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canaidliafail · 8 months

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what she brings out of me

sadie adler x f!reader

4.5 k words MDI

old piece that isn’t proof read but I wanted to post it. Sort of canon compliant for 1/7 of the story so read at your own risk + bad english ahead. enjoy

hunting with Hosea was a chore more often than not but the man raised you to be the hunter that you are now and you were willing to tolerate the withered old man. He had his fun but he couldn’t do the miles he did before and his aim left much to be desired. But he kept you company and gave you maps for all the legendary animals he wanted to see and you, to catch.

That winter while you sought out shelter and a temporary camp while leaving blackwater,he was more prickly than usual.He insisted you stay in and help Pearston skin and cook the animals and man were you a shitty cook.

Pearston decided he would let you sneak out to hunt being the greedy drunk fool that he was so long as you brought something other than vegetables for the crew to eat.

You had barely managed to mount your horse when Arthur came back with Dutch and the rest with a new guest. a woman, frightened like a rabbit, shaking from the cold and the grief judging from her tear stained cheeks

the crowd came in with questions and she shrunk in herself stepping behind Dutch. You hitched your horse back and half ran your way to them

“This is Ms. Adler. Abigail help her out, she's had a rough night” he said and Abigail approached the woman who seemed reluctant to move from her spot as everyone discussed what took place. fed up with the situation you pushed the others away clearing a path for her and stopped beside Abigail

“Christ people give her some air can't you see she’s frightened?” You commanded and they lowered their heads, hats covering their eyes.

The three of you made your way back into the cabin and left it up to Abigail to talk to the woman.

Men widowed her that night and took everything else with them, money,silver, dignity….

the night was grim and you could hear her weep quietly, mourning her lost husband till daylight hit and she passed out from exhaustion. You woke up first and made coffee and left one by her bunk bed with a note

You probably won’t have much appetite but try to consume some liquids at least

Throughout your whole stay there you never conversed any further than a tip of the hat when you entered the cabin at night and a soft sigh when you replaced her untouched plate and cup in the morning.

You felt for her despite not knowing what it meant to lose a husband. You didn’t know what it meant to even have a husband in the first place

But your heart still ached to see such a lovely woman stripped of all joy and light

•••

“a 1000 pound bear and you thought we could take her out with our piss poor rifles?!” You asked bewildered and glanced at Arthur who had much more patience than you that day, which said a lot. Hosea passed him the map with a hand over his heart still scared and in shock how quickly he came face to face with death

“Ill head back…You two gonna chase after that thing are are you coming with?”

“coming with. Arthur its all yours” You said and mounted your house and he did the same

“Had enough entertainment for now. Let’s head back” He agreed and you all three started the two day journey back talking about everything and how everyone was settling in

“By the way, Karen has been asking for you again”

“hm?” you looked up at Arthur. Of course she was. you leave for a few days and she is looking for you again to let out some steam. You stay at camp and she won’t bat an eye your way. You took little offense however simply enjoying that you had someone to have your fun with when no one was looking

“Ill go by her tent later…” you mumbled

“Speaking of can you keep some company to Ms. Adler as well? You two have a spunky spirit and might lift her up a bit”

Sadie Adler had continued her daily routine of wandering off to the far end of the camp sitting on the rocks and crying. You caught her talking to Abigail more than anyone else and despite wanting to get close to the woman you had no idea how to approach her

“Ill…see what I can do”

you agreed and continued silently too tired to indulge in small talk

you arrived at the hideout the next evening. Arthur took off shortly to go back to blackwater for a lead on some members that stayed behind

You bathed in the dreadfully cold river and made it back to your tent combing your hair into two braids, putting on a clean pair of jeans with a shirt to go out and see if there was any coffee or herbs to make tea.

Your caught Sadie with the corner of your eye sitting by the rocks looking off into the distance and decided to give it your best shot. At this point you were the only woman who had not talked to her and it felt rude

you grabbed two chapped mugs and poured whatever hot liquid was available and made your way to her

“Evening Ms. Adler” she looked up at you

“Good evening”

“Mind if I keep you some company?” you said pushing the warm cup in her direction which she took without protest and schooched to the side giving you space. You sat next to her and looked at the dim light from the sparse fire pits enjoying the cracking of wood and soft unison of voices talking in the background

“Listen Im sure everyone had asked how you are doing so I won’t try to remind you of that but, I hope you are finding your stay with us of some comfort”

you said and dared a fearful look at her admiring her untamed blonde hair and freckled nose. A second longer and you may have found yourself in love with a widow so you turned your sights back on the coals and fire in the distance

“As much as I'd rather be left alone, its nice to have some company” she confessed and you nod, waiting to see if she had anything else to say. With a shaky voice she continued

“I just wish my Jacky was here with me. He was a good man you know, better than anyone out there”

your lips thinned almost feeling her anger. Karen passed in front of you in the distance quirking a brow indicating she would be waiting for you tonight

“I just wish it was me in his place. I feel so lost”

you brought your attention back to her and slowly pressed a hand against her back gently moving it in circles. she leaned into your touch and you felt her breath stutter

“I wish I could take my own life…but i’m not brave enough to do even that” you matched your breathing with her own pulling her closer silently trying to calm her down the minute you felt her shoulders shake

“To be brave is to keep on going. To keep on living” you quietly offered your thoughts and she shook her head tears falling again

“I don’t know…”

you kept caressing her back

“Keep on living Adler. Show those fuckers what you’re made of”

You said boldly and she turned to look at you surprised. she seemed to consider your words and then your face. maybe both. You knew you weren’t good at this but you were satisfied to see the tears stop and her features soften

You smiled and hesitantly tucked a lose strand of hair behind her ear and then stood up

“We are here for you. Take your time to grieve the man. He is worth it” she nod and took in a deep breath looking into the distance, taking a sip from her tea “Thank you for listening” your shrugged “least I can do for a pretty lady. Should you ever seek company my tent is open” you said and saw a soft smile graced her lips for the first time before she turned away. Remorse hit you quick and hard realizing you accidentally just made a pass at her and felt shame drown you.

with a tip of your hat you excused yourself.

You feared you had messed up, spoke too soon and maybe with too much ignorance. You prayed she’d brush your words off. Its not like anyone even considered that a woman could flirt with a woman.

You sought out Karen and her willing touch that night. You forgot yourself in the pleasure of her spread legs and let her soft gasps fill your mind.

However the next day you were surprised to see Sadie with her hair braided and her shirt tucked in neatly with a lovely brown straw hat shielding her face from the sun. she went to pour coffee and caught you staring and for the first time greeted you first with a smile

•••

Days turned into weeks and Sadies curt greetings turned to small talk that turned into long conversation and eventually she took interest in your role with the gang asking of your trips

“a huntress?”

you felt pride in your chest. sure women weren’t expected to do much but you loved that you challenged that standard from a young age

“I feel I am of more use with a bow in the wild than with pins and needles”

“What's up with you managing to have every woman all over you?” Arthur asked one day and you laughed pushing him away with a soft punch on his arm

“Its my talent”

“and here I thought that laid in hunting animals. ‘s that why we’ve been starving lately?”

he asked meaning no harm and you saw his crooked grin and the softness in his eyes, crinkling with wrinkles

“shut up arthur. Don't you have a train to rob or something?”

“my bad, I won’t take any more of your precious time with Ms. Adler”

You also quickly found out Sadie had a sharp tongue and a short temper. Her strength and quip was overshadowed by her grief before but slowly it raised to the surface and more people took interest in her. She grew more familiar with Arthur and her long skirts were slowly replaced by the occasional tight black jeans that accentuated her assets even better

Some nights she was still haunted by nightmares and you took it upon yourself to invite her to your tent. You talked for a while and when she tried to excuse herself you stopped her and patted the side of your bunk bed

“You can sleep here for tonight”

“and you?” you laughed “Ill also sleep here. Never had a sleepover with a friend before?”

“Not like that you prick” she said and laid next to you. Her eyes widened, noticing she was a little too close than she calculated. you held her by the waist guiding her “turn around for me” you whispered and she obliged. You pressed your chest against her back and held her like that and felt her tense shoulders slowly relax only to stiffen again when you spoke again close to her

“Goodnight Sadie”

“goodnight”

It only happened once but after that night You often caught yourself admiring her, those warm brown eyes, the raspy voice that gave you goosebumps and when no one paid you attention you shamelessly eyed her figure.

“You are no better than a man,huntress” Karen teased and leaned next to you against the tree. You chuckled and glanced at her “jealous?”

“you wish” she said. It didn’t go past you that she wore a dress that exposed her chest nicely yet it did little to arouse you and in horror you realized your mind drifted over to Sadie and how nicely she tucked in her shirt leaving no more than two buttons open barely exposing her collar bones

“The boys are going out for some job” she said leaving the invitation and you smirked looking down at her

“Hm…Maybe Ill join them”

“or..” she said and carefully flattened her palms against your chest pretending to fix your bandana for you “you can join me instead” she looked up at you with doe eyes and your lip twitched in a smile. She left swaying her hips and you let your gaze linger for a second before looking up. Sadie stood there with an unspoken question in her eyes and then cocked a brow in challenge.

you took two cigarettes out of your pocket and she approached you accepting your offer. she placed the stick in her lips and you motioned her to come closer.

her head tilted in confusion and you carefully pulled her in by the back of your head till the ends of your cigarettes touched and lit them both in one go

you tucked the lighter back in your pants and she took in a long puff in thought “You seem closer to Karen than the rest. Does your friendship go back in time?”

you laughed at the innocent and awfully unsuspecting question and decided to test the waters

“Friends ? Hardly, we are close though. In different ways” she seemed even more puzzled “Everytime you answer my questions I end up more lost and confused than I was before”

“Maybe I'm just that bad at conversing with others” she chuckled, a low raspy giggle almost “You give yourself too little credit. Had it not been for those coffees you left and your company Id probably still be on that rock crying” you smiled

“Glad I could help” you continued to smoke in silence and you inspected her clothes your eyes falling on the yellow brooch tied around her neck

“That's a nice brooch” she looked down and smiled “thanks. One of the few good things I own”

“Oh don't say that. You have a lovely sense of fashion darling” you held the ornament in your fingers leaning closer feeling her breath fan your cheeks. Something shifted and it wasn't even anymore. you looked up and saw her completely focused on your every movement catching her eyes that were stuck on your lips. Flattered, a cocky smile escaped you.

There was a tense moment that snapped from Peaston calling out to everyone informing them that dinner and drinks were ready.

You both pulled away from each other abruptly and pushed yourself off the tree patting your pants and dusting them off

“Will you join us?” you asked and she shrugged “Was about time I did”

•••

You were drunk. Way too fucking drunk.

“shit how many…” you tried to look around and count how many glasses of whiskey you had. everything was spinning and buzzing. Karen and Mary-beth were singing and you clumsily joined. Sadie sat next to you cracking a joke here and there but still was mostly quiet listening to all of you and sometimes laughing. Karen laid her head on your shoulder and her hand fell on your thigh beneath the table going upwards and staying there fondling your thigh. Too drunk to care if Sadie was looking, you indulged her sensual move and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

unbeknownst to you Sadie withdrew from you slightly and confused looked at the pair of you her frown growing deeper as Karens hand traveled higher eventually tugging at the metal belt clasp

amidst the chaos- which you were uncertain if there was any due to your drunken state- you remembered getting up and escaping to the quieter place of the camp, then your hands were on Karens hips and her lips on your neck biting and sucking and everything else was a blur

had you been slightly more sober you would have noticed that you weren’t completely hidden. Because Sadie was interested in you in ways she couldn’t explain and she was out looking for you that night. And she unfortunately caught a glimpse of your nasty sexual endeavors with the other woman who you had so willingly pinned against the tree and who elicited the most pornographic sounds

•••

Sadie caught herself interested in you. She liked the fact that you were a huntress and she liked more that you took little pity on her state and gave her solid motivation to get back on track with her life. She realized she chased your polite compliments when she wore a new accessory or when she braided her hair.

but to feel like this towards a woman? how?

she questioned and doubted it immediately believing it was the grief that made her lose her mind. That was until she saw you devouring karen in the deep of the forest. Something woke within her. fiery jealousy and heat bloomed in her chest and her core ached.

She-at first- was convinced she was repulsed by the act, finding it vulgar. than she thought that she was simply taken aback by it but not in an unpleasant way. eventually she decided to sleep frustrated and confused, unable to understand what she felt.

two days later she sought out Karen who seemed very eager to tease and taunt her

“What a voyeuristic eye that you have Adler”

“Are the two of you in a relationship?”

she laughed, loud enough to almost make her feel humiliated and stupid as if the answer was obvious

“Gods no! I mean I know she only likes women but I don’t care for things like that”

“only women?”

“If you ever find yourself with too much frustration pay her a visit. In my opinion every woman should feel her tongue” Sadies eyes widened and then she shook her head in disappointment

“Ill find other ways to keep myself busy” she barked growing angry with Karens games

“Suit yourself. I'm just saying that I trained her well” and with that she left. Sadie was angry. Jealous.She saw Karen marking her territory and she didn’t like that

why does she try to claim something that isnt hers

She avoided you on purpose for the upcoming days and she hated seeing your confusion and visible pain to her dismissive attitude

You once tried to approach her more boldly and in her spitefulness she spat

“what's up with you? Nothing to do?”

You huffed out a frustrated breath and crossed your arms standing in front of her.

“Ive thought about it a lot and it all boils down to you probably finding out I swing the other way”

“I did find out”

you nodded in repeat looking away and she saw your jaw tense and your brows lower “well Fuck me then” you hissed exasperated

“Id like to be alone” she said with a low growl and you scoffed “Really Sadie? Am I that disgusting to you now that you won’t even say goodmorning to me?” you raised your tone and she stood up “Don't you use that tone on me”

“or what?!” she stared at you long and hard. You were the first to break contact and took a step back, arms swinging softly

“You know what Sadie? You wanna be alone ? then be fucking alone” she watched as you turned your back on her and left immediately regretting how sbe handled that conversation.

She didn’t see you for a week after that. That week she herself was busy with her first bounty hunt and she could hardly be happy about it. Her stomach felt like she’d swallowed stones and her throat was dry.

and when you came back it was with Arhur, Hosea and another woman. Someone you rescued on your recent bounty hunt who was as lost as she once was. You attention was on the hurt woman keeping her company making sure she felt secure with your group of people

“Listen we ain’t good but we ain’t them either” you consoled an arm around her shoulders soothing her and Sadie had enough of it. She approached you with heavy steps the heel of her boots digging into the dirt

“I wanna talk to you”

you looked up and the girl in your arms seemed intimidated by her. Sadie disliked that she seemed threatening to an innocent person but her focus was on you and you alone

you silently questioned her, eyes wide, jaw tense as if saying really?! now?!

she stood her ground until you gave in and followed her back to your tent where you could have some privacy

“You wanted to talk? speak”

“Why do you have to be like that?” she asked annoyed and you shook your head defeated “Like what hon? I am around you and you are repulsed, I give you space and you are equally unsatisfied. The hell do you want from me, woman?!”

“I just needed time! Time!” she emphasized the words and you sat down knowing your knees were too weak to handle this unprovoked attitude

“time? for what?” You tried peacefully and truly exhausted knowing someone had to be tame or this conversation wouldn’t go far without resulting in you pulling a gun to each others head

“Christ I- I just was confused. I didn’t know a woman could look at a woman like that”

“And why does it concern you?” you asked and she seemed taken aback. Why indeed

Because I considered you that way too

she came to the conclusion her tongue numb and heavy, unable to speak these words out loud.

She hated how quickly you caught on and in a delightfully predatory way she watched you stand up and approach her, circling her like a vulture

“Sadie did you hate that I look at women like that or did you hate that you weren’t one of those women?”

the hair on the back of her neck rose and heat pooled in her stomach again. A feeling she thought had surely died with her late husband yet here it was.

“I wasn't?” she asked, her confidence faltering. She was sure she caught you staring at her chest, her lips, her hips at first not questioning the wandering gaze until she put the puzzle pieces together to figure out the reason behind it

your hands were on her shoulders running up and down the length of her arms slowly

“Would you like to be?” she turned around and as if in a dance sequence your hands fell on her neck to pull her in for a hungry kiss

She could feel how starved you were in the way your lips pressed against hers tasting her, imprinting the feel of her skin against hers. She returned the notion with equal fervor if not with more and was reluctant to be the one to submit. her hands landed on your hips pulling you in and she was shocked to find how right this position felt. how velvety your tongue felt against her own and how your skin molded into her palms becoming one.

she pulled away to take in a few deep and heavy breaths looking at you and was pleased to find you putty in her arms, to see the mighty huntress small, fragile and ready to do anything she would ask you to

“Do I awaken something in you Sadie?” You asked and held her closer, your arms wrapped around her neck and she responded by kissing you again loving the power and control she had. The passion melted into something more gentle, affectionate and tender and when you pulled away the second time she held your cheek in her hand caressing the flushed skin

“ that answer good enough for you?” she asked with a lazy smirk and you huffed out a laugh still gasping for air “Never thought you packed such heat” you confessed and her ego grew dangerously “You haven’t experienced the half of it”

•••

Unlike you, who was secretive and shameful of your nature the minute Sadie felt sure in herself she didn’t hesitate to greet you with a good morning kiss letting everyone think about what they just witnessed. As outlaws you certainly had bigger problems than two girls deciding to kiss each other and you came to the stupidly obvious realisation. Hosea and Arthur were the first ones to tell you

well we knew men didn’t do it for you, but I didn’t exactly know what did so…I just do now thats all it is

and you felt good about his awkward and reassuring words. Sadie didn’t care on the other hand. if she spent the night in your tent she didn’t hide it and if she felt like making a move on you while at the saloon she would and dealt with the consequences violently and eagerly still needing to vent out her pain and frustrations.

“are you not…scared?” you asked her once at night when you both laid together, naked beneath a thin sheet and she smiled giving you small kisses on your cheeks, jaw, neck

“I am scared of other things darling. Death is one of them. Random drunk men ain’t on the other hand are not”

“You aren’t indestructible Sadie. I worry for you” you confessed and she smiled “Nobody’s taking nothing from me ever again” she said and kissed you “And nobody’s taking me away from you either”

#rdr2 #red dead redemption two #sadie adler #sadie adler x reader

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abugsjournal · 11 days

Text

A Cowboy's Cup of Coffee ☕

Arthur Morgan x male reader

Summary: After a sweet apology from Arthur your budding friendship grows! You have plans to meet Arthur outside of work for the first time, but must deal with some drama in your café first.

Content Warning: Mention of drinking, men being creepy, threats of violence.

Chapter 2: Headaches

Arthur's POV

It's been about a week since your social blunder at the café. You've been offering to go on hunting trips to avoid going into town. You would rather come face to face with a bear than make a fool of yourself in front of Y/N again. You kick yourself for being worried about his opinion of you in the first place. That shouldn't matter, why are you even thinking about it?

Luckily, you don't encounter any bears, but today's hunting trip with Charles was the most successful one you've had since you settled down in this spot. Everyone back at camp was elated. So elated that as the hearty deer stew was being served, bottles of whiskey and rum were opened and passed around the campfire with equal enthusiasm. You remember the women's tipsy giggles, and the men getting a little loud and rowdy, but not much else.

As you open your eyes you feel your head screaming in pain. You roll out of your cot, swallowing and forcing the rising bile back into your stomach. The morning light is blinding, you squint and shield your eyes as you exit your text. As your vision adjusts you can see everyone else feels just as miserable. There's a collective groan as the gang members each start working on their tasks for the day. You know you'll be absolutely useless until you nurse this headache, but the smell of the coffee over the fire almost makes you gag. The only thing you think you could stomach is the coffee from the café in town. You sigh, weighing your options, and decide you would do anything to make your head stop pounding, even if it means risking an awkward conversation. As you ride into town, you rehearse a long overdue apology in your mind.

Y/N's POV

A few slow, monotonous days pass by you. You find yourself watching the door to your café, silently willing it to open. Every time you hear that bell ring you get a small rush of excitement, but it's crushed every time you look up and see a regular's face.

Did I somehow scare him off? You replay your last interaction with Arthur over and over again in your mind. It wasn't the first time you had caught a customer staring at you, but it was one of those rare instances where you weren't mad about it. Small towns feel smaller the longer you stay in them, so new faces excite you. Maybe you got too excited. You begin to convince yourself that you were too forward, or he was just traveling through town, or is flat out avoiding you when you hear the bell above the door ring once again.

Expecting disappointment at this point, you can't keep your eyes from widening in surprise when you see Arthur in the doorway. He is fidgeting with his hat in his hands as he approaches the counter. He has dark circles under his eyes and squints slightly as he looks in your direction. Working in a coffee shop for so long has taught you to instantly recognize a hangover. You intentionally keep your voice at a lower tone and quieter than usual as you greet him, "Hey friend, welcome back. Rough night?"

"Very fun night from what little I can remember, just a rough morning," He closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Listen, I just wanted to apologize for the other day."

"There's no need, really, you didn't do anything wrong-"

Before you can finish your sentence, Arthur interrupts you, "I was rude to you after you were kind to me and you didn't deserve that." He stares directly into your eyes, and you can see they're filled with sincerity, "I'm truly sorry if I made you uncomfortable at all, and for rushing out the way I did."

You feel paralyzed by the weight of his stare, and you can see the guilt in his eyes. Even though you don't think he did anything warranting such a genuine gesture, you can tell he won't let it go until you accept his apology.

"Alright," You sigh, "All is forgiven."

The beginnings of a smile quickly shift into a wince of pain on Arthur's face. "I'd love to accurately express my gratitude but I think I might die if I don't get some coffee in me soon," He slides some change across the counter towards you, "And whatever you have on the menu today smells amazing, I'll have one of those too."

"Thank you! It's mini strawberry shortcakes today, now go sit down before you pass out or puke on my floors." You smirk, trying to ease some of the remaining tension.

Arthur lets out a small chuckle, "Good idea." He slowly walks over to his usual corner table.

As you prepare his order you think about how to handle Arthur. Based on how he's acted the past few times you've seen him, you come to the conclusion that you'll have to let him come to you, like a stray dog. Being too friendly too fast might scare him off again. You're also thankful that instead of letting one awkward conversation snuff out the sparks of a new friendship, you were both able to move past it.

Small talk comes easy to the two of you now. Arthur comes in nearly every day. You ask him questions about work and he gives you vague answers. He asks you about baking and why the décor in the café is so "unique" as he politely put it. About a month of these pleasantries go by. One day he asks you what you do when you're not working.

"I sometimes try to come up with new recipes for the menu! Or I go to estate sales for cups and furniture."

"That doesn't count, that's just more work!" A laugh escapes you as you realize he's right, "Come on, you've gotta have other things you like doing."

You shyly mention that you like to draw and document the insects and plants in the area.

His eyes widen and the corners of his mouth curl up in excitement, "No way! I have a journal that I draw in."

"Really? I'm surprised, hands like yours usually aren't holding pencils." You smirk at him, narrowing your eyes and hoping your snide comment might pry more information about his unspecified line of work out of him.

He simply laughs, "Ha! Explains why I'm not very good at it."

You roll your eyes at another failed attempt to learn more about his job. Is he avoiding the subject on purpose or just being dense? "Well if you ever want to share of see some of my art, my house is just a ten minute walk down the road. It's the little one with the wooden wind chimes."

Arthur seems taken aback by your invitation and takes a moment to respond, "I'd like that. When should I head over?"

"I close up shop at two and if I get through my cleaning fast enough I can probably be home by four. Does that sound good?"

"I'll have to run a quick errand but it shouldn't take too long." Arthur drains the last of his coffee and stands up, "I'll see you later, Y/N."

"See ya, Arthur!" You wave goodbye as he leaves. You can't help but smile to yourself as you clean off his table. You check your pocket watch and sigh, it's only ten.

The minutes sluggishly pass by you as your giddiness grows. You try your best to avoid checking the time in between each task, knowing that will only make the day go by even slower. You're washing plates behind the counter when two unfamiliar men stumble through your doors. Before you can greet them they walk right past your register and over towards one of your customer's tables. You follow their gaze and see they have their eyes locked on Eva, the eldest daughter of one of the local farmers. She comes here in the afternoons to read without having to worry about her rambunctious little brothers bothering her.

She's so engrossed in her book that she doesn't notice the men saunter over, about two steps closer than they should be. The hair on the back of your neck stands up as one of the men clumsily places a hand on the table, knocking over her cup and spilling coffee into her lap.

"Hey! Watch it-" Eva looks up from her book and sees just how close these men are. Her eyes widen as they lean over her.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing sitting here all alone?" The shorter man's words practically slosh out of his mouth. He tries to put a finger under her chin, but Eva slaps his hand away.

The taller man grabs her wrist. "That's no way to treat someone who's just being nice to you, missy." He hisses through gritted teeth.

You clear your throat and stand with your arms crossed over your chest, hiding your shaking hands, "Excuse me gentlemen, I don't take kindly to folks that harass my customers. I'll give you to the count of three to back away from her and get out."

The men glare menacingly at you, "Or what?"

"Or this pot of boiling coffee is gonna make it real easy for the law to identify your ugly mugs." The thugs glance at each other, and then back at you, "One. Two-"

"Fine." The taller man drops Eva's wrist and drags his companion out the door behind him without another word. The scent of whiskey lingers in the air behind them.

You let out a long exhale. You knew you wouldn't have been able to win that fight if things had escalated, but they didn't need to know that. "Eva, are you alright? Do you need me to walk you home"

"Oh I'll be alright," She stands up and tries to wring the coffee out of her dress, "Thanks for scarin' them off!" She gives you a big smile as she collects her things. You wrap up the remaining shortcakes and send her off with a treat for her troubles.

You check your pocket watch again and you're grateful to see it's finally two. You flip the sign on the door to "Closed" and rush through your closing tasks, quickly forgetting about the incident as your planned meeting with Arthur grows closer. You can't remember the last time you were this anxious to get home. You finish your chores in record time, lock your café doors, and begin walking home. You're so caught up in your excitement that you don't look around for insects to draw like you usually would, but you do notice the squirrels and rabbits in the surrounding forest are skittish. They seem to make much more noise than usual as you follow the trail through the woods.

As you unlock your front door and turn the handle, you hear a voice behind you.

"Look who's all alone now."

Thank you so much for reading! Forgive me for the long absence, April is a terribly busy month for me and I was also getting extremely burnt out from work. To be super real the only reason I was able to get this typed out and posted is because I got sick and couldn't get out of bed all day (lol). Tumblr is also being super weird and not letting me indent no matter how I type this out or where I copy and it paste from. Anyone else have this issue?

Chapter 1 / Chapter 3 coming soon!

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

Taglist: @photo1030

#bug journal entry #writer #writers on tumblr #writing #aspiring writer #writeblr #fic #fiction #arthur morgan #rdr2 #coffee shop au #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x male reader #arthur morgan x reader #fanfic #fanfiction

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pryce0 · 1 year

Text

Am I a Bad Man? - Arthur Morgan x GN!Reader (Part 2)

gif by: @haveyouseengavin

word count; 1,718

Masterlist: here

First Part: here

tag: @dontbethatguy20

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Arthur didn’t come back for a good 2 days, and with every minute that passed by that he didn’t return, you felt worse and worse.You made the effort to leave camp in an attempt to find him, but it was no use; there were 3 states he could’ve possibly been in and it would take weeks to search every single one. You confided in Hosea, not with every detail because you KNOW Arthur is self conscious and wouldn’t want his business to be talked about by everyone. “Well, you did hurt his feelings, dear.” Hosea murmured, a book in his hands as he sits on an empty crate at an empty table. You can’t help but think, ‘Arthur would be sitting here with him if I didn’t drive him out.’

You nod and nervously pick at the dead skin around your thumbnail, glancing at him and around the camp. “I know, I‘ve been lookin’ for him, I even shouted for him to stop but..” You trail off as shame floods your senses again. You know it was so very wrong to take it out on him; especially when you know he’s insecure about what you said. Arthur had written countless times in his journal about being a bad man, has confided in you about being a horrible person, yet you still ended up shouting at him.

The events that transpired replay in your head, over and over and over.

“Yeah, go fucking do your job like the goddamn mutt you are, Morgan. Go kill for him, go torture for Dutch. Live up to your reputation, why don’t you?? Oh, it isn’t even a fucking reputation by this point, it’s the truth.”

There’s nothing but the distant sound of the gang celebrating after your piercing sentence. Arthur’s jaw is dropped, looking back at you with such betrayal. Your heart drops to your stomach as you process everything you just said. Cold panic floods your veins as you watch him stutter in pure shock and anger. “Fuck, Arthur, I-“

“Don’t.”

Arthur’s expression tore you apart on the spot, and even now you feel sick thinking about how betrayed he looked. You were the one person he trusted to make him feel like he was normal, like he wasn’t the person he is, the man who collects debts, the man who kills for money, the man who steals from anyone who needs stealin’— despite Dutch’s sayings that he doesn’t even follow. Arthur trusted you and you threw that confidence away like it was nothing, with only a few sentences.

“He will come back,” Hosea says quietly, closing his book and he keeps his eyes trained on you. Like he’s searching for your emotions; he finds your regret, your remorse, your panic. You feel the dark swirling feeling of all of this combined. “I need him.. to come back.” You wanted to stop at ‘I need him’ but you know it wasn’t appropriate right now; this isn’t about you, it’s about your words and how Arthur was affected. You didn’t want to take anything more away from him.

Hosea sighs quietly and glances around, standing up from the crate and placing his hands on the table in front of him. He leans towards you with a quiet voice, getting the memo you want to keep this on the down-low. “Look, why don’t you take a ride, or go hunt? Keep yourself preoccupied?” He questions you, pushing his sleeve back where it was supposed to be as it was slowly shifting down his arm. “Trust me, Dutch and I have raised that boy since he was a teenager. He’ll come back real soon.” Hosea goes to leave the table but he turns to me with a pause, his voice going soft. “You mean a lot to him, even if he doesn’t want to say it out loud. Sort this out with him, yeah?”

You pause and nod, staring at Hosea as he coughs into his fist, grabbing his book and walking off to his tent. You take a deep breath before walking off to your own and kneeling down, grabbing one of the handles to your weapons trunk from under your bed. You drag it out with some resistance, considering it’s been sitting and sinking into the dirt below for a couple of weeks now. You flip open the tab and open it up, grabbing one of your shorter rifles; most of your stuff is on your horse, but you have a lucky rifle. Maybe you’ll catch something good, considering you lost something good. You sling the weapon over your shoulder and walk over to your horse, putting your foot in the stirrup and grunting as you get onto the saddle. You grab the reins and quietly urge your horse to start moving, going down the path from camp, and you don’t know where you want to go. Just anywhere but here.

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You find yourself in a woodsy area, about 30ish minutes away from camp. You sigh and loosely wrap the reins of your horse around a low branch. You begin to softly talk to your horse like always, grabbing an apple out of the satchel that is attached to your saddle. “Here you go, girl. Eat up.” You murmur, and your horse graciously takes the apple between her teeth and crunches down on it. You’re silent for a moment before laughing humorlessly, petting the side of her neck, feeling her fur underneath your fingers. “I really messed up, huh, girl? I haven’t seen him in a few days, now..” Your horse neighs in nearly an annoyed tone, digging at the ground with her hoove. You let out another, yet quieter laugh before speaking again. “Yeah, I know. You’re mad at me, too. My apples don’t compare to the ones he manages to get his hands on, hm? Yeah, don’t think I don’t see him sneakin’ snacks to you, girl. I see it.”

You inhale deeply and you get a whiff of smoke nearby, which means someone is definitely camping near here. You grunt under your breath as that means this isn’t really the greatest place to be hunting. You turn to look and to your surprise, the camp isn’t too far away; and there’s a mighty familiar horse tied to a tree nearby.

It’s Arthur’s horse.

Your eyes light up and your heart skips a beat; do you approach? Do you give him space? Before you can second guess yourself, you end up approaching the camp, glancing around nervously. “..Arthur?” You call out just loud enough for anyone in the vicinity to hear you. At first, you’re met with the silence of the night, besides the occasional bug sound. Is he not here?

“Arthur?” You call out just a bit louder, and immediately a man steps out from the other side of the horse; and it’s him.

He looks conflicted, his eyebrows furrowed together, his lower lip slightly puckering out like it always does when he is feeling annoyed. You pause and you stare at him for a moment before opening your lips. However, nothing comes out within the first few seconds. What is there to say? How do you apologize for the things you’ve said?

“..I want to apologize, Arthur. Genuinely apologize. Can you please listen to me?” You plead quietly as you slowly step towards him. He raises his hands and then lowers them with a bewildered expression. “How did you find me?” He asks, straight to the point. You pick at the skin on your thumbnail again. “By accident,” You answer honestly. “Hosea told me to go hunt while I waited for you to return back to camp.”

You quietly sigh and motioned to the campfire. “Can we sit? I.. I want to have a conversation.”

Arthur presses his lips together, trying to hold it together. He decides to comply silently, taking his seat on his bedroll. You sit next to him, although there’s a reasonable distance between you and him.

“I’m sorry, Arthur,” You begin, looking at him, whose eyes are staring straight into the campfire before you two. “I’m so sorry for what I said. I want you to know that I didn’t mean anything I said. I was havin’ a terrible day; and that excuses nothin’ I said. I don’t think you’re a mutt, or Dutch’s little pet. You aren’t a bad ma-“

“Don’t you even go there because we both know damn well I am.” Arthur interrupts you quietly, avoiding all eye contact. Your eyes furrow as he speaks, his tone firm yet nearly shaken. Arthur picks grass and dirt off his pants as he waits for you to continue, even hiding his face with his hat. “I will go there because you aren’t that bad man. You’ve done so much good, you take care of the people you love. You are a loyal man, someone who is willing to provide, no matter the circumstances.” You murmur, inching closer to him. Your heart picks up a bit as all you want to do is kiss him until he forgets everything, and you’ve wanted to do that for so long. If you had said this to anyone else, you wouldn’t have made such an effort to find him at first. Arthur glances at you and then he looks away, but he doesn’t move away. That’s a good start. “I’ve done terrible things too, darlin’.” He whispers in an attempt to mask his emotions, but you know him too well. You lean closer and cup his cheek, guiding his face to look at you. You make eye contact with Arthur and your soft, loving eyes meet his guilty and solemn ones. “Your actions do not define you. You have never been a terrible man to me, Arthur.”

He swallows his spit, Adam's apple jumping in his throat. “Y.. You mean that?”

You nod with a soft smile. “If you were the bad man you think you are, I wouldn’t be here right now. I wouldn’t be talking to you like this, I don’t talk to anyone else the way I talk to you, sir.”

Arthur doesn’t exactly smile, but you can see his expression lift ever so slightly. Your thumb brushes against his cheek as you whisper, “You’re the best man I’ve ever known, Mister Morgan.”

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #angst #arthur morgan x you #romance #arthur morgan x gn reader #gn reader #gender neutral fanfic #gender neutral reader #hurt/comfort #part 2 #requests are open #requested

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groundzero-v · 2 months

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Titles tag game

Thank you @roalinda for tagging me! 💕

List the titles of your top 5 priorities for WIP updates (link your fics for new readers)

An upcoming scene, event or detail in each fic that you're looking forward to writing

Bonus: make a poll for your followers to vote on which of the top 5 wips are they are most excited to see an update on!

Then tag 10 writer friends!

Titles

1. Revenge *is* the answer (worktitle, Prongsfoot)

Set in a version of the wizarding world where ghosts work a bit differently, Sirius and James team up to hunt Peter Petigreew down.

Or: James comes back (sort of), breaks Sirius out of Azkaban (finally) and decides whoever betrayed them both doesn't deserve to live on.

2. Marauder's Guide to Saving the Wizarding World (Prongsfoot)

I suppose everyone is tired of me talking about this one, but it's my only published wip 😄 James and Sirius compete as a team in the Triwizard Tournament which sets things that were never supposed to happen in their time in motion. Marauders fight Voldemort AU!

Includes lots of Marauder banter, feels, questionable humour, prongsfoot moments and brand new tasks in the tournament

3. No title yet. Star Wars AU + transmigration* (Prongsfoot)

The Proud Immortal Sith Way was a webnovel with an average rating of 2.5. It was, quite frankly, a piece of shit. The only thing that kept James reading, day after day, was the main character, the Jedi turned Sith, Sirius Black.

Sirius' whole life was filled with misfortune and pain. Upon entering the Order he received nothing but distain and distrust from everyone around him, even from his Master. It was no wonder he turned to the Dark side when everyone was just a useless NPC!

'How is it fair that Sirius had to spend the rest of his life in misery after suffering this whole time?!!’ James wrote at 1AM into the comment section of yet another chapter that had Sirius traveling the galaxy and adding another one-chapter, useless love interest to his harem.

The same night, James died. When he woke up, he was in the novel, the words 'Fine, do better,' apprearing in front of his eyes before they blipped out of existence.

*((A variation of SVSS for those aware, but should be totally alright to read without any knowledge of SW or SVSS^^))

4. Fantasy/Knights of the Round table AU (Prongsfoot)

Fantasy, Arthur & Knights of the Round table AU. James in the place of Arthur, future king, and Sirius as Lancelot, his most loyal knight. Features sword-magic, epic adventures and magical creatures. A very much just a concept for now

An upcoming scene, event or detail in each fic that you're looking forward to writing:

1. Prongsfoot just...being feral for each other, absolute devotion to the max. They have finally reunited again and there's nothing that can stop them. Also just them...trespassing everywhere 😄 Besides that, definitely the confrontation with Peter!!

2. I'm pretty excited about the Second Task of the Tournament (and a bit scared since I had to create it, hopefully it's interesting). But other than that, to be very vague haha, Prongsfoot meeting Voldemort for the first time!🙈 (There is a line that started this whole fic that I have been waiting to use and its coming closer with each day!!)

3. It's so different so I have to say there're so many things I'm really excited about. Figuring out who should be who in the SW universe is a lot of fun, but I think I'm mostly looking forward to James and Sirius being absolutely unstoppable with lightsabers and the Force. The aspect of the transmigration is also something I'm really really looking forward to

4. I love fantasy so puttting Prongsfoot in there is just a dream. A scene I'm most excited about is Sirius getting knighted by James and swearing his loaylty to him 🥹

Tagging (no pressure and sorry if you were already tagged!) @lovelymasks @jmagnabo92 @cassiaratheslytherpuff @gracelesslady23 @prongsfoot4life @solitaire-sol @mycupofrum @siriuslystarbucks @siriuslycomplex

#tag game #titles tag game #my writing #prongsfoot #james x sirius #james potter #sirius black #bambibelle #marauders

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arrowmaker15 · 1 year

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Headcanon: Jason "I don't care about anyone and I hate everything" Todd threatens people that have any relation to his friends and family whatsoever. Whether it be a relationship, or hurting them, he has probably threatened them. Sort of a sequel to my last headcanon.

For example, Cass? Despite who her parents are, Jason has tracked both of them down, and had the balls to threaten them. Hell, for her dad he pulled out everything he knew and beat his ass to a pulp, just for the way he raised her. Shiva, all he said was that if she showed up in Gotham, it didn't matter where Jason was, he would be there within that week, and she would not like him.

Tim, oh Tim, Bernard got a visit not from vigilante Red Hood, he could handle that if it happened, but instead got a visit from overprotective big brother Jason Todd, and that guy was scarier than the vigilante.

Dick? You can fucking bet that Jason goes overboard with that one. Finding out what Tarantula did to that him sent him off the rails, and Tarantula paid the price dearly. Everyone took that as a warning to "stay the FUCK away from Nightwing."

For Duke all he does is send a picture of himself behind Duke who is looking at a street during the day, pointing a gun at the camera with it titled as "Hurt him, I will be out during the day regularly" to every corner of Gotham's underworld, everybody coming to an understanding.

Then there is Stephanie, problems with both parents. The first night he let Steph crash at his place, you can BET he went to her house and paid a visit to ol' Arthur Brown, aka Cluemaster. 9 broken ribs, a concussion, a fractured arm and 2 black eyes is how he returned to prison, the man walking down the road to where he was kept with a sign wrapped around his neck saying "Take me in, I escaped." When Steph heard the news, she knew who did it but never mentioned anything.

The way he handled talking to Jon after Jason got reintegrated was downright awful for Jon. Jason made it known he had kryptonite, and somehow managed to sneak it onto or into Jon without him knowing, Jason sharpening knives and cleaning guns in the same room he was in, always loading his gun with a lead encased clip, glaring at him the whole time.

Then there was Kate, the first person to reach out to him after he made his return, he obviously got protective considering she was "the cool aunt". Naturally, Maggie and Alice got a visit, not playing games.

He talked to Selina calmly about Bruce. They came to an understanding quickly, but only after he got reintegrated.

Finally, the unlikely friendship is Jason and one Harleen Quinzel. All he did was walk into Ivy's greenhouse and talk to her, making sure she knew exactly what would happen if she were to mistreat Harley, just like the Joker had. Ivy, for the first time in her life, just shut up and nodded.

The best part, nobody knew he was doing this. Shiva stopped showing up in Gotham without explanation and everyone was confused, David Cain was nowhere to be found (he was in a coma), Bernard got out of the same room as Jason as fast as possible and outright refused to go to the Manor for 3 months afterwards with nobody knowing why, Tarantula was never seen again (Dick was glad, though confused when people stopped hunting him down in Blüdhaven), Duke was at a loss for why crime was so much lower in the daytime than one would expect, Cluemaster served his sentence without complaint, Jon always got sweaty around Jason and Damian thought it was because of himself, Maggie was extra careful not to hurt Kate while Alice seemed more docile than one would think, Selina was normal, and Ivy made sure to check her actions and review them with thought sometimes right in front of Harley.

Absolutely nobody knew it was Jason (minus Steph with Cluemaster) and thought it was just weird occurrences. Jason proceeded like normal, and he would take what he did, and what he will continue to do in the future if necessary, to his second grave.

#jason todd #headcanon #damian wayne #tim drake #dick grayson #cassandra cain #dc comcis #stephanie brown #kate kane #selina kyle #poison ivy #harley quinn #duke thomas

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arthurtaylorlester · 5 months

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malevolent anastasia the musical au parker and arthur used to be private eyes in 1930s america under the malevolent rule of the king in yellow, but that all changed when the king is torn to shards. they're forced to turn into conmen in tough times, with what of the king's fall.

but there's a rumour, deep in the alleyways of arkham, that the shard, the fragment, torn from the king was his heart and it was turned human. so, of course, they choose to try and con their literal eldritch overlord. they try to find a candidate that could suitably play the part convincingly, to no avail to their dismay. until a certain john doe is reported to the local police, amnesiac yet rambling about cults and madness and much no one could understand; everyone who seems to look at him too long starts screaming bloody murder.

they manage to piss off one of the few well-standing men left in arkham, wallace larson, while trying to find recruits, who hires the hitmen collins 'the butcher' to right their wrongs and stop their plans at all costs.

arthur is intrigued, after john nearly tries killing parker in a rage at the station, and tries to intimidate him, only to lose his eyesight after john accidentally reveals his true form. neither of them realise this to be the reason, however, having passed out.

parker is obviously displeased, but john has the charm and the wit and sheer insanity to be mistaken for a torn fragment of any god. furthermore, after he's offered that as an explanation, he genuinely starts to believe it. he becomes very condescending very quickly. and so, after arthur introduces john to arkham and his rough childhood through very touching song, they're forced to leave too soon.

the earth and the dreamlands merged further upon the fragmentation of the king, and they must reach the king's highest coven to present the supposed fragment of the king for reward. luckily for them, the head priest of the king in yellow is parker's old flame, one scotsman and ex-clergyman, oscar. he is, in this moment, lamenting the old days of christ (the land of yesterday sung by oscar is a need).

they train john on the way, to act more kingly, or as closely as he can to replicate the king's behaviour. but john is curious, incredibly so, and he yearns. he yearns so hard, for humanity mostly, but also just normalcy. parker tries not to notice the very obvious codependency growing between arthur and john, but arthur looks the happiest he's ever been, like before faroe, and who would he be, to deny arthur lester anything?

as parker charms his way right back into oscar's heart, arthur and john figure out the truth of john's identity and they're devastated. arthur thinks that john genuinely wants to reunite with the king, and that he's once again doomed the world and everyone he loved. john realises he is not in fact the heart of the king, not anymore.

the butcher finally manages to reach the trio and confronts them, stating that he must kill john, for the greater good. at this point, john finally comes into his power as the king, but rejects being part of him.

they are not able to defeat the king entirely, but he is greatly weakened by john's permanent leave and find themselves back in arkham, still vaguely hunted by larson & co. and a his new mysterious higher, yellow, who seems to look suspisciously like john. but arthur and parker are able to continue the investigative business with the rewards of the king's coven (once conmen, always conmen) with john joining in, because well, parker & lester & doe has a charm to it. and oscar, bless his heart, is able to return to his life of devotion ( to god) (but also his friends). all is not perfect, but all is good.

#silly little au that wouldn't leave my head. is there even an audience for this.#not very serious don't think about the details too hard #unhinged aromantics #malevolent ❄️🚂 au #malevolent #malevolent podcast #arthur lester #john doe #parker yang #peter parker yang #oscar malevolent #arthur malevolent #malevolent arthur #john malevolent #malevolent john #parker malevolent #the king in yellow #wallace larson #the butcher malevolent

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merrilinie · 5 months

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CW: child birth, miscarriage scare, minor character death

The Knights had wanted to go for a hunt but had chosen to stay out longer than the day long trip after coming across an old Bandit camp. That in itself was not an issue, there were plenty of them around and this was was clearly left a week before at least.

It was the woman tied to a tree by her hands and very obviously pregnant.

Merlin had rushed right over to her, ignoring the others shouting at him that it could be a trap. The others cleared the camp as Merlin examined the woman. By the time they looked back he had freed her and had her lying down with his jacket bunched under her head. He was feeling her stomach with gentle hands, speaking to her in a sweet voice they couldn’t hear. The woman was sobbing, hand clutching Merlin’s wrist as he did his job.

Eventually Gwaine went over, “what can we do?”

None of them had seen Merlin so serious, let alone so professional so all of his orders were followed without any question.

“I need as much water as we can get. Get all the clean blankets and bring them to me, make a barrier around these trees so she can have privacy and give me two bed rolls. Get me something leather for her to bite into.”

Arthur managed to get over his shocked awe enough to rebut, “Merlin, we don’t know who she is. Let’s take her back to the Cast-“

“No.”

Everyone paused at the finality of Merlin’s tone, something he never used on anyone even when Arthur was truely acting foolish.

Merlin sighed, brushing the woman’s hair out of her face, “she doesn’t have time, she’s going into labour now.” The woman lets out a horrified sob, and Merlin coos, “I’ve done hundreds of pregnancies. It’s not ideal, but we can do this. Now, I need you to decide now. If it comes down to it, and it most likely will, do you want me to focus on saving you or your baby?”

The woman doesn’t hesitate, “save my baby, let me die if means my baby lives.”

Merlin nods, but there’s a sadness in his eyes, “you’re malnourished, even if you baby survives… it may not have a good life. You could both die, but you have more chance.”

She shakes her head, “If my baby dies I will join right after. It… it’s all I have, my husband… they killed him.”

The Knights are all shocked, never seeing such a sight or hearing such a discussion, but Merlin doesn’t hesitate. “Alright, then if you do pass, what shall I call this little babe? I think you or you husbands name would be lovely.”

The Knights all sit as far away as they safely can and listen to the sounds of the woman screaming and sobbing, all tensing when it stops and no crying or anything follows. They wait, none of them speaking or looking at the others, too scared to move in case it upsets the careful balance of life taking and giving.

They all relax when they hear a child’s cry, loud and unapologetic.

Dread forms in their stomachs as Merlin emerges with the babe in his arms, the lifeless body of the mother just visible through the makeshift tent, and Merlin covered in blood with a knife in his hand.

He drops it and gives them a smile despite the horror in the air, “Her name is Lila.”

#bbc merlin #merlin emrys #merlin #arthur pendragon

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falloutcoys · 9 months

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Here we go, the malevolent Kingdom AU (as I've been calling it in my head!). A million thanks to everyone in the gc who helped me flesh this out!

Arthur Lester is the ruler of his kingdom, and has a political marriage to a princess of another kingdom, the beloved Queen Bella. She passed during childbirth and the country mourned, but they had their princess Faroe so there was light.

Years later, there is word of a conquering kingdom, Carcosa, and their sorcerer king. They have taken over a nearby kingdom and are expected to send an envoy soon. Arthur takes his daughter riding. It was supposed to just be riding, but Arthur always brings his hunting bow. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a mythical black stag, and takes off after it. Faroe tries to follow, but her horse bucks when she tries to get it to jump over the river and she falls into it. Arthur doesn't notice as he continues his hunt. A stranger in a yellow cloak approaches, and rescues her. Arthur never finds her. She is presumed dead. He is plagued with dreams of her death, drowning, though he has no logical reason to suspect that.

Parker was a new knight shortly after the incident occurred. It was obvious that the king wasn't really present during the knighting, but everyone reassured him that this was a mourning period. That things would go back to normal shortly. But things never seemed to go back to normal. The years passed, and most advisors left the court. What point was there advising a king who never attended? But this was his home and he had worked so hard to become a knight. So, fed up, he marches into the king's quarters. It looks like the king has been over indulging in the strong wines for a very long time. Slurring his words, he tells Parker to leave, threatens him. Parker can't help but laugh. He is so far from scaring Parker. He drags the king to the washroom and forces him to clean up. This becomes a routine, and with some time Arthur stops threatening and starts talking. He never tells Parker exactly what happened that fateful day in the woods, but between what Arthur let's slip and the rumors he can figure it out.

For years, he never hears word from the wicked King in Yellow, until he sends an invitation. His daughter, the princess of Carcosa, has come of age and it is time to introduce her to the world. Parker convinces Arthur to go, and to Arthur's shock, he sees Faroe sitting beside the King in Yellow. She seems to be scowling at him. He tries to run up to her but is escorted out of the ball.

When they arrive home, Arthur and Parker work tirelessly to find information on Carcosa and its king. He is rumored to be immortal, but one text says that his immortality comes from a piece of his soul being put into a weapon, the most human part. This weapon is the only way to defeat him, though wielding it comes at great cost. They resolve to find this cursed sword.

They come across it on their adventure, and Arthur grabs it. The moment he touches it, he hears a terrifying growl behind him, and turns to see a beast fast approaching. Without hesitation he runs the sword through the beast. Arthur hears Parker call his name as he does, and only when the beast's heart has fully stopped does he see the truth. It was only an illusion, and he has just killed his knight, his only friend. A voice in his head laughs, but Arthur realizes it is coming from the sword.

The fragment of the King in Yellow that has been put into the sword has the ability to distort what Arthur sees, and speaks to him. It's power only grows with every death caused by it. But the journey seems to change the fragment, and as his only companion on this journey, Arthur begins to trust it.

Along the way, the come across many foes and treacherous situations along with allies, including a healer named Lily. At some point they walk into the land of the Fae and encountering their ruler, a being who loves to make deals and play tricks, who only goes by Kayne.

Like I said, not 100% fleshed out and details are liable to change but its been rotating in my head long enough it deserves to be set free. It first started bouncing around my mind when i saw this amazing art and has changed a ton since the first iteration I had! Please feel free to ask questions, use the ideas, etc.

#malevolent #my posts #my writing

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redlerred7 · 3 days

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Brooding Alone on a Rooftop

Fifth on my list of OCs is Arthur Rodriguez, an emotionally constipated know-it all.

Backstory/character summary under the cut

Arthur grew up believing his brother could do anything. His brother could fix electronics, cook meals, teach his school lessons better than his teachers, and all sorts of other stuff. Then one day he just stopped doing those things. He stopped helping around the house; he stopped playing games with Arthur; he stopped smiling. After a certain point, he even started locking himself in his room and barely leaving. Arthur just didn't understand what was wrong.

And then one day, he found out that his brother was now dead. His brother had committed suicide, his parents tried to explain to him. At the time, he didn't understand. Years later, he understood it better—he read enough books about the mind make an educated guess as why his brother decided to do what he did—but his feelings about it didn't change.

Rather, it did change, but it did so by becoming stronger. No longer was he confused or afraid. He furious. What he felt now was a full-blown hatred of death and all those who cause it.

By the time he was in highschool, he was weighing his options for the future, his hatred of death still on his mind. Become a cop to stop murderers from killing people? Become a paramedic to stop people dying from injury? Become a therapist to stop people from choosing to end their lives? Due to what happened to his brother, he was honestly leaning towards becoming a psychological therapist.

But before he was truly able to make up his mind, a terrible day came wherein some guy walked into school with an AR-15 and malicious intent.

Teachers told them all to take cover. Because of the frequent drills they did for this very kind of event, everyone in Arthur's class remembered what to do. Unfortunately, such frequent drills made them treat the real thing as if it was just another drill.

It was only when the school shooter entered the class and took aim that it clicked for everyone that they were really in danger. Except for Arthur who was moving towards the gunman before he even realized it.

The gunman shot Arthur dead, but not before Arthur was able to wrench the rifle out of his hands and allow his teacher to tackle the man to the floor. As Arthur bled out, he angrily cursed the man for succeeding in killing even one person.

Arthur then re-awoke within the Dream with the power to conjure firearms that magically cannot kill people. Seeing the irony of such a power, he uses it to hunt the Nightmares that haunt the Dream.

#original character #OCs #OC #OCart #OC backstory #tw: suicide mention #illustration #tablet drawing #colored #digital drawing #redlerred7 draws #OC 05 Wave #no one knows who my OCs are

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sednonamoris · 1 year

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stormchaser

Pairing: John Marston x gn!reader

Summary: Abigail Roberts joins the gang. Your relationship with John is changed, maybe forever.

Warnings: Pregnancy mention, hunting animals, brief mention of dead animals, canon-typical alcohol use, jealousy

Word count: 1,385

A/N: First of all I need to specify that Ghost is jealous of Abigail and thinks badly of her rn, but this story will not vilify Abigail’s character in any way!!! I love her!!!! Second of all it’s not terribly long but I hope you all find this chapter as juicy as I did bc I’ve been looking forward to this one pretty much from the start. Also this chap is 2/3 in a series, the first being ‘cloudburst’. The last one will be ‘thunderstruck’ - I’ll let you do with that info what you will 👀

Series masterlist • AO3

—

When Abigail Roberts joins up with the gang everyone clamors for her attention. The women help with her chores and mend her dresses and pet her long, dark hair. The men make excuses to come by her tent and help her onto wagons and touch her hand by the campfire. It’s obvious why; she’s a beautiful young woman.

You’re not sure you’ll ever forgive her for that.

Of course, you might not have minded at all if it wasn’t for John. He’s smitten. Every moment he used to spend riding or robbing or roaming with you is now spent at her beck and call. You tell yourself it’s not jealousy that crawls up your throat and colors his name green in your mouth when you call across camp, knowing who he’s with. You tell yourself it’s a coincidence when you wake up next to a pretty, painted whore with dusky blue eyes and brown hair just like hers the next time you’re in town. You even tell yourself that it doesn’t hurt to watch the grey of John’s eyes shine stormcloud bright when they turn toward the object of his affections. When that object isn’t you.

Like some storybook romance he courts her. It’s clumsy - it’s John - but he brings her half-crushed flowers, and tries to read her some of Dutch’s poetry, and eventually he stops paying for the privilege of a night with her because they cut out the middleman and start sharing a tent.

Arthur notices your sulkiness. Hosea, too, though neither say anything outright. Instead they break your heart further with sad, understanding smiles and warm hands clasped on your shoulder in passing. Sometimes you wish they’d spill your secrets for the whole camp to see, just to put you out of your misery.

The days you aren’t out hunting you’re fencing horses or robbing farmers - anything to keep far from camp. Once a week you come back with cash to add to the box and a few new stories to trade around the campfire. Dutch is appeased by the money and the odd tip you bring home, and John—

You wait for him to say something about how distant you’ve been.

He doesn’t.

—

The sky is clear when Abigail announces her pregnancy in front of the whole camp a few months later, but you smell a storm on the horizon.

She’s so goddamn happy, and everyone cheers and shouts and rushes to hug her, and you think Ms. Grimshaw’s eyes gloss with tears at the promise of new life and young love, but John’s smile catches at the corners. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes. The panic does, and as much as your heart is already broken and you’ve given up hope, there’s some savage satisfaction you get from knowing he might be miserable now, too.

Dutch calls for a celebration. Everyone clamors to break out cases of beer and Hosea even proffers the good whiskey he’s been saving for a rainy day. Top shelf, according to the man he stole it from. Pearson sweats himself into a frenzy to have a good, hearty meal prepared in time. Ms. Grimshaw has the camp cleared and clean with military precision. Javier settles next to the campfire with a song just waiting to sing off the strings of his guitar with each joyful strum.

You slink away and pack your gear for a hunting trip.

After a feast like this the camp will need game, and you’ve always found the most success right before weather hits, when the animals are out getting the last bit of sustenance they can before hunkering down in the brush. You clasp Abigail’s hands and congratulate her, trying not to make the words sound like a curse before you fade into firelight shadows. While the others dance and sing, you nurse a bottle that does nothing to dull the ache in your heart.

You’re gone before first light.

—

The grassy plain is wide open and endless before you. Tall grass rises up to the stirrups of your saddle, and thunder rumbles its electric intent in the distance. Overcast clouds promise rain on the breeze as the sky gets darker and darker. It’s a cobalt blue sort of storm, one that paints the grass greyish and strikes your silhouette onto the American frontier for anyone in the distance to see.

A herd of pronghorn graze the prairie grass. You’ve been tracking them for a few miles now. Downwind. A safe enough distance away that they’re worried more about the oncoming storm than potential predators.

Two does, you think, ought to be enough.

You’re shit with a bow and arrow, so you rely entirely on being quick on the draw of your hunting rifle. Perks of spending the better part of your life as a gunslinger.

Your horse tenses beneath you as you raise your rifle up, muscles coiled and ready to spring into action. You let out a slow, steady breath. Bang, bang, in quick succession on the trigger has your horse leaping forward. You let his momentum carry you while the rest of the herd scatters in frantic leaps and bounds.

Two clean shots await your inspection when you crouch to tie the bodies and sling them behind the saddle. Rain begins to fall. The wind carries hoofbeats your way, and you turn with your rifle raised on the off chance some fool hunter is coming to try and steal your quarry.

“Ghost, there you are!”

Not a fool hunter, but a fool.

“John,” you say past the anger and jealousy burrowed deep in your chest. “What are you doing here?”

He shakes his head. “I was gonna ask you the same thing. You left without sayin’ a word.”

“Surprised you noticed,” you scoff.

“You wanna tell me why you been actin’ so funny lately?”

You fold your arms. “You followed me all the way out here just to tell me I don’t act right?”

“Everyone else is happy,” he says. “Guess I’m just wonderin’ why you ain’t.”

There are a thousand things you could say to that. I’ve been in love with you since before I knew what that warm feeling was in my chest. We were best friends and then you chose a stranger over me, and now that stranger is going to have your baby. Sometimes, when I dream, I dream of us getting old on a farm out West where the law won’t ever touch us. I think of you every time it storms. You say none of it.

The rain falls harder.

“I know you, John Marston,” is what comes out your mouth instead. “You look more scared than happy to me.”

“I ain’t scared,” he says, snappish and too-fast.

“I am.” The smile on your face is sad, and it stops the defensive snarl trying to form across his face. “Guess that’s why I came out here, away from it all.”

Lightning strikes in the not-far distance. The flash lights your surroundings in an eerie daytime glow for a heartbeat and a half. The thunder that rolls across the plain not long after makes you feel even smaller than you did already.You pull your coat tighter around your shoulders.

“I’m camping here tonight. Room in the tent for two if you want.”

It’s even flimsier than your usual peace offerings, but he takes it. On the edge of the prairie you strike the tent while he pickets the horses. The rain is coming down in sheets, now, and you’re both forced to strip to your underthings because your clothes are entirely soaked through. The blankets and bedrolls are damp, but drier than the two of you. As you settle into sleep to the sound of pelting rain against canvass, John’s roll tucked up against yours, you hear a raspy voice speak up.

“You were right,” John says. “I’m scared of— well, all of it. Raisin’ this kid. Disappointing Abigail. But I’m more scared of losing you, Ghost. We’re best friends, ain’t we?”

Your chest constricts. “‘Course we’re best friends. You won’t lose me.”

Then, so quiet you almost miss it, “Haven’t I already?”

The tears that run down your face are silent, and dark as it is you pray he can’t see them. Thunder and rain drown out your shuddering sigh.

#john marston x reader #rdr2 x reader #rdr x reader #fran writes #ghost story #ch. 7

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alicevanderlinde · 8 months

Text

Echos of Love: Pt2

TW: Blood, Gore, Self Harm, mentions of death and starvation, Unwanted Affection, If you're easily triggered by any of those topics above, I highly suggest you don't read this.

Additional tags: Angst, Love, Emotional, Dark, Tragedy, Hurt, Pain, Pregnancy, There's more but I'm dumb af.

Author's note: I apologize in advance if this is trash and all over the place but oh well. Like it or don't I tried. Also I stopped deleting the extra spaces between each piece cause my phone hates me rn.

Word count: 9000ish

Alright cowpokes, grab your yeehaw juice and let's get into this!

During the first two arduous weeks of Alice's recovery, she found herself facing a unique set of challenges. Her determination to be self-sufficient clashed with the constant presence of caring individuals who incessantly offered their assistance. Susan would delicately braid her hair just the way she liked it, Dutch engulfed her with affection, Jack delighted in weaving flowers into her locks, the girls diligently mended her clothes, Abigail shared both helpful advice and worrisome thoughts about her growing baby bump, Pearson ensured she never missed a meal, Lenny happily read her favorite books, and Charles made a point to bring her flowers from his hunts as per Arthur's request. Miraculously, even Micah managed to ease up on being a nuisance. However, Arthur struggled more than Alice did, fiercely determined to prevent her from doing anything on her own.

While Alice deeply appreciated the unwavering support from everyone in camp, she couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. Before this happened, Alice couldn't bear to spend more than a few days in camp. Now, she was going stir-crazy from being confined and treated like a child.

She remained unwaveringly insistent that she could handle things independently but also recognized that it would take time to fully recover. She wished that everyone could understand her perspective and grant her the space she craved.

It's almost as if she's still bound like she can feel the weight of the shackles around her wrist from everyone's doting attention.

Lying in their shared tent, Alice gazed up at the makeshift cloth roof, enveloped in the stillness of the night. The sounds of crickets, owls, distant yelps of coyotes, haunting wolf howls, and the gentle snores of Arthur were the only noises disrupting the tranquility of the gang.

Arthur's arm draped lovingly over her swollen belly, he had fallen asleep while tenderly rubbing small circles on her abdomen—a new habit he had developed since they began sharing a cot again.

He would always hold her close, their fingers intertwining as they lovingly discussed their aspirations and dreams of a life beyond the reach of the gang. The gentle tickle of his five o'clock shadow against the soft skin below her ear would make her giggle with delight, an affectionate gesture that she adored. However, the absence of her arm now compelled him to substitute the loss with comforting rubs on her belly. The realization of how much she had taken her arm for granted struck her deeply after it was severed from her body.

With a soft sigh, she carefully extracted herself from under Arthur's arm, determined not to disturb his much-needed sleep. His weary appearance upon her awakening from the coma had been a stark reminder of the toll this ordeal had taken on him. Despite his frequent jolts of wakefulness whenever she stirred, the past few days had granted him the rest he so deserved.

Quietly and skillfully maneuvering his arm, she swung her legs over the edge of the cot and focused her gaze on the darkness encompassing the tent. Rising to her feet, she took a moment to stretch, feeling the pulsating ache of every wound she had sustained. Initially, this discomfort would bring tears to her eyes, but with time, her body had adapted and grown accustomed to the aftermath.

With light, nearly silent footsteps, she slips out of the comforting warmth of the tent, instantly greeted by a biting gust of night air. Uncle lies sprawled beside the flickering fire, completely unconscious. The mere sight of the flames flickering brings a rush of memories she'd rather forget - the searing pain and the acrid scent of her flesh being cauterized. She cannot bear to be near a fire anymore.

Her instincts lead her towards the area where the horses are tethered. The desire to climb onto Artemis and gallop away tugs at her, but the reality sets in. Riding a horse with only one hand would be an immense challenge. The memory, although hazy, lingers on how difficult it was to maintain control with her limited grip.

Gently, her fingers trail along the smooth, well-groomed coat of Artemis, an indication of Kieran's dedicated care. The horse responds, leaning into her touch and nuzzling against her body. It's as if Artemis, too, yearns for the thrill of adventure.

"I understand, my sweet girl." She whispers affectionately, pressing a tender kiss upon the mare's snout. Filled with a mix of hesitation and determination, Alice unhitches the reins, struggling slightly with the task but managing to free them eventually. Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes, feeling the cool air fill her lungs as she places her bare foot into the stirrup. Grasping tightly with her remaining arm and relying on her upper body strength, she pulls herself up onto the horse, embracing the uncertainty that lies ahead.

Secure in the saddle, she gently pulls back on the reins, testing Artemis's response. The loyal mare complies with her owner's guidance, gracefully backing up and smoothly turning as Alice directs her to the left. It's an unfamiliar change in direction for both of them, but they adapt, embarking on a leisurely trot along the path that leads away from camp.

Deep down, she knows she shouldn't venture out without a weapon or proper attire. However, the urgency to avoid alerting Arthur, who would surely awaken if she took the time to change out of her chemise, outweighs her concern. Besides, she's only planning to practice riding down the road, not putting herself in immediate danger. She convinces herself that minimal precautions will suffice.

"Alright, girl, let's go." Alice declares, gently urging Artemis forward with a well-placed dig of her heel into the mare's side. In an instant, they burst into a full gallop, the wind caressing her soft skin and carrying stray strands of her hair. As they race along, she breathes deeply, savoring every ounce of freedom she feels, relishing the liberation like never before.

However, as the inhalation fills her lungs, she detects a distinct change in the surrounding scents. The unmistakable odor of copper and charred flesh taints the air. Her heart plummets into her stomach, instinctively pulls back on the reins to flee, only to realize the cruel twist of fate—the reins are now mercilessly wound tightly around her wrist. Her eyes snap open in sheer horror, revealing not only the unsettling smells but also an entirely different and unfamiliar landscape looming before her.

"I never thought you would've made it, sweetheart." Colm's vile voice oozes as his fingers trail over her belly with a twisted sense of affection.

"NO...NO...NO!" She screams, desperately trying to wrench free from what she thought were leather reins, only to discover the cruel reality that the restraints are the same shackles that have held her captive before, now accompanied by additional shackles on her ankles, compensating for the loss of her arm.

The sound of Colm's sadistic laughter twists her stomach into painful knots, fueling her wild thrashing. With each desperate struggle, the unforgiving metal digs deeper into her flesh, a bitter reminder of past torments that haunt her. The searing pain becomes unbearable as her skin reopens, the agony intensifying instead of subsiding.

Every ounce of her being screams in terror as the realization dawns upon her—the refuge her mind created to withstand the horrors she endured had deceived her. The touches she savored were not Arthur's, but rather Colm's deranged perversions.

"Careful now, sweetheart. Don't want to strain yourself it ain't good for the baby." Colm menacingly taunts, his words dripping with sadistic satisfaction.

"This ain't real! I escaped!" She repeats to herself, desperately hoping to transport herself away from this nightmarish hell.

"Oh, it's all too real, sweetheart. You put up quite the fight and killed a few of my boys in the process. But, fortunately, you didn't get very far." Colm sneers.

"No...this can't be happening! It's some twisted nightmare!" she pleads, attempting to convince herself of a false reality.

Once again, Colm's laughter fills the air as he positions himself on top of her, straddling her and forcefully gripping her jaw. "Look at me." He growls in a bone-chilling tone, his nails digging into the tender flesh of her jaw. Despite the pain, she braves his hold and resists, attempting to pull away.

Clicking his tongue in annoyance and heaving a frustrated sigh, he releases his grasp on her face, only to strike her with a swift, powerful blow, the sickening crack reverberating through the air. Her skin tingles and stings as she struggles to comprehend the brutal assault.

"Look at me." He demands once more, and she lifts her tear-filled eyes to meet his gaze, barely making out his features through her blurred vision. His fingers trace the remnants of her bruised cheek, a wicked smirk playing across his vindictive lips.

"Was that so hard?" He taunts, digging his nail into the tender, swollen flesh. She clenches her teeth, determined not to grant him the satisfaction he seeks from inflicting pain upon her.

"I'm gon' kill you!" She growls, her teeth clenched tightly together, her gaze searing with a ferocity that could melt steel.

"You shouldn't speak that way to the man who is gonna father your bastard child." He retorts.

Her blood turns to ice, and her heart feels as though it's being crushed. "Wha-what do you mean, 'bastard child'?"

"Don't you get it?" He sneers, aware that she is completely in the dark. She looks up at him, her brow furrowed, waiting for him to unravel this bewildering truth.

"They came for you, all of them—Arthur, Dutch, everyone. Even the women joined in. But one by one, they fell. First Dutch, then Arthur, until every last one of them lay lifeless in pools of their blood." He reveals, a disturbing fondness coloring his words as her body begins to tremble uncontrollably.

"Liar!" She cries out, tears streaming relentlessly down her face, adding to the sting of his words.

"It's a hard pill to swallow, but it is the truth. I would never deceive you, especially not after I murdered your friends, your husband, and even your father." When he senses that she still doesn't believe him, he takes a moment to pull out Arthur's revolver from the nightstand beside the bed, the metal crusted with dried blood.

Alice goes to speak but all that comes out of her mouth is a whimper. She closes her eyes as she breaks down, her heart breaking as she envisions seeing the gang lying dead, Arthur, Dutch, Tilly, Charles, Susan- She doesn't want to believe it, a part of her is screaming at her that it's a lie but with the images of everyone laying dead, their bodies riddled with bullets she can't help but believe it's the truth.

"Hush, sweetheart. Let it all out." He coos, twirling her hand around his dirt-stained fingers.

"Get away from me. Now." Her words drip with hatred and venom.

"I'll give you some time alone." He says softly, placing the revolver back on the nightstand, a clear message lingering in the air: 'You have nothing left.'

Hours pass as she remains seated on the bed, clutching herself as tears continue to flow. Just when she believes her tears have run dry, her gaze falls upon the blood-crusted revolver. Reluctantly, she reaches out and takes it into her trembling hand, immediately checking the cylinder for bullets. As she expected, it's empty.

"He fought hard." Colm comments, startling her. She hadn't noticed his return to the room, his presence only becoming apparent now. But she chooses to ignore him, her eyes fixated on the revolver, memories flooding her mind—how she carefully selected its engravings, ensuring the gunsmith carved their initials into the grip as a wedding gift, and how his dreamy oceanic blue-green eyes lit up with joy when she presented it to him.

"I don't get it. You barely cried when we captured you and now you can't stop over those who ain't alive no more." Colm jests, perching himself on the edge of the creaky bed frame.

Colm seems to grasp her unspoken question, and he responds, "Why did I spare you? There are many reasons, but if I'm bein' honest, keeping Dutch's daughter even after his demise brings a certain satisfaction. That bastard is probably rolling in his grave," He pauses to chuckle. "If he had one... I can only imagine the critters are damn near close to picking his bones clean by now."

"Why?" she manages to choke out as her chest tightens, making each breath more agonizing than the last.

"You're better off killin' me now 'cause if you don't... I'm sure as shit gonna find a way to kill you."

"That's just the grief talkin'."

"It's a goddamn promise and daddy taught me never to break one."

"Really? You'd kill the man who would take care of you and our unborn child?"

"Jr is not your child and he will NEVER belong to you." She forcefully spits into his face, determined to make it clear that she will never submit to him.

His face contorts with rage as he wipes away the spit from his face. "I know what you're tryin' to do. It ain't gonna work but do something like that again and I won't hesitate to cut your tongue from your mouth."

Fully aware that he will keep his word if she continues to defy him, she decides to keep her mouth shut.

The following weeks pass in a haze for Alice, numbed to everything, even in the presence of Colm. She tried to starve herself, but Colm forcefully shoved food down her throat when she refused to eat. And if she refused to drink, he used his mouth to transfer water into her own, suffocating any resistance.

Though Colm has removed her restraints and granted her freedom within the room, the window remains boarded up and the door is locked from the outside. Every breakable item has been eliminated, even though she had a chance to eliminate Colm once.

Deep down, she longed to kill him at that very moment, fighting the urge with every fiber of her being, but instead, she bides her time, waiting patiently for the perfect opportunity to exact her revenge, to make him suffer the way he made her suffer. Arthur always said, "Revenge is a fool's game." but this vile man will pay dearly for taking away everyone she loved.

With a grim determination, she starts unwrapping the dirt and blood-covered gauze from around her mangled nub, wincing as each tear of the gauze reopens the painful scabs beneath.

Alice's desperate desire for her mangled appendage to become infected, potentially leading to her demise, became a distant dream when she refused to give herself medical treatment. Colm ordered one of his lackeys to mend her wound. The incompetence displayed during that torturous ordeal was enough to make her question the intelligence of that man, though she couldn't say that she was surprised by that man's intelligence or lack thereof.

Examining the wound now, she can see patches of red where the gauze had forcibly torn away the delicate scabs. It is a grotesque sight, made even more haunting by the fact that it exists on her own body. Each time she beholds it, it serves as a solemn reminder of her failures, not just once, but twice. The regret of her inability to protect herself lingers, leading to her capture, and the subsequent loss of her loved ones.

She strikes a match, the scent of red phosphorus faintly tickling her senses, invoking memories of Arthur. Tears well in her eyes at the recollection of him, a tumultuous blend of anger, grief, and overwhelming sadness. Suppressing a whimper, she holds the burning match near her wound, feeling the searing heat wash over her, eradicating the haunting memories she once took for granted.

In the past, Alice despised when Dutch would claim that she was still a child, insisting that she lacked the maturity to make decisions. Yet now, she reflects on her actions, realizing that she had indeed acted childish when she ran away from her father's refusal to listen to reason. Watching the match gradually burn down to a mere stub, she can't help but marvel at it...

How. Fucking. Ironic.

With a sigh escaping her lips, she carefully removes the tin lid of the healing ointment, dipping her fingers into the salve and spreading a generous amount on her fingertips. Applying it to the stump, she finds solace in the pain, as if it momentarily shields her from the creeping insanity that lingers within her mind.

Using a piece of gauze held between her teeth, she lifts her arm and tightly wraps the wound, hoping that the pressure will numb the ache and silence the haunting voices of those she has lost, even if just for a brief hour.

Her annoyance flickers across her face. Why couldn't Colm have severed her left arm instead? The cruelty he inflicts on her seems excessive, driven by a desire to make her suffer. But why? Because Dutch took the life of his brother, igniting a vengeful fire that has scorched her existence. Yet, his torment feels disproportionate.

At that moment, a realization strikes her like a lightning bolt. The heartache she has endured, the pain, anger, and deep sadness. He must have felt it too, fueling his thirst for revenge. It was satisfied when he coldly snatched away her mother Annabelle's life right before her eyes. But was that truly enough? Unfortunately, it only ignited this foolish blood feud, a relentless cycle of violence that has plagued them for years.

"How's it healin'?" Colm asks softly, taking a seat beside her on the bed. His arm drapes over her shoulder, and he leans in to press a chapped kiss on her cheek. She forces herself to remain stoic, resisting the urge to strike him as her hand finds its place in her lap.

"Alright, I suppose," She answers with a sigh, resting her head on his shoulder. "I know what you felt- How you felt."

He raises an eyebrow in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"How much pain you were in..." She explains, her voice soft. "Did killin' my father truly bring you the satisfaction you sought for revenge?"

Colm is taken aback by her words. Truthfully, he hadn't contemplated the aftermath of killing Dutch.

"I guess I understand why you did it." She says softly, shrugging her shoulders. She's already weary of waiting for his response. After all, she knows what he'll say: "Taking your father's life didn't bring my brother back."

She rises to her feet, gathering the supplies she used to mend her wound and placing them back in the nightstand drawer. The drawer proves stubborn, jamming each time she tries to close it. As frustration fills her, Colm comes up from behind, resting his head on top of hers and cradling her swollen belly with his hands.

"It didn't make me feel any better... But look at the opportunity it has given us. We get to build a family together." He murmurs tenderly, planting a kiss on the crown of her head. She's never felt so disgusted in her life.

She rotates, locking her gaze with his, her hand finding purchase on his shoulder. Her fingers fumble with the collar of his shirt, tracing along the fabric.

She eagerly awaits the day when she has fully regained her strength, strong enough to end Colm's life. Killing him won't alter the past, but at least she won't have to endure him in the future.

"I just don't understand why you need me here even after you killed my father." She states softly, her eyes threatening to spill over with tears once more.

"I've had an eye for you for a long while now Alice." He replies as his thumb traces along her cheekbone down to the split in her lip, he had given her the other day for disrespecting him. "You'll understand one day when you're my wife."

Weeks have passed since Colm began granting Alice certain freedoms. She now has permission to leave the room and take charge of cleaning the neglected rooms that his men had left in disarray. Despite the challenge of working with only one arm, Alice has persevered. She has scrubbed diligently until the blood stains from the previous owners on the wooden floor have vanished. She keeps the windows and doors open to let in fresh air until evening when she begins preparing dinner.

She knows she must continue playing the role of a dutiful housewife, at least for a little while longer. With each passing day, her growing belly reminds her that time is running out. While she has adapted to the limitations of having only one arm, everyday tasks remain a challenge.

Once a week the men take her into town for a bath or down to Owanjila lake and that's if she behaves herself, if not well then that's a day or two shackled to Colm's bed.

One of Colm's henchmen interrupts her cleaning with a cold statement: "Colm expects you to be clean when he returns." Without warning, he throws a bar of soap at her, and she barely manages to catch it. Determined to maintain some modesty, she takes a step to the side, in an attempt to shield her nude form in the tall grass. However, the man forcefully grabs her arm, disregarding her attempt at privacy.

"Don't be shy, I already know what you're hidin' underneath that blouse." His voice drips with desire, causing her stomach to churn. But she maintains her composure, careful not to reveal her true intentions to him.

She nods softly, her eyes downcast as she delicately begins unbuttoning her blouse. Her fingers momentarily struggle, leading to a heartless chuckle from the man.

"If you need some help, all you have to do is ask." He offers in a seemingly sweet tone, yet his expression betrays the ulterior motives behind his words.

Briefly, Alice's vision turns red, but she quickly regains control. She must remain composed if she wants to seize this opportunity.

"That would be delightful." She responds, her voice akin to honey, fluttering her eyelashes and subtly swaying her body. The man catches on to her not-so-subtle hint and places his hands on her hips, drawing her closer. Fortunately, her baby bump acts as a small barrier between them.

"Come here." He says, his smirk sending a twist through her stomach, yet she maintains a stoic expression. His fingers forcefully grasp the opening of her blouse, causing buttons to fly in every direction. She attempts to shield her exposed breasts with her arm, but he stops her, his grip bruising her.

A warning look from him sends a chilling shiver down her spine, her instincts urging her to act, but she restrains herself. She closes her eyes as his thumb traces her bottom lip, slowly descending from her chin to her neck, trailing over her collarbone and settling on her breasts.

Suppressing her pride, she rises onto her tiptoes, wrapping her arm around his waist. Her tongue glides along the pulsing vein in his neck, detesting the saltiness of his skin while his hands explore the contours of her torso. Occasionally, his nail grazes one of the scars left by Colm on her ribcage, eliciting a whimper against his skin.

Thankfully, the other man has chosen to avert his gaze, providing Alice an opportunity to act.

Her teeth sink into the tender flesh of his neck, her fingers simultaneously securing a firm grip on his revolver. As she tears away a chunk of his flesh, the taste of blood, all too familiar, coats her taste buds while he unleashes a pained howl. In that split second, she extracts the revolver, pulling back the hammer as she aims it at the man positioned just a few feet away.

The gunshot reverberates through the air, scattering birds from the nearby trees, as a crimson mist envelops the space around his head, his body collapsing lifelessly to the ground. Alice would have found tranquility in this moment if the other man's screams didn't pierce the air like that of a terrified child, clutching his wound.

Forcing him down onto the grass, Alice swiftly grabs the knife from his gunbelt. A smirk adorns her face as she straddles him, positioning the blade's tip beneath his chin. A sense of pride fills her being as she leans in, relishing the sight of fear and terror flickering within his brown eyes, as he begins to plead for his life.

"I'll see you in hell." She whispers coldly before pressing the blade against his throat, slicing through the skin effortlessly. A spray of blood gushes forth, splattering her face, her torn blouse, and her exposed bosom.

She rises from him, finding a seat beside her grisly masterpiece, her mind already contemplating her next move. Lost in the scene unfolding before her, she watches the afternoon sun cast its radiant glow upon the water, slowly descending behind the tree line, as if bidding farewell for the day. The melodic symphony of birdsong fills the air as they return to the safety of their branches, preparing to nestle in for the night.

In this moment, uncertainty looms over her. She wonders if this might be her final glimpse at a breathtaking sunset, her last chance to savor the intoxicating fragrance of wildflowers, or her final opportunity to be enchanted by the birdsong. Regardless of the answer, she is determined to seize this moment, cherishing it as if it is indeed her last.

The gang had never settled in one place for such an extended period of time, but they are haunted by fear that she would return if they moved. Dutch, Hosea, and Arthur were particularly consumed by this worry. Meanwhile, the other gang members had resigned themselves to the notion that Alice had passed on, finding solace in the belief that she had found freedom from suffering.

Strauss, driven by his desire for debt collection, departed the gang as Arthur's focus shifted towards the search for Alice. It wasn't until he finally delved into her journal that he discovered the depths of her remorse over his cruel treatment of the less fortunate. She had even taken it upon herself to delve into Strauss' debt book, seeking out the very families he had exploited, and providing them with the means to repay their debts.

Arthur didn't realize the gang had begun to stray from the moral path they had forged, while Alice remained steadfastly committed to those values in secret. Under the cover of darkness, she would venture out and sell her prized belongings, using the spoils to alleviate the burdens of the less fortunate. How had he become so blessed to have her by his side?

The pages of Alice's journal invited Arthur into a realm he had never before explored. An initial hesitance was replaced by a longing for closeness with his wife. In doing so, he found himself falling in love with her all over again, questioning why she would choose someone like him. But every entry he read answered his questions with an exquisite level of detail, painting a picture of a love so profound that she deemed him as essential as the very air she breathed or the water that quenched her thirst on scorching summer days. The sketches she had made of him, meticulously capturing every scar and imperfection, served as a testament to her adoration, enhancing his already handsome features in her eyes.

The absence of her presence leaves him bereft with a profound ache that permeates his entire being, as if a vital part of his soul has been lost. He yearns for her, longing for the warmth of her voice whispering sweet compliments about his looks each day or teasing him with tantalizing words that ignite a fire within, only to playfully retreat and gaze innocently, her eyes sparkling with emerald hues, while a tender smile graces her lips.

In her presence, he had never fully grasped the immense fortune he possessed. Cherishing those moments, he now realizes the depth of his luck and the sheer blessing it was to have her by his side.

Dutch finds himself spiraling into despair, overwhelmed by the guilt of failing both his daughter and the memory of her mother, just as he failed long ago. With unwavering determination, he had sworn upon Annabelle's grave that he would stop at nothing to protect Alice, even if it meant sacrificing his own life. Yet, the bitter truth remains, haunting him relentlessly - he is still alive while uncertain of her fate.

His beloved daughter is out there somewhere, carrying with her the precious gift of his unborn grandchild. Though he may never openly admit it, Dutch has always harbored a deep longing for the day Alice would grant him the cherished title of grandfather. Unexpectedly, it was Arthur, who partook in that and truthfully Dutch couldn't be prouder. Clutching a photograph in his weathered hands, he reflects upon the early days of their gang, when Susan, Annabelle, Bessie, Hosea, John, Arthur, himself, and Alice stood united. In the image, Alice perches upon his shoulders, a radiant smile illuminating her face, adorning her hair with delicate flowers, defying societal expectations as she reveled in her individuality alongside the boys.

Deep down, Dutch had always known that Alice was destined for more than the life she was thrust into. Her remarkable talents held the power to carry her far beyond the confines of their world. In the past, he had even ventured to support her dreams, offering financial assistance to nurture her talents and guide her towards success. Nevertheless, Alice consistently declined, asserting that there was no place in the world she would rather be than at her father's side. Time has now revealed that her reluctance to depart was not solely due to loyalty, but a clandestine yearning that led her into the embrace of Arthur's arms.

Dutch gently places the photograph on his cot, tenderly brushing away the tears staining his weathered cheeks. As he tries to regain composure, Hosea enters his tent, offering a weary smile while settling into a chair beside the bed. It is a rare sight for Hosea to witness Dutch in such despair, a level of despair he hasn't witnessed since the loss of Annabelle, and yet this time, Dutch appears even more broken.

"I... I miss her." Dutch mutters, his voice trembling with unending hours of sorrow.

With a sympathetic understanding, Hosea nods, reaching over to hand Dutch a worn and folded piece of paper. Dutch's furrowed brows reflect his confusion as he accepts the fragile paper, his hands tremoring uncontrollably.

"What's this?" Dutch inquires, his gaze fixed on Hosea, searching for answers.

"She gave it to me a while back... Just go ahead and open it." Hosea encourages, his own eyes brimming with tears.

Dutch takes a deep, steadying breath, cautiously unfolding the delicate paper, treating it with the utmost care. His eyes scan the contents, and his breath catches.

"You're not alone in this." the paper reads, the beautiful handwriting unmistakably Alice's, accompanied by her delicate hand-drawn picture of the gang huddled around a campfire below.

After a moment of silence, Hosea's mind drifts back to the time when Bessie, his beloved wife, passed away. The bitterness that consumed him, the incessant drinking to numb the pain of losing her. With a heavy sigh, he recalls those dark days.

"I know this feeling all too well," Hosea admits, his voice tinged with sadness. "I understand that it's tearing you apart, that you're in immense pain. But, Dutch, you can't push away the very people who love and support you. We're here for you... Each and every one of us."

Dutch's eyes widen with the sudden realization that he has been unintentionally neglecting the gang. He spends his days drowning himself in alcohol, secluded within the confines of his tent, lost in the memories captured in old photographs.

"I ain't fit to lead anymore... I couldn't even protect my own daughter." Dutch utters sorrowfully, his head hanging low, his once immaculate hair now falling disheveled across his eyes.

Before Hosea can respond, a distant shout from one of the men on watch echoes through the air, cautioning someone to cease their approach. A sense of urgency fills the space between Dutch and Hosea, their gazes meeting with unspoken agreement as they hastily rise from their seats and rush towards the path leading into camp.

Confusion overtakes Arthur as he surveys the scene before him, his brows furrowing in disbelief. Bill's rifle remains fixed on the woman and her frightened son, but Dutch and Hosea arrive just in time, demanding that Bill lower his weapon.

The woman hesitates, her hand gently caressing her son's hair in an attempt to calm him. "Is there a woman named Alice Morgan here? I need to speak with her urgently." she pleads.

Arthur's voice fills the air, laced with a touch of intimidation. "How do you know that name?" he demands.

The woman takes a tentative breath, reaching into her worn pocket to retrieve a necklace. It is the very same necklace Annabelle had given Alice before her untimely demise. "She gave me this," she begins, her voice trembling. "She came to settle the debt my family owed. Upon learning that my husband fell ill, she gave us this necklace to sell, to purchase medicine for him."

Arthur, intrigued yet cautious, accepts the necklace from the woman, his eyes locked on hers, waiting for further explanation.

Relaying her story, the woman continues, her voice tinged with sadness. "But my husband, stubborn as he was, refused to sell it, believing the medicine wouldn't work. Sadly, he passed away a week ago, and I felt it was only right to return this necklace to its rightful owner."

"I-I appreciate this, Mrs..." Arthur's voice trails off, a mix of gratitude and concern evident on his face.

"Mrs. Downes," She interjects, guiding her son along the path towards the road. Once he's out of earshot, she leans in closer to Arthur. Her voice drops to a hushed tone. "I didn't want to say this in front of my son, but I fear for her safety. The O'Driscolls have been lurkin' around my farm, causin' trouble. They spoke of movin' her to Big Valley, to a place called Hanging Dog Ranch. I apologize for not coming to you sooner, but I just couldn't bear to leave the farm so soon after my husband's passin'."

Arthur's eyes widen with a mix of shock and determination, as he absorbs the weight of the woman's words.

"Where is that goddamn bastard? Where is my wife!?" Arthur's voice explodes, his frantic gaze scanning the faces surrounding him. His words drip with rage, sending a chilling wave of fear through the others.

Arthur grips the nameless goon by his shirt, the sole survivor of his slaughtered friends. He raises his fist, ready to unleash another blow, but Dutch intervenes. The man's face is already a horrifying sight: bloodied and battered, with a severely crooked nose, swollen shut eyes, and a canvas of purple and blue hues from Arthur's brutal assault. While Arthur has engaged in numerous fights before, often fueled by alcohol-induced foolishness, this time it's an uncontainable rage. The only way to stop him is to extract the information he seeks.

"P-please," the man stammers, choking on a mouthful of blood, his gums throbbing where his teeth once were. "Cliff and Burke took her... that's all I know!"

"That's not good enough!" Arthur growls.

"You have a chance to walk away with your life," Dutch interjects, calmly circling the pair. "Tell us where my daughter is and disclose Colm's whereabouts, and your life will be spared." The level of composure in Dutch's voice even manages to unsettle him.

"M-mr. Van Der Linde," Kieran speaks up, his voice trembling.

"Not now." Dutch replies, diverting his attention back to Arthur and the last remaining O'Driscoll.

Alice tirelessly drafts and revises countless plans, desperate to find a way to eliminate Colm without sacrificing her own life in the process. She knows that even if she succeeds, her time left on this earth may be short-lived. But as long as Colm meets his demise, she can find solace in that. If she were to die, at least it wouldn't be in vain.

It takes her a grueling ten minutes to devise a method of mounting a horse with one arm and a swollen belly. After numerous attempts and errors, she finally manages to mount the horse, embarking on her journey back to Hanging Dog Ranch.

With each step the horse takes, a suffocating cloud of dread washes over Alice, tempting her to turn back and escape, to start afresh somewhere else. However, deep within her heart, she knows that until Colm breathes his last breath, true peace will elude her.

As she draws closer to the ranch, the air becomes plagued with billowing smoke. The thunderous sound of hooves pounding against the earth catches her attention, and then she sees him. Right in her line of sight is the very man she is looking for.

"Dutch, Arthur!" Susan's voice pierces the air as she delivers a resounding slap to the side of Dutch's head. "Pay attention!" she insists, gesturing towards the chilling, distant screams that echo through the air.

In that instant, the horrifying wails also reach Arthur's ears, causing him to release his tight grip on the O'Driscoll, urgently racing towards the horses. Hosea swiftly follows suit, their determination evident in their strides. Meanwhile, Dutch calmly observes the man who pleads for his life, standing tall with unwavering composure.

"Please!" the man pleads, his voice dripping with desperation. However, his cries for mercy fall on deaf ears... Dutch unholsters his revolver, pressing it firmly against the man's temple, and without a moment's hesitation, he pulls the trigger. The force of the gunshot propels blood and brain matter, staining the ground below, as the others look on at Dutch with a mix of confusion and bewilderment.

"I'm gonna fuckin' kill you!" Her voice bellows with a terrifying intensity, laced with deep-seated hatred. In response, Colm unleashes a devastating punch, connecting with her cheek in a sickening blow. The force jolts her head to the side, leaving the overpowering metallic taste of blood in her mouth, a chilling stain on the surrounding dirt.

Stunned by the brutal strike, Alice momentarily ceases her struggles, her body throbbing with pain. Yet, as she tries to gather herself, a chilling sensation claws at her senses. The sharp edge of a knife slices into her skin, cutting painfully into her shoulder. With clenched teeth, she fights back the instinctual urge to scream, refusing to grant this monster the satisfaction he craves.

"We could have been a family!" He utters with a twisted semblance of tenderness, maliciously smearing her own blood across her face using the stained knife. He plunges the blade into the dirt beside her head before delivering another punishing blow to her face.

Her eyes lock onto the glint of the knife, realizing the imminent danger of it being thrust into her skull. In a heart-stopping moment, he presses his revolver against her chin, the frigid metal piercing her skin. As she closes her eyes, summoning her last reserves of strength, a surge of determination ignites within her.

Her trembling hand grasps the knife tightly, summoning all her courage to thrust it forward with every ounce of strength she can muster. He emits a choked, garbled noise, desperately grasping at the blade lodged in his throat. Summoning all her resolve, Alice shoves him to the side, straddling him in a defiant act of dominance. Using the very knife that brought her agony, she repeatedly plunges it into his chest, driven by her shattered sobs, her own pain from the shoulder wound searing through her.

As she pushes herself up from his lifeless body, the ground trembles beneath the approaching thunder of hooves. Her instinct tells her that more O'Driscolls are charging toward her, but instead of running, she decides it's time to confront whatever lies ahead.

Summoning her strength, she stands tall, prepared to face the consequences that await her. The riders come into view, and her heart sinks while her mouth goes dry. It can't be true... Alice scolds herself for falling victim to Colm's deceit so easily. Tears mingle with the blood on her cheeks, but a small, triumphant smile escapes her lips.

Among the riders, she recognizes faces she thought were lost forever, galloping towards her with a determination matched only by their love for her. It takes less than a minute before she can distinguish each one. A whole band of people she believed to be gone, riding towards her at breakneck speed.

Before she can fully comprehend the speed at which Arthur dismounts his horse, he is standing before her, brushing her disheveled, blood-smeared hair away from her face. His gaze roams over her wounded body, assessing her injuries and the life burgeoning within her pregnant belly.

"Darlin', are you alright?" He murmurs softly, his eyes filled with a mix of sweetness and sadness that tugs at her heartstrings.

Speechless, she exhales gently, nodding as she lifts a trembling hand to caress his jaw. He mirrors her gesture, cupping her face with both hands, their touch a tender connection that speaks volumes. Standing there, face to face, they both feel the painful yearning that has consumed them for far too long.

Despite the bruises and cuts adorning her face, she remains undeniably beautiful. He wraps his arms around her waist as she rises on her tiptoes, their lips meeting in a tender, electric moment.

This kiss transcends any they have shared before. It becomes an exchange of emotions, a conduit for desire, love, and a profound connection. Their tongues dance in perfect harmony, moving in rhythm and sync, conveying their deepest longings. Lust and a shared vulnerability deepen their bond, fueling every passionate touch of their lips. Their souls ache from the longing, their hearts bursting with a love that has been sorely missed.

As Alice pulls away, her fingertips tenderly brushing away Arthur's tears, she echoes the overwhelming emotions coursing through him. "Save them tears," she begins softly, a mirror to his turmoil. "I ain't worth cryin' over."

Dutch playfully interjects, reminding them they're not alone with a teasing tone. "No love for your old man?" He jests, his voice lighthearted yet full of worry.

"Daddy!" Alice calls out with a joyful giggle, darting into Dutch's waiting embrace. He wastes no time, wrapping his arms around her carefully, mindful of her wound, and placing a tender kiss atop her head.

"Alright, this young lady needs some medical attention. The rest of us can wait," Susan asserts, stepping forward after Hosea to envelop Alice in a warm, meaningful hug.

The gang successfully pulled off their final job, a simple bank heist that brought them unimaginable riches. With their newfound wealth, they invested in an old plantation home in Leymone that had been left to decay, making it pristine just in time for Alice to deliver their baby. The anticipation of the birth has filled everyone with excitement, each expressing their joy in their own special ways.

Dutch and Hosea took it upon themselves to decorate the nursery, a responsibility initially meant for the women but one they insisted on doing. Their dedication and enthusiasm for creating a beautiful space for the baby is evident.

Meanwhile, John and Abigail have been supporting Alice through the preparations for the birth and the challenges that lie ahead. Though some of the information they have shared might have been unsettling, Alice couldn't be happier knowing she has their guidance and love.

Jack may not fully grasp the concept of having a baby in the gang, but he is still thrilled that he won't be the youngest member anymore. The idea of having a new addition brings him joy and a sense of growing up.

Lenny eagerly looks forward to sharing his love for reading with baby Morgan, eager to nurture and stimulate their young mind with enchanting stories and knowledge.

Sean entertains hopeful thoughts of mischief as he envisions teaching baby Morgan the art of pranks, just as he and his mother used to indulge in when they were mischievous teenagers. He anticipates a mischievous partnership filled with laughter and playful adventures.

Javier wholeheartedly promises to introduce baby Morgan to the world of music through guitar-playing, igniting a passion for melodies and the ability to express oneself artistically. Additionally, he intends to teach the child the beauty of the Spanish language, fostering a connection to cultural heritage.

Charles, alongside Arthur as his trusted mentor, makes a heartfelt vow to guide baby Morgan in navigating through the intricacies of the woods and honing their hunting skills. Together, they hope to instill an appreciation for the natural world and the skills required to survive.

Kieran eagerly expresses his desire to guide baby Morgan in the proper care and nurturing of horses, envisioning a future filled with bonding and shared love for these majestic creatures.

Uncle, despite his occasional struggles with alcohol, exhibits a level of respect and consideration by willingly sleeping on the porch when he's unable to navigate the stairs. This shows a sense of responsibility and an attempt to avoid any disruptions within the household.

Tilly, Sadie, Mary Beth, and Molly are adamant in their belief that baby Morgan is a girl. They have already taken it upon themselves to choose potential names and even select clothes for her. Although they were disappointed by the missed opportunity to create a nursery for the baby, they remain determined to contribute through fashion choices.

Arthur, beyond thrilled, embraces the chance to have a loving family once again. Aware of his past mistakes with Eliza and Issac and the close call with Alice and baby Morgan, he solemnly promises himself that he will not let this opportunity slip away. The possibility of losing loved ones has taught him to value and cherish every present moment.

Since Alice's return, the bond between her and Arthur has become unbreakable. As she had hoped, Arthur constantly demonstrates his care and support, offering to assist with anything. However, Alice independently chooses to take on most tasks, showcasing her strength and resilience.

"You're goin' to get my shirt dirty." Arthur teases, strolling up to Alice who stands knee-deep in the water, with Jack by her side engaged in a frog-catching mission.

Alice glances up, shielding her eyes from the sun as she gazes at Arthur, accompanied by John. A smirk graces her lips as she starts wading through the soft mud towards the shore.

"Uncle Arthur, Daddy!" Jack exclaims, gripping Alice's hand for support in navigating the messy mud. "Aunt Alice was helping me catch frogs!" Once onshore, Jack rushes toward Arthur and John. John squats down, extending his arms, only to be ignored as Jack clings to Arthur's leg.

Arthur playfully musses Jack's hair, chuckling at his enthusiasm. John may have faltered as a father in the past, but lately, he's been giving his all to become the father Jack has always needed.

"Hey, Jack, let's go get cleaned up. Lunchtime is just around the corner." John says, gently gripping Jack's hand and leading him towards the house.

"How's my lovely wife doing?" Arthur inquires, glancing at Alice as she leans against the boathouse, weariness etched across her face.

"Exhausted." She replies, her voice reflecting her fatigue.

"You're supposed to be restin'. Lily Morgan will be here any day now." Arthur reminds her, a lightness in his tone.

"Arthur Jr." She corrects him with a playful giggle.

"If we have another Arthur in here, we're in trouble." He jibes, playfully cupping her swollen belly with his hands.

"There's nothin' wrong with him bein' like his father." She asserts, pushing his hat over his eyes affectionately.

With a lighthearted chuckle, he removes his hat and slicks back his golden locks before playfully placing it on her head. The hat effortlessly falls over her eyes, and she giggles, using her wrist to push it back into place.

"I love it when you wear my hat... and my shirts." He quips, his hands finding their place on her hips.

"Well, good, because I love it too." She responds, leaning in as he leans in, their lips meeting in a tender kiss. After a moment, they break apart, and Alice's cheeks turn a rosy shade, as if it's their first shared kiss all over again.

Just then, Jack comes running up to them, clinging onto Arthur's leg once more. "Uncle Arthur, Daddy wants to know if you'll come fishin' with us?" He asks.

Arthur hesitated, his face betraying his reluctance, as he glanced at Alice. "He'd love to go." Alice declared before Arthur had the chance to decline. She understood that Arthur didn't want to leave, especially with her being so close to giving birth, but she reassured herself that a mere hour or two wouldn't do any harm.

"But Alice-" Arthur began.

"Please? I've been craving catfish so much." She pleaded, hoping he would reconsider and leave just long enough for her and the gang to decorate and prepare for a small party - after all, it was Arthur's birthday today.

Arthur appeared as though he was about to protest, but when he saw the desperation etched on Alice's face, he let out a soft chuckle and affectionately rubbed his stubbled chin.

"Alright, alright. But don't expect too much, darlin'. I won't be gone for long."

"Hey Alice, are you decent?" Dutch asks with concern, gently tapping on her slightly open door. "The girls said you'd be up here getting ready."

"Yes, daddy. Please come in." She replies, her voice tired, not bothering to sit up. It's been a draining day for Alice, but she knows that if Arthur sees her like this, he won't leave her side. It's tough enough that he forgot his own birthday because he's so focused on Alice and baby Morgan.

As Dutch enters the room, he discovers Alice curled up on the bed, visibly exhausted. It reminds him of how Annabelle looked when she was nearing her due date.

Taking a seat on the bed's edge, Dutch reaches out to touch Alice's forehead with the back of his hand, noticing the slight dampness from her sweat.

"I truly appreciate all your help today, daddy." She says with a relieved sigh, propping her head up with her arm.

"Anything for my not-so-little girl anymore." He teases, his eyes glancing towards her belly.

"Very funny," she replies, rolling her eyes. "Could you lend me a hand to get up?"

Dutch nods, rising from his seat and reaching out to hold her hand as he assists her in getting up from the bed. "You're about to pop."

"No need to remind me. He's been giving me just as much trouble as his father these past few days."

"Alice, maybe you should take a little more rest. You look like you could use it." Dutch suggests, gently guiding her towards the nearest chair.

"Arthur could be back any minute, and I haven't even finished getting ready yet," she remarks pointedly, gesturing towards the muddy overalls lying on the floor beside the bed. Though she's already washed up, she still wants to doll herself up for his return. "Besides, I'll have all the time in the world to rest when I'm gone."

"Let me help you with your hair, at least." He offers, picking up her brush from the vanity. She nods softly, taking a seat in the chair and allowing him to start teasing her curly locks. He fondly remembers the days when Alice was younger and he would always do her hair. Gently gathering a decent amount of hair, he begins to brush through it. As relaxation washes over her, she lets out a content sigh.

"John Marston, if you don't let me go into the house I won't hesitate to geld you!" Arthur firmly warns as he attempts to approach the house.

Innocently, young Jack questions, "Uncle Arthur, what does 'geld' mean?"

John sighs with disappointment, muttering, "Well done, Morgan."

Undeterred, Arthur forcefully passes by John, heading straight for the house. To his utter surprise, he walks into an empty room, causing panic to grip him as he fears Alice may have gone into labor.

Whispering from their concealed positions, Tilly asks Alice, "Do you think he's armed?"

Alice gazes at Tilly and simply shrugs, using her fingers to count down. Suddenly, everyone bursts out of hiding, shouting "surprise" simultaneously, catching Arthur off guard.

Arthur's eyes widen, his heart pounding in his chest as the unexpected surprise sends shivers down his spine. Gradually, one by one, everyone gathers around him, holding little gifts they had thoughtfully prepared. Alice, with a mischievous smile, approaches last, her arm concealed behind her back.

"Happy Birthday, my love," she coos sweetly, her voice filled with tenderness, presenting him with a gift she had crafted. It's a personalized satchel, intricately adorned with his initials woven into the fabric. "Go ahead," she encourages, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Open it."

With trembling hands, Arthur unwraps the gift, revealing a pristine journal nestled inside. Carefully, he retrieves the journal, flipping open to the first page. To his astonishment, he finds a heartfelt note accompanied by a beautifully drawn portrait. "I love you more than words can express. I am so proud to be your wife," the page reads, depicting a tender moment of Arthur nestled beside Alice's swollen belly, his peaceful slumber mirroring the joy radiating from his face.

Overwhelmed with emotion, Arthur is rendered speechless, a warmth spreading through his chest. Gratefully, he pulls Alice into a tight embrace, his words a mixture of praise and heartfelt gratitude for the cherished gifts.

The ceremony concludes, and the jubilant celebration envelops the atmosphere. The melodic tunes fill the air, intertwining with the infectious laughter reverberating throughout the house. Arthur, unable to contain his excitement, takes Alice's hand, guiding her towards the improvised dance floor.

With synchronized movements, they sway gently to the music, their eyes illuminating with the profound love they share. However, Alice's protruding belly and shorter legs present a graceful challenge that they tackle with unwavering determination.

Chuckling lightly, Alice remarks, "Arthur, it seems like our little one can't resist joinin' in on the festivities." She says with a giggle feeling the fluttering kicks in her belly.

Arthur reciprocates with a playful response, "Seems like he's got quite the moves already." He teases experiencing each gentle kick against his own belly.

Overwhelmed by emotions, Dutch steps forward, a glimmer of adoration reflected in his eyes. "Let me show you how it's done, son."

With practiced elegance, Dutch takes Alice's hand, twirling her effortlessly across the dance floor. The other gang members erupt in cheers and laughter, reveling in the camaraderie and the contagious joy that surrounds them. Alice nestles her head against Dutch's chest as they move harmoniously to the music.

Suddenly, a sharp gasp escapes Alice's lips, her hands instinctively cradling her swelling belly. Dutch, his concern evident in his eyes, places a reassuring hand on Alice's shoulder.

"Are you alright?"

"I... I think so." Alice murmurs, a cold shiver coursing through her body.

Dutch, his voice tinged with urgency, offers, "Should we go-"

Before he can finish his sentence, Alice hunches over, gripping her abdomen tightly as a wave of agony washes over her and a warmth cascades down her legs.

"My water just broke!"

#arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #arthur morgan x oc #rdr2 arthur #red dead fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption arthur

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celtics534 · 2 years

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To Be Lying Awake, and Be Here Talking to You

How about a little canon on-shot? I was in the mood to write some hinny feels and after the war sounded like the perfect setting. I hope you all enjoy it :)