive guy. A sensitive guy who made your stomach flutter.

"I'll head to bed and join Jack, you coming too?", you asked, guiding Arthur's hand into your lap and holding in lightly with your two hands.

"Imma...t-take care of the fire a little longer", Arthur answered with coarse voice, his throat entirely dried up.

"M'kay", you smiled and stood up without letting go of Arthur's hand. Halfway in the process of standing up you halted, pressing a light kiss on Arthur's cheek and whispered good night, before finally letting go and walking off to the tent.

Though you were exhausted, it was tricky to sleep. You listened to Arthur who was still attending the fire, walking up and down, whispering to the horses and occasionally took a swig from the bottle. Jack slept at the side of the tent, you had taken the spot in the middle. No matter how long it felt until sleep finally took over, Arthur crawled into the tent ten minutes later, only to find out that you had messed with the sleeping set-up. It wasn’t the way he had arranged it, namely, a very inequal distribution of blankets and ‘pillows’ (rolled-up jackets or other garments). Arthur had planned to spend the night without a blanket, so you and Jack had two. But you had given up one of yours, which neatly waited on Arthur’s bedroll for him.

“She ain’t gonna make this easy for me”, Arthur thought, before lying down.

-

“Uncle Arthur!”, Jack squatted next to the man who was still fast asleep. Well, until the boy started to shake him with all his might, though it barely rattled the man.

“Aunt y/n told me to wake you”, Jack smiled innocently. Arthur was trying to grasp the situation. For a fleeting moment, he thought there was danger nearby. Then he had been confused about why Jack was there. Only slowly, as Jack left the tent and the rays of sunshine hit his face, he remembered that he had went out camping with you and the boy. And clearly, he had overslept.

Arthur crawled out of the tent and stood up with a groan, stretching his tired limbs. The smell of coffee had reached his nose before he looked down to see Jack walking towards him, a half-filled cup in his hands.

“For you”, he exclaimed. Arthur took the mug and mumbled his thanks, looking up a little to finally lay eyes on you. The fire was on, the percolator boiling with water, and he saw that you were in the process of readying a little pan for some eggs you had apparently taken from camp.

“Good morning”, you said with a big smile.

“Sorry I overslept…”, Arthur grumbled, sitting down by the fire.

“Nothing to be sorry for. I’m glad you could catch up on some sleep.”

Breakfast was nice. You scrambled some eggs, garmented them with herbs you had collected earlier and re-filled Arthur’s mug. Jack was happy after eating a few bites and then playing with his toys in the distance. Arthur and you discussed the rest of the day and decided you would take your time, see if Jack was up for a ride and a stroll through Rhodes and spending another night at the Saloon.

Later, Jack helped you with washing the dishes at the creek. You managed to talk him into throwing a wet rag at Arthur, which he answered by throwing the rag back at you. This started a game of dogde or catch the rag. You laughed a lot. By mid-day you were on your horses, carefully navigating the shadows to escape the relentless sun. After one very slow hour of riding, with breaks whenever Jack discovered something interesting on the ground that needed further investigation, you arrived in Rhodes. After restocking on groceries, you made your way to the saloon, finding it relatively quiet and peaceful still.

“Can I help you, folks?”, the bartender asked, leaning on the counter.

“A room, please”, Arthur stated briefly. The bartender considered you for a moment, his eyes wandered from Arthur to you and finally your hand that rested protectively on Jack’s shoulder.

“We have a special deal for families. Spacious room, enough beds and a discount on a bath”, the bartender explained, opening the ledger where he kept track of which rooms were taken.

“Sounds great!”, you chimed in happily before Arthur could do as much as open his mouth.

“There you go. Walk up the stairs behind there, first door on the right”, the bartender handed you the keys, “Just let me know when you want the water heated up.”

“Will do, thanks!”, you answered. Your free arm was quickly intertwined with Arthur, who was taken by surprise. He stiffened a little but walked off with you and Jack rather convincingly.

“Whoa! This bed is huge!”, exclaimed Jack when you walked into the room.

“Ain’t for you though, little man”, Arthur chuckled. The room was equipped with a bed that was big enough to fit a couple and a toddler, but there was still a children-sized one in the corner. Arthur noticed how your arm slipped away from his as you entered the room, dropping some of your luggage onto the floor.

“Luxurious, isn’t it?”, you smiled. It was definitely better than the rooms you’d get in Valentine and probably even cleaner than the other ones the saloon had to offer. Jack was settling in, testing how bouncy his mattress was and unpacking his toys while Arthur walked up to you, clearing his throat.

“Yer fine with sharin’ a bed?”, he asked.

You raised an eyebrow: “We shared a tent last night, and that was a much tighter fit, wouldn’t you say so?”

“I guess…”, Arthur felt a little helpless. Sharing a bed felt more domestic and intimate than sharing the same tent. Also, Jack wouldn’t be all snuggled up to you, but in his own bed at some distance. Frankly, Arthur was excited. You watched his frown, not quite sure if its origin was because of discomfort or simple nervosity.

“Are you okay with that? I could bring my bedroll and-“, you wanted to suggest, but Arthur was quick to interrupt you: “I just didn’t know if you were fine with it. I don’t want ya to feel uncomfortable.”

“Don’t worry about me”, you smiled, “I’ll go down and ask for a bath. Abigail will be glad I we bring the boy back cleaner than he was before.”

Arthur was alone in the room for nearly an hour, before you and Jack appeared with damp hair, smelling of soap. It was decided that Arthur would also make use of the warmed-up water, and as he went off to the bathroom, you and Jack set your plan in motion.

By the time Arthur returned he was met with a sight that initially puzzled him. The two of you had transformed the little corner with Jack’s bed using the limited resources available to you, creating a makeshift fort out of pillows and blankets. Jack’s small bed had been turned into a cozy cave of sorts, sheltered from the outside world to the point where you needed a lantern to read a book within.

Arthur didn’t even see you at first, he only heard Jack’s bubbly giggle and you shushing him. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to play along and pretend that he didn’t know where you were…like some sort of hide-and-seek. But he decided against it, instead sighing happily, and sitting down on the big bed.

“I can hear ya, ya know?”, he said gently.

“No you can’t!”, Jack said back.

“Should have built it bigger, doesn’t look like I’ll fit underneath there”, Arthur commented. Now, you peeked out. Arthur saw how you opened a mouth, but something stopped you for a moment. His hair was wet and slicked back. He hadn’t even bothered putting on his shirt, but instead only wore his pants and union suit underneath. Hell, he hadn’t even bothered to button it all the way up. It hugged his muscles perfectly. You knew he was in good shape, but you hadn’t expected THIS.

“Shouldn’t have grown so big then”, you finally said, a fine blush on your cheeks.

As the evening advanced, you had read several chapters to Jack, lulling him into slumber. You then quietly slipped into the bed beside Arthur. After some casual conversation which both of you skilfully and awkwardly used to get closer to each other, Arthur asked something that had been on his mind for a while: "What do you get out of it? All the nurturing and caring for everyone in the gang? Has any one of them ever done right by you?"

"Well...I have a place to stay and sleep. I don't have to worry too much about earning money. And I like making others happy."

Arthur didn't like that. A place to sleep and food, he felt like, shouldn't be things you had to earn by listening to the complaints of others all the time.

"All you get is hearing the troubles of some dirty, foolish outlaws. Ain’t really a life, is it?"

"Some make me happy too", you admitted, quietly. You realised how Arthur tensed up slightly.

"I get to know y'all. Don't you think that's a privilege? For a woman my age? Others can't simply walk around in the street, offer some hand-holding a listenin' and expect this to pay for their meals."

"You want to do this for the rest if your life?", Arthur asked. You scanned his body, focusing on the dark hair that grew on his chest.

"No", you whispered, and gently, you put your hand on his chest. You felt his heart, no, you saw how it beat, the skin of his chest swiftly moving in an up and down movement.

Arthur...was different than the others. You didn't know if it was that there was an actual difference, or if it just felt differently. But the way he treated you, the way he held you...it was so gentle. Like it was touch meant for a lifetime. The others were slightly more prudish, because they knew they had a couple of hours with you and maybe they'd be shot and die the next day. Somehow...not Arthur. When he pulled you closer into a hug, it was always the same, as if it was a welcome back, a coming home. There was no holding onto it, because he sorts of knew you would always be there. And you wanted it to be like that too. Because you, as tricky it was to admit, had feelings for this man.

Now it was you who caught Arthur staring, staring at the unsure movements your lips made as you searched for something to say. Maybe to explain what this all meant to you.

"Do you think it's ridiculous, what I do?", you asked. You wanted to know Arthur's opinion, truly.

"What? No."

"Really?"

"Hell, we'd be a bunch of degenerates if ya didn't keep us together. Yer ignoring Micah. For good reasons, I gotta say, and look what a slimy no-good he is. We'd be all like that if it wasn't for you", Arthur said. There was humour in his voice, but he meant what he had said. You smiled slightly.

"I wish I had come to you earlier", Arthur said.

"We are making up for the lost time, aren't we?", you said and leaned into him. The gesture seemed so familiar that Arthur wrapped his arms around you with barely any thought. Arthur watched your fingers as they trailed through his hair on his chest, never resting somewhere for long but tracing lines from his collar bones to where his beard started on his neck.

“Do you mind?”, you whispered, your fingers resting on a button of his suit.

Arthur subtly shook his head and watched how you unbuttoned one button after another. You had him slip out of the sleeves so the suit could be pulled further down, now exposing his entire abdomen to you.

There was no way he could hide his hitched breath. Your touch tickled pleasantly as your fingers explored his skin. He was enjoying those careful attentions, you'd trace around bruises and old scars, Arthur was focused on how it felt differently, the abused flesh and the scar tissue that had lost sensitivity. He noticed, either for the first time ever, or he had forgotten in the meantime, how ticklish he was on his side, under the ribs. He had no urge to laugh, but his body reacted to your touch differently, squirming when your skin brushed over his. Arthur noticed that you took a liking to those reactions, because he felt the corner of your mouth, which was pressed into his arm as you leaned into him, curl into a smile.

It was quiet. Sometimes the yells of a bar fight could be heard or someone hammering on the piano, but that aside, it was only Jack's silent snores that disturbed the peace.

"Arthur?", you whispered and sat up.

"Mhm?", Arthur looked sleepy. It wasn't even that late yet, but something about the situation was making him sleepy in the best way. You said nothing more. You only put your hand on his cheek, briefly caressing his stubble.

"Would it be okay if I kissed you?", you asked.

For a few moments, Arthur's mind went completely blank. He only breathed a shaky "Yeah" and your lips brushed his already.

Instantly, Arthur's hands pulled you in closer. You were close, lips brushing, breathing each other's air. It was all you needed, before both of you finally pressed into each other.

You knew Arthur was gentle, but this sort of tenderness took even you by surprise. And Arthur- well, he was pretty sure he was dreaming. When was the last time he had kissed a woman? No, when was the last time he kissed a woman and felt like his heart was about to explode in his chest. He had craved this ever since the night you spent together. And by the way your hands wandered to his hair, fingers running through his strands, he knew you had wanted it just as much.

It was a soft kiss and both of you looked sort of surprised when it had ended. Arthur sat up slightly and pulled you on his lap, which earned him a happy grin. You started to pepper the man in front of you with kisses. Super light, as if a breeze was brushing his forehead, his cheek, his nose, under his ear, the corner of his lips. You had lost count, stirred on by a blushing Arthur underneath you.

"D-don't ya think that's enough?", Arthur said, kind of trying to dodge your kisses, but not really.

"Nope. You deserve this!", you said, but when you headed for his nose, Arthur managed to turn it into a proper kiss again.

Then you sank on his chest, lying on top of him with his arms wrapped around you.

For Arthur, this was a weird feeling at first. But he loved how your weight pressed him down into the mattress and how your hands always found a piece of his body to caress and tickle. He was embarrassed about how dry his mouth and throat became again, all of a sudden. He was convinced you realized how often he had to swallow and how hesitant he still was to move his hands any further down than the small of your back. Though if you noticed, you were very understanding. You clearly heard his heart hammering in his chest and waited patiently for it to calm down before speaking again.

"Can I tell you something silly?”, you said, lost in thoughts.

"Sure"

"I liked it when the bartender referred to us as family."

"Me too", and his hold on you became ever so tighter.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

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