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davidlcki · 6 months

Note

hi! do you take requests? if not you can discard this but i really love the way you write emotionally charged moments so i’d love your writing style on this prompt, it can be a one shot or more of a blurb whichever you like: so perhaps taking place post canon where arthur is found half dead on that cliff and reader is nursing him back to health, trying hard to stay strong and believe he’ll get better but arthur is just waiting to die any day now and wishing he hadn’t been found, until he hears reader in another room crying to herself having to see him so deathly ill like that and slowly losing hope. so he starts feeling more determined to at least try for her sake and maybe see her smile one last time. but in the end he does get better, not quite back to his full strength yet but better 🥹 hope i didn’t ramble too much, i absolutely love your work and the way you write and i can’t wait to see what you post next 🫶🏻

IN TREMBLING ARMS

Pairing | Arthur Morgan x Fem! Reader Summary | While the world you had built around yourself seemed to crumble right before you, the last measures to sustain your happiness grew hard to take as the man you love fell deeper into his own despair. Tags | Angst-heavy, description of violence and wounds, fluff somewhere... :o Word Count | 11.4k A/N | Hiiii lovelies! ♡ I recently got this request that I really liked the sound of, which meant I obviously had to write it;) I hope what I wrote was in tune with what you had in mind! Enjoy! Also, thank you for the kind words♡

The pain of recalling an old life is surely something we’re all familiar with. Undoubtedly, it’s a brutal world we live in, one that sometimes takes too much and only gives small crumbles in return. You often found yourself crawling the ground to pick up these crumbs, laden with dust and dirt, just like your joyous memories are tainted in blood and pain–small glimpses of happiness amidst the hardship in day-to-day life, the tiny things that make living worth fighting for.

They were all thanks to Arthur. You’d been aware for quite a while that he didn’t think highly of himself, meaning he couldn’t possibly estimate how much his presence impacted your life. He couldn’t see that every good memory lately was in his favor–how he held your entire world in the bare palm of his hands. He could never understand, and you could tell he didn’t.

Every part of you was clinging to the last remains of a man who dropped the world’s weight off his shoulders, preparing to breathe the last breaths on this earth, alone and without you. It was so close now that you could almost taste it. You could tell by how his shoulders dropped heavily in resignation, the words that grew dull and lifeless, and his wit that never failed to bring a smile to your lips disappeared.

Even so, you saw glimpses of the man you fell for, and if you looked closely, you could find those few crumbles that gave you hope, even though they were ridden with filth. He’d still pinch your waist lightly to jest when you were in a bad mood, always putting your comfort above his own, even though he needed it more.

The burden on his shoulders was heavier than ever when he returned from being out. He was no doubt following Dutch's careless orders that, with time, became more uncaring and, worst of all, unsafe. It bothered you heavily that there was no regret anymore as he bid his orders around like Arthur wasn’t hunching down in exhaust with every step, more often than not needing a seat as coughs so rough wrecked through him, never failing to make you cringe.

Of course, Arthur could take care of himself, never stopping short of explaining that to you. But now, times were different, and you could see his eyes grow slightly more hollow every time he returned to you, and his bloodshot eyes grew into normality.

So naturally, you never stopped short when voicing your concerns to Arthur, but he was so headstrong he refused to acknowledge the toll everything was taking on his body. Deep down, you wondered if he continued since he had come to terms with his fate, putting other’s safety before his own because he had simply stopped trying.

He damned you for not listening to him, but his words held no real threat because he couldn't find it in himself to force you away against your will. So he let you stay, and through his violent coughs and wheezing, he always felt you rub his back soothingly, knowing that his time was running short. Because of this, he took every chance to bask in your gentle touches that felt more like home than anything else.

"Did you find out anything about John today?" Speaking softly, you run your fingers through his tousled hair, undoubtedly from wearing his rugged hat all day, observing his tired face as you were on his lap, Arthur sitting down as he came back to rest his aching legs.

"Mmm, we did." Thumbing at the fabric of the shirt you had stolen from him, he let the words rumble softly against you, breathing warmly against the chilled skin of your cheek.

"Abigail's real worried, you know, begged to come with us." Humming, you pondered over his words. Your dear friend has been over her head in worry as of late, the disappearance of John not doing the slightest to ease her anxiety.

"We'll get him back." You weren't sure if you were reassuring Arthur or yourself, but then again, there wasn't much you were sure of anymore. It seemed unlikely that anything you would say would comfort him, but that didn’t mean you didn’t try–every chance you got, you wanted to make him see reason.

Bringing you closer, he breathed heavily into your shoulder, throat whistling slightly from the strain, as his hands gripped your waist firmly, sighing in contentment when you hugged him back.

"How are you feeling?" you whispered, earlier taking notice of his eyes that had grown redder than usual and the slight blood stain he hastily wiped when you approached him, hoping you didn't get the time to spot it.

"The usual, I guess." Nodding slightly to appear positive before you, he let out a heavy sigh.

As the silence stretched, he kissed the top of your head lovingly after a while when you nuzzled your head further into his shoulder, savoring the moment since you hadn’t seen him much these past days.

"Tomorrow, me and Sadie thought about goin’-" You didn't give him a chance to finish, lifting your head from his shoulder as a frown appeared. God, you knew it was coming, but you had hoped he would still see reason and not do something stupid like that in his condition.

"Couldn't someone else go with Sadie? You not-" Catching yourself before you said the words you knew would get him riled up, you sighed slightly. "I'm sorry. I'm just so worried about you, Arthur. About everything."

"Hey." Cradling you closer, he softly grabbed your chin between his calloused fingers, beckoning you to meet his warm gaze. "What did we talk about, hm? I'll be alright."

You grabbed his cheek and stroked your thumbs against the scarred skin. He was so beautiful to you, just like he had always been, and you were sure he would scoff at you if you voiced your thoughts. But it was true. That face had seen you through the most challenging times of your life, and never had they been the reason for your tribulations and sadness.

"Now you're just lying to me to make me feel better." A long silence followed as you stared at each other, both stubborn beyond means, until the corners of his mouth raised slightly, a low chuckle rumbling deep in his chest. Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help but smile against your will, trying to keep your previous frown on your face.

His eyes, often weathered and wise, turned into soft pools of warmth and affection as they gazed at you. The world’s weight seemed to lift every time, even now, leaving only the tender vulnerability of a man deeply in love.

"Now, now," he spoke, words growing into his usual teasing tone as he grazed his hands along the fabric covering your sides, a wicked smirk growing on his lips. There’s an intoxicating allure to how his lips curve, never stopping short of making the butterflies in your stomach go haywire. "There's that smile I've been looking for."

Slightly tickling the sides of your stomach, you gasped as you tried peeling his hands away when a giggle left you from the unexpected sensation. Damned be Arthur and his refusal to let you worry about him, always trying to lessen your pain when he was severely worse.

"No, Arthur! Stop it!" Laughing merrily, he placed small kisses in the small crevice of your neck, relentlessly tickling your sides as you squirmed in his arms, an ugly laugh leaving you as you found it harder and harder to breathe amidst his torture. He snickered audibly at the sound leaving you, always finding humor in the strange quirks he loved so much.

The moment didn't last long, though, for the gut-wrenching coughs that left him amidst your banter made the cheerfulness of the moment quickly grow into a distant memory. Arthur would tell you he was okay and that all he needed was a few moments, just like he always did, but you both knew the disease was growing more severe as time passed.

Your precious memories grew less and less, though, and as time passed, there were hardly any crumbs left for you to pick up. The ugly paint of power, distrust, and hatred covered them. A hatred that grew so deep in every single being that surrounded you, and even in yourself. Hostility from one’s upbringing, misfortune, and wrong-doings. Bitterness for striving towards a goal that doesn’t have a finishing line, only a no-return sign at both the start and end.

A selfish disdain, it is, and oh so human. How could you possibly find the end where everyone could make amends when they had no will to change? How could you save him when he didn’t want to be saved? His only interest now was to get everyone away from the gang that he could for the time being. It had been apparent for some time now that whatever this was, it was over.

Because of this, Arthur told you to leave some time ago. He had begged you on his hands and knees as the blood he coughed up dripped like rain down his paled, gray skin. A beautiful tragedy it was, one that would leave people in a theater with tears glistening down their cheeks as the sight before them clenched at their hearts. That wasn’t how you experienced it, though. It was more like someone cutting through your numb skin and laying your heart down on the table to unfold every crevice and nook to prod at every part that hurt so terribly with a knife.

It made you wonder if hearts could bleed. You weren’t sure, but somehow you knew yours did as every strained cough from the man you love caused the tears that fell from your eyes to turn into a deep red, mingling with his on the ground.

As he begged, you could only stare at the ghost of a man you once loved: the warm skin turning cold under the palm of your hands, calculating and mischievous eyes growing vulnerable and exposed, and strong arms that once held you tightly, weak and skinny. They gripped your skirt for dear life like the sullen fabric covered with filth kept his weary body alive. And god, how you tried, despite the pitying looks thrown your way and resistance from Arthur's side, you wanted to keep him alive.

You had hated no one in your meager, seemingly insignificant life, but you hated Arthur. You hated him passionately for trying to make you leave behind the only thing that made you feel even the slightest bit of happiness. The only reason you had stayed with these people for so long was him, only him, and now he asked you to leave so he could spend the rest of his short time either getting shot or dying from his disease?

“You go now, or I’ll drag you on that train myself and tie you to the seat.” Silence had followed his last attempt to push you away, thick with a wave of heated anger from both of you as the remnants of your love grew shrouded in an unwillingness to understand. You didn’t want to recognize his worry, for you knew it would be the end for you and him.

“I ain’t got much left to lose now, so I must do this. You have to understand. Go.” The bitterness in his words grew colder as he spoke; the conversation that started so filled with passion grew harsh.

“Don’t get much to lose?” Your meek voice was choked up with frustration as you felt your heart drop to the ground. “What about me?!”

Everything hurt deeply, like he had set your whole body alight and then stomped on the remaining ashes. You had tried so hard to keep your head straight for Arthur through these challenging times, following every step he took loyally, never once questioning his decisions. Him telling you to leave had been the final straw. For him to expect you to give up everything you had done for him made you wonder how much you were worth to him.

“You can’t just tell me to leave!” Broken sobs left you when you spoke, hands trembling where you tried to rip his hands off your skirt, anything to lessen the tightening in your chest. When he didn’t ease his grip, your hands hit his chest as tears flowed down your warm cheeks. He closed his eyes from where he sat, the grip on your skirt turning his skin ghostly pale as you tried to create some distance, refusing to let you back away.

In your head, he was supposed to want you with him until the last second, and you could not dare imagine it any other way. Because of this, it wounded you deeper than he could imagine.

The hands that never once had grown harsh with you only pulled you closer, letting you bat tirelessly at him while your eyes grew heavy with a furious sadness gnawing at your insides. The surrounding air had become thicker than it usually was in the confines of Beaver Hollow, so it left you gasping for air as the distress wound its way around your throat.

His eyes were as warm as they always seemed when looking at you, and you damned him for it. Even when Arthur broke your heart, he rendered you entirely at his mercy the way he kept this gaze reserved for only you–like he understood you.

“I hate you.” Growing weak, you sank to your knees and rested your weary head on his chest, letting him hold you as you trembled in his sickly arms.

Soon after that, it seemed everything had reached a breaking point, and it couldn’t have been late enough. Arthur put you behind Sadie on the tall horse, making her promise to get you somewhere safe while he went and risked his life. Risk it for what you thought, kicking and screaming at him as he lifted you. Sadie was trying to comfort you, her hand on your waist as the worry for you and Arthur filled her mind.

"Let me down!" Tears were falling from your bloodshot eyes, filled with endless pools of agony and sorrow as the man before you avoided your gaze. "You're not sending me away!" You attempted to swing your leg over the saddle as you spoke through the hiccups that wrecked through you, fighting against Sadie’s hold.

"Please, sweetheart, come on." Broad arms caught your waist hastily, lifting you to put you back behind the worried woman. "Go with Sadie, now; she'll keep you safe." His voice grew distressed as you resisted, a deep worry for your safety that he always kept as a priority clouding his thoughts when you didn’t comply.

Not listening to him, you shimmered down the horse and threw your arms around Arthur's familiar embrace, burying your head in his shoulder as you breathed in his familiar scent. "Don't leave me here; please take me with you."

You knew now that his death was inevitable, an end you had refused to acknowledge as possible ever since you first set your eyes on him. Despite this, the love you kept for him made everything pale in comparison, not wanting to spend the endless days of the remaining part of your life without him. If he would find his solace in death, so would you.

He didn't answer you, instead wounding his arms around your smaller frame as he hugged you tightly against him, trying to map out every part of you into his mind so that even in death, he could remember the feeling of you forever.

"Don't go." You begged him without shame, holding onto him tightly as your tears darkened the material of his shirt. "I'm begging you."

You felt a pair of hands cover your cheeks, the blue orbs you knew so well staring reassuringly into yours, hiding the endless anguish taking cover behind its facade.

"I love you, sweetheart." His voice shook as he spoke, gazing with a terrible agony into yours. "I love you so much, you hear me?" Shaking your head slightly as he said, you could only weep as you realized your attempts to save him were useless.

"I love you too, Arthur," you said through sobs. Arthur was stroking the tears from your eyes as he pulled you in one last time, face scrunching together from having to leave you as he kissed the top of your hair.

So, in the end, he watched you leave as you stared after him in disbelief when Sadie set off, your body growing numb as he disappeared between the forest trees, hugging the woman as sobs wrecked through you.

"God." Crouching down, he panted as coughs broke through the silence surrounding him after you departed. But it didn’t seem to be the only thing rendering him on his knee as the dirty ground prodded at his knees, the all-to-consuming thought of never seeing you again clamping at his heart something so fierce he thought he might heave.

He had never been a stranger to heartache, having lived a life full of gut-wrenching memories and stories that were not for the faint-heartedly. But this, this was something entirely else. All these years of fighting, never knowing where he would rest his head the next night, and for what? So he could be free? He had been angry, so very angry at the world.

It all felt meaningless now, the constant blood on his hands, the pain he had brought others that might as well have been him had he chosen another path, the choice to drag you with him to the gates of hell instead of taking your hand and running off so he could keep you forever.

And in the end, as he lay there on the mountain, bleak eyes staring at the rising sun, he could feel an unfamiliar peace crawl up his feet, relaxing the very troubled muscles that had never rested up to his chest where a heavy weight had been present his whole life. In it, the heaviness had torn a big hole in his chest that pulled every good thing that had found him in his life into the prolonged darkness.

But somehow, a relief was spreading in his mind as he figured peace was closer than he thought, slowly and surely beginning to unfold in front of him. Darkness spread around him as the last lights reached his eyes before the tired lids grew shut, the now ever-so-strong memory of you branded into his mind.

–

You were no stranger to the rain. As a child, you reveled in the droplets that fell from the sky when the clouds formed. It was so simple, yet a memory so strong that it stuck with you throughout your life. Now, though, the rain that clung to your clothes only made the numbness grow worse, unable to feel your fingers as you rode on the muddy path that stretched before you, slippery and treacherous. It was no longer comforting, raking through your body like ice, chilling you from tip to toe.

Although not sure of your actions, there wasn't a single regret in your body for leaving both Sadie and Abigail when they found John, taking the first chance to head back the way you came from, the glimmer of hope that you would discover Arthur alive pushing you on, even though it dimmed with time.

When John returned, he could only look at you sadly while shaking his head, the look in his eyes enough for you to understand that Arthur hadn’t come with him. But you knew, of course you did, that he wasn’t coming back to you; his words and your knowledge of his ways are telling enough.

You had calmed down now, thinking more logically, but you preferred how you felt before instead of the hole beginning to form in your chest. It consumed you, growing bleaker and bleaker with time, making you wonder if you would ever find Arthur.

You found him eventually, but the torment of seeing him lying lifeless as the warm, lingering evening sun glazed over his skin beat at your bruised heart. For the first time since you’ve known him, he looked so small, like his body was cowering against the ground, seeking shelter from the cold breeze and a world that had grown so cruel, so malicious.

If the anguish following his departure was anything to go by, the sheer pain that shot through you after your bewildered moment of silence could only be likened to a thousand times worse. What you had feared the most seemed to be reality now, and it couldn’t have hurt any less.

Your aching feet, sore from climbing the far way up the mountain, ran the muddy path up to him as your hands enclosed his cold cheeks–swollen and purple with bruises as dried blood covered the majority of his skin.

“No, no, no!” You mouthed the words since you couldn’t get a single sound to leave you, a force so firmly clamping at your throat. You grabbed his clothes, shaking him as if it would make a difference and show a sign of life. It didn’t work, so you could only wrap your trembling arms around his neck, wailing out his name while begging the heavens above to bring him back to you, for the pain was too much to bear.

How would you continue life without him? The thought was too heavy to consider, your distressed mind refusing to believe he was gone. He’d always rise back up the moment something brought him down, so strong mentally and physically that you sometimes wondered how he was real. Why couldn’t he do that now and spare you all this hurt?

“Do you remember when we first met, how you always told me we would run away, just you and me?" Grabbing his hand, you placed small, lingering kisses on the battered knuckles, intertwining his fingers with yours as your voice trembled fiercely.

There had been a magnetic pull in the way his gaze had lingered on you when he spoke of his deepest wishes as if every word was a silent vow etched into the very fabric of your relationship. It’s something you both said of often when everything grew heavy, like an escape from reality to what things could be.

“How can we do that now if you’re going to leave me?” Sobs wrecked through you, gazing at his closed eyes while you internally begged for them to open. “Why are you leaving me?!”

Resting your head on his chest, you breathed in the scent solely your Arthur as he flooded your senses. Your guttural cries of anguish filled the air until your voice broke, eyes growing heavy with strain while you could only lay there with him, imagining he was alive under you.

Your head had grown empty after that, laying upon the body you had so many times before. You remembered the moments of complete and utter peace when he held you in the confines of his tent, warm hands always managing to find sanction around your waist no matter how exhausted he was.

The thought made you smile, remembering how his heartbeat would pick up as you intertwined your fingers. He was in many ways stoic, rarely sharing how you affected him, but you knew. In secret, of course, you knew, and you would kill to feel that again.

But when he fell asleep underneath you, the beating pattern would cease and instead follow a slower thud, never failing to bring you to sleep. Just like it beat now, you felt the lids of your eyes that were still wet with tears grow heavy under the comforting thudding of his heart, lulling you closer and closer to sleep.

Your eyes shot open so fast that you almost got a whiplash, raising your knees in disbelief. Arthur was lying still even now, body still beaten and bruised, but as you put your fingers on his pulse, you could feel it.

There it was, the slight thud of a pulse buried deep between the layers of skin and flesh, keeping Arthur alive despite the turmoil that had rendered his body almost inert. Grabbing the sides of his face, you shook it slightly, hope now filling your mind even though he didn’t move a single muscle.

God, he was alive, even though barely. The air got lodged in your throat as you felt puzzled, having been dead set on having to bury a corpse.

“Arthur, can you hear me?” Not a single indication left him as you spoke, wiping the hair covering his eyes so you could get a better look at him. A slight fluttering of his eyelashes could be seen as your voice broke through the stillness of the mountain. The more you grabbed his body in disbelief, the more movements you saw from him: fingers twitching slightly, small intakes of breath, and brows furrowing in small motions.

Raising on your feet, you sat down with his head in your lap, stroking his cheeks gently before you started tapping at them briskly, anything to wake him up. It didn’t work, so you started calling for him loudly, hoping it would reach him wherever he was.

“God dammit, Arthur, wake up!”

That did it. Unfocused eyes began to open up from underneath you, though Arthur found it difficult because of the swelling around the eyes. Seeing him so beaten up hurt you heavily, but you put all your energy into making him regain consciousness, forcing the turmoil far away from your mind.

“Hey, look at me. Can you see me?” The slightest motion of a nod could be seen, and you thanked whoever above that he responded to you.

Although through blurry eyes, he could see a slight indication of you hovering above him, wondering if he somehow had ended up in heaven to be able to gaze at you one last time. But maybe it was hell after all, the torturing fire replaced with you, barely in reach where he couldn’t touch you, which was the worst kind of torture he could conjure up.

You could see his fingers flex slightly, in your mind trying to show signs that he heard you, but in his stretching so he could reach out to you to touch the softness of your skin with his sinful hands.

“I need your help, Arthur. I can’t carry you alone, so you need to try, okay?” To be quite honest with yourself, you had no idea what you were doing, never mind if it was even possible to get him to move to the state he was in. But you had to try, at least. You weren’t leaving him here to fend for himself in search of help, pondering if those few moments could lead to his death. It was the only way.

“I told you to leave.” Amidst his close-to-death confusion, Arthur had grown more conscious, managing to speak as his eyes closed again. He realized you weren’t conjured up; instead, you were as real as could be as you prodded at his exhausted limbs.

You ignored his hurtful words, putting your arms under his head so you could assist in getting him to raise. He wasn’t light, that was for sure, but still, you tried until he was sitting up, although his head was hanging low and his back was arched forward in exhaustion.

“Come on, Arthur, I need you to help me.” Amidst your tries to keep him upright, you felt the all too familiar flood of tears threatening to flood from your eyes when the challenge felt impossible. You never felt so weak as you did right now, the possibility of helping him stay alive fading against the man's heaviness and your weary muscles.

“Honey, go. You-” Arthur slurred out as he almost dropped. “You shouldn’t be here.” Yelling in frustration as he once again fell towards the muddy ground, you put your hand over your face as the dam of tears broke.

“I’m not leaving you here to die, Arthur!” Taking a deep breath, you bent down again to try once more. His eyes were barely open now, staring at you in pain. “Please, just try.”

A loud grunt left him as he raised again, hands gripping the soil underneath him, damning your stubbornness. Although weak, you managed to get him to stand, leaning most of his weight on you. It was hard, no doubt, to feel his body supporting your smaller one, but it worked, for now. The breaths leaving him were awful, and he gasped out loud as you stepped forward slowly.

“This ain’t gonna work, honey,” Arthur mumbled, not a single hope left in his body to survive the long way to safety.

“Yes, it is.” You refused to listen to him, mind set straight on getting him to the horse.

Far back in your mind, you remembered a place Arthur used to take you, always going on about a man he used to hunt with until your ears bled. He had told you of its location when the poor man had died, bringing you there once. That should be fine, you thought. Hopefully, it was empty. If not, you have another problem on your hands.

The way back to the mare was challenging, with both of you falling countless times as the ground underneath you was uneven and riddled with stones. But your stubbornness wasn’t in vain because, after some time, you saw the familiar black coat of the horse appearing in front of you like an angel.

Not a single sound left him, eyes now almost closed as coughs left him then and again, both body and mind tired. He was taller than you, so he got on the horse much faster than you initially thought possible. Soon after, you swung your legs over the saddle in front of him, letting him lean his weight on you as you circled his arms around your waist so he wouldn’t fall off.

“Stay awake, Arthur.” Glancing back when you didn’t get an answer, you only met a tuft of hair as his head fell on your shoulder. “Come on, I can’t do this without your help.”

The road to the house you barely remembered was long, and you couldn’t ride too fast, worried about the grip on you that grew less by the minute. Thankfully, he had managed to stay awake the whole ride, but you felt his breathing grow more unstable and shallow.

The weather on that mountain had been forgiving, like time and space had stopped moving in sorrow, the warm sun covering you in its blanket. Now, though, the howling wind surrounding you made your surroundings bitterly cold, arms held in front of you to see where you were going.

Many times, you tried to speak to make sure he was still with you, but your voice grew muted against the forceful wind, so you gave up, hoping his weight on you meant he held some sort of consciousness.

As time passed and darkness began to spread around you, a small house by a lake appeared behind many trees and foliage. It was different from what you remembered, but still, somehow the same, staring back at you like some sort of angel, the promise of comfort egging you forward.

Not a word was exchanged as you helped him down the horse, a solemn resignation making him follow your will without a complaint, or maybe he was too tired to complain; you weren’t sure.

Stumbling through the doorway, it felt just as cold as outside, shivers shooting through you. It felt strange just barging into a dead man's home, but you deemed your selfishness just, Arthur’s health at the forefront of your mind. Empty of life, it was, and it made you relax slightly, not having to worry about someone else taking refuge here.

Soon, you could rest your heavy arms; you thought as the bed in the right corner of the house appeared before you like a halo. With the door closing behind you with a slam, you waste no time pulling Arthur with you in clumsy steps, letting him lay down on the soft mattress with a huff, dust flying around you as the bed creaked audibly under his weight.

Glancing at Arthur, his face was still contorted in pain as it had been since you found him. You carefully lifted his legs on the bed, removing the filthy, wet shoes from his feet and throwing them to the floor. Leaning over him, you touched his freezing cheek, finding him already passed out.

Hastily, you removed the wet clothes from his shivering body, laying them by the foot of the bed as you hurried to drape the sheets as well as some pelts you found over him to warm him up. Looking around, you tried to get your hands on some firewood to warm up the house, thankfully finding some not too long after your search. Your arms complained, though, from the weight already spent from the strenuous day–blisters on your fingers only worsen it.

The room soon filled itself with an orange glow, bouncing in heavy shadow on the walls, and your whole body huddled close to the fire as you warmed your hands for a moment, not realizing amidst your frenzy that you, also, were almost freezing to death in the chilly night.

It only lasted for a moment, though, the reminder of Arthur making you rise on your tired feet, rummaging through the cupboards and various wardrobes to find some supplies. Luckily, it appeared that the veteran kept quite the supplies on him, which you thanked him for under your breath. Some bandages you were sure you could still use were pushed into your arms, a few tonics that could lessen the pain, and, best of all, coughing medicine.

Walking back on the creaking floor, you dragged a side table closer to the bed and placed what you had found in your search, running outside quickly to get the water pouch hanging off the mare.

It wasn’t easy tending to Arthur; the number of hits he had taken was noticeable. Some kicks to his ribs, it seemed, amidst the various other bruises that loitered his skin. Stopping in your tracks, you wondered who could have done this. You hadn’t thought about it until now; your worry for his safety has been on your mind this entire time.

Micha.

The sudden thought of him sullied your mood even further, making you realize that no Pinkerton would leave him at the brink of death like that. Undoubtedly, they would have finished him off or taken him with them, another way to get to Dutch, for sure.

Cringing deeply at every purple bruise you dragged your finger over, hatred for the man laying his hand on Arthur grew. It was more fierce now than ever, the persistent name-calling and teasing he put him through when the disease started taking its toll not nearly as severe as this. You knew Micha was capable of this; deep down, you had known.

And where was everyone else, you wondered. Thinking logically, everyone had most likely run away the second things went downhill, but Dutch and Charles? Javier? Had they lost Arthur as they escaped from Beaver Hollow? And why did John not return with him if he had been alive?

The questions were running wild in your mind, but you had to put your questions aside for now; there was enough time later to wallow in contempt and confusion. Instead, you focused on cleaning the rest of Arthur’s bloodied face and bandaging the more gruesome gashes on his body. You knew getting him better wouldn’t be easy, but you weren’t ready to give up.

Sighing audibly, you put your head on your knees when you had done all you could and dragged the sheets over his shivering form. Gods, you were tired. It felt like your whole body had been running on spurts of adrenaline until now, and now that you got the chance to sit down, it rushed over you like a tidal wave. The whole ordeal, by any means, had felt like a fever dream.

No, more like a nightmare, you concluded. It was strange, and everything had happened hastily like the time had been fast-forwarded. Quite the difference from now, as the only thing audible was you and Arthur’s breathing and the slosh as the water hit the bridge just outside, time seeming to stand still in the tiny house by the lake.

It felt nice, though, you concluded as your eyes grew heavy. It was like the air around here cleared your sullied head slightly from all the months of stress and worry–gaining some distance even though it wasn’t by much. You could see why the man who had lived here chose to stay, finding the landscape calming yourself.

Often, Arthur would tell you about the man. Hamish, you believed his name was. A veteran, he said as he stroked your hair, telling you about the days he spent with him, softly lulling you to sleep. You had always found their relationship endearing but were only met with a scoff from Arthur every time you voiced your thoughts about their camaraderie. The idea made you smile.

You turned your gaze toward him, gazing thoughtfully. The swelling on his face was severe but not yet rendering him unrecognizable. You admired him for a moment, the rugged masterpiece under the purple bruises that the harsh strokes of life had always weathered. Yet he had always seemed to have been carved with a pen so beautiful everything it created couldn’t be anything less. Every scar, like poetic verses, had always added to his allure.

In many moments, Arthur’s gaze had been a haven for you, a refuge where you could peer into his most profound thoughts when he kept himself away from you. It was a place where you could find solace amidst all the chaos, a silent dialogue–a gaze that showed what he never said. But now they were closed, and the thought left you sadder than anything.

–

You had tended to Arthur many times before, and even though the scrapes had been nasty, this was something entirely else. His disease only worsened the state of his injuries, taking you ten steps back every time you thought you could see a flicker of consciousness in the following days.

Yet, he remained motionless on the bed for days on forward, awful coughing episodes making him shoot straight up from the mattress. Succumbing to the relentless coughing, it echoed in the room with harsh, hacking sounds. Each one seems to wrack his body, the force evident in how his shoulders tense and his grip tightens on whatever’s within reach, the strain etched on Arthur’s face, lines deepening with each cough.

Your hands reach his back to reassuringly rub the warm skin, feeling helpless. Unable to stand his pain any longer, you retrieve the cough medicine you put on the side table, the label on the glass bottle promising relief.

Too out of it to register what you were doing, he only lays there as you pour the liquid down his throat, and as soon as his sore throat swallows the last drops, his eyes flicker close, body relaxing in resignation on the bed.

“You would hate me if you were awake right now.” A breathless laugh left you, hand stroking the hair away from his face as you pondered how long he would stay like this. It seemed that’s what filled your days and nights now, constant worry as you sat plastered by the side of the bed, holding his hand tight as you prayed for whoever would listen to give him back to you.

Rarely did you take the time to open the various cans loitering the cabins, filled with canned food and other things that would fill your stomach well? Instead, you grew nauseous at the thought of it. You took the chance to spoon Arthur some soup, though, the small moments between sleep and wakefulness, hoping it was enough to give him some energy.

Some nights, when the pain was too much to bear, you would wound yourself around Arthur like a snake, being mindful of his injuries as you rested your head on his chest. You would listen to the slow thumping of his heart that had grown steady, slowly falling into a deep sleep, letting your heart rest, if even for a moment.

–

You were unsure how much time had passed in that house, endless days bleeding into each other. Most time was spent looking after Arthur, and when you weren’t, you were perched on the wooden steps of the house, gazing into the flickering water of the lake. Your bleak eyes always stared heedlessly at the scenery before you, and although beautiful, it did nothing to lighten the intricate knot growing in your chest.

Despite trying to keep your head straight, doubts always come to mind whenever you don’t have your hands full. What if you had been wrong all this time, and Arthur wouldn’t get better? The possibility was big, but you couldn’t imagine doing it any other way as you thought more of it. But all this chaos and energy you put into keeping the very soul of him alive, what if it wasn’t enough? What could you do that would be enough?

You walked down the porch steps with light steps, bending down on the bridge to wash your face, hoping it would ease your mind. While it didn’t, seeing your drained face and bleak eyes greying your features worsened it. You could only sigh as the sight of your exhaust reflected in the water.

“God.” You said, sitting back on your heels as you stared into the distance, horrified. No wonder you hadn’t taken the moment to care for yourself in the drastic days of apprehension, having been too wrapped up in the horrifying complications. With closed eyes, you rinsed your face, refusing to give yourself another lookover as you walked back towards the house.

The sight that you saw when entering through the door made your heart rise your throat. Blue eyes you adored so much were staring back at you, and although laden with fatigue, they were halfway open, gazing at you indescribably.

Quietness followed your surprise, and after a moment of contemplation, Arthur mumbled out under his breath. “Why'd you come back?”

His question hung heavy in the air; the only answer you could provide him was a face of bewilderment, mouth dry like cotton.

“I can’t-” As Arthur closed his eyes, a sluggish arm came to rest over his eyes. “-can’t save you now.”

You motioned to speak, but the words were lodged somewhere deep down where you couldn’t bring it up. Instead, you stepped closer to Arthur with small steps, like he wasn’t real. He couldn’t be; you hadn’t been given that hope for the longest time. But he was breathing before you now, moving.

You were so quiet at this moment you even surprised yourself, but as you crawled your way beside Arthur and draped your arms around his neck as you had done so many times before, you found that the bridge holding your tears at bay had blocked the words so they couldn’t escape you. But the bridge overflowed, tears now running freely down your cheeks as the feeling of his arms finally circled your waist.

He held you in that cranky, old bed for a long while, drowsy, sunken-in eyes closing in content regardless of his earlier concern, basking in the warmth your body provided his shivery one as his hands memorized you. The sunlight mirrored its way on your skin, the feeling now warm and tender, unlike the cold and empty touch it grazed with you before.

Arthur’s raspy voice pulled you closer in his embrace as he consoled you, tears wetting the skin on his neck as you gripped the strands of his hair tightly in your grasp.

“Hush, now.” He murmured out, voice so comforting it only increased your sobs.

"Breathe, sweetheart, breathe." Whimpering into his shoulder, you gasped for air between your snivels, breathing erratic that grew somewhat more stable as he ran his broad hand over the small of your back, hushing soothingly.

Things seemed to ease up from that day onward, and now that Arthur grew more conscious, you didn’t feel the draft of loneliness waft through you anymore. Still, he wasn’t up on his feet yet, heavily bedridden as the slightest movement could set off his coughing.

While his recovery gladened you something immensely, you could tell it put a heavy strain on his confidence; not used to being so weak and counterproductive. You could see how his eyes faltered when you tended to his wounds and how he avoided your gaze as you helped him eat, a deep confliction noticeable.

In these moments, he grew quieter than he usually was now. It was like he was waiting for something–something that was just out of his reach, putting a distance between you that wounded you deeply. You had to tell yourself many times to give him some time, to provide him with some peace of mind as he recovered from the trauma to both his body and soul.

So, you took the struggles daily, and as you stayed with him, you could see a glimmer of the Arthur you knew–the stubbornness, the humor, the fierce loyalty. But they are fleeting moments, overshadowed by the weight of his conviction that he is destined for a different path that doesn’t intertwine with the life you could offer.

“You know,” He told you one night, surprising you as you were plastered on the chair beside his bed, stroking the back of his hand while deep in thought. “I always felt at peace out here, like the air is different somehow.” He only got a hum as your eyes were locked on his fingers, intertwined with your smaller ones.

“It’s something I always imagined for us.” He murmured, staring at the ceiling as he searched for the words to voice his thoughts rightly. “Well, when times grew hard, I thought about it quite a lot.”

After some time, a small smile graced the corners of your lips, never having heard him be so open with you. You often voiced your wishes to run away together, towards something more fulfilling, something that would ultimately be safe. An ordinary life with Arthur was more than you could ever ask for, always opting to tell him about it late at night when he was too tired to react fully to your words.

It wasn’t possible; you both knew it, so it was only decided as wishful thinking. Also, Arthur always shot the idea down when you steered the conversation that way. He was too loyal to Dutch, finding your words unthinkable, constantly shaking them off as nonsense. Now, if it was because he felt that way or finding the thought hurting too much, you didn’t know.

“I didn’t know you felt that way.” You spoke quietly, meeting his warm gaze as he stared at you, lifting your hand to his chest, where he placed it against his heart.

“Mmh. Well, every time I passed here, I thought about you.” He smiled slightly at you, continuing as a rumbling chuckle left him mid-sentence. “Hamish asked about you quite a lot, found you fascinating, he said.”

“Me?” You raised your eyebrows, half-endearingly for the thought that Arthur talked about you and half-suprised that you made an impression on the man. “How come?”

“He wondered why a woman like you stayed with someone like me. Said you were doin’ charity work or somethin’ like that.” You rolled your eyes slightly in jest, bringing his hand to your lips as you placed a nimble kiss on the coarse fingers.

“Well, I happen to like doing charity work,” you mumbled against the skin, breath warming the cold tip of his fingers, finding Arthur gazing at you indescribably.

But some days, he let the words that he pondered about day in and day out be heard, and those moments were the hardest for you.

“I don’t understand you.” He would mumble as his head finally began to clear. You told him that John, Abigail, and Jack had likely gone to safety. It made his mouth’s corners chirp slightly, content they got on alright. But as matters turned to you, he suddenly became cold, eyes crinkling when his eyebrows screwed together.

“You get the chance to go and live your life to the fullest, yet you go back to try and save a man that already died a long time ago.” It appeared impossible for him to wrap his head around the thought, looking at you as if you were a scientific experiment.

“You’re not dying.”

“YES, I AM!” You gasped slightly as his voice grew loud suddenly, yelling out the words as his hand pointed at you, eyes wide open where he lay glued to the bed.

“And all I want before I die is to see you safe, and you can’t even give me that!”

He had never yelled at you like this if he had even yelled at you at all. Arthur had always tended to take the image of the rugged, unforgiving brute, but never had he been that way with you. It was always tender touches, calculating glances, and a sense of utter contentment when you were around–acting like you would break if he didn’t keep calm and collected.

It differed from now, the usually calm sea of his eyes now a stormy whirlpool, harshness lining the edges, and it was pointed towards you. You pulled your hands against your chest nervously, wishing to shrink into the ground to avoid his, to you, unjust fury.

“Stop.” Your voice grew quiet as the air in the room seemed to lessen, eyes shooting towards the ground.

Groaning, Arthur raised his arms, gasping when he had to support his weight on it. Stepping forward to help him, you were only faced with his palm begging you to stay away.

“Of course, I couldn’t leave you,” you reply gently. “Besides, I had to know what happened to you.”

“Stubborn woman, didn’t I tell you to go? It ain’t safe anymore.” You backed away, not wanting to listen.

“Now I don’t know where the hell Dutch is, where Micha is, which means this is far from over. That’s why I’m sayin’ you shouldn’t stay!” He tried to reason with you, make you realize that your part in this was over.

He felt conflicted. Whenever he thought of you, he struggled between being selfish and thinking of what was best for you and what he needed to do to keep you alive through all of this. On one side, he longed for every part of you to remain with him, but on the other side, he couldn’t stand you being hurt on his behalf more than you had already been.

He knew he crushed you in the process, it was undeniable, the cries that left you when placed behind Sadie before telling enough–but it had to be done, despite how much he despised himself for putting you through this. You were always so calm and level-headed that he couldn’t be anything more than heartbroken when you called after him that day, the distress so unlike you.

Arthur didn’t like it, which fueled him to push you away even further when he realized you didn’t see reason, deciding that the only plan left was to show you what kind of man he was, or rather, what kind of a man he was to everyone else.

“This isn’t you talking, Arthur.”

“What do you mean it ain’t me talkin’?” His face grew red with strain as he spoke, alerting you as you bent down to meet his gaze, placing your hands on either side of his cheek. He scrunched his eyes together, heart pleading to give into you as your ever–so-gentle hands closed around him.

“You're sick, Arthur, and you’ve been beaten to a pulp. Now, I don’t know what transpired on that mountain, and I’m not sure finding out would do me any good, but I thought-'' Stopping in your tracks, you closed your eyes. “I thought you had died, Arthur. I, I cried for you, thinking I would never see you alive again.”

“I ain’t less than a ghost now, darlin’; you should have left when you had the chance.” He stared tiredly into your eyes and then turned away from you. “You have to accept that. It’d gone much easier if you left me on that mountain.” His heart beat as he voiced the reality of his thoughts, knowing it would hurt you, but the statement was also true.

Silence followed for a long time after that, the turmoil inside you breaking, seeping like blood from the cracks of your heart as you were left staring at the side of his face.

“I’ve loved you for a long time, Arthur, but it has never felt like I’ve known you entirely.” While he gazed at you, the fury still raced deep in the blue orbs, coloring them darker with pain.

“You have a barricade around your heart that I can never breach. And I tried; believe me, I did. For the longest time, I tried to be there for you, be something for you to come home to, to ease your mind that always was off somewhere else, somewhere I could never follow!” Your tone that started quietly grew loud as you spoke, heart racing inside your chest as the words fell like liquid out of your mouth.

“I can’t-” Your voice hitched, angry tears falling unwillingly from your eyes. “I can’t help you if you don’t let me in!”

“I don’t need your help!” You could see Arthur close off from you even more, pushing you away as the harshness of his voice cut you like a razor. “I never had!” His voice broke as he yelled, panting as he sat on the bed, hunching forward as frustration rose.

“Arthur!” You felt anger grow in your chest, finding him unbelievable as you swatted at his chest lightly, standing up to put some distance between you, seeing him trailing after you. “I’m done with you telling me to go when all I live for is you!” Fiery and consuming anger flared within you, setting your cheeks ablaze as you spun around to face him.

“Well, I’m over you being so stubborn all the time! Never listen to me when I only want to see you off safe, caring for me like it’s a glimpse of hope that I’ll survive!” A scoff of disbelief left you, staring at him as you almost laughed in shock.

“Me!? Stubborn!?” Your palm found your forehead, voice laced with anger-filled frustration. “That is very rich coming from Mister. I never listen to anyone other than myself!” You paused before you yelled. “Ever!”

“Because I know what’s best, alright!? And I know that you should be far, far away from me!” A fire started to show in his voice, but it also crept into your bones, warmth spreading on your cheeks.

“Oh, and what?! Find some boring, middle-aged asshole who’ll tie me to the kitchen and make me have tea-party with some lifeless, dreary, pompous, old ladies?!” Your breathing was hectic as the words spilled out in a heated rush.

“Yes, that’s what I want, ‘cause that would mean you would be safe!” He stalked closer, cornering you at the door.

“I’d rather die, Arthur,” you said. “I’d rather die with you than face the long, bleak years of this world alone! You backed away, feeling suffocated when he didn’t give you any space to breathe.

“The only place I feel safe is with you, Arthur!” Your voice broke slightly, gripping his shirt to shake some sense into him. “It’s with you I’ve always felt at home!” Gripping his stubbled cheeks in your palms tightly, you pleaded with him as he gazed into your eyes. “I’m not leaving you; get that through your thick, dumb skull!”

“Stop being so goddamn unselfish and think about yourself for once!” He met your gaze, dark as he stared at you from underneath his brows. “Get out the hell out, leave!”

You only stared at him, cold shivers like freezing water wrecking through you, backing towards the door as his shadow grew more prominent, stepping unbalanced on his feet towards you. Grabbing your shoulders in his broad hands, he stepped so close that all you could see were his eyes blaring into yours.

“Come on!” He yelled, shaking your body as if to shake some sense into your stubborn mind. “GO!”

Choking on your tears in distress, you were left gasping for air as you tried to breathe, feeling his body falter above yours. The coughs that now raked through him made you sink on the floor with him, and as the blood splattered on your dress, covering your chest in a deep red that contrasted the ivory fabric, you sat on the dirty floor, a man devoid of the will to live anymore laying in your trembling arms.

After that, you only felt his lips that sought yours, entangling your limbs together like snakes in a snake pit–not a gentle surrender but a clash of hunger, a collision of lips borne from ages of holding back the reality.

Bloodied lips against bloodied lips met in a fierce urgency after taking a quick breath, fueled by the unspoken desires and the acknowledgment that, despite your disagreements, the love you kept for one another was deeply engrained in both of you, hearts unable to stand the hate you felt.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping as if seeking reassurance as the world blurred. Anger melted into a raw vulnerability, frustration giving way to the unspoken plea, and the desperation grew more considerable than it ever had–and as you both pulled away, breaths heavy and gazed locked, the air crackled around you as he instead hoisted you up in his arms so you could fall into each other’s embrace yet again.

Your tears now rubbed their way down Arthur’s cheeks, your breath hitching as sobs still found their way through you. His broad hands pulled you tighter against him, the inner fight that took place in his mind showing as he wanted to push you away, only to draw you closer to his dying limbs.

“You know I ain’t a good man, honey. That ain’t going to change, ever.” His gaze was gravely and serious as he stared into your eyes, an uncanny vulnerability etching them deep down. “This life lives within me; I can’t escape it. I can’t escape the sins that I carry. I’ve done horrible things, things you couldn’t even dream of.” Sighing, he closed his eyes. “You know that.”

Your eyes softened as you saw the wrinkles in his face release, finally hearing something real coming from him. “You’re not your sins, Arthur. And even if you were, I’d carry them with you, lighten the burden.” Stroking his cheek with the tips of your fingers, he opened his forever lonely eyes, now staring into yours.

“God, I tried, honey. I tried to get you to leave, talkin’ to you in ways I’ve promised myself I never would–everything to get you to leave.” He pushed your head against his shoulder, resting his head on yours in defeat. “It was harder than I thought, see you cryin’ like that.” Sighing heavily, he continued. “But somehow, you always stay.”

“I’m not leaving.” You mumbled against his skin.

“There’s no mistaking that.” He chuckled, stroking your back. “Everything I do is to keep you safe; you’re so stubborn not to realize that.”

“I’m safe when I’m with you, Arthur.” He didn’t answer you for a while, holding you comfortingly. He felt the strings that held his will up loosen, giving up on trying to push you away, the sight of you sobbing tugging at his heart.

“I feel like all I do is make you cry lately.” Staring at your smaller arms that hugged him, the doubt that he still wasn’t good enough for you clouding his mind.

“You make me cry when you push me away,” you admitted, your voice steadier now. “It hurts, Arthur.” He sighed, fingers still entangled in your hair, twisting your hair strands with his fingers.

“I know, honey,” he murmured, a concession to the unspoken ache.

“Then stop.” He lifted your head to make you look at him through wet eyes.

“Stop hurting me; I can’t handle it anymore.” He felt like you had shot him right in his chest as you begged him, staring through vulnerable eyes he rarely saw. He had done countless horrible acts in his life, but this was indeed to be pivoted as the worst, never having felt the pang of agony quite so brutal.

He couldn’t tell how long he would live now, down to his last breaths, but he didn’t have the power to keep you away from him any longer, not when you were so adamant about staying. Had you been angrier at him, he was sure you would take your things and leave him, but there was a part of you he so adoringly loved, a part that always seemed to care too much, love too hard.

Somehow, he praised whoever made you that way because were you not, he would no longer have the light of his life in his arms, even if his time was running out. No longer would he be able to feel the graceful touch of your fingers on his skin and the sparkling in your eyes as you stared up at him in mischief, making him feel more alive than he had ever felt in his miserable life.

Hugging you closer to him, he captured your soft lips in his, feeling the ache only increase as he basked in the way you sighed, relieved. You felt the promise of not pushing you away anymore lingering in the corner of his mouth, dragging you closer to him as hope finally seemed in reach.

–

“And as the last light of day shone through the window, he realized how it felt like to hold the world in the palm of his hands, for her eyes were the window to everything he wishes for, and more.” Glancing mischievously into Arthur’s eyes through the pages, you conclude. “The end.”

Pushing the book’s pages close with a loud bang that echoed through the sunlit room dramatically, you presented him with a toothy smile.

“I never took our dear friend for being such a romantic, Arthur.” Raising from the bed, you spun around to face the man who seemed reluctant to let you go, bending down to stare into his eyes cheekily. “Are you sure you went hunting together? With all these books, maybe you spent your time cooped up here reading romance?” A giggle left you as you walked towards the stove, checking on the stew bubbling deliciously, the smell making your mouth water as it passed your nose when you opened the lid.

Behind you, you could almost hear how Arthur’s eyes rolled back into his head, arms still outstretched towards you. “Sure,” he drawled, staring at you warmly as you teased him. “Our favorite pastime. How did you know?”

His sarcastic tone reached you as the warmth of the cooking burned your tongue slightly when you tried to get a taste, hissing as you dropped the spoon back into the pot.

“You can’t fool me, Arthur; I know you’re a true romantic.” Pushing your finger against the sore part of your tongue, you turn to face him, resting against the counter.

“It’s something I always imagined for us.” You mocked slightly, puffing out your chest as your voice grew into his familiar southern drawl, imitating your earlier talk with him some time ago.

Scoffing at you, he suddenly rose from the bed, the book falling from the floor as he stepped towards you. Perking up at his motion, you found yourself stuck as his arms encased around you, the warm scent of him mingling with the food as he stepped closer.

Cowering slightly under his gaze, you giggled nervously as you leaned back. “Have you ever heard of personal space?” He didn’t answer you as you jested with him, palms finding each side of your face as his eyes observed you tenderly.

God, he loved you like this. Ever since your fight, every obstacle that hindered you from growing closer to each other was breached. Every time you laughed, it filled his heart with warmth, finding the life he once fell in love with reaching you again as you settled; the hardest of times now passed.

He couldn’t help it as he pressed against you, sighing deeply as your lips found his in a loving caress, smoothing over one another as the sound of your slight humming broke through the silence.

It felt like a blessing to have Arthur close again. Some time ago, you feared you had utterly lost him as he remained a shell of who he once was, shielding himself from you and everyone else. Although at ease now, the heavy shadow of his disease still lingered over you like a cloud, most times reminding you of the sad realization that all was not well.

Despite this, you could see how much better he was faring, now both up on his feet and with a sane mind–much more like the man you fell for. At times, the anxiety still clawed its way into your mind, wondering if all of this was too good too last. Although, since both you and Arthur realized that relying your thoughts and fears on one another was fatal if this was going to work, he always kissed your worries away, driving the somber mood gone with his hands.

“Where did you go?” The words rumbled quietly against your lips as your eyes lifted to gaze into his wondering ones, feeling him push your hair behind your ear. You gave him a small smile, playing with the buttons on his shirt.

“Secret.” You whispered when you felt him lean closer again, the tension growing in sparks around you.

“Oh, I see. We keepin’ secrets now?” Raising his brows in fake mock, you felt his hands circle your waist so he could lift you around his torso. An innocent smile covered your lips as he hoisted you up, slightly pinching your waist so you let out a breathless laugh.

Stalking back towards the bed, you realized his only plan had been to bring you back all this time, giving Arthur a knowing look. “I am allowed to have some secrets, you know.”

“Are you now?” He smirked at you, kissing your nose before laying you on the soft bed, hovering above you. “I think I know a few ways to get you to speak.” Crawling up your thigh was a hand filled with sinful intent.

“Well, I won’t tell, you brute!!” You laughed as you squirmed against him, wishing his hand away as they traveled further.

“Oh, I’ll show you, brute, darlin´.”

All the wounds and hurt weren’t healed by any means, but as time passed, it started to mend the damage it created. The crumbs that once were so few grew larger and larger, now swapped out with a special love that you were sure was destined just for you and the man who always had it in the palm of his hands–only the need to accept himself in order to let it reach you.

And while this story certainly isn’t over, the worry about Arthur’s health and the glimmer in his eyes he still kept for the life he had lived and would never escape still existed. You could tell he was aware you saw it, noticing him staring longingly into the wild, fingers flexing with anticipation.

But those were thoughts for darker days. For now, as you lay with Arthur’s arms wound around you and the sparkling of the fire cracking into the silence, you would bask in it for as long as you could. With the soup long forgotten—you realized you would follow him to the ends of the earth if he asked you, even if it meant your death.

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davidlcki · 6 months

Text

Blood Bond

Summary: after bob taylor’s death, you and your police partner loki have to work through the trauma together.

Warnings: MAJOR TRIGGERS IN THIS!!! suicide, lots of blood, cursing, drinking. this whole thing is just sad lol

words: 3,380

There was something beautiful about the bond formed within a traumatic event. Somehow, even in your state, you thought about this. You could feel the shift between you and Loki as he placed his hands on your cheeks, shaking you lightly as a desperate pleas spill from his lips, an attempt to will you back to reality.

His palms slid against your cheeks that were slick with blood. The feeling made you sick. It wasn’t your own blood, of course. But Bob Taylor’s. The man that had been questioned relentlessly by your police force- well- mostly Loki. Loki could only keep his cool for so long. You tried to take over the interrogation, but he was too stubborn to ever let that happen. One thing led to another, and in a blink of an eye Bob had his hands on Lokis gun. You tried. You tried with every fiber of your being to get him to drop it. Whilst the rest of the officers in the room pointed their guns and screamed with rage, you never touched yours.

“Bob… look at me. You don’t wanna do this, okay?” you were close. Almost in arms reach of him. He was listening to you, even through the shouting, he heard you. You continued to inch forwards. “All you have to do, is answer our questions. It’s no trouble. Please, just put the gun down.” you stop, mere inches from being able to grab the gun, but you were too late. Bob looked you dead in the eyes as he brought the gun to his own head and pulled the trigger.

You don’t remember falling to the ground, but you do remember the ringing in your ears and the oddly warm feeling of his blood trickling down your face. Loki hooked his arms under yours and dragged you backwards before kneeling down in front of you, blocking the sight of Bobs body. It took a second for his words to reach your ears.

“Y/N! god… jesus…” he didn’t know what to say. You noticed how badly his hands were shaking as he grabbed your face. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, you could only look at him. You noticed how blue his eyes were as you stared into them in a trance that you didn’t know how to get out of. Finally, he lifted you to your feet by your arms, basically dragging you out of the interrogation room. You followed on numb legs as he pulled you all the way to the bathrooms, pushing you down to a sitting position on a bench by the sinks. The dim blue fluorescent lights flickered unpredictably above you.

“Y/N, honey, are you hurt?” his voice was soft and brought you back to reality a little. You had the mind to shake your head no, though if you were you were sure you wouldn’t have felt it. You looked down at your hands in your lap as loki wet a rag in the sink. Your hands, shirt, hair, face, pants, they were speckled with blood. You looked like a sick art project. You decide shut your eyes for a while, allowing Loki to wipe your face down gently. After a while, he speaks.

“Hey, I need you to say something.”

You look at him. Even though you felt numb, there were tears falling down your cheeks, and when you finally opened your mouth to speak, you felt it. A sharp, stabbing, murderous pain.

“I…i’m, I don’t,” your words quickly deteriorated to sobs that violently took over your body. Loki pulled you by your shoulder into him, allowing you to cry into the crook of his neck.

You had only been lokis partner for a month or two, and were very new to the police force. You had never witnessed a murder before, and especially not a suicide by gunshot a foot away from you.

“I’m gonna take you home, alright? Can you get up?” You nod against him as loki ran a hand up and down your back gently as he spoke softly into the silence of the bathroom. You notice the blood that you left seeping into his light blue button up shirt. You wondered if he’d be upset at this.

When you exited the bathroom, you passed by the interrogation room again. Bobs body was gone, but his crimson blood remained. On the walls, on the floor. There was a large smear where you had fell and Loki dragged you backwards. You were dully aware of the way loki brushed off every officer that tried to talk to him. You were sure youd have to fill out some kind of paperwork and have a stern talking to by o’malley, but the sight of you was enough for everyone to back off for now.

The ride home in his car was dead silent. You didn’t dare move. You were afraid that if you did, you’d crumble into a million pieces. Instead, you started down at your lap, counting the flecks of now dried blood that you’d never get out of these clothes.

“You have a very nice place.” Lokis words shot through you like lightning. You didn’t know why. You were too in your head, you guessed. You hardly remembered the walk from the car into your home.

“Thank you.” you look over at him slowly, noticing the look of deep guilt on his features. You’d never seen him show so much emotion before in the short time that you had known him. He stood awkwardly near the island in your kitchen, not sure what to do next.

“Do you… need help, with anything right now? First things first you should probably take a bath.” he looked at you like a lost puppy as he waited for you to say something. You could tell he wasn’t good at this comforting thing, so you figured it best to be blunt.

“I don’t think I Can bathe myself right now.” in reality you knew that was a weird thing to say to your police partner of 3 months, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care right now. You needed someone there otherwise you were afraid you might drown in the tub, or get in and never have the will to get back out. Loki dosent hesitate with his answer.

“Yeah… yeah, I can help.” he slips his jacket off and places it over the back of one of your dining room chairs. You avoided looking at the blood stains on his light blue shirt. You show him to the bathroom, watching as he starts a bath. You stood with your arms and legs apart ever so slightly so they wouldn’t touch your sides or each other. You felt disgusting. You refused to move unless you had to. The feeling of the dried blood cracking with each movement on your skin made you want to faint.

Within the blink of an eye, the bath was full, and clouds of white bubbles floated upon the top of the water, calling you to step in. Loki looked up at you from his crouched position in front of the tub. He opened his mouth to say something, you assumed along the lines of ‘the baths ready’ but you didn’t let him continue. Your movements were swift as you pulled your shirt above your head and slipped out of your pants. You didn’t realize how eager you were to get them off of you. You tossed them into the trashcan that sat beside the toilet. Loki, flustered, turned his head away from you. When you were fully stripped, you turn to take a look at yourself in the mirror above the sink. There was smeared blood across your face where Loki had previously tried to clean you off. It was in your hair, and down your neck, cascading between your breasts and stopping at where your bra previously sat against your skin. You couldn’t look anymore. Slowly, you turned towards the tub and stepped in. Once you had settled, Loki finally pulled his head up to look at you. His brows had been furrowed in this expression of worry and guilt for the past however long it had been since the incident, and somehow you were just now taking note of it. You looked at each other for a long while, but nothing was said. Finally, Loki broke eye contact, grabbed a rag, and dipped it beneath the bath water. He gently took your chin in his free hand, turning your face towards him so he could gingerly wipe your face clean. He dragged the cloth down your neck, and inbetween your breasts, until all the blood was tinting the water instead of your skin. Nothing was said. The two of you seemed to be deep in thought. On a normal day, this interaction would have made you faint. But this wasn’t a normal day. Loki ran soap and water through your hair a few times until the water stopped coming out red, before draining all the water. You watched in a trance as the water and bubbles swirled out of sight. You hardly noticed the fact that Loki had pulled you from the tub and wrapped a towel around your naked shivering frame.

“Hey” Lokis voice was stern this time. You shifted your eyes to look at him. “I need you to look at me. Really, look at me. I can see you replaying what happened over and over. I know, it’s happened to me. It’s easy to get stuck. I want you to get dressed for me, alright? I’ll stay overnight with you.” You don’t think you’ve ever heard him talk for this long unprompted. You were seeing a new side of him.

“Okay. thank you, David.” you give him a firm look before stepping past him and into your room. You knew he was shocked at the use of his first name, But you thought it appropriate for the situation.

Being clean made you feel a lot better. You shook the sight of Bob from your thoughts for the 100th time and quickly threw on the first clothes you grabbed in your pajama drawer, which happened to be a pair of shorts and a police force shirt that was given to you way too many sizes too big. When you walked into the kitchen, things seemed more awkward now. Or maybe you were just more aware. Loki was sitting at your kitchen table, fiddling with one of his rings. He looks up at the sound of your footsteps, a light smile crosses his features. You look away out of embarrassment, remembering he’d seen you completely naked a mere 10 minutes ago.

“You… you really don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.” you busy yourself with walking to the cabinets of your kitchen to grab two glasses.

“No, it’s okay. You shouldn’t be alone after going through something like this.” Loki watches as you nod and head over to grab water, though stopping at the small collection of liquor sitting on your counter.

“Water or whiskey?” you ask him, forcing a light smile onto your face at your weak attempt at a joke.

“Guess” is all he said. You poured two glasses of whiskey and sat across from him at the table.

“I would say try to completely forget about it, but when you go back you’re going to be bombarded with questions. If someone dosent show up to your doorstep, that is.”

“Well…” you pause for a while, swirling the liquid and taking a sip before continuing. “I don’t know if im ever going back. I’ll sign whatever papers they need and make a statement but…” you let out a large sigh, not having much else to say.

At this, Lokis head shot up to meet his eyes with yours. They were widened with surprise.

“Are… are you sure?” He was looking at you intently, and this shocked you. He seemed afraid.

“No, i’m not sure. But today was a lot. I need to think for a while. Plus, i don’t think anyone really likes me there anyways” You let out a dry laugh. It was true. Most of the officers there gave you snarky looks, and within the short span youve been there you’ve just about heard it all. The entire department thinks your every move was to impress Loki. You knew they were jealous you got to be his partner considering the rep he has, but it still hurt. Especially since you did find Loki crazily attractive, you tried your best to make it look like you didn’t, but your co workers don’t see it that way. Loki nods, his head dipping back down to stare at the little bit of whiskey left in his glass.

“If it gives you any reconciliation, I enjoy having you as my partner.” You meet eyes again, and you cursed yourself as you felt that agonizing pain of butterflies in your stomach. You give a shy smile to match his and you eye his movements as he downs the rest of his drink. You watch his adams apple bob as he swallows, and immediately force yourself to look anywhere else but at him. You decide to change the subject.

“Sorry I don’t have a guest bedroom, but the couch is very comfortable” you gesture over to the couch that sat in front of a tv that was playing whatever was going on in the news. You knew sooner or later Bob Taylor would show up as one of their stories.

Loki shrugs and gets up to put his glass in the sink. “I’d sleep on the floor if I had to.” he smiles softly at you and kicks his shoes off by the door. You rise to your feet and place your glass in the sink as well, making a mental note to wash them out in the morning if you found the energy to. You grab a blanket and comfortable pillow from the chest in your room and bring them back down to Loki.

“Thank you again for staying.” you look up at him for a few beats, before turning on your heel to head to your room. Loki watched you walk off until you were out of sight.

Sleep that night was not so forgiving to you. Though you usually had nightmares, the ones you had tonight were plagued with Bob Taylor. The scene played out in a million different ways. In each one, you tried to save him, but it always ended the same. The sound of his blood splattering against the wall was sickening and bounced around your nightmares seemingly endlessly. What you didn’t know, was that as you dreamt in your bed, you were also screaming.

When you opened your eyes, Lokis face was probably a mere 5 inches from yours. He was half on top of you, shaking your shoulders and holding your arms by your sides to stop your thrashing. You woke up with a half yell half sob as the dream continued to replay in your head.

“Hey, hey!” Lokis harsh tone snapped you out of your trance. “Look at me Y/N” his voice was stern and he kept his firm grasp on your wrists, grounding you and keeping you from reeling back into your thoughts. You were near hyperventilating as you looked up at him helplessly. Tears were flowing down your cheeks, leaving wet spots on the pillow on each side of your head.

“I could have fucking stopped it. I could have been quicker I- I-” another sob chokes the rest of your sentence away. Loki begins to loosen his grip on your wrist, moving his right hand to interlock with yours. He gave you a few firn squeezes, assuring you he was right there for you. You squeeze back as an unspoken ‘thank you’. You sit up to face him in the darkness of your bedroom.

“It was my fault. mine. You didn’t do this, You didn’t cause this. It’s not your fault. say that.” he looks at you for a long while, waiting for you to respond. You could see the hurt in his eyes as he spoke, you could see how much the suicide hurt him just as much as it did you.

“I need you to say that Y/N. It’s not your fault.”

Your lip quivers as you speak.

“It’s not my fault”

Loki nods, and you can’t tell if it’s for you or himself. You were both sitting up on the bed, holding hands ahd whispering to each other in the darkness of the room. You could barely make out his face as the moonlight gently seeped through your curtains, but you could tell he was close. Loki closes his eyes, and presses his forehead against yours. This, somehow, was more intimate than any kiss. Your eyes fluttered closed soon after. For a while, neither of you said anything. It was comfortable silence as you reveled in the feeling of his hand interlocked with yours, your breathing in sync as you rested your forehead against his.

The sounds of your sniffling broke the silence. Loki stared into your eyes for a while, unsure of what else he could possibly say to you.

“I don’t think I would have made it through today without you here.” your voice was so quiet that Loki nearly struggled to hear even with your closeness. He found that good reason to tilt his face even closer, causing your noses to touch ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry” he spoke, and this is when you noticed just how close your lips were.

“You couldn’t have known…” you respond. It’s all your mind could come up with. You didn’t know what else you could say, you knew all too well now how hard it is to truly make someone feel better in a situation like this. Either way, your thoughts became clouded as your lips ever so slightly brushed against his as you spoke.

That seemed to be Lokis breaking point. The next thing you knew you were propping yourself up at the force at which he kissed you. It wasn’t soft or gentle, it was rough, raw. You were sure you tasted blood after your teeth clashed together, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. It was what you needed after the day you both had. His hands were quickly on your body, toned arms pulling you flush against him as he devoured you.

This kiss was different than any you’d had before. You could nearly physically feel the emotion radiating between the two of you. You hardly noticed when Loki pushed you down to your back, head resting on the pillow that was still wet with your tears. He rested inbetween your legs, his hands not roaming but simply pulling you as close as possible to him. You couldn’t gauge how much time had passed, but eventually, the hunger within his kiss seemed to come to a halt. Slowly, your eyes fluttered opened as Loki pulled away. He was still holding you close, but he seemed to have frozen. Your brows furrowed. Did you do something wrong?

“Loki?” your eyes were struggling to make out his facial expression in the dark, but your mind seemed to go over every possibility. Was he mad? Did he change his mind about you?

Suddenly, something dropped onto your cheek. That’s when you realized. He was crying. A small sob, barely audible, escaped his lips as he began to crumble before you. You ran a hand through his hair gently, your heart somehow shattering more than you thought possible as he rested his forehead against your chest, his weight collapsing on top of you.

“Hey. You’re okay, loki. You’re okay.” your voice was merely a whisper as you held his shaking frame.

“What if I can’t find them?” his voice was small and muffled as he spoke into your shirt. Your mind instantly went to the two missing girls that the entire town of Conyers seemed to be relying on your department to find. You felt hopeless. With Your only lead being dead, you were stuck.

“You will. We will. We’ll find them.” you didn’t know if this was more for Loki or yourself.

#fanfiction #one shot #detective loki #david loki x you #david loki #david loki x reader #detective loki one shot #detective loki x reader #detective loki fanfiction #angst #jake gyllenhaal x you #jake gyllenhaal one shot #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal x reader #prisoners #prisoners one shot #prisoners fanfiction

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davidlcki · 9 months

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the fact that there’s no ryan gosling ken fics rn is a crime. IM BEGGING YALL TO MAKE SOME or send me requests and i’ll write some myself 🙏

#barbie #barbie and ken #ryan gosling #ryan gosling ken #ken #fanfiction

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davidlcki · 11 months

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scared together

this is part 2 to “payment”! read part 1 here.

pairing: medium honor arthur! x female reader

warnings: cursing, game typical violence, age gap, lots of blood in this for some reason, female pronouns used. let me know if i missed anything!

summary: after showing up at the van der linde gang, you needed to earn their trust. in the process, you notice arthur distancing himself from you. will you figure out why, or have to head back to your family, who pawned you off in the first place?

words: 7,331

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“come on dutch. with the pinkertons AND oddriscolls, we need anyone we can get. we need to put trust in some folks.” you kept quiet as you stood outside the tent, listening carefully. dutch let’s out a rather large sigh and you can hear him pacing around the tent.

“you sweet on her or somethin’? she don’t know how to shoot. she’s a farm girl! hell, she could even be working with them for christ sakes!”

“oh jesus, she’s not, dutch! i told you, there’s no way she’s a spy. it’s too random. she was originally payment from that family, remember? she’s just lucky i don’t like strauss enough to care.” you frown at his words. was that really the only reason he let you go? “i’ll teach her to shoot. don’t you worry.” arthur pushes his way out of the tent, and before you could move his chest collides directly into you.

“what the…” arthur’s initially angry tone quickly diminishes as he realizes that it’s you. “you spyin on me girl?” a teasing smile appears on his features as he looks at you with amusement. you were speechless, opening and closing your mouth like a bass out of water as you struggled to find some sort of explanation because, well, you were spying. arthur didn’t seem to notice your hesitation as he continued to talk.

“this is perfect timing actually, why don’t we go practice shooting some bottles? always good to know how to use a gun.” arthur wasn’t really asking you as he placed his hand on the small of your back and directed you to walk with him.

“i only shot a gun once, you know…” you trail off, trying to shake away the memory of the man you killed to save arthur.

“well, it wasn’t half bad, the way you killed that feller. got him right in the skull. best to aim for their heads, most sure way to kill ‘em.” you shudder to yourself at the thought of killing more people the way you killed that man. you and arthur stop about 15 feet away from a large rock.

“we’ll do it here.” you watch as he places a few bottles and pieces of fruit on the rock, then he comes back and hands you his pistol. he watches as you take a few shots, which whiz into the woods somewhere with a high pitched zing, not even close to the bottles. arthur watches with seeming enjoyment as you huff and try to fix your stance.

“this funny or somethin?” you glare at him teasingly.

“a little bit” arthur laughs, pushing off the tree he was leaned against and finally stepping in to help.

“here, first you need to relax your shoulders,” arthur places his hands on your shoulders and pushes them down to a relaxed position. “now, your feet should be like this.” he lightly kicks the inside of your feet until theyre further apart. meanwhile, you could hardly think about anything but the warmth of him being so close to you. “now your arms… should be like this” arthur leans forward, completely pressing his chest against your back as he wraps his arms around yours to position them correctly. you take a deep breath, willing yourself to focus on shooting and not the way you could feel muscles flex against you. he leaned forward so his mouth was by your ear and his voice was low as he spoke. you noted how he smelled like cigars and whiskey, and you hated how it started to become a comfort for you.

“now when you’re shooting, you wanna breathe in, exhale, and pull the trigger. only ever shoot on empty lungs. got it? now, line up the sights,” arthur nudges your arms up, then places a hand on your chest. you were sure he could feel how fast your heart was beating at the contact. “now inhale… exhale… and shoot.” you can feel arthur nod against you as you inhale and exhale, and when you squeeze the trigger the bottle in front of you explodes into thousands of pieces. arthur laughs again as you jump at the sound.

“good, good girl.” arthur stays for a second more before reluctantly stepping back, releasing you and letting you continue your practice and get a feel for the gun.

you quickly got sucked into it, determined to shoot everything on the rock. you were always willing to learn a new skill, and if this was what it took to join the van der linde gang, you’d do it until your aim was perfect. after a while of frustration, learning to control your breathing, and lots and lots of bullets, you obliterated all of the targets. the grass below the rock was littered with glass and chunks of mushy apple. you turned to arthur with a grin, ready to joke about how you were prepared to be the best gunslinger in town, only to find he was fast asleep.

you stood for a while, observing his sleeping body. you weren’t mad, in all honesty you were shocked he slept through all the shooting. he was leaned against a tree with his head down, chin resting on his chest. his hair has clearly not been brushed in a few days, but it somehow still looked perfect, falling a few inches above his shoulders. you leaned down slightly, looking at him from under his hat to see if he was really sleeping. he was. you were in awe of how long his eyelashes were and just how overall perfect he was without trying. in this state, he looked peaceful. you decided to leave him and go talk to dutch. you ignored the untrusting glares other camp members gave you as you weaved your way throughout the tents. you thought about how badly you wanted to be a part of something like this. you wanted to be laughing and drinking around the fire with the others. but first you needed to earn their trust. especially dutch, you wanted him to like you. he was the leader, after all. you found him at his tent, nose in a book and music playing softly in the background.

“hi, dutch” you stand before the man who acknowledges you with a grunt, reluctant to put his book down. “i just wanted to let you know, uhm, shootin is going well, i’m really getting it down. i just want to know if there’s a way that i can earn a little more of your trust.” now, dutch was looking up at you, brows furrowed as if he was searching for a lie to catch you in, for any reason to kick you out of his camp. you expected him to yell, but in the end he seemed to approve of your words as he started to pull a piece of paper from his pocket.

“yeah, why don’t you go head into rhodes? we need a few things for camp.” dutch hands you a small list and some money. “if you wanna earn our trust, this is a good start. there’s a spare horse over that way.” you nod at dutch with respect, and you couldn’t hide the smile that crossed your features as you thanked him and practically skipped off towards the horse. you felt like dutch was giving you a chance.

the trip to rhodes was easy. you got in and out with no issues and managed to get everything on the list. you liked the small town, even with all of the rich snobs that littered the population. it was calm.

the ride back was quiet, at first. you hummed to yourself, patting your horse and taking in the beautiful scenery of lemoyne when you heard quiet commotion behind you. you peer over your shoulder, noticing 3 men who were eyeing you like hawks. nerves began to rise in your throat as you kicked at your horses sides, speeding up to a trot. the men must have noticed this as they began to call out your name.

“hey miss! you there!” one of the men came up besides you, a misleading smile was on his face. you said nothing as you slowed to a stop and looked at him. the other two came over as well, you were surrounded.

“you look familiar… yeah, yeah! i seen you around not long ago with… what was his name? arthur, arthur morgan. that’s you right?” your heart sank as the man eyed you suspiciously, waiting for an answer.

“no, no. i don’t know of an arthur morgan.” you shake your head quickly, heat rising up into your face.

“no… that’s gotta be you. you just join the van der lindes?” another man questioned as they look at each other, and another one chimes in. “why don’t we take her to colm? see if he recognizes her.” you instantly recognized the name, as you heard dutch speaking about colm just the other day. you knew you weren’t supposed to be causing commotion around rhodes, but you needed to escape. your hand found arthur’s pistol that you kept on your hip and you made sure the odriscolls saw.

“i advise you let me keep on going.” you looked between the men carefully, trying your best not to show your nerves as you straighten your back. one of the men scoffs a laugh at your warning and began pulling rope out, and that was your last straw. the last thing you wanted was to be tired up again.

instantly you drew the pistol, shooting at the man with the rope. to your surprise, you shot him square in the forehead. time seemed to move so quick that you didn’t even get to see the odriscoll hit the ground. another gunshot went off, and your horse bucked you, sending you flying into the dirt. there was a warm, dull pain spreading through your abdomen, and when you looked down you noticed a gunshot wound that went straight through your side. everything started to spin as you tried to look for your gun, but the men were quick to jump off their horses and make their way to you. a string of vicious curses escapes your lips as you helplessly kicked yourself away, but it was no use. not a second later, you were knocked unconscious with a boot to the face.

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this was truly not the way you thought joining the van der linde gang would go. you were tied to a tree at an odriscoll camp, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the fact that you seem to somehow get yourself into situations that involve being tied to trees. you couldn’t really remember the first day you were here, most of it was spent in between consciousness and trying to remember where you were. today, however, you remembered. you sucked in a shaky breath as colm walked back over to you. your head felt heavy and it felt like you were filled with wet cement.

“you’re going to tell me where the van der lindes are at. NOW.” you flinched as colm screamed, giving you a glare that could pierce holes through your flesh. you avoid eye contact and decide to stay silent. you don’t think you really had the energy to speak anyways. colm dosent like this, and delivers a smack square across your cheek. you let out a yelp and continue to squeeze your eyes shut. the smack shoots adrenaline throughout your tired body, giving you the energy to keep conscious for a little while longer. tears begin to drop, rolling down your stinging cheek. you didn’t think you were tough. not like any of the other van der linde members. you we’re afraid you’d buckle under the odriscolls torture. the only thing that kept your mouth shut, was the desperation of wanting to earn the gangs trust. you wanted to be a part of them, and you didn’t want to see any of them hurt or killed by these monsters. colm spits at your feet and scoffs with anger.

“when i come back, you better have some information for me, otherwise you’re dyin’ by my knife, girl. unless you bleed out first.” your mouth stayed shut as you watched him laugh and walk away through vision blurred by tears. you were afraid that no one was coming for you now. you knew people had to be wondering where you were, but did they care enough to come rescue you? does arthur care enough? hell. it had to have been almost 2 days now. your legs were going numb from standing for so long and the side of your dress was stained dark red with dried blood. you were having severe doubts. after all, arthur was not so kind to you just a week ago. why would he all of a sudden save you now? for the next hour, you hazily watched the sun set through the trees as you prayed for someone to save you. your wound needed to be tended to, and soon. you wouldn’t make it through another night. when the sun was barely lighting the sky anymore, colm came back over to you with a knife in hand, spurs jingling. roughly he holds the knife against your neck and you try your best to tilt your head away from him.

“last chance. tell us where they are, or you’re dead.” your mind seemed to run a million miles per second. if you told them where the van der lindes are and you somehow still escaped without being killed, they would never trust you again. you would have nowhere to go. and if you didn’t rat, you’d die, but the gang would be safe. it was crazy, giving up your life for a gang you just met not long ago, but you’d made up your mind. anyhow, you almost wanted him to kill you. to end your suffering. you close your eyes and prepare for the knifes blade to slice you open, ending you right then and there, but it never came. slowly you opened your eyes, realizing colm was staring at you, almost looking through you, the knife was held steady at your throat, drawing a little bit of blood. you quickly realized he was listening for something. slowly, he peered out into the trees behind you, and before he could speak, an arrow flew from the woods, straight through his shoulder. you watched, dumbfounded as he stumbled back, dodging a second arrow as he slid out of sight and back into camp. you craned your head to the side as much as possible as you attempted to see who it was, but you couldn’t.

suddenly colms men came rushing from the camp, firing wildly into the woods at the attacker. bullets we’re flying mere inches from you, and you flinched when one would graze the tree. you realized any of them could kill you in an instant, though they were preoccupied with the threat in the woods. suddenly, bullets began whizzing out of the forrest the same direction the arrows came from, and you heard familiar voices. colms men began dropping like flies, and the rest that were alive began to turn and flee the camp. upon hearing arthur’s voice, you dropped your head in relief, letting out shaky sobs.

“hey… Y/N? jesus…” arthur’s voice was panicked and soft as he ran up to you. he grabbed your cheeks with his gloved hands and tilted your head up to look at him. though you were crying, you managed to give him a smile. blood trickled from the corner of your mouth as you spoke.

“you found me.” you remembered the man who shot the arrows name, charles, and you must have thanked him a million times as he cut the ropes that held you to the tree. the second the ropes slid to the ground, however, you realized you couldn’t really stand anymore. your legs buckled, and arthur was quick to catch you. you let out a hiss of pain as he lifted you bridal style into his arms. the bruises and cuts on your body screamed at every movement and it was causing the world to spin. you grabbed onto his shirt and breathed deeply through the pain.

“i didn’t tell them anything”

“i gotcha honey. just breathe. don’t worry about that right now, you did good okay?” arthur whispered to you as he lifted you onto his horse as gently as he could, then hopping on behind you in the saddle.

“m’ bleeding a lot” your voice was slurred as you looked down at your blood soaked clothes, the movement reopened your wounds that were trying their best to heal. you were struggling to sit up straight, using all of your might to not fall forwards in the saddle. arthur notices this. without second thought he snakes his free hand around your waist, pressing firmly into the gash in your side to stop the bleeding while also stopping you from falling completely forwards. a loud moan of pain escapes from your lungs as your blood seeps out between arthur’s fingers and onto his saddle. your hand landed on top of his, an instinctual reaction as you resisted the urge to pry his hand away from you.

“lean against me darling.” his words snapped you back into reality for a moment. his voice was smooth and calm, keeping you from freaking out. you listened to arthur’s instructions, leaning your body weight fully against his chest and laying your head back against his shoulder so it wouldn’t fall forwards. every bounce of the horse, every shift of arthur’s hand, every breath he took, put you in agony. it was nearly unbearable at this point as you galloped towards camp, and you soon began to violently fade in and out of consciousness. you tried to say something, but the words just wouldn’t form on your tongue. the second the camp came into sight, you were out cold.

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when you opened your eyes again, you were back at camp in a cot. carefully you observed your body, noticing you were in a clean night gown and wrapped in a few bandages.

“oh, take it easy now.” an older woman with a large hairdo you couldn’t quite remember the name of rushed over with a wet cloth in hand. she gingerly pressed it against your forehead and sternly instructed you to relax.

“arthur… where is he?” your voice was hoarse as you coughed the words out, and you greatly accepted the canteen of water that she handed to you.

“don’t worry about that now sweetheart, just relax.”

“grimshaw! she awake?” you noted her name as dutch came into the tent. he gave you a pat on the shoulder, not noticing how you winced in pain at the contact as he continued.

“you could have given us away, but you didn’t. for that, i thank you.”

“yeah, of course, dutch.”

“you’re welcome to stay with us as long as you like. i don’t trust you fully yet… i cant, in a time like this, but you have my respect.” even through your pain, you were satisfied, and a smile sat on your face for the rest of the gloomy day. the only other person you saw that day was mrs. grimshaw occasionally, but otherwise you were alone. left to do nothing but watch the tent flap gently with the breeze and listen to the distant chatter of camp members around the fire.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄��┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

the days swept by in a pain induced haze, and before you knew it, it was the evening of day two. grimshaw carefully helped you up to a sitting position, insisting you needed to move around a little. it was excruciating, but you did it. slowly you walked through the tent flaps, an arm slung around grimshaws shoulders as you did so. you kept your eyes trained on the ground as everyone stared at you like you were a freak at the carnival. with the sun beginning to set, mostly everyone was back at camp, fixing themselves a bowl of pearsons stew and settling around the fire. grimshaw helped you sit down against a log by the fire, instructing you to stay still as she ran to get you stew. you scoffed to yourself, as if you could get up and do anything anyways.

slowly, you lifted your eyes to inspect who was sitting around the fire. you remembered a few of their names, bill, javier, who strummed on his guitar gently, and of course, arthur. he was sitting to the right of you on a log, uncomfortably avoiding eye contact and taking a swig of whiskey. you leaned towards him slightly as you tried to get his attention.

“hey, arthur.” you say his name, and he looks at you nonchalantly. there was a terrible rasp to your voice and you imagined there was a twist of pain on your face, but you gave him a small smile. arthur huffs a hello towards you and stands up quickly. you watch him, confused.

“wait,” you tried to rise to your feet, but he was gone. a sudden flash of pain ripped through your side as you sat back down. it was hot, and spread outward the more you tried to move. you looked between the other men around the fire.

“what’s wrong with arthur?”

the men just looked at you, shrugged, and went back to whatever they were doing before. the strumming on javier’s guitar continued. at this time, grimshaw came back with a bowl of soup for you. you scarfed it down quickly, ignoring the stares you got as you did so. you were upset and confused on why arthur would all of a sudden not even look at you. you took it he was drunk, but still.

you asked grimshaw to help you back to your tent, deciding you wanted to hide away from everything for the night.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

you hadn’t heard or seen arthur since that evening. it was late the next day now, which consisted of mostly sleeping, eating a bowl of soup, and thinking about arthur. you felt you were going crazy. you tried your best to get out of bed again, but your body wouldn’t allow it. you could practically hear your limbs screaming to stay down, so you tried to do so though you were restless to know what was going on with him and why he was suddenly acting so weird around you.

there was an inner battle going on inside you as you laid on your back uncomfortably. your body ached and screamed, though not as bad as a few days before. you needed to see arthur, and you were upset by the fact that he still hadn’t came to see you or ask if you were okay even once. you wiped the sweat from your forehead as you stared up at the ceiling of the tent.

you couldn’t tell how he felt about you. it was constant mixed signals from one day to the next. you decided you needed to get up and out of this tent, now.

you knew it had to be late by the fact that reverend stopped his drunken singing and the music from dutches tent had shut off a while ago. you took your time getting to a sitting position, and you observed the stitches in your wounds to make sure nothing had torn. then, you rose to your feet, inhaling sharply as you did so. it hurt, a hot, searing pain, but your determination to see arthur pushed you further.

upon exiting your tent, you realized that it was REALLY late. the fire had died down, only a dim orange light was emitting from the burnt wood, and everyone’s tents were closed. you eyed arthur’s closed tent across the way before limping your way over. once there, you slowly pushed the flap open, revealing arthur fast asleep on his cot. his breaths were slow and even, and he looked content, no anger present on his features. now, you were debating turning back. you didn’t want to wake him, but you also felt like you couldn’t hold back your thoughts anymore. after carefully weighing your options, the thought of going back to your tent without answers convinced you to step inside.

instantly, you were infatuated with the little items around his tent. you picked up a photo, noticing it’s date and name, beatrice morgan, 1870. you smiled at the fact that despite being such a hard and tough man, he kept a photo of his mother on his nightstand.

next, you noticed his journal, on the chest by his bed. you contemplated for a while, not wanting to be nosy but also wondering what the hell he was constantly writing in it. maybe you could find some answers without you having to be confrontational. slowly, you picked it up. you flipped through the pages, mostly finding little sketches and observations, until you get to one of the last pages. you nearly let out a gasp, catching yourself at the last second before alerting arthur of your presence. there was a beautiful sketch of you taking up one page. on the other, was a passage about you.

“i know i should be visiting her right now. she almost died keeping our camp a secret for christ sakes, but i can’t. after what happened in valentine, i’m not sure she feels the same as i do. i’m a fool, afraid to fall in further than i already have.”

you were so focused on re reading this passage in arthur’s journal, you almost forgot you were standing in his tent. that was, until his rough grip was on your wrist and there was a knife at your throat. instantly you dropped the journal, locking eyes with him in a panic. you muttered an ‘im sorry’ that came out barely audible in your shock. arthur quickly realized it was you as he blinked sleep from his eyes. he lowered the knife, although not letting go of your wrist as he swiftly rose to his feet, his frame towering over yours.

“what you think you’re doing in here, huh? you readin my journal?” his voice was rough and deep with sleep and irritation as he walked you backwards until your legs hit his dresser. you kept your head tilted up at him as you spoke, never breaking eye contact.

“i wanted to come talk to you since you’ve been pretending i don’t exist.” you kept your voice even, clenching your fist in pain as he kept his crushing force on your wrist. a hidden anger seemed to begin to bubble within you.

“this dont seem like talking to me. the way i see it, you’re trying to rob me, rob all of us, and make it outta here a rich woman.” you could smell the alcohol on his breath from earlier as his voice continued to raise.

“search me! i ain’t take shit. i’m sorry i looked through your journal, it was wrong. but really, i did want to talk to you.” your voice comes out in a growl more closer to an animals than human. you hold in your pain as arthur grunts and pats you down rather roughly, hands gliding over your cuts and bruises without a care. when he’s done, he stands up to make eye contact with you again.

“i don’t know if i can trust you, girl.”

“if i wanted, i could’a killed you in your sleep. but i didn’t. i don’t have a single thing on me but the clothes on my back.” arthur runs a hand over his face, stepping back from you and looking down at his journal on the ground. it was still open to the page you were looking at.

“that’s nothin. i wrote that drunk.” your heart crumpled a little as he spoke. what did he mean?

“what? what are you saying?”

“i’m saying, what i wrote there don’t mean nothin! it’s bullshit. if that’s what you came to talk about then you’re- you’re wasting your time. now get out of my tent. now!” you physically flinched as his voice rose with each word. you knew he was obviously very angry with you, and possibly still a little drunk, but it still hurt. it hurt that he wouldn’t give you the time of day, and is now telling you the feelings he had were bullshit.

“so… you drag me all the way here… to tell me what you felt is bullshit.” it came out as more of a statement than a question. your voice was shaking with anger and betrayal, and you could see arthur’s face fall slightly as he realizes what he’s done. fresh tears fall from your eyes as you look at him. his features continue to soften as you hold eye contact with him for a moment. neither of you spoke, a silent exchange was held between you both.

“you won’t see me again.” with that, you turn and exit the tent, ignoring arthur as he called your name. you kept his pistol, and took the spare horse, riding quickly and fiercely from the sleeping camp.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

you don’t know how long you were riding from camp, but it was a while. long enough that you assumed you were somewhere in new hanover. you slowed your horse to a stop in the middle of a large plain, deciding to give her a rest as you hopped off of her gingerly.

the way the grass, as soft as feathers, tickled your skin as you sat down was comforting. the sun had just began to rise, leaving a faint orange hue in the sky and over everything you could see. this is exactly what you needed. peace, silence, no arthur. your heart was threatening to shatter the more and more you thought about what happened a mere hour ago. how dare he? he uprooted your life, dropped you in valentine, and when you came back after him he decides he dosent want you anymore. you knew he was drunk, and angry, and it was wrong of you to snoop through his personal items, but did he mean it? you were conflicted and you needed to get out of your head.

as you laid back fully into the grass, you began to count the faint stars that were beginning to disappear in the sky. they looked like punctured holes in a piece of paper. you didn’t know if you were coming back to camp. we’re you really never going to face arthur again? never to look into his icy blue eyes or feel the comfort the came with his scent? for a while, you let your thoughts drift aimlessly. most of them revolve around arthur and if you were really never going to see him again. the angry half of you said to hell with him. he deserves it, after all that he’s done to you, but the other half of you wanted you to go back, back to his unforgiving presence.

you let the wind roll over you, it was the prefect temperature outside without the harsh sun. you could probably stay like this forever. relishing in the warm comfort of new hanover, and for a while, you closed your eyes and pretended you were back home. home with your mother and father, who would never trade you off to a gunslinger in trade of a paid off debt. when the only care you had was when you’d read your next book. tears unwillingly fell from your eyes, rolling past your temple and dripping into the shell your ear and into the flowy grass. you were so in your head that you didn’t notice the sound of hoof beats approaching until it was too late. your eyes flew open with the speed of light, and you were quick to place a hand on your- well- arthur’s gun. that’s when you realized who it was.

“arthur” you greet him as casually as possible, pretending you didn’t hear the waver in your voice, a threat of more tears to come.

“Y/N,” arthur steps off his horse and stands awkwardly, fiddling with his gun belt. you could practically hear the cogs in his brain as he thought of what to say. you rolled your eyes at the fact that he didn’t think of anything on the ride here.

“look, i’m sorry”

“oh, you are now?” your response was quick and shocked you as it came out of your mouth. arthur frowns, looking off at something in the distance as he continues.

“i’m- i was scared.” he turns his head to make eye contact with you again, and you could tell he was genuine. the way his brows furrowed up into a look of distraught was something you never thought you’d see on his face.

“why? why now are you scared? you took me from my home, treated me like a toy, like i wasn’t human, and i’m still here, for you! and now, now you’re scared? i shoulda known this was a mistake, i’m a damned fool chasing after someone like you.” you stood up swiftly, whistling for your horse and brushing grass off your clothes as you avoided eye contact with him.

“please- don’t. don’t go.” you turned back towards arthur, lips pressed into a flat line as you thought. you could have sworn as you looked at him that there was the glint of a tear in his eye. it was hard for you to hold your anger with the gunslinger.

“i don’t wanna go, arthur. hell, i have no where else TO go thanks to you, but i’d rather be alone than sitting here trying to figure out what’s going on in that damn mind of yours.” during your rant, you had stepped closer to him. you pointed a finger roughly into his chest at the end of your words, and arthur took this as an opportunity to grab your hand gently. the contact effectively stopped you from speaking.

“i don’t want you to have to do that. im, i’m trying to figure out what’s going on in my mind myself for christ sakes,” arthur let’s out a dry laugh. “but what i do know, what im figuring out, is that i need you. when you were taken by those odriscolls it scared the living hell outta me and it, it made me wanna run the opposite direction. i haven’t felt like that in a long time, Y/N. my first instinct was to distance myself from ya. ”

“just because you’re scared dosent mean you have to push me away, arthur. how do you think i feel? i’m scared too! there’s nothing wrong with being scared together.” your fingers interlaced with his, and at this point, there was no going back. you were in too deep. even though you were mad at him mere hours ago, his touch, his words, made it disappear.

“can we try this again?” arthur was looking down at you desperately. you couldn’t say no. something in your gut was screaming at you, screaming that this was the right choice. or was your mind overcome by him? maybe this would be the worst decision of your life. you couldn’t tell. without another word, you leant forwards and pressed your lips against his. you could feel his shoulders relax as you wrapped your arms around his neck. there was a deep hunger that you could sense in him as he practically devoured you in his embrace. his hands were everywhere, his grip tight as he held you like there was no tomorrow.

in between kisses he began to mumble something you at first couldn’t understand. then you realized it was a string of apologies.

“m’ sorry. m’ so sorry. let me try again, please” his voice was nearly smothered by the attack of your lips, but you heard it.

“it’s okay, arthur. s’okay” you attempted your own response which came out about the same as arthur’s.

pain flourished throughout your side, reminding you of its presence as arthur accidentally grabbed it. you let out a quiet gasp of pain, causing arthur to quickly pull away, looking down at you with concern.

“did i hurt you?” his voice was breathy and deep, lips swollen as he spoke near inches from your lips.

“no… no” you spoke in between breaths, your own lips swollen and tingly as well. you moved in for another kiss, this time catching arthur’s bottom lip between yours in the process and biting just enough to draw some blood. arthur winces, pulling away, eyes large. his pupils were blown wide, the icy blue of his irises barely visible.

“what was that for?” he gives you a lopsided, confused smile, to which you return. his blood left a metallic taste on your tongue.

“everything” you shrug, not having much of a better explanation. arthur couldn’t disagree. he wanted to say that he deserved it, but the howl of a wolf in the distance pulled the two of you back to reality.

“shall we?” arthur tilts his head towards the general direction of camp, not eager to be out with the wolves, still prowling the early morning for prey.

“what? scared of wolves? id have thought you were john” you smile innocently as arthur rolls his eyes.

“shut up” he smiles, leaning down to give you one last kiss. before fully pulling away he takes your chin between his fingers and wipes a smudge of blood away from your lip.

“really, i truly am sorry,”

“dont. i know you are arthur. i’m giving you another chance. i don’t need to hear your sorry.” you give him a soft smile, showing you weren’t trying to be hostile when you say this. you both knew arthur had things to make up for and work on, and you were willing to give him another chance.

when you arrived back at camp, you were greeted with smiles and hellos. the feeling you felt inside your chest was indescribable. you felt like they were accepting you and that they were genuinely worried when you left earlier.

you spent the larger half of the day meeting everyone, trying to get to know them. even micah, who you learned only seemed interested in getting in your pants, so you decided to steer clear. you talked with mary-beth about books, planned to learn to hunt with charles, and you practiced your shooting on the outskirts of camp with sadie. you looked up to her immensely and you had to restrain yourself from straight up begging her to let you go on scores with her. she told you with some practice you’d get there. you knew you could put your knowledge from a lifetime on a ranch to use in the gang.

night began to settle again over the camp, and a peaceful silence had fallen over everyone. you’d spent the last half of your day fishing on the bank of flat iron lake a little ways off from camp. pearson had asked you to try your hand at fishing since you have some experience fishing from your father. you think of all the times you went fishing with him at owanjila lake which was right by your ranch. you looked up at the sky, wondering what your parents were doing right now. did they regret what they did? or were they happier without you? you shake away the thoughts with a heavy sigh, deciding to take a break from fishing to sit against a rock by the water. the sound of the water lapping against the sand calmed you in a way nothing else did. you were so in your head that you didn’t hear when arthur walked over to you.

“Y/N”

you nearly jumped out of your skin as you looked up at him. “jesus! you have a habit of sneaking up on me don’t you?” you shake your head as arthur laughs at your scare.

“you need to be more aware of your surroundings is all” he sits next to you on the sand, sighing with content as he leans against the same rock, shoulder brushing yours.

“any luck with the fish?”

“not the best, not the worst. i got enough for a few meals” you hold up the sack full of fish to arthur.

“must be your calling then! you can be the camp fish catcher.” you roll your eyes and bite back a smile as arthur laughs at his own joke. once his laughing stops, a silence settled over the two of you. for a while, the two of you sat quietly, watching as the stars appeared once again in the vast sky.

“hey, what i said in my tent last night, i hope you realize it was a lie. i was half asleep, and drunk, and confused, and i’m gonna regret those words every day of my life. what i wrote about you in my journal is true. it’s all true.”

for a while, you couldn’t do anything but stare at him. you were processing his words, processing everything. even though you knew it was true, hearing him say it was relieving. arthur started to look nervous as he stared into your gaze.

god, you could stare at him forever. the way his hair fell perfectly around his face, no matter how much dirt or sweat or blood is caked into it. the way his brows furrowed ever so slightly when he was deep in thought or writing in his journal. the slight twitch of his lips when he was trying to hold back a laugh. the almost jagged shape of his nose from being broken so many times. you loved every inch of him, every imperfection (though it was utter perfection to you) and every scar that riddled his body. you realized now, you needed him just as much as he needed you.

“i… i understand if you-“

you cut arthur’s sentence short as you leaned forwards a little too aggressively to smash your lips against his. it was all teeth, and the force at which you came at him sent him tumbling backwards. he instinctively grabbed onto you, pulling you with him so you landed on top of his chest. you let out an ‘oof’ as your chest collided with his, and you couldn’t stop the outburst of laughter that escaped from you.

“that’s funny, huh?” arthur began letting out chuckles of his own as a few tears escape your eyes, half because it was funny and half because the pain began gnawing at your side.

“shit… you alright?” arthur places a gentle hand on your wound, his features instantly morph into worry.

“yeah. i think.” you speak between breaths as your laughter died down. you were propped up by your forearms resting on each side of arthur’s head and you looked down at him in awe.

“i’m no good at this” your heart was beating quicker than ever as arthur looks up at you with a large grin on his face. he was taking in your features, just as you were not long ago.

“neither am i” arthur responds, running his hands thoughtfully up your back and to your jaw, where he pulled you in gently this time for a kiss. it was sweet, and you could feel the love behind it as his lips moved in sync with yours. the more time you spend with arthur, the more you realize how well you fit together. it felt like you were unlocking parts of him every moment you spent together. he was changing, you were beginning to see that. you figured he didn’t really have anyone to keep his head on straight, no one to talk to, no one to hold, and neither did you. even through the fighting, and kidnapping, and murdering, you were puzzle pieces.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

i got too excited and furiously revised this so i could get it out. i hope you all enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!!! <3

#fanfiction #one shot #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x you #red dead redemption arthur #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan one shot #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fanfiction #arthur x reader

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davidlcki · 11 months

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i need to do some revising, and then part 2 to “payment” will be out soon, probably within the next few days ;) stay tuned!!!

#fanfiction #one shot #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fanfiction

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davidlcki · 11 months

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✹ ▬ 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓, 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘, 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓

rating: Explicit

pairing: Arthur Morgan x F!Reader

summary: You have a huge bounty on your head and Arthur wants to bring you in.

warnings: medium honor Arthur, reader is an outlaw with a huge bounty, torture (not too graphic), so much fighting, choking, sassy reader and grumpy Arthur, enemies to lovers, catching some feelings, touch-starved, smut, sexual tension, rough sex, multiple orgasms, hate sex turned lovemaking, hate to love or somethin’, this is pretty filthy y’all, some sweet fluff for the end

word count: 10363

a/n: so this fic has a fun little backstory. i started writing this back in february, forgot that i started it and because i can’t name my documents for shit i accidentally deleted the thing (i thought it was some old uni stuff). so after sitting on it for more than a half year i finally rewrote and finished it. also a fun fact, forget me nots are called mouse’s ear :D dear @delilah-grimes i’m so sorry you had to wait for this long, but i hope you’ll still like it <33

MASTERLIST | ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN

Your leg bleeds crimson, tickling down along the curve of your calf and pooling in your boot. You can’t run anymore. There’s no strength and there’s no road.

The hunters surround you, two men with shotguns tilted at your form, their horses huffing, fur damp with the rain. It’s cold up here, like winter had been trapped forever in the mountains of Ambarino, and you shiver as the wind picks up.

You were disturbed by the hunters when you were making some half-assed dinner—a fire-heated can of beans and some real stale and old salted meat. You barely had the first bite when the first gunshot rang through the air, hitting a tree nearby, then the second tearing through the waxed linen of your tent.

So you ran, until you got shot, until the terrain turned into solid rocks and cliffs too high to jump.

A waterfall buzzes behind you, hidden by the mist, and a rainbow shines above, weaved from moonlight and spring meltwater. Your name is a powerful thing, and when it gets mumbled the roaring of the river goes silent. The syllables chime familiar, the voice that speaks it doesn’t.

“You know you have a thousand on your head, right?” one of the hunters smirks and dismounts, with the gun in one hand and the horn of the saddle in the other.

“Wonder what you did,” the other looks you up and down, searching for something, some clue that could reveal the reason for such a high price for a runaway woman. “Killed yer five husbands maybe?”

The one on the ground laughs, comes closer with rope in his hands.

“It’s none of your goddamn business,” you hiss, a cornered animal, wounded and bruised, chased through the forest with twigs in your hair and scratches on your face.

Keep reading

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davidlcki · 1 year

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Just a reminder for fanfic authors:

Fanfiction will ALWAYS be superior to character.ai

Please don't ever stop writing!!

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davidlcki · 1 year

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Bro bro bro plssss make a part 2 for payment I loved it soooo much!!

thank you so much!!! one may be in the works 😏 (though it may take a bit to come out) i appreciate everyone’s support, it really motivates me to continue! ❤️

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davidlcki · 1 year

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payment

pairing:low honor! arthur x reader

warnings: cursing, arthur is mean, being forced to drink, age gap, game typical violence. i think that’s it

summary: your parents take a loan from strauss, and when they can’t afford it, they send you off as payment instead. it’s a 3 day journey back to the van der linde camp. will you turn the notorious gunslinger soft?

an: please let me know how you guys feel about this one! i’ve been dealing with severe writers block so this took me MONTHS to write. it might not be my best, but i’m just happy to get something out. enjoy, i love you all! ❤️

words: 5,562 (my longest yet i think)

part 2

shouting from downstairs violently ripped you from your deep sleep, and quickly, you hopped out of bed. your hands shook as you slowly opened your door and made your way to the top of the steps.

“the money. NOW.”

you flinched at the harshness of the man’s words. instantly you knew it was the debt collectors, and that your family had nowhere near the amount needed to pay it off. you listened to your mother and father plead with the man for another week, but he wasn’t having it. at the sound of a gun cocking, your legs began to move on their own. you were bolting down the stairs.

“STOP! please, please don’t hurt them!” you hold your hands out desperately, standing between the man and your parents, who were dead silent. the man paused, the anger in his features seemed to be replaced with amusement. this was the moment that you recognized who this man was. you had seen him in many bounty posters around strawberry, he was arthur morgan.

“well now, why didn’t ya tell me about this fine young lady?” arthur’s gaze drifted from you to your parents, who were looking at each other with a look you couldn’t read. nervously, you looked between your parents and arthur. why weren’t they saying anything?

“she’ll do as payment just fine” arthur shrugs, holstering his gun and giving an easy smile, as if this was no big deal, just another day. you turned to your parents quickly, shaking your head and backing away from arthur.

“please don’t…” you looked between your mother and father desperately. finally, your father speaks.

“take her. if it works as payment, take her.” time seemed to slow as you stared at your father who wouldn’t look you in the eyes. your mother was looking down, you could tell she was holding back tears, but she stayed silent.

“what? wait, wait just-” you glanced at the door quickly, thinking of ways to escape. arthur, was quick to place his hand on his holstered gun.

“i wouldn’t, if i were you.” arthur’s voice was suddenly much lower, and his easy smile was gone in an instant. you knew there was no other way. you turned to your parents, lips in a flat line as you stared at them. you were thinking of what you could possibly say to them, when arthur’s rough hand had a grip on your upper arm.

“your own daughter…for some fucking cash…” your voice was shaky as you were being pulled towards the door. barely having time to slip your boots on, you give your parents one last look before you were out of sight.

for a while, it was silent. you were too in shock to cry or do much of anything, but think.

“we’ll camp here for the night” arthur’s voice startled you out of your thoughts, most of them being how to escape this situation. for now, he had at least some form of trust in you, considering your hands were untied.

arthur morgan was more of a myth than a person, to you. you heard the stories of the hundreds he’s killed and you knew this was probably a bad idea, but you needed to try an escape. once he hopped off his horse, you grabbed onto the reigns and kicked your heels into its sides, but it didn’t budge. the damned horse stayed dead still. the air seemed to thicken as you continued to attempt to get the horse to take off with a series of ‘hyah’s’ and ‘go’s’, but his horse was loyal, seeming to listen to him and only him. when you looked over, you swore you saw flames in arthur’s eyes.

plan b.

from the horse, you deliver a kick into arthur’s chest with all the power you could muster. just as his horse, he dosent budge. arthur lunges forwards, pulling you off the horse roughly and ignoring the protests coming from you as he threw you over his shoulder. you pounded relentlessly on his back, but he didn’t so much as flinch. instead, he tightened his grip on you, nearly squandering your ability to breathe. once finding a clearing about 30 feet into the woods, he throws you onto the grass and pulls out his lasso. you take a few seconds to catch your breath, but you don’t have time to move or get any words out. effortlessly, arthur ties the rope around your wrists and ankles before you could flip over, rendering you immobile.

“bastard! you let me go!” you finally manage to turn yourself onto your back and struggle against the rope that dug into your skin. arthur, clearly unamused at your shouting, sinks down to your level on the ground. his hips were nearly straddling yours as he kneeled and grabbed your face with a rough hand.

“watch it girl.” his voice was drawn out and easy, giving you the impression that he’s done this many times before. he releases his grip on your jaw, and brushes a strand of hair from your forehead. “don’t forget i know where you live. dont try nothin’, less you’re fixin’ to watch your parents die”.

“i don’t…. i don’t care about them anymore. they sold me. pawned me like trash.” your voice was shaky as you spoke up at him, and for a while the both of you sat and stared at each other, heavy breath fanning over your faces. arthur almost had a look of understanding for a moment. it was true. you were angry at them for so carelessly giving you away for their own benefit. in fact, you didn’t know who you were angrier at. arthur, or your own parents. finally, arthur hums and stands. you didn’t dare move from your spot on the ground, instead, you silently watched arthur set up camp. you really were afraid that he’d kill you if you so much as moved. you could see in his eyes that he was only going to let that trick you tried slide once.

you shivered and let out a ragged exhale, still catching your breath as the wind was knocked out of you not long ago. you were desperate for fire, for any kind of warmth. you were only in boots and a thin nightgown, that did much of nothing as the cold from the ground seeped into you.

“cold?” arthur stands next to your shivering frame on the ground. you say nothing, instead giving him an unamused glare. you refused to let him see you cry, so you threw on your best angry facade. you stiffened as he leaned down and lifted you, not letting out a breath of air until you were put down again. now, you were resting against a tree in front of the fire. you let out an inner sigh of relief at the warmth. arthur sits across from the fire, taking a bite of jerky from his satchel.

“so, that’s your parents farm huh? pretty nice, all considering.” arthur pauses, but you say nothing. “live there your whole life?” you didn’t even really hear his question as you asked your own.

“where are you takin’ me?” you watch arthur’s face carefully as he takes a drag from his cigarette.

“you’re joining the gang” arthur flicks the end of his cigarette, the ashes slowly float to the ground. “we need more hands. more people to help fight.”

“i’m no good at fighting” your voice was quiet, you were starting to realize you weren’t getting out of this.

“you will be. now,” arthur stands up and pulls more rope from his horses satchel “rest up, got a long day of riding tomorrow” you scoff as he begins to wrap the rope around you and the tree you were against.

“is this necessary?” arthur says nothing, instead pulling the rope tighter. after, he goes back to his spot, pulling his hat over his face and letting out a rather large sigh. for a long time, you didn’t sleep. instead, you relentlessly tugged and pulled at the rope restraining you. you knew it was pointless, but you couldn’t help trying. your face twisted in pain as your arms scratched against the rough tree bark. arthur must have been very confident in the knots he tied, because you very quickly heard soft snores drifting from across the fire. after what seemed like hours, and a few shed tears, you fell into a restless sleep.

•••

when you awoke the next morning, arthur was up, packing supplies into his horses satchel and humming to himself softly. you stayed silent, observing the man who was so mean to you do a task so mundane. when you looked down, you noticed arthur’s brown coat was thrown over your frame. it smelled like tobacco and gunpowder. when arthur noticed you were up, he quickly took his jacket back and went over to untie the rope holding you to the tree.

“morning sunshine” he throws you a smile as he pulls the rope from around the tree off, along with the rope on your ankles.

“i trust you won’t run”

“no” your voice was hoarse and you shivered violently as the wind attacked your bare skin that was previously covered. arthur stopped, thinking for a second as he took in your frame with a slow look from your head to your ankles and back up again. he pulls you to your feet, letting you catch your footing on wobbly legs as he rummaged around for his canteen. he flicks the cap off and grabs your jaw so roughly and suddenly that you let out an involuntary gasp of shock. he turns your face towards him and inspects you for a second before continuing. you could only wonder what he was thinking, his lip twitching ever so slightly into the ghost of a smile as he continued.

“drink” he puts the canteen to your mouth and watches as you desperately gulped down the water. after about 5 seconds, he pulled it away, taking a swig of the liquid himself before stowing it back on his horse.

“long ride ahead,” arthur lifts you onto his horse before hopping in front of you in the saddle, “gonna take a few days i reckon, so get comfortable”.

arthur wasn’t lying. you rode all day, so long that you couldn’t remember what direction you came from or how to get back home. although that outcome was unlikely now. desperate to escape the cold, you pressed yourself against arthur’s back. you felt him stiffen at the contact, but were too cold to care. you couldn’t count the hours it’d been, and for a while you were pretty sure you fell asleep. throughout the day, you only made a few stops. one for bathroom breaks, and one for his horse to rest. the rest of the day was a blur, not much was said, and the only noise you heard was the trotting of hoofs on the ground and the rustle of trees in the wind. when the sun began to set, arthur finally pulled to a stop.

“seems like a good spot” arthur observes the clearing, giving you a stern look before hopping off of his horse, remembering the stunt you pulled last time.

“gonna tie me to a tree again?” your voice was dripping in sarcasm as you allowed him to pull you off the horse.

“you gonna make me?” arthur’s tone matched yours as he pulled out his bedroll and some other supplies. you waited for the extra rope to come, but it never did. arthur instead unties your hands, then reties them in front of you. you audibly sigh at the discomfort that began to dissipate, and you rolled your shoulders a few times in satisfaction.

“y’ dont wanna run off in these parts,” arthur warns as the fire lights up the clearing. “the people will get to ya before the animals do.” you said nothing in response. for a few hours, you stayed dead silent. ignoring arthur’s snarky comments and nothing more than blinking when he’d toss the end of a cigarette or a twig off the ground at you. arthur began to heat a small can of stew, smiling teasingly as he watches you eye it. he pulls gin out of his pocket, downing a hefty swig.

“if you want some, you gotta speak, girl.” arthur eats a large scoop of stew, groaning dramatically in satisfaction in an attempt to tease you.

“fuck you. that enough?” arthur snorts a laugh at your response, deciding to give you a bite. you quickly chew and swallow it, savoring the taste.

“what’s your name anyway?” arthur pauses, scooping out some more stew and holding it up. “you answer me if you wanna eat.”

“Y/N. Y/N L/N” arthur feeds you the stew and downs more gin. halfway through the bottle now.

“Y/N” the way your name rolled off his tongue sent a chill down your spine. “you gotta pretty name, Y/N. how old are ya?”

you eye the man for a while, before looking back down to the tempting spoon of stew. “i’m 22. now can you feed me the god damn food?” you were getting testy now, watching arthur eat and down almost an entire bottle of gin while you’ve had nothing for over a day will do that to you.

“you got a mouth on ya!” arthur let’s out a laugh, feeding you another bite and finishing the rest of the stew himself. he stands up, stretching his legs and yawning, before walking over to you casually. nervously, you watch as arthur squats down to be eye level with you.

“sleep” a small smile crosses his face, confusing you. then, he places a hand on your shoulder and shoves you to the side so you’re in a laying position in the grass. a yelp escapes your lips as you hit the ground. “night”

you watch in disbelief as arthur goes to his spot on the bed roll, very quickly falling asleep with his hat on his face as usual. now was your turn. you thought about running, but had a feeling that arthur wasn’t lying about the people around these parts. slowly, you drifted to sleep in the damp grass.

•••

you woke up to the sound of footsteps crunching in the dead leaves. instantly you were alert. when you looked over, arthur was still passed out. you guessed the gin running through his veins was doing its work. you stayed silent, sitting up slowly and looking into the dark of the forrest around you. the fire was almost out at this point. you tugged anxiously at the ropes binding your hands. there were the footsteps again, from behind you this time. you knew those weren’t from an animal. before you could react, a man came running out of the woods. he was on you in seconds, knife in hand. you let out a scream of terror as you were slammed onto your back. you squeezed your eyes shut, preparing for the knife to be plunged into your chest, but it never came. instead, there was a gunshot that seemed to shake the forest. when you opened your eyes, there was a bullet hole between the eyes of the man as he crumpled on top of you. the weight of him smothered the cry that you tried to let out. arthur was over in seconds, shoving the body off of you and pulling you to a sitting position. there was genuine worry that you saw for a mere second in his face.

“y’ alright?” he was still blinking the sleep from his eyes as he looked you over for stab wounds. he was half awake, trying to make sense of what was going on. as you opened your mouth to speak, another man emerged from the dark of the woods. he shoved arthur over, effectively knocking the gun from his hands. you were in a trance, looking between arthur, the man, and the pistol laying right in front of you. arthur’s voice startled you out of it. his voice was strained as he called your name out, he was using all his strength to hold the knife mere inches away from his chest. with your tied hands, you picked up the pistol. it was heavier than you expected.

“do… it…” his eyes pleaded with you, meanwhile, the tip of the knife was beginning to sink into his chest. without anymore hesitation, you aimed at the attackers head and pulled the trigger. your ears rung more than the first gunshot that was fired earlier, and you noticed the almost painful vibrations that flowed through your hands. arthur let’s out a sigh of relief, pushing the body off of him and sitting up, before quickly freezing again. he stared at you blankly as you continued to point the pistol at him.

“Y/N…” he holds his hands up and shakes his head. “y’ don’t wanna do this”

you looked at him for a long while, tears were dripping down your cheeks and your hands were shaking violently. you were debating killing him right here and now. but how would you make it in there woods? how would you find your way back? then, you remembered why you were here in the first place, and how your parents threw you out without a thought. finally, slowly, you lowered the gun, arthur took this oppertunity to snatch it from your hands, before audibly exhaling. he watched carefully as you broke down in tears, hugging onto yourself the best you could with tied hands and trying to wipe blood off of your nightgown.

“hey… i uh…” arthur didnt know what to say as he placed a hand upon your shoulder in attempted reassurance. to his surprise, you threw yourself into his embrace. slowly, he wrapped his arms around your frame and listened to you cry. he noticed the red marks on your wrists under the rope, and was shocked at the pang of guilt he felt. without thinking, he takes out his hunting knife and cuts the rope off of you. you use this time to wrap your arms around his waist. arthur slowly runs a hand up and down your back as you continued to sob.

“i’m scared, arthur.” was all you could get out. you had never killed a man before, and the reality was setting in. all arthur could do was mutter an awkward series of ‘it’s alright’ and ‘i’m here’s’ until you calmed down enough to let go. arthur was almost sad at the loss of your presence, and he wished he could rip this part of him out. this part that yearned for love and affection and what he was just finding out, you. half of him screamed as he draped his coat around your shoulders, while the other half cheered.

you avoided eye contact with the gunslinger as you attempted to get your tears under control, pulling his coat around yourself gingerly.

“thank you… for not letting me be killed” you kept your eyes on the fire, too afraid to look at arthur or the bodies or the blood on your skin.

“and thank you, for not shootin’ me along with this feller” you let out a scoff, lips twitching up into a small smile you mustered up. arthur took the time to move the bodies away from camp and your sight, eventually returning and sitting down again. there was a new feeling in the air between you and the gunslinger. a bond forged in blood and death. arthur never tied your hands again, and he kept watch the rest of the night. though neither of you got another wink of sleep, you stayed close to each other, shoulders touching as you sat side by side. you asked arthur plenty of questions about his gang. you were genuinely curious what it was like. you could tell he was fond of them by the way his features softened at just the thought. you realized, they were family, and it didn’t sound so bad. after hours of trying to will the sun to come up faster, it finally rose, and you were more than glad to keep moving.

you couldn’t tell how long it’d been now. you slept for a while the way you have been, your face pressed against arthur’s back in a somewhat comfortable position, but when you opened your eyes again you were in a town. upon reading the sign, you realized it was valentine. you could hear the chatter in the distance, and your eyes lit up with surprise. it had been days since you’d seen another person besides arthur. arthur must have felt you sit up straighter, because he quickly stopped his horse and looked back at you.

“i trust you’re not gonna try no shit?” he asks, exhaling cigarette smoke from his lungs. you hold back the urge to cough as the smoke wafts over your face. he observes you for a second more before straightening your messy hair. you knew it was so you looked more presentable to the town, but it was oddly gentle, intimate.

“no, but people are going to ask questions, arthur.” you spit his name out, and reference down to your now dirty and tattered nightgown. you were upset at the shift between you both after what you went through the night before, and it was hard for you to contain your anger as you spoke. the lack of food and clean clothes was starting to get to you. arthur stares at you for a while, before sighing heavily. though he still gave you attitude, you were surprised with the patience he was beginning to keep with you.

“okay… here” after a second of thinking, he pulled his coat off and placed it around your shoulders once again. casually, the two of you trotted into town, slowing to a stop at the hotel. you ignored the stares the townsfolk gave you as you walked inside. being in a tattered gown and a jacket two big was definitely turning heads.

“one bath for the lady please” arthur tosses the owner a coin and nudges you towards the bath house. once in front of the door, he grabs your wrist and turns you towards him.

“you clean up, i’ll be right back. dont get no ideas of runnin’ off now, because i will find you.” his voice was low as he looked down at you, though you were starting to notice the facade he was putting up. the way he gently held your wrist told you all you needed to know, and unbeknownst to him, you weren’t really planning on leaving. the last place you wanted to go, was back home.

“wouldnt dream of it” your voice was dripping with sarcasm as you pulled your wrist from his grip and pushed your way into the bath house.

once you finished cleaning up, you pulled the towel around yourself and waited awkwardly, leaning from foot to foot as you waited for arthur to come back. the last thing you wanted was to put your old clothes on, so you stood by the fire and slowly dried off. finally, arthur pushed his way into the bath house holding a bag. he froze for a second as he took in your frame, only covered by the small towel. once you started walking towards him, he looked anywhere but at you as he handed you the bag. you say nothing, pulling the clothes out and dropping your towel as you began to pull them on. it was a simple brown dress with yellow detailing on the sleeves, collar, and bottom. you could tell arthur had picked it out, considering how it matched to his own clothes. there was also a new night gown in the bag, and you smiled to yourself.

“could you?” you turn away from the man who was doing most anything but look at you. when he shifted his gaze to you again, your back was turned to him, revealing an unlaced corset.

“yeah… yeah sure” arthur’s hands gingerly fiddled with the string, trying his best to will away the reddening of his cheeks as he observed your exposed back. it had been forever since he had been with another woman, and he cursed the feelings arising in him for you. you turned towards him afterwards, unable to help the smile of relief from being in clean clothes.

“you… you look nice” arthur looks down at your dress, then quickly he turns and pulls you out of the bathhouse with him before you can utter a ‘thank you’.

“you hungry?” arthur wasn’t really asking as the two of you headed towards the saloon, though you almost cried tears of joy at the thought of food. with a glance to the clock on the wall, you realized it was already 6PM. the scent of food that floated through the saloon nearly made you drool. eagerly, you sat at the bar and waited for your steak and potatoes that arthur ordered to arrive.

“2 whiskeys please” arthur tosses a few coins at the bartender who nods in compliance.

“oh i… i don’t drink” arthur looks at you straight faced, sliding the shot glass to you.

“drink” his eyes stayed trained on you all the way until the shots were taken, the burning liquid slides down your throat roughly. arthur let out a hardy laugh as you coughed, instantly digging into your food as it arrived to get rid of the taste.

“another” arthur tosses more coins, not batting an eye when you protest.

“i’m not drinking anymore, arthur!” you glare in his direction angrily. arthur pauses for a while, before leaning in close and bringing the shot to your lips.

“drink the damn whiskey girl.” his voice was low and gravelly as he parted your lips with his thumb, before tilting the shot glass forward. nervously, you swallowed it. this moment reminded you that you were still technically being kidnapped by him, and that he wasn’t messing around. arthur smiles a little, taking his own shot.

“good girl.” you silently turn back to your food, eating slowly and trying to keep track of the amount of shots he was taking. eventually it became too many to count. luckily, he didn’t make you take anymore, too preoccupied with himself.

“arthur that’s enough, let’s go” it had been an hour now, and arthur was shitfaced. the wooziness you had began to feel went away quickly as you scarfed down your food. “you’re drunk”

“am not” arthur smiled lazily, attempting to order another drink, but you snatch the coins from his hand and tell the bartender we’re done. arthur gets up angrily, towering over your frame that was still sat on the stool. he opens his mouth to speak, but instead bumps shoulders with another man who was walking past.

“you bastard! watch it” arthur shoves the man back, sending him tumbling into another man behind him. shit.

in a flash, it was an all out fight between, well, you couldn’t count how many men. you stumbled back, trying to look for arthur in the crowd of men. finally, you spotted him falling to the ground and out of sight again. you debated for a while. do you wanna keep saving this fool? you bounced from foot to foot anxiously, cursing under your breath before bracing yourself and shoving your way through the fighting men. you dodged punches left and right, some of them had to have hit you, but your adrenaline blocked out the pain. finally, you spotted arthur on the ground unconscious.

“son of a bitch!” your voice was drowned out by the shouting, but you finally managed to hook your arms under arthur’s and drag him from the fighting, all the way outside, to the hotel across the street.

“one room please” you spoke to the clerk between heavy breaths, fishing into arthur’s pockets and pulling out the last coins he had for the room. you realized how bad this looked, so you tried to explain yourself. “i- i know him, i swear.” the clerk just nods wearily, recognizing the two of you from earlier and handing you the key. with help of the clerk, you got arthur into the bed.

the next hour or so you spent wiping arthur’s face down with any cloth and water you could find. he looked bad, face bruised and bloody, clothes ripped, you couldn’t help but think he looked beautiful even in this state. finally, you turned to the mirror to tend to your own wounds, which happened to only be a few bruises on your arms and ribs. you sigh in frustration at the new rip on the side of your dress. you almost didn’t notice as arthur began to wake.

“oh… what… happened?” arthur’s voice was slurred as he sat up slowly, wincing in pain and blinking hard.

“you almost fucking died, that’s what!” your voice was nearly bubbling over with anger as you stormed from the mirror over to him. “and so did i, pulling you out from all those men. you’re lucky i haven’t ran off or killed ya! you’re a fool, arthur. a damned fool.” you were tired of holding back your anger, you were pushed to your limit with him. arthur was looking at the bruises on your arms and your waist through your ripped dress, then up at you with the most puppy dog eyed look you’d seen on him.

“m’ sorry.” arthur’s voice was quiet as he spoke and you watched as a drop of blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth. “really, you can go. after the hell i dragged you through…” arthur scoffs a laugh and looks to the side. when you don’t speak, or leave, he looks back at you with confusion.

“i’m not gonna leave.” you paused for a while, trying to decide if this was the right decision. “i wanna join the gang.” arthur’s eyes widen at your words, but he nods slowly in response.

“i knew you’d come around” he smiles what you assumed was a genuine one. he then begins to stand, nearly toppling over on you before you grab onto him, steadying him.

“jesus, take it easy!” you push him back down into a sitting position on the bed and lean closer to his face. “i hope you have some doctors in your gang. you’re going to need stitches” you wipe at the blood on corner of his mouth with your thumb and sigh as you observe his wounds once more. when you went to pull away, arthur grabbed your wrist gently. your breath caught in your throat as you looked into his eyes nervously. you didn’t know what he was thinking. his face was unreadable. was he angry? you couldn’t tell. you opened your mouth to speak. you were going to utter your best form of apology for your assumed anger on his part, but arthur silenced you by leaning forwards and pressing his lips against yours. you let out a smothered gasp against his lips, taking a stumbling step back and tilting your head up as arthur stands again. a quiet moan of pain escapes his lips as he leans some of his weight against you. after a few moments of silence, that felt to you like minutes, you pull away, turning your head from him in uncertainty. you didn’t know what you wanted. if this was right. he was dangerous, you knew that, but something about him drew you in dangerously.

“i… i just” you tried to find the words, anything to say to him, but your feelings were like a big tangled ball of string and you couldn’t figure it out.

“i’m sorry.” arthur cuts you off, letting out a cough of pain as he backs off, limping his way to the other side of the room.

“let’s rest. we can talk about things tomorrow.” you watched in disbelief as he laid himself down on the floor by the entrance of the room, pulling his hat over his eyes and breathing deep. you could taste his blood on your lips. you took this time to change into your new night gown and toss your dress to the side. you assumed it would be trash, being unable to sew or afford a tailor.

upon crawling into bed, you fell asleep almost instantly. you missed the feeling of a bed after sleeping on the ground for days. you slept through the entire night, ignoring the throb of your bruises and the commotion of the streets of valentine. when you awoke in the morning, the first thing you noticed was that arthur was gone. the second thing you noticed, was your dress, folded neatly at the end of your bed. slowly, you crawled over and unfolded it, noticing the rip had been carefully sewn shut. with it, there was a piece of paper.

“i’m sorry for what i put you through. you deserve a choice. if you want to run with us, i won’t stop you. if you want to go back to your family, you have my word you won’t see me again.

-A”

upon flipping the note, there was the location of the gangs camp. you knew what you were going to do.

part 2

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