#van der linde gang

[m1llersgirl]

Something is so fascinating about watching him smoke.

[ak319]

Dark A.M x fem!reader

-- ★ The Word of Claim ┃ ─𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐─

Warnings/MDNI: none. ?angst? And no, not for the reader, it's reverse angst ig. (－O－) ✰ 6.1K

★ Prev I concept m.list

"Look," you began, your tone a mix of hesitance and bashfulness, "please don’t make fun of me for what I’m about to tell you, because honestly? I’m not exactly ecstatic about it myself. But, like I once told you… parents can be parent-y about certain things, and it’s just so ugh! Anyway," you continued, forcing a strained chuckle, "it’s supposed to be good news, so I guess I should share it with some excitement, right?" You laughed lightly and slid a card across the table toward him, you avoided his gaze.

"I wanted to invite you. So here it is. I’d love for you to come, not just as a friend, but as a brother-"

"Shut it."

The sharp command sliced through the air like a blade, and you froze mid-sentence, your hand still lingering near the card. His tone wasn’t loud, but the weight of it struck deep, making your stomach twist.

You flinched, your brow furrowing as you recoiled slightly, staring at him with a mix of confusion and irritation. "Excuse me?" His gaze locked onto yours, intense and unreadable.

"I am not your brother, or whatever you or your family thinks," Arthur said, his voice low but firm, the words cutting like a cold wind.

You scoffed, a mix of hurt and disbelief clouding your expression. This wasn’t like him, the same Arthur who never so much as frowned in your direction now had a sharp edge in his tone.

"What are you talking about?" you asked, your voice unsteady but defensive, already dreading where this conversation was heading.

His gaze was unrelenting, the weight of his words pressing against you. "I believe you know exactly what I’m talking about," he said, softer now, though the intensity remained. "I just… how can you be so blind?"

Your jaw tightened, the bitterness creeping in as your fingers curled against the table. His earlier words still lingered, a bruise on your pride that hadn’t faded.

"Blind to what, exactly?" you snapped.

Arthur let out a breath, his frustration palpable as his shoulders sagged slightly. "I… like you," he admitted, his voice quieter now, though no less raw. "I really do-"

"Wow." You leaned back, crossing your arms, your eyes narrowing. "There we go. So this is the reason?"

He stared at you, his face unmoving, but his eyes betrayed him, there was a glimmer of vulnerability in them, a crack in the tough façade he usually wore. "Yeah," he said simply, meeting your gaze head-on. "This is the reason."

You exhaled sharply, staring at Arthur like he’d just sprouted a second head. "Are you serious right now?" you asked, your voice trembling, not with fear, but with disbelief.

Arthur’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t back down. "I’ve never been more serious," he said.

Your fingers brushed your chin as you leaned back, then your lips, as if you were weighing his words against the brutal truth you knew. When you finally spoke, your voice was cold, detached, calculated.

“Arthur… we could never have been a match. Not then, not now.”

The words landed like a slap, deliberate and cutting as if you’d carefully chosen them to remind him of the impossibility of what he was asking. To him, it must have sounded like you were discussing a business arrangement as if he were just another broker. Or worse... just another one of those pitiful proposals you brushed aside for your own amusement.

His face faltered, but he tried to hold steady. "Why not? Is it because of who I am? Because I’m not some... polished gentleman from your world?"

"Yes! It’s exactly because of that," you snapped, your emotions flaring. "Arthur, no matter how kind you, or the gang, were to me back then, or now, you’re still outlaws. You can’t change that. You can’t erase what you’ve done."

Arthur’s eyes darkened, his hands curling into fists on the table. "That’s not fair," he said, his voice rising slightly. "You didn’t care about that when we helped you find your way home. When we made sure you were safe. But now....now it’s convenient for you to judge me?"

"I’m not judging you, Arthur," you shot back but quickly composed yourself so as not to draw any unwanted attention. You just hoped your chaperone wouldn't come over and hear all this. "I’m just being realistic...stating facts here. You might have been my protector when I was lost, but that doesn’t mean you could be my...my partner. You live in a world I can’t belong to. Yeah... Arthur, that is the truth. Like wow-- unbelievable because you think this, us, was ever a possibility."

His face hardened, but his eyes remained glued to you, searching for something, anything, in your expression. "Why wasn’t it? We’ve known each other! You laughed with me, wrote to me, and shared everything with me. Don’t tell me that meant nothing..."

"That’s not fair," you said, your voice trembling. "It meant something, of course it did! You are my friend and I treated you like one! The reason I came here today is to invite you to such a significant event in my life. You and the others saved me when I was a child. You were kind, yes, and maybe even noble in your own way. But don’t you see? That’s all it ever could have been. And for God's sake, I was only 10 then."

"Right...because I’m an outlaw," he replied bitterly which added in your vexation.

"Because no matter what you say you can't deny the things you have done, no matter how much you’ve tried to change… you’re still an outlaw, Arthur! And what I did was only look past all of that, ignore all of that, and treat you like a normal person. And I’m someone who lives by rules, by expectations. My family, my life, they’re worlds apart from yours. I handle business, attend formal gatherings, and move in circles that your gang probably plans to rob on one of their 'mighty fine days.' Do you see what I mean?"

"That’s what you care about? What people think? What your family thinks?"

"Don’t twist this! It’s not about them, it’s about us! We would’ve never worked. I’ve never seen you that way, Arthur, and I’m sorry if you thought otherwise, but this was never going to happen. Not in a million years. I told you before that we had to leave our old house because of the gossip. People whispered about me being kidnapped, about… other horrible, disgusting things. About me, a literal child! Rumors tied to you, the outlaws. It was a nightmare for me, and for my family. Do you think I could ever willingly go through that again?"

His voice cracked as he spoke. "I know but-- you couldn’t have told me that sooner? Before....before I let myself hope? Before I thought m-aybe you--- you come to meet me now, so I thought-"

"Because I didn’t know!" you cut him off, wiping away some wayward tears. "I didn’t know you felt this way! I thought that what we had was a good friendship. Look I don't want to hurt you, but this-you being angry with me...it isn’t fair. I didn’t ask for this, Arthur. And as for meeting you and all, well I didn't want to tell you this way but...my family doesn't approve of me doing this, they don't know. Especially now, when I am about to marry, I think, well after you have said all this too, that it's better to not meet. I just wanted to end it on a good note."

“You were the first... who made me feel something, y’know? Damn right, you did....” He paused, a bitter chuckle escaping him as he ran a hand through his hair. “And then... you got lost again. For years. But you were always there, somewhere, in the back of my mind. Like some kind of shadow, I couldn't shake it. I don't know if it was curiosity, or..."

He trailed off, the words hanging in the air, and then his tone shifted, turning almost uncertain, like a question to himself. "Or maybe something else. Something I couldn’t name. I know I don’t have anything to offer you. Nothing like...what you're used to, or what you deserve. But...even with all the mess I’ve made of things, even with the life I’ve chosen... I... I don’t know how to quit wanting this. Wanting you."

He looked at you, eyes searching for an answer that felt impossible to find. Why couldn't he fucking stop though? He needed to let it out, he had to. "I know I’m not the one you need, but damn it... I can't help this... whatever it is I feel when you're near."

"Arthur...Do you even realize what my life means to me? What my business mean to me? It’s exactly what your gang and Dutch are to you. Something you can’t just give up in a snap. For anything. Do you know how lucky I am to have a father who raised me to be who I am today? Who respected my choices and believed in me enough to make me his business partner? I mean, have you ever seen that happen? I have worked for it, day and night, damn right I did. So, no matter what, I won’t ever leave all of that behind."

Arthur’s jaw tightened as he took in your words, his eyes narrowing. He hesitated for a beat before replying, his tone laced with something sharp and bitter.

"So… you love the power and money. Is that what you’re saying? That’s what matters most to you? So why are you marrying now, then? Is this just another deal?"

You let out a breath, rubbing your temples as you felt your patience wear thin. A muffled scoff escaped your lips. "Love money--? You’re seriously asking me that? That’s not-" You stopped yourself, exhaling sharply. "You know what? If that’s how you’re going to frame it, then sure. Yes, it does matter. Of course. And you, of all people, should know that. You literally..."

Forget it, it's useless to say it. He already knows.

"What about… love? What about if I did give it up one day, huh? For you if...if you give this a chance? What if I was...never an outlaw? Would you still be saying all of this? " Arthur's voice dipped, low and raw, as if he dared you to look past the life he’d lived and see him, just him.

"And I am not asking you to abandon anything anyway. I never said that. But can't you just...talk to your parents...about this? At least...hear their point of view... maybe they will agree, maybe they do think different of me -"

"No. They. Don't." You frowned, running a hand through your hair. "I know them very well because they are my parents, Arthur. Why are you talking like a ten-year-old? All these ‘what ifs’ are just that, what ifs. They don’t mean a damn thing. See how the real world works, for God’s sake. My world. Your world. You and I both know you’re not giving up your life, and I’m not giving up mine. So what’s next, Arthur? Are we talking about fairies now?"

"Oh, you’re really taking it too far now," he muttered, his voice low and dangerously quiet. "I bared my heart to you, and you’re just taking it as a damn joke?"

"I’m not!" you snapped, throwing your hands up. "But the way you came on to me, the aggressiveness of it, it’s too much! As if I committed some crime. I’m just trying to be honest with you here. We’re two different people, Arthur. Different lives, different worlds. And whatever I’m doing in my life, with whoever, for whatever reason, it’s none of your concern. You know what you should’ve done? Told me sooner. I wouldn’t have minded then, and your feelings wouldn’t be so hurt now. Or even better, never would have approached me again after all these years if this was your intention."

".....Yeah, you are right. I am a fool. A God damn fool."

Your heart was heavy with words you didn’t want to say but felt you had to, seeing him all quiet and...lost.

"I’m sorry... if I ever gave the wrong idea or encouraged... whatever you felt. It wasn’t my intention, Arthur. It never was. And even after this, it's not like I would regret the good moments we spent together. They were refreshing, for both of us."

You paused, your gaze meeting his, and you could see the pain in his eyes, the unspoken hope that you would understand. But you couldn’t, not in the way he wanted.

“I'll pray that you find peace. With someone willing to give it to you. You are a good person, I never said that you aren't. But not for me. Not for someone like me or my family. Not in the way you are thinking."

The cafe felt stifling, the murmurs of other patrons fading into nothing as the two of you were locked in this emotional war. You took a shaky breath and reached for the wedding card on the table, forwarding it.

"Come if you want to," you said, your voice quieter now but no less firm. "But I think it’s better if you don’t...for both of us." Without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and walked out, the bell on the door jingling faintly behind you.

You didn’t look back, not at the table, not at him, not at the wreckage you knew you were leaving behind.

You didn’t dare.

❀˖°

"(Y/N) where were you-"

"Not now, Mom." The words came out curt, sharper than you intended, but you were too upset to care. That single word, Mom, was enough to let her know you were serious. She caught onto it immediately, her expression shifting to one of quiet concern.

Her gaze darted to Doreen, your chaperone, who stood quietly in the corner. She simply shrugged, her calm demeanor steady as always. Doreen had been working at the manor for years and was one of the few who knew about your friendship with Arthur. You’d confided in her because you trusted her, she was loyal and discreet, a good woman. Otherwise, it would be a nightmare if your mother ever found out. Not that you had anything to hide... except for what had happened today.

But none of that mattered now. It wasn’t like you were going to see Arthur again, not after this. That didn’t stop your mother from barging into your room, though, just as you were ushering out your younger brother, Rayan, and even your cat, a clear sign that you wanted to be left alone.

Once the door shut behind them, leaving the two of you alone in the room, your mother crossed her arms and fixed you with a determined look. "Care to explain what’s going on?"

"Nothing mama. Just--some people--sometimes piss you off."

"But you went to give a card to one of your friends didn't you? She not...coming?"

You shook your head, already feeling the heat rise in your chest again. "No, it’s not that. Just please. I don’t want to talk right now. Where’s Dad?"

She sighed a soft, drawn-out sound that carried her concern. Without saying a word, she moved to sit on the edge of your bed, watching as you rifled through your wardrobe, looking for something to change into. The rustling of hangers filled the room as you avoided her gaze.

"He must be on his way. Lunch is ready. I reckon you haven’t eaten yet?" she asked, her voice gentle, but you could still hear the underlying question.

You mentally scoffed, remembering the way your appetite vanished after everything Arthur had said. "Um--yeah, but I am not hungry." You replied, forcing some enthusiasm into your tone.

She nodded in understanding, but then her expression shifted, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Oh, Omar is coming today, isn’t he? You both had to go shopping."

You froze for a moment before turning to her with a practiced smile. "Oh yes, I had totally forgotten!. But why shopping, Mamaaa, I’m so tired of it already!"

She tutted at your whining, brushing it aside with ease as she stood up. "Just one last trip. And come on, it’s your first one with him. He hasn’t even bought his suit yet because he wanted to buy it with you. Such a nice boy, isn’t he? I must say, even after rejecting almost every boy, you still found the best one. Patience does reward, doesn’t it?"

You snorted, unable to help yourself. Her words were laced with pride and affection, but you couldn’t quite mirror her excitement.

"You think I was waiting for the perfect one? I was just playing-"

"I know, I know. I’m just playing too," she cut you off with a knowing smile. "As if I don’t know what my daughter is."

Her cheerful expression faltered slightly, replaced by a worried frown. "(Y/N)... you don’t have any contact with Arthur, do you?"

Your heart skipped a beat, but years of getting out of mischief as a child had honed your ability to appear calm under pressure.

"Of course not! Why?" you asked, your tone light, as though the very idea were absurd.

"Mhm," she hummed, her gaze lingering on you for a moment too long. "Just... asking."

She waved it off and stood, her voice returning to its usual brightness. "Anyway, get ready. Omar must be here any minute."

"Yeah, yeah," you replied, brushing her off with a nonchalant shrug.

God, you really needed to go hunting with your dad, feel the familiar rhythm of the hunt to clear your mind. But it was already dusk. Shame, you thought. Well, there’s always tomorrow. You could find some peace in that.

❀˖°

The sound of wheels crunching over the gravel driveway reached your ears as you stood near the window, brushing out the last stray wrinkles from your coat. You could already hear your mother bustling downstairs, her voice rising in warm greeting as the carriage came to a halt in front of the manor. Omar was here.

The idea of going shopping with him now felt exhausting, but you reminded yourself, that this was the man you were going to marry. If nothing else, you could enjoy his company and distract yourself. You fucking needed it today.

There was a knock on your door before Doreen peeked her head in. "He’s here," she said with a knowing smile.

"I know," you sighed one last time before heading downstairs.

As you reached the foyer, Omar had already stepped inside, shaking off the light dusting of snow from his coat. He was dressed in a tailored navy suit, the kind that exuded understated elegance. His dark eyes lit up as soon as they landed on you, a wide, genuine smile spreading across his face.

"Ah, there she is," he said, his voice warm and easy, like it always was. He stepped forward, offering his hand as a gesture of greeting. "You look stunning as always."

You gave him a small smile, your fingers lightly brushing his as you shook his hand. "Thank you, Omar. You look rather dashing yourself."

Your mother beamed from the sidelines, clasping her hands together. "I’ll leave you two to it then! Have a good time, and don’t forget to stop by for supper after shopping!" she called, disappearing into the hallway before either of you could protest.

Omar chuckled softly, leaning in just a fraction as if sharing a secret. "I think she’s more excited about us spending time together than we are."

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. "That’s because she’s been dreaming of this moment for years."

He tilted his head slightly, studying you with a mix of curiosity and fondness. "And you? Are you dreading it as much as you pretend to be, or is that just your way of teasing me?"

"I guess you’ll find out soon enough."

His grin widened, the kind that made it hard not to feel at ease. "I’m up for the challenge."

With that, he offered his arm, and after a brief pause, you looped yours through it. Together, you stepped out of the manor and into the waiting carriage, the crisp air biting at your skin as you settled in for what promised to be an afternoon of conversation and enjoyment.

The carriage rolled into the bustling town square, the cobblestone streets alive with chatter and laughter. Stalls lined the streets, and storefronts glittered with elegant displays of winter fashion. Omar helped you down from the carriage, his gloved hand firm and steady as you stepped onto the pavement. The warmth of his touch lingered, and for a moment, it was almost enough to dispel the tension still coiled in your chest.

"Where shall we start?" he asked, his voice tinged with amusement as he glanced at the shops.

"Your suit, of course," you replied, gesturing to the tailor’s shop down the street. "We wouldn’t want to waste any more time, would we? And also don't want my groom to arrive in pajamas."

He chuckled, the sound low and pleasant. "Efficient as always," he teased, but there was no bite to his words, only affection.

The tailor’s shop smelled of cedar and freshly pressed fabric, the warm atmosphere a stark contrast to the brisk air outside. Omar immediately began perusing the racks of neatly displayed suits, occasionally glancing your way for approval.

"What do you think of this one?" he asked, holding up a charcoal-grey ensemble.

You tilted your head, pretending to consider it seriously. "Mhm let's see. It’s nice, but… not quite you."

He raised a brow, intrigued. "Not quite me? And what is ‘me,’ exactly?"

You smirked, stepping closer to him. "Something a little more daring. You’re not the type to blend into the background. And honestly, that colour is for oldies."

Omar laughed, a soft, genuine sound that seemed to fill the room. "I’ll take that as a compliment."

The tailor appeared then, guiding Omar to a private fitting room. You waited near the mirrors, idly browsing the display of silk ties and pocket squares. When Omar stepped out, dressed in a deep navy suit with subtle silver pinstripes, you felt your breath hitch for a moment.

"Well?" he asked, spreading his arms slightly as he turned toward you. "Do I meet your high standards now?"

You took a step closer, adjusting the lapel of his jacket with careful fingers. "Much better," you murmured, your voice softer than you intended.

His gaze softened as he looked down at you, the air between you growing quiet and intimate. "You know," he said, his voice low, "it means a lot to me… that you’re here. Dearest fiancee."

You glanced up snickering, meeting his eyes. There was something disarming about how he looked at you, as though he could see straight through the layers of composure you worked so hard to maintain.

"I suppose it’s only fair," you said lightly, trying to deflect the weight of his gaze. "You’ll have to endure me for the rest of your life, after all."

His smile widened, but there was a hint of something deeper in his expression, something almost reverent. "Endure you? I don’t think that’s the word I’d use."

The moment stretched between you, delicate and charged, before you stepped back, clearing your throat. This was soemthing you thought you would never do. Like shopping? For marriage? Your own marriage? Feels nice though.

"Let’s pay for this and move on. There’s still plenty to do."

Omar chuckled, following your lead. "As you wish."

The rest of the afternoon passed in a flurry of shops and conversations, the initial awkwardness between you easing into a comfortable rhythm. At one point, as you passed a small flower stall, Omar paused, picking up a single white rose.

"For you," he said, offering it with a small, sincere smile.

You hesitated, then took it, the softness of the petals brushing against your fingers. "Thank you," you said quietly, your heart unexpectedly lighter.

"Though, for the record, I’m not fond of buying flowers. I prefer them in their roots, not plucked out."

Omar tilted his head, intrigued. "Fair enough," he said with a soft chuckle. "I’ll keep that in mind next time." He paused, then grinned. "Wait, is it because of that plantation-related project your dad was talking about? The one about 'Greenery for better Scenery' Or are you just secretly a botanist in disguise?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "Maybe," you said, teasingly, "Or maybe I just don’t like the idea of something being uprooted just to sit in a vase."

He nodded as you both climbed into the carriage, the sound of the wheels rolling over the cobblestone streets almost rhythmic as you sat there, lost in thought. The air was cooler now, and the weight of the day felt heavy on your shoulders. You couldn't shake the frustration bubbling inside you, the anger from dealing with Arthur, the frustration of his insistence, and the guilt gnawing at you because, deep down, you didn’t want to hurt him. But it was necessary.

People had to be reminded of who was in control sometimes. To be given a wake-up call. The thought of being his lover, his wife... living that life, in some tent? That had to be a joke. Those two months weren’t some nice escape anyone might imagine. Every second, you missed the comfort of your home, the warmth, the familiarity, the safety. You had been kind to them, yes, but kindness didn’t mean trust. Your heart was wary, and at the end of the day, they were strangers. Dangerous strangers.

He knew this. You could see it in the way he looked at you back then, the silent acknowledgment of the gap that could never be bridged. And yet, somehow, now, it seemed he’d forgotten all of that. Did he truly believe he could make that reckless fantasy a reality?

Your mother had been right. You should’ve never gotten engaged in the first place. Being nice, being accommodating, sometimes, it cost too much.

"You okay? You look tired."

You snapped back to the present, finding Omar's concerned gaze on you. You gave him a small smile. "Mhm? Yeah, I've been out most of the day so..."

"You could’ve told me we would’ve had the spree shortened," he said, his tone gentle.

You waved him off, shrugging lightly. "C'mon, it's nothing. You needed all that. My stuff's done anyway."

"Still, I don’t want my bride to be sick or anything." He nudged you playfully, but you weren't in the mood for jokes. "Um, sorry. We’re just about there anyway,"

"It’s alright. I didn’t mind for a minute." You voice softened.

He gazed at you, and before you could protest, he placed his hand over yours. "Good to know that. I loved every second too, darling."

"Me too..." Your heart skipped a beat at the warmth of his touch. "Can I ask you something?" You began, your voice quieter than usual.

"Sure. Shoot."

"Would you ever, like ever, say something like... 'leave the business or stay at home' shit to me?"

He leaned back slightly at your cold question, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. "We’ve already discussed this a million times, (Y/N), and even our families. You are perfect the way you are. Why would I suddenly say that?"

"Men aren’t really something you trust," you replied, the bitterness seeping through despite your best effort to stay neutral.

He sighed but remained understanding, his expression softening. "You know I won’t. I know you do. Yet you’re asking. It’s a clear sign something happened today, didn’t it?"

You paused for a moment, looking out the carriage window, not trusting yourself to speak for a second. "No. Just... making sure."

He reached over, gently brushing his thumb over your hand. "And I’m assuring you, love. I want a partner, not a slave or whatever your mind is conjuring up. Did you forget I literally sent the proposal after being impressed by your articles?"

"Mhm." He didn't press further, sensing that you needed space.

The carriage rolled to a stop outside your home, the rhythmic clop of the horses’ hooves fading into the quiet of the evening. You hadn’t spoken much on the journey back, your mind preoccupied with thoughts. Omar had been like your father in many ways, supportive, steadfast, grounded, and practical. Ideal, really. That’s part of why you didn’t hesitate when he proposed. But no matter how rational he seemed or how certain he was about the future, doubt lingered in the corners of your mind. Guess it's natural considering you are a woman. Marriage is a big thing for you.

To you, it feels like a gamble, an unpredictable, high-stakes game where you could win or lose everything. And the words Arthur had thrown at you, his cold assumption that you might give up everything for mere love, or worse, let your family catch wind of this, echoed with unsettling clarity. It didn’t sit right with you. Not in the least. If he thought that way if he believed you would toss away your entire world for something as transient as affection, what was to stop Omar from thinking the same?

You tried to shake the thought, but it clung to you, persistent and unwelcome. You’d seen the way people could twist things to their advantage. Would he, too, expect you to throw it all away? Would he demand that you choose him over everything else you’d built? Especially comparing a stupid thing as love to it.

Life ain't some romance novel, Arthur.

As the door to the carriage opened, you stepped out, taking a deep breath. Yeah, love was nothing when it came to reality, when it came to your rights, to what you truly wanted. If it all turned out to be a farce, then nothing was stopping you from getting a divorce. The thought felt both reassuring and disconcerting. But for now... you reminded yourself, let’s focus on the here and now.

With a gentle yet weary smile, you turned to Omar and guided him inside. You were greeted warmly by your family, their voices filled with cheerful greetings and questions. It was almost too easy to slip back into the comfort of routine. Your mother’s bright smile and your father’s firm hand on your shoulder reminded you that for all the doubts, you still had a foundation here.

Your mother chimed, her eyes sparkling as she looked from you to Omar. "I trust your shopping went well?"

You nodded, offering a warm and relaxed smile. "Yes, everything’s set for the wedding. Finally." Omar pulled you closer noticing your tiredness and you melted into the embrace as the chatter went on.

"I love you, y'know." You glanced up, a bit taken aback by his sweet whisper, but replied with the same tenderness, "Love you too, Omar." With that, he received a kiss on the cheek, making him pull you closer if that was even possible.

❀˖°

“Dutch? You busy?”

The leader glanced up from his book, smoke curling lazily around him. He studied Hosea’s expression for a moment before shaking his head. “No, no. Come in. Have a seat.” He rose, shutting the tent flap behind Hosea to block out the biting chill of the night.

Both men settled around the makeshift study, the dim lantern between them casting flickering shadows on their weathered faces. The faint warmth from the lantern did little to push back the cold, but Dutch’s focus remained sharp, his cigar perched between two fingers.

“It’s a chilly one tonight,” Dutch commented, his tone light but probing as he watched Hosea take a cigar for himself.

Hosea nodded, lighting it and taking a long drag before exhaling slowly. “It is.” He leaned back slightly, the seriousness in his eyes undeniable. “I came to tell you something. I think… something happened with Arthur today.”

“What? As in physically? Is he fine?” Dutch asked, frowning. Arthur wasn’t one to get injured on some random Tuesday.

"No, no. God forbid," Hosea replied, shaking his head. "It’s not that. He went somewhere today, midday, and when he came back, he just… felt hollow, y’know? Hasn’t come out of his tent since."

“Arthur, brooding? Maybe he’s sick,” Dutch muttered, though his brow furrowed in concern.

“He didn’t even come for supper, Dutch,” Hosea added pointedly.

Dutch leaned back in his chair, tapping the ash from his cigar. “Alright, I’ll handle him in the morning.”

“Yeah, just… take it easy with him,” Hosea advised. “You know how he is, tends to keep things bottled up, no matter how much it’s eating at him.”

Dutch narrowed his eyes. “Did you try yourself? Usually, you’re the one who can get through to him.”

“I did,” Hosea admitted with a sigh. “Knocked on his tent, asked if he was alright, but he didn’t answer. Not a peep. So…”

Dutch hummed, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. "Alright. Morning it is, then. Wait a minute...Do you think it’s that girl? What was her name---- Mary? The one who sent those gifts? Are they back together, or…?"

"How could it be her?” Hosea interjected. "They broke things off ages ago. And last I heard from the girls gossiping, she’s already married to someone else."

“Then who’s he been seeing all this time? The one who sent those gifts almost a year ago, Hosea? You remember that right?” Dutch pressed, his eyes narrowing.

Hosea shrugged, his expression thoughtful. “Must be someone else. But it wasn’t Mary, he never said her name, as in that she sent them. But he is meeting someone. That much, I’m sure of."

"Well, if it's someone else this time and... I don’t want to assume, but if it happened again, then... well, bummer."

"Dutch." Hosea’s tone carried a hint of reprimand.

"What? I’m just... forget it. Well, the boy has a tendency to attract trouble for himself, that’s what I meant."

"Losing something doesn’t stop someone from wanting... Dutch. And that applies to... many things."

Dutch’s lips quirked into an understanding smile. The motto was indeed fitting for anything, money, love, peace, freedom, you name it.

"Well said, Hosea, well said. A man’s strength isn’t just in what he holds onto, but in what he’s willing to let go of. Arthur’s got more fight in him than he realizes. He’ll get through this, one way or another.”

"Broken men are the most dangerous too."

Dutch grinned, matching Hosea's dry humor. "Our Arthur is that, anyway."

❀˖°

After the evening ended with heartfelt, romantic goodbyes, you lay in the bed and your mind on its own replayed the whole day.

It wasn’t your fault, right? Yes? No? No, it wasn’t. He was the one who came, the one who set all of this in motion. He knew exactly what he was walking into. What did he expect, honestly? That your family would just hand you over to him? That your parents, with their pristine image and their business deals, would throw all of that away to give you to a man with a bounty on his head, a man living on the fringes of society? What the fuck were they even supposed to tell their peers?

"Oh, our daughter is marrying a notorious outlaw, it's just a phase."

No. They would never. They couldn’t.

And yet, there he was, sitting in front of you, asking for something that never could be. It wasn’t that you didn’t care about him, you did, in a way. You had always known your life would be different. You were born into a world where rules mattered, where expectations were set before you even had a say in the matter.

You had been nothing more than a curious soul who wanted to hear his stories, a girl who saw him as a peculiar friend. An older brother figure. Nothing more. And here you were thinking he saw you the same. A peculiar friend. An annoying younger sister. A pure bond of nothing more than a friendship, between two different worlds. Nothing more.

Your parents are not exactly fond of them considering, of course, what you all went through because of that incident which is not even allowed to be discussed in your house. No judgment to them because outlaws are unpredictable. dangerous, untrustworthy. That's their textbook definition, one you had learned literally firsthand living there from them.

And on the other hand, society is cruel too in its own way.

So what did he expect from you? What did he think would happen?

You rolled to the left side of your bed, your eyes landing on the vanity. Where the gifts your in-laws had sent were placed aptly. The anxiety of the upcoming big day was suddenly back in full force, pressing in on your chest as if the winds of your life were about to shift their course in one final, irreversible moment.

─AN: Lemme know if you wanna be added or removed in the comments and idk I hope I got the names right and you got notified, cuz some of u weren't showing up on that tiny pop up list--idk it just my first time tagging a lot of ppl sry! 😭Thanks for reading, and as always, interactions are appreciated. ^_^

★ tag list: @shackspossum @whalecage @nayykura @m1stea @warmsideofthepillow03 @thatoneraeder @marzintears @nxttaru @cazzacarm @she-is-my-unrequited-love34 @nulixity @poll-u @bajabish @cheesycheddarr @luzzbuzz @dilfsarelife @ninastyless @claire-is-here @raeraypoca @hopingtoclearmedschool

[cryptidcr3ature]

I think about Charles having a happy life all the time. I imagine Sunday dinners with his mom, a dad who cares more about his family than the bottle, and a quiet cottage in a thick forest away from civilization. I imagine him learning to hunt from his uncle or mother, and it being okay if he missed the first time. His stomach never burned with hunger, his head never cloudy from lack of sleep. A childhood of bedtime stories and crawling into his parents bed after a nightmare. I imagine his mother doting on how proud she was of her boy, and spoiling him in anyway she could. His long hair never matted, but carefully brushed and braided. I think he imagines the what if’s as well, quietly by the campfire. When he sees Jack, curled up next to his mom, he says a silent prayer that Jack could have the life he dreamed of.

[photo1030]

They look so happy 😁

a family christmas portrait | a commission for @zanazirafanfic for the final chapter of her fanfic 🎄❄️✨

[wizard-on-whales]

Literally dutch if you stare at him for too long in camp:

[vangreunen-art]

Dutch van der Linde ~ Painting

[messrmoonyy]

- The Forbidden Fruit

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Request- I NEED ARTHUR TO STEAL DUTCHS GIRL AND SHOW HER A REAL MANS LOVING. FILTHY PASSIONATE LOVING. WORK YOUR MAGIC

A/N- I got incredibly carried away with this. Is basically prawn with no plot honestly. And far softer smut than I think you intended it to be but. Here we are. Enjoy.

Warnings- 18+ | implied toxic relationship ( reader is in love with Dutch van der Linde what can you expect here ), smut: affair, Arthur being desperate to please!!!, fingering, oral ( reader receiving ) , unprotected p in v and he accidentally finishes inside oops, like the tiniest amount of cockwarming ( WC-8.9k )

AO3 | Masterlist - requests are open :)

Arthur didn’t involve himself in Dutch’s relationships. He stayed polite to whatever young woman he had hanging off his arm at the time, but that was about it. He’d seen too many girls come and go- usually in floods of tears at being dismissed by the man that had seduced and charmed them into loving him. Just working his way through shiny new plaything to plaything, hiding his unending sorrow for Annabelle under the skirt of some new girl. 

Unfortunately you were no different. 

In your defence, he supposed, you had lasted far longer than the rest. The only real exception to that being the famed Annabelle herself. But as was almost inevitable, your time in the honeymoon phase was slowly crumbling down around you. 

Arthur did wonder if it was simply because of the current stress levels in camp. They had all been on the run for longer than he cared to try and count, but after the mess in Blackwater they had reached new heights of being hunted. It had never been this bad. Nothing had ever gone this wrong. Because before everything had gone to complete shit, he’d actually seemed quite taken with you. In truth Arthur actually had begun to consider the idea that Dutch really did love you. Had finally been able to move on from the weight on his heart of his dead lover. 

But no. 

Arthur was observing the same pattern as always, it had just taken far longer with you. And that just seemed to make it all the more cruel. 

He barely even looked at you most days now. Barely uttered a few words in return to any question you asked. 

And the arguing was growing ever more fierce. It was practically everyday. 

Arthur didn’t like it. Didn’t like the way Dutch treated you. Didn’t like the way Dutch was treating anyone lately. But you in particular had never been anything but nice to him, kind. Sweet. Incredibly naive but sweet. To Arthur too. Some of the girls Dutch had strung along had been vile, rude and entitled and stuck up. But you? You were a genuinely nice person it seemed. And maybe that was your greatest flaw, for someone like that did not belong with Dutch Van Der Linde. 

In fact Arthur had come to like you from a distance. The times he had spoken to you you had been interesting, intelligent. Far cleverer than him and he had always liked that in a woman if he was honest. 

But still you clung to Dutch. Though your patience with him of late seemed to finally be wearing thin. 

Dutch had never really been one to be ashamed or afraid of airing his dirty laundry within the gang. Whether that be packing on the PDA in camp in a way that often made Arthur want to vomit up his breakfast, or the even more puke inducing sounds of the two of you making up all night long. So arguing was no exception to that either. 

And today was no different. 

“ you barely even look at me! I’m right here! I always have been, I’ve always been such a good girl haven’t I? I do as you say. And look at how you repay me! “ Arthur sighed as he dropped a stack of bills into the box, successfully recovering yet another of Strauss’ debts for him. You were both screaming at each other again, the tent flaps pulled down as if that would over any form of soundproofing. It was the camp's regular ambience now it seemed. 

He did feel sorry for you, he really did. You’d left everything you had for Dutch. Some beautiful, intelligent, well spoken girl. Heiress to her daddy’s mining fortune up north, used to the finer things but seeking some adventure. And Dutch had offered you both. Drowned you in jewels and gifts- though unlike the ones you had once owned the ones he gave were not his to give- Shown you off like a shiny new toy on his arm. Expressly informed Miss Grimshaw that you were not to be lifting a finger, that you would not have to earn your keep with chores like the others. 

You earned your keep by looking beautiful beside him, by boosting his ego with your constant devotion to him, by letting Dutch use you for his own source of pleasure and by the sounds of things- that Arthur truly had no choice but to overhear- not getting very much back in return. 

“ You know I don’t think I’ve ever met a more selfish woman in my life! “ Arthur sighed and sat down on his cot, debating whether or not to make some attempt to get the sleep he had been planning the entire long journey back to Clemens Point. But his tent was but a stone's throw from Dutch’s. 

“ I have needs too Dutch Van Der Linde!” Everyone else in camp didn’t seem to mind it though, most of them preparing to settle in for the night. Whether that be passing out on their bedrolls or drinking by the fire. But Arthur wasn’t sure he could put up with another moment of the damn yelling. 

“ oh? You have needs? “ Dutch’s voice was condescending. Mocking “ I give you everything! You are acting like a spoiled child”

“ a child? A child!? “ Arthur stood back up again, deciding he’d fare better trying to sleep on the damn ground rather than next to the likes of you and Dutch. So he headed out towards the edge of camp, hiding himself in the woods by the water. He slumped down against a tree with a heavy sigh and wished he’d thought to pick up a bottle of beer on the way. 

But it was no matter. He was far enough away that he couldn’t hear the fighting anymore, but close enough that if he was needed anyone calling his name would be heard. 

He looked out across the water, enjoying his rare moment of peace. It was a clear night and a full moon, the reflection bouncing off the water in the most beautiful way. He pulled out his journal and started to sketch it, wishing he could capture its beauty better. 

‘ Dutch and the girl were arguing again. Got out of earshot for a bit to try catch some sleep. Thought the water and the moon looked mighty pretty ‘ 

He scrawled underneath when he was done, tucking it back into the satchel discarded at his side. Javier's guitar had silenced back in camp now and he figured everyone had gone off to bed. But he was quite content there by the water, so dropped his hat over his face and settled in to try and catch a few hours himself. 

He was just dozing off when he heard the sound of boots marching quickly through the undergrowth, snapping twigs as they went. And then the soft sound of someone mumbling to themselves. He silently hoped whoever it was would keep well away from him. But the boots grew nearer and came to a halt not so far away. The crackle of a match being lit and a heavy sigh. 

“ thinks he can talk to me like that? Bastard. Bastard he is. I’m a lady I deserve better than. Than that “ 

You. 

He cleared his throat lightly to inform you that he was there, but unfortunately still seemed to startle you. 

“ Christ! Gave me a damn heart attack Arthur “ he placed his hat down with his satchel with a sigh and looked up at you. In the light of the moon reflecting off the water he could see your cheeks were tear stained, the glow of the end of your cigarette illuminating your face further and showing your makeup in streaks. 

He couldn’t lie that it made his heart ache for you. He didn’t particularly have any solid feelings for you, but he did feel sorry for you. It was hard not to feel sorry for the woman seduced by Dutch. 

And you truly were a cut above the rest in his opinion. Beautiful as the early morning sun and, when you weren’t screaming at Dutch, as kind and warm as it too. But maybe that was fitting. Because much like the sun you could bask people in warmth, but burn them too. Beautiful and bright but scalding and he found he couldn’t look at you for too long, no matter how many times he wanted too. Simply blinding his eyes with your flaming beauty and having to turn away. 

But maybe he was just getting caught up in his metaphors. 

“ shouldn’t be out this far from camp “ you simply shrugged, taking another drag of your cigarette “ ain’t no one nice lingerin’ in woods at night miss” even if no Lemoyne raiders were sneaking around the trees, there were plenty of species of wildlife that would happily do a number on you. Chew off a leg or bite you with poison fangs. You didn’t know how to take care of yourself. You couldn’t handle a gun, didn’t have a single survival instinct in you. 

Dutch had quite made sure of that, he’d heard you ask once or twice. And had been denied. Charming you with some string of words about how you were far too delicate to be handling a gun. To leave it for the men. 

“ you’re lingering in the woods aren’t you Mr Morgan? “ he chuckled and shrugged. 

“ and I ain’t that nice. Point proven lady “ 

“ not like Dutch would care if someone took me anyway. He’d probably be thankful “ your voice was hoarse from the shouting and he couldn’t tell if you were going to cry again or not. You took a long drag of your cigarette before seeming to suddenly remember something, dipping your hand into the waistband of your skirt and pulling out a pack “ sorry my manners. Want one? “ he took one with a nod of thanks “ can I sit? “

You sat down carefully beside him then with a long sigh, tucking your legs beneath you, and leant forward so he could light the cigarette between his lips with the end of yours. 

“ thanks “ you both sat quietly for a short while. Smoking and watching the ripples in the water. He didn’t mind it actually, as much as he had been slightly annoyed at you disturbing his attempt to sleep. You were decent company. 

You rarely strayed from Dutch’s side, but on the odd occasion you had and Arthur had stumbled upon you having a moment to yourself at the edge of camp it had been quite nice. So he didn’t mind sitting there with you, company. For you both. 

“ I think you’re nice. By the way “ you said to break the silence, refrenching his previous comment of bad men lingering in the woods. 

“ No offense to you Miss, but you’re in love with old Dutch. I don’t think you’re particularly qualified to be sayin’ whether folk is nice or not “ he said it teasingly in some hopes of making you smile. And it did. A little. 

“ maybe not “ he watched you bring your cigarette to your lips again, glancing at your hands. Nails perfectly trimmed and not a single speck of dirt or sign of a scar. Hands that had never had to lift a finger. Ever. It was an interesting contrast to his own. Calloused and scarred and bruised “ but Dutch he… he…Can I ask you something? “ 

“ Sure “ he said and flicked his cigarette away. 

“ Do you think I’m beautiful Arthur? “ you asked meekly. Your face was sad. Lingering innocence yet to be wiped away by life somehow, the kind that only remained because you had lived a life so sheltered. Even with Dutch you were as sheltered as could be “ and don’t lie. Please “

“ I think you’re beautiful, sure “ you turned back to the water again, tossing your own cigarette before promptly lighting another. 

“ Dutch doesn’t. Not anymore. Barely even looks at me “ Arthur ran a hand over his face, not entirely sure what he was supposed to say to you in the situation. At all “ I know I know I don’t expect you to agree. You two you’re…you’re like two peas in a pod aren’t you? “ you said with a small laugh, but it held no humour. You took a long drag of your cigarette. 

“ me and Dutch it’s… we go back a long way. But… I will agree the way he’s been treatin’ you. Ain't nice. Not when you done nothin’ but be loyal to him for so long “ you turned back to him again and gave a small smile. It was like a wave of relief had washed right over you. 

Someone was finally listening. 

“ I think he’s got his eyes on Mary-Beth “ you mumbled, red stained lips wrapping around your cigarette again. Much like how he had found himself admiring your hands he now found himself admiring your lips. Soft and plump and stained red in the way they often were. 

He blamed it on his fatigue. 

“ he’d be a fool to give you up. You’re kind, loyal, hell you might jus’ be the most beautiful woman I know. He’s in a weird place right now. He’ll snap outta it, be back to readin’ you Evelyn Miller in no time. You’ll see “ maybe the last part wasn’t entirely true. But the first part was. And you seemed to bask in his compliments. He wondered when the last time Dutch had said something nice to you had actually been. 

“ Thank you “ you looked as though you might cry again. And he really hoped you wouldn’t. He didn’t like to see you cry. And he really wouldn’t know what to say to you then. Once again you turned your attention back to the water and gave a small sigh “ maybe I chose the wrong outlaw “ you said with a small laugh “ always have thought you were quite handsome “ 

He nearly choked on his own saliva, clearing his throat in hopes to pass it out smoothly. He didn’t know if it had worked. 

“ Really? “ 

“ Hmm “ you mused, tilting your head inquisitively to the side “ but you were oh so hung up on that Mary girl when I found Dutch”

“ Yeah well. Mary she’s- that’s all done with now “ maybe Mary was the reason he seemed to sympathise with you so. Because he too had had a broken heart. Though he was sure his was not as brutal as yours. 

“ Guess we both have bad taste don’t we Mr Morgan “ he chuckled and nodded. 

“ That we do miss. That we do “ he placed a gentle hand to your shoulder and squeezed in some form of comfort “ don’t worry bout Dutch though. Really. He’ll come to his senses and if…if he don’t then. Any man would be lucky to have ya “ you sniffled and he figured you’d started crying again “ I didn’t mean to upset- “

“ No. No I’m fine. It’s just…you mean it all don’t you? All these kind words? “ he shrugged and then nodded. 

“ Sure I do. You’re a beautiful woman. Inside an out “ something seemed to flash across your face, a million and one things whirring away behind your eyes. He’d never been that good at reading people, never one for knowing what people were thinking. And the look on your face was the most confusing he’d ever seen. 

The next part happened far too quickly for him to process it. Maybe because he was tired, maybe because he truly hadn’t even slightly suspected you to do it. You flicked away the butt of your cigarette and leaned forward, one hand to his leg and the other to his neck. And kissed him. 

He was taken aback and you pulled away before he could make any attempt to figure out what you’d just done. 

“ Sorry “ you sighed in slight annoyance, seemingly at yourself, sitting back beside him again. Like it was no big deal. Just something that had happened and had no real consequence “ shit- sorry “ Arthur scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and shrugged with a small laugh. Attempting to play it as cool as you clearly were. 

Maybe he’d finally cracked and entered some weird fatigue induced psychosis, hallucinations and hearing voices. And kissing Dutch’s woman. 

“ S’okay. No harm done “ he was bewildered. Trying to process the last 30 seconds and coming up completely blank. 

“ Just the way you talk about me I- Lord forgive me “ he was certain he must have looked half dense. Still completely confused at what on earth was happening with you. And maybe, just maybe, a tiny bit flustered at having a woman like you kiss him. Even if you were begging the Lord for forgiveness right after it “ no one’s spoken to me like that in a long time and…and I wish they had. I want to be told I’m beautiful again. I want to be kissed. I want I want…I want a lot of things “ 

Maybe Arthur was a stupid, idiotic fool. Maybe too many gunshot wounds and bumps to the head had finally caught up to him. Maybe he too wanted to act on his ever growing annoyance with how Dutch was behaving. But he found himself reaching out, fingers tucking under your chin to turn your face to look at him. Your eyes were so beautiful up close. Practically sparkling in the moonlight.

Oh he was such a fool. 

“ could’a jus’ asked “ a small smile tugged at your lips and you laughed a little. 

“ Yeah. Of course. Because you’d have said yes Arthur? “ he shrugged. He didn’t know if he would’ve actually. But now the thought was in his head “ alright “ you whispered and shuffled a little closer to him “ indulge me “ 

His thumb was absentmindedly brushing over your jaw, looking at you in the light of the moon and wondering how on earth Dutch wasn’t constantly begging for your attention. If he had a woman like you constantly hanging off his every word he wouldn’t know how to act. Would be like a mangy dog trailing around after you for food.  

“ I might’ve “ you gave a roll of your eyes but you were smiling still, a beautiful, tempting smile.

You were a temptress. A siren. Luring him in with your beauty to do something terrible. And you were vulnerable. Sad and seeking appreciation. And he was truly debating it. 

“ Well…“ you started quietly, looking up at him through your long lashes in a way that made his chest go tight “ there is… still time for you to say yes “ 

“ we ain’t gonna tell no one bout this y’hear? This it’s… it’s jus’ between me and you. Okay? “ your eyebrows furrowed for a second looking up at him intently, as if trying to figure out if he was joking or not. If he was serious. He wasn’t entirely sure himself, needed you to agree or disagree to put the thought to rest.  His thumb continued to brush along your jaw tenderly and your eyes fell closed for a moment. 

How long had it been since someone had touched you with such care? That something as simple as that seemed to mean so much to you. 

“ I understand “ you whispered, eyes flickering down to his lips again. He pulled you in close, barely an inch between your lips and then spoke again “ you’ll give me what I want? Don’t treat me like him “ 

“ Anythin’ ya want. You got it. I’ll give ya what you deserve “ you let a shuddering breath escape and gave a small nod before closing the gap between you both again. 

He hadn’t kissed anyone in a while, but he sure found his footing quickly. You kissed him like he was your source of air, climbing your way into his lap and slipping your hands into his hair. You tasted of cigarette smoke and something almost sweet. Whatever it was, it was an intoxicating mix. You were like a siren singing your call in his ear, drawing him in and taking him for your own. The weight of you in his lap was almost familiar, welcoming. Just… nice. 

He had almost forgotten just how fun it was to kiss a woman. How so many men seemed to shun it as boring, pointless- Dutch obviously included. But Arthur had always loved it. Had spent many a night as a youngster sneaking his way into Mary’s room just to kiss her. To spend hours kissing and talking and kissing some more. 

Kissing you was something else. Addictive. Intoxicating. 

Eventually he had to pull away, his lungs screaming at him for air. Your hands slipped out from his hair and down to grasp at the collar of his shirt, resting your forehead on his. 

“ Anything I want you say? “ you asked quietly, breathless. 

“ Anythin’ “ you smiled and lifted your head, a quiet determination settling over you. Your lipstick had smeared and he wondered how much of it was now on his own face. 

“ okay… undress me then “ you softly commanded, shifting slightly in his lap “ please. Dutch never- he makes me do it myself, barely even looks I- Please “ 

He almost laughed to himself about now he immediately thought getting you naked was entirely too risky. As if the entire situation alone wasn’t risky anyway. But he didn’t want to think too hard about that, instead simply channelled his recent annoyance towards Dutch into his actions. Tried to tell himself he was doing a good thing, taking care of you. 

You watched his face carefully as he gently untucked your shirt from where it was tucked into your skirt, some silky soft thing that probably cost more than everything he owned in his clothing trunk put together. He undid every pearl button slowly, eyes darting up to your face as he did. Your chest was heaving in long, heavy breaths. You were nervous. Or excited. He couldn’t tell which. 

You shivered lightly when he pushed it from your shoulders, now only the soft cotton of your chemise between his hands and your chest. Your nipples had hardened, from the slight night chill or lust he couldn’t say. But he found himself unable to resist the sight, leaning forward and capturing one between his lips through the cotton. You gasped softly, a sound so beautiful it made him groan. You sounded delicate. Innocent. You’d never made such sounds when he’d overheard you with Dutch. In fact a majority of the time you almost sounded in pain. 

But this sound wasn’t that. This sound was beautiful. And he wanted to hear more. One hand pushed at your back to bring you closer, the other palmed at your neglected breast in hopes you’d make the sound again. And you did. Gentle, soft gasps as his tongue dampened the material of your chemise, teeth tugging at you gently through the material. Your hand found his hair again, raking your fingers through it and arching your back into his touch. 

He couldn’t imagine why Dutch had never wanted to do such a thing. How could he not want to hear you make those pretty pretty sounds? How could he not want to feel you writhing in his lap and yearning to be touched. Maybe Dutch was more of a fool than he had originally thought. 

“ Need you to touch me- properly I- take this off “ your sentence was choppy, like you weren’t focussed enough to truly articulate the words you wanted to say. But he understood, pulling your chemise over your head and dropping it to land with your shirt. 

He took a moment just to look at you, not even entirely because he knew you’d want him to. Just because he wanted to. He’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t wondered what was hiding under your expensive clothes once or twice. How could he not when he had to try sleep through the sounds of you and Dutch of a night. 

“ God damn “ he said softly, hands soothing over your waist as you basked in his admiring stare, taking in the feeling of finally being looked at. Properly. 

“ like what you see Mr Morgan “ you asked, voice sultry and low in a way that made his cock twitch in his pants. 

“ Dutch is a damn fool “ is all he could say, leaning forward to kiss you again, his hands moving to grab at your chest. You moaned into the kiss as he squeezed and massaged your breasts with his large hands, seizing the opportunity to dip his tongue into the warmth of your mouth. Your fingers in his hair, twisting strands around your fingers and tugging lightly. He felt like he was on cloud nine. Certain he’d somehow taken a stumble through the veil and ended up at heaven's gates. 

He wasn’t a particularly religious man, but the way he was prepared to worship and praise you could truly be considered blasphemous. 

He couldn’t resist the temptation of getting his mouth on you again much longer, dragging his lips from yours and wrapping them around a pebbled nipple instead. You rolled your hips against him, those beautiful soft moans still falling past your lips. This was what you had wanted from him. To be worshipped. To be looked at as the beautiful temptress of a woman you were. And not merely glanced at and then used like some two dollar whore in a saloon. 

He wanted to nip at your skin, bite and soothe it with his tongue. But he knew he couldn’t. Couldn’t risk Dutch seeing it if he felt the need to stop ignoring you for a short while for his own needs. But oh how he wanted to. To mark up your smooth skin with reminders that you were desired. That you could look at as they faded and be reminded that you were wanted. 

“ I need more “ you whispered “ Arthur please. Give me more “ another roll of your hips followed by a small whimper told him enough. 

“ I know I got ya “ he murmured against your skin, pressing kisses up your sternum and your neck. Nose brushing at the underside of your jaw and working his way back to your lips again “ stand up. Lemme get you out of these damn clothes “ he caught the smile on your face as you stood up, he stayed seated and ran his hands over the fabric covering your hips. Something seemed to blaze in your eyes as you looked down on him. He realised it was most probably you that was usually being leered down on, but not now. 

Not with him. Not with Arthur. Arthur looked up at you like the goddess you were, looked up at you with what he knew was a silent pleading in his eyes. Dutch would never ask he knew it. Dutch took. Stole. Used. Arthur didn’t. Wouldn’t. 

“ I like how you look at me “ you said quietly, hand soothing over his hair “ you make me feel beautiful “

“ Cause y’are “ he murmured, hands reaching to the ties of your skirt. He wanted to see more. Wanted to see all of you. 

You helped him with the slightly tedious task of getting your skirts and undergarments off, but all so slowly. Taking his time. Making sure he appreciated every single layer of clothing you removed for him, right down to unlacing your boots and holding your leg gently to help you out of them. Until you stood there as naked as the day you were born, illuminated by the moonlight on the water. 

“ well ain’t you a sight “

Your skin was so smooth. Soft. Not a single scar that he could see. The skin of a woman who had never had to lift a finger. Had never known the hardships that he had. The only true blemish on your skin was the almost completely faded bruises on your hips. Fingertips. Dutch. 

He soothed his hands up your legs, pressing soft kisses to the pillowy flesh of your thighs as he went, and stopped as he reached them. 

“ He can be a little rough. It’s how he likes it “ you answered before he could even ask. Arthur too had been known to have his rougher moments. But he could never hurt you. Never mark you in anyway other than that of affection and care. 

“ I ain’t like that “ 

“ I know. That’s why I want you “ he pulled you back down into his lap, his large hands splaying over your hips as he took yet another moment just to look. To admire. To thank whatever stupid damn God may exist for placing such a heavenly body in his presence “ I feel a little like the odd one out here though “ you said with a small smile, tracing a finger down from the open top buttons of his shirt to his pants. 

He’d been far too occupied with you to even really notice the fact that he was ridiculously overdressed in comparison. 

“ Can’t have that now can we darlin’ “ your smile grew and you made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders with a gentle sigh. You ran your fingers through the hair on his chest, nails scratching lightly at his skin and peppering lipstick stained kisses as you went. Littering his collarbones, his sternum.

“ much better “ your hands kept roaming and your lips kept kissing. Hands seemingly wanting to touch him all, scratching lightly up his sides and over his waist, his stomach and his ribs. Slowly moving to slide over his shoulders and loop around his neck. You rolled your hips against him again and whined softly. He was so hard it was growing painful as he stayed restrained by his pants. But he wasn’t selfish. Not like Dutch. And he wasn’t about to seek out any form of pleasure himself until he had you seeing the stars you deserved. 

“ tell me what y’want “ he murmured, peppering soft kisses across your jaw. 

“ touch me “ you sighed blissfully “ please touch me “ 

His hand slipped down in between your bodies, brushing past the soft curls between your legs and couldn’t contain the groan of a sound that left him when he felt how warm and wet you were. 

“ Christ “ he muttered as your head dropped to his shoulder with a shuddering breath “ he ever touch you like this? “ he asked lowly, already knowing the answer. Why would he? He didn’t get anything out of it. 

But Arthur did. Oh Arthur did. 

“ no “ you whispered “ no never…please. More “ he tested the waters, pressing lightly against your clit and revelling in the squeak of a sound that it caused you to make. 

“ or like this? " You shook your head again, breathing shakily as he dragged his finger through the wetness and drew light circles around your entrance. 

“ Arthur “ you moaned his name in the most delicious way as he pushed his finger inside, burying it to the knuckle 

“ yeah and what about this darlin? “ he again knew the answer. Dutch didn’t care about your pleasure. Didn’t care about wasting time on something as simple as making you whimper and whine for more “ he touch you like this? “ 

“ no “ 

“ think ya can take one more for me? “ you nodded again and he withdrew his finger, gathering your slick on his other before pushing them both past the resistance of your entrance “ that’a girl “ he pumped his fingers in and out steadily, curling and probing at your velvety soft walls to test what you liked. 

“ This is so… oh god. This isn’t proper at all “ you laughed slightly, melting into a soft moan. Arthur chuckled, lifting your face up so you’d look at him. 

“ Ain’t proper at all? It’s damn right filthy darlin” your cheeks were aflame and you closed your eyes for a moment, grinding yourself against his hand “ look at ya. Drippin all over ma fingers like that. Ain’t proper. Not one bit “ you smiled, a cheeky, devious smile that made him lean forward and kiss you again. 

You were so wet it was obscene. He couldn’t tell where the sounds of you kissing stopped and the sopping sounds of his fingers began. You continued to grind down against his palm, practically riding his fingers, his whole hand wet and sticky with you. 

And he wanted to taste it. To taste you. To flood his mouth with the slick, liquid gold covering his fingers. It was an almost primal desire, like a desperation as strong as needing air. He needed to. He had to. 

“ Darlin’ “ he murmured, lifting your head from where it had fallen to his neck again “ gotta let me taste you. You gotta “ the look on your face only made him want it more. Your skin flushed and eyes blown out with nothing but pure lust and desire. He’d never needed anything more. Nothing else mattered, not the painful hardness in his pants, not the realisation that you were very much Dutch’s girl. He didn’t care about any of that. He just needed to be between your thighs. 

“ really? No one’s ever- oh god. Yes. Yes. Please Arthur “ he withdrew his fingers making you whimper and quickly grabbed his discarded shirt and lay it down on the ground. Then he kissed you again as he wrapped his arms around your waist, gently turning you to lay back on the shirt. It still couldn’t have been particularly comfortable. But you didn’t seem to mind, tugging at his hair and lifting your hips up against him as he hovered over you. 

He took his time moving down. Leaving a long and slow trail of hot, wet, kisses on your skin. You writhed underneath him, whining softly and twisting your hands in his shirt underneath you. He took extra time with your thighs. Kissing up from the inside of your knee and stopping before he could place his mouth where he really wanted to, then repeating with the other. 

“ Arthur “ you whined, still squirming around and desperate. 

“ I know. I got ya. Gonna make those pretty sounds for me again yeah? "You nodded, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him as his head sank lower, spreading your legs wider to give him full access to the centre of you “ that’s a good girl “ he spread you open with his fingers, in awe of the way you parted for him. Like petals on a flower, dripping with the morning dew. 

But you were far more delectable. A forbidden fruit begging to be tasted. 

And oh was it pretty. Even in the dark, in nothing but the light of the moon on the water, it was pretty. Begging to be tasted, touched. Admired. 

The sound you made as he dragged his tongue from your weeping hole to your clit was like music to his ears. He didn’t know how he managed to not come in his pants just at the sound of it. 

You still kept it quiet, but loud enough for him. 

His own, deep, guttural moan escaped from his chest as he licked again. Your taste flooding his mouth in a way so so much better than he could’ve imagined. 

He ate you like he was starved. Like a savage predator that hadn’t seen meat for days, like a man ready for the gallows enjoying his last meal. His arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping your legs apart for him as you bucked and squirmed against his face. It was visceral. Carnal. You made him feel like his grip on his own composure and control was weaker than ever, that he was holding on to it with nothing but his fingertips. 

“ Arthur “ he dipped his tongue into the welcoming warmth of your cunt, his eyes falling closed for a moment as he felt you clench around him, desperate for more. Desperate for him. And he would give you more, would give you anything you asked of him. But not until he made you come first. 

He let go of one of your legs and brought his fingers back to their previous position, wanting to feel you again. To be inside of you, as close as he could get. To make you see stars. 

The flat of his tongue found your clit again, certain he could feel you pulsing against him. Desperate and full of desire for him. He felt honoured, privileged. That you were so loyal to Dutch, glued to his side. Never even batting an eye at anyone else. And yet you had broken that for him. Had sought him out because you knew he would treat you well. 

Your back arched off the ground as he sunk them back into you, slipping in with a welcome ease. His thick fingers pumped into you at a steady pace, his tongue diverting all its attention to your clit. Lapping and sucking and letting you press his face harder against you as you tugged on his hair. 

“ don’t stop please dont- Arthur “ he had no intentions of stopping, none at all. In fact he simply honed in on his ministrations, working harder to push you closer and closer to the edge of the orgasm he knew you had been craving for weeks. 

“ Not gonna stop darlin. Ain’t stopping until you come for me. Taste so good, so good “ he murmured against you, curling his fingers and hitting a spot that made you gasp and your body shudder “ there we go, right there “ 

He flicked his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves, looking at you as best he could to gauge your reaction. You were pulling a little painfully at his hair, squirming and rolling your hips against his face. He let you do it. Let you be the one using a man for your pleasure, rather than being the one used for once. 

Your sounds were sinful. Melodic. He took it all in. Basked in the noises you made for him, the delicious taste of you on his tongue, drunk on you. On your taste. Your smell. 

“ Arthur- Arthur please I- “ you babbled, a slightly smug smile working its way onto his face as he watched your prim and proper facade melt away “ don’t stop “ 

He hummed an assurance that he wouldn’t, your hips bucking against his face as he did. You were so unbelievably wet, dripping out around his fingers and soaking the hair of his beard. He would never have thought it of you. The way you held yourself around camp, so poised and prim. The accent when you spoke that made everyone else around you sound so common. And yet there you were. On your back in the woods, chasing an orgasm being offered to you by an outlaw. Repeating his name like a mantra. 

And not even that of the outlaw you were in love with.

“ Arthur- “

Only seconds later it happened. You held a hand over your mouth as your orgasm hit you, muffling your choked moans, back arching off the ground and walls clamping down on his fingers as he worked you through it. Tongue still working diligently at your clit until you pushed your hand at his head, squirming away a little. 

He almost didn’t want to stop. Could’ve happily stayed there a while longer, but moved back, an obscene wet sound in the late night silence as he withdrew his fingers. 

He took his fingers to his mouth, sucking the remnants of your climax onto his tongue. Unable to control himself. You watched him do it, mouth slightly agape and eyes half open with some desperate undeniable look of utter desire. He could almost see the way it made you feel, could see you unable to contain the overwhelming feeling of realising you were desired. Wanted. 

“ God. You are unbelievable “ you whispered, pushing yourself up onto your elbows and grabbing at his arm. Your fingers looped around his wrist and tugged his hand towards your own mouth. He shook his head with a chuckle, slightly in awe as you took those same two fingers between your red lips. 

Your tongue swirled between his digits, plush lips wrapping around them and sucking. Your eyes locked on his as you did. It made his cock ache. He wanted your lips on him, wanted your tongue swirling around his length and milking him dry. He could imagine it if he thought hard enough. The way you hummed slightly in appreciation as you sucked his fingers clean, sent vibrations straight through his bones. Rattling him to the core. But he would never ask that of you. But the thought was one he would hold onto. It made him shift slightly. 

“ you ain’t so prim and proper lady “ he murmured as he withdrew his fingers, a string of saliva connecting his fingertips and your lips “ This ain’t very proper of you miss “ Arthur said with a small smile, teasing “ rollin’ around in the dirt with the likes of me “ 

“ Oh to hell with being proper if it means I get to feel like this “ you said with a small laugh and he kissed you again for what felt like the millionth time. He wondered if you could taste yourself on his lips, smell the heady delicious smell of you on his beard.

He would’ve been more than happy to leave it at that. No matter how badly he wanted to sheath himself inside you and stay there for eternity. His goal had been your pleasure and he had achieved it. 

But as he kissed you your hands began working at the buckle of his gun belt, opening it with a skilled ease that made him pull back. 

“ Darlin’ you ain’t gotta do that- “

“ shush “ you pushed at him lightly so you could sit up and went to work on the buttons on his pants next “ I want to. I- Arthur take them off “ he made far quicker work of his own clothes than he had of yours and you leant back on your elbows to watch him. 

You looked like a pinup girl. Like something he’d seen drawn come to life. Your eyes seemed hungry as you looked at him, dragging down his body and lingering on his rock hard cock. He was practically throbbing with want, the tip an angry shade of pink and leaking precum slightly embarrassingly “ come here. Please. Back down here “ 

He did as he was asked, crawling back over your body as you eyed him greedily. 

“ We really don’t…I mean, If y’don’t wanna- “ his words stuck in his throat as your fingers wrapped around the length of him with a small sigh. 

“ I want you to I just…can I ask one thing? “ he couldn’t get the word yes to escape his mouth, your fingers squeezing him softly in a way that made him see flashes of white in his vision. So he simply nodded “ don’t fuck me. Dutch fucks me, make love to me “ you seemed a little embarrassed at the request. But he didn’t think it was embarrassing. In fact he had had no plans to use you as brutally as Dutch. He was almost a little offended you thought he might. 

“ Told you, anythin’ you want. You got it “ you smiled softly and pressed another kiss to his lips before laying back down again. He positioned himself over you, caging your head in between his arms. And it truly was incredibly intimate. He wondered when the last time you had had such intimacy was. If you’d ever received such a thing from Dutch. 

He spat on his hand and grabbed a hold of his sensitive cock, stroking himself a couple of times to get himself slick. Not that he really needed to, you were already wetter than he’d ever known a woman to be. But the last thing he wanted was your discomfort. He lined himself up with you, eyes trained on your face as he dragged his weeping tip between your folds. You gasped as he caught your clit, still sensitive and alert from your first orgasm. 

“ Arthur please “ you whimpered rolling your hips up against him, so desperate to have him inside of you. 

“ So God damn wet for me “ he murmured “ such a good girl ain’t ya? “ you whined in answer, fingers wrapping around what you could of his bicep and digging your perfectly trimmed nails into his skin “ gonna make you feel so good I promise darlin’ jus’ like you deserve yeah? “ you whispered out a yes and brought your other hand to the back of his neck. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, still running his cock along the length of your slit. Teasing. 

“ Keep looking at me. Please look at me Arthur “ he continued to do as asked. Again. Though his eyes had barely strayed from your face anyway “ I need you so badly “ Eyes locked on yours, he finally pushed into you, he took it slow. Letting you take it inch by inch, watching the look of ecstasy wash over your face. Your eyes fell closed. 

He fought to retain his own composure, overwhelmed by the tight, wet, warmth of your walls enveloping him. He could feel every unique ridge and bump that made your cunt oh so perfect, feel every muscle stretch and contract as you adjusted to him. 

“ god- oh god “ 

“ shh shh easy there. I got ya “ he paused once he was seated inside of you, grabbing at your hip with one hand to angle your hips better. Allowing you to comfortably take all of him in. He waited, let you adjust to his size, not daring to move before he got the go ahead from you “ there you go, look at you, takin’ all of me like that. So good f’me “ you basked in his praise, a dopey kind of smile spreading across your face.

“ so much bigger than him “ you whispered with a small laugh and Arthur couldn’t help the smug smile on his face. Kissing you and touching you and making you come on his tongue had been one thing. But having you like this? Having his cock buried to the hilt inside of you, so unbelievably close together. And to then be told that? To know he was about to do you better than Dutch ever had. Ever could. It felt like the biggest fuck you to the man that had been not only mistreating him of late, but also the goddess of a woman beneath him “ I’m good. You can move. Please move “ 

He didn’t need telling twice. Pulling out almost completely and thrusting back in in one smooth motion. The pace he fell into was just as you’d asked. Loving. Tender. But hard and deep, making sure his hips were flush with yours with every stroke. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulled his face back down to kiss him again. 

If anyone had spotted you they’d have easily mistaken you both for a lovesick couple having a private moment to yourselves. The entire thing intimate and passionate. No one would assume it was an affair in motion, hidden away in the woods by the shoreline in fear of your lover finding the pair of you there. 

But it was what you wanted. What you had needed. And he felt privileged to provide. 

He pulled back from your lips to watch you again, enthralled by the way your face relaxed and twisted in the pleasure he was providing you. You continued to spill those angelic sounds from your throat, growing breathier and higher pitch as he continued to drag his cock against the sopping, sensitive heat of your cunt. He had to focus hard not to finish in seconds. So much build up paired with being practically celibate for months was truly doing him no favours, but he focussed. He wasn’t letting this end until you came once more. You deserved it. 

“ Keep those pretty eyes on me “ he murmured as they fell closed again “ that’s it darlin’, look at me there ya go “ everytime he spoke the slightest word of praise you practically beamed, so desperate to hear it. To be told you were good. Beautiful. So different to Dutch constantly yelling at you about how annoying you were, how much your mere presence bothered him these days. So he kept it up. 

“ Doin’ so well for me. This pussy it’s perfect, ain’t that right? C’mon tell me “ he urged, still fighting off his ever looming orgasm. The sounds alone was enough to make him want to burst. Sweat slicked skin on skin, the wet sounds of your cunt dripping around the swollen intrusion of him. And those sweet sweet moans of yours. 

“ yes “ you whimpered “ it’s perfect “ 

“ That’s a good girl “ he increased his pace ever so slightly and your hands slipped from his arms to his back, dragging your nails down him to try to pull him impossibly closer to you. 

He moved a hand down between your bodies, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts, grunting and choking back his own moans as you squeezed him. Like your body never wanted him to leave, gripping his cock with your cunt and making it ever more harder to hold back. He couldn’t help but have a look, glancing down to see the way you stretched around him, mesmerised at the way you took him in so deep. 

“ tell me I- oh. Tell me I’m beautiful “ you whimpered, sounding almost like you might cry. From pleasure, from upset. He didn’t know. But he continued to do as asked. 

“ you’re beautiful “ he murmured picking up his pace a little more, his sweat slick skin slapping against yours. He was desperate to see you come again. Wanted to see your face up close this time, watch your eyes roll back and your kiss swollen lips part in ecstasy “ so beautiful darlin. Doin’ so well f’me, takin’ me so well “ 

“ don’t stop, don't stop “ he dropped his head to your neck whispering every word of praise he could think of into your ear, your body arching up against his and whimpering and whining with every word. 

“ ain’t ever looked prettier than this “ he whispered, his own voice becoming breathless with the effort “ shit- look at ya, takin’ my cock so well. So pretty darlin’ “ 

Your second orgasm seemed to shock you as much as him, clawing at his skin to hold him close as your body trembled beneath him, biting at his shoulder to muffle your moans. 

He didn’t mean to finish inside of you, had fully intended to pull out. But the way your cunt had squeezed him, the sounds you had made as he pushed you over the edge for the second time.

He muffled his own groan of pleasure in your neck, fingers digging into the dry earth beneath you, spilling load after load whilst fully sheathed inside of you. His entire body tensed, a pleasure he hadn’t felt in an incredibly long time. His heart was hammering in his chest, blood rushing loudly in his ears as it seemed to drag on forever. 

And then he came to his senses. 

“ m’sorry. Shit. Sorry “ he panted as he tried to compose himself and pushed himself up onto his hands to pull out. But you yanked him back down, arms wrapping around his back again and legs tightening around his waist. 

“ no. Please. Stay. Stay right there. Just a moment would you “ he had come to realise in the past.. how long had you two even been out there? However long it was, he’d come to realise he was terrible at saying no to you. Could never possibly even dream to deny you of anything you wanted from him. And so he slumped back down onto his forearms, dropping his head against your shoulder for a moment. Your chest heaved beneath him and you caught your breath, fingers tracing gentle strokes along his spine. He felt he could stay there for hours. 

“ You doin’ okay? “ he asked, pressing a light kiss to your jaw when he had composed himself a little more. 

“ marvellous Mr Morgan “ you whispered with a small smile “ truly. Marvellous “ he couldn’t help but kiss you again, the long lingering kind meant for two lovers. 

After a few minutes you both finally moved, re dressing in silence and then sitting back in your original position against the tree. He handed you a cigarette, lighting it and placing it between your lips. 

He wondered what he looked like. Wondered what evidence you had left on him. Had he sweated off the lipstick prints on his chest or were they still there? He knew you had scratched his back up good and proper and would have that reminder there for a few days at least. 

“ Thank you. Mr Morgan '' you said quietly after a few silent moments of smoking, blowing out a long stream of smoke “ I mean it I- i'm not sure what I’m supposed to say “ 

“ Don’t say anythin’ “ he said with a small wave of his hand, appearing as blaise as he possibly could but in reality knowing he wasn’t about to forget that night anytime soon “ its fine. Really. Anytime y’need me, for anythin’, you know where I’ll be “ you smiled and he watched your body relax a little more. 

“ you know, i might just take you up on that “ 

He sincerely hoped you would. 

[scarfacemarston]

Updated with transcript.

The files says this is from chapters 1-3. I made sure it wasn’t epilogue. I don’t remember Abigail leaving camp except during the bank job and her being captured by Milton and riding back to camp. That’s the later chapters. Please feel free to correct me! I think this is another sign she was supposed to be leaving camp more often.

Transcript: Abigail: Listen, I’m happy to drive if you forgot how. 

[foundynnel]

Happy release day-versary Red Dead Redemption 2 ❤️

[stray-cat-with-internet-access]

Arthur? 😳

[4youandi]

John Marston

[elesketchii]

vdl gang family sitcom is real TO ME!!

[arachnist]

get a room guys come on

[reveluvjay]

Me making sure my sweetie pie Arthur has a bath because he deserves it 💕🎀🌸

Arthur: This is the cleanest some parts of me been in weeks! 🤠

Me:

[alligator-tearzz]

RDR2 Characters as posts I've seen (again)

[misthiosss]

Poor lonesome cowboy