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#f: rdr2
mothtra · 2 years
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arthur sketches
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rdr2gifs · 2 months
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I like how rdr2 can unintentionally be a game that’s catered towards women even if it wasn’t meant to be.
You get to look at a hot cowboy for hundreds of hours. You dress him, feed him, bathe him, you can craft cute hat decorations for him. Oh and he also has a pet horse he loves which you take care of. As a character Arthur is very emotionally aware and he’s open to talk about his feelings. He judges people by their actions not prejudices. He doesn’t disrespect people for their problems/interests/background even if he might not understand them. He respects women, animals, nature.. He is gentle with horses, kids, flowers 🌷
He’s an artist, keeps a journal and he can also write in a poetic way. These may not inherently be female qualities but nowadays are usually associated with women. Arthur also has qualities, which are generally attractive to women. He’s a protector, he’s strong, has a deep voice..
I find it funny that someone would think that this game is something that couldn’t truly be enjoyed by women.
It is my perfect escape ✧˖°.
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cowboydisaster · 3 months
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Christmas countdown request:
Have you ever sat in a hot tub while it's snowing? It's a magical experience. Your top is chilly, your bottom half is so warm, and if you look directly up at the falling snow it looks like the stars are floating down around you.
Anyway, Arthur should take reader skinny dipping in a hot spring and it starts snowing and they get to enjoy that magical moment while cuddling naked in the hot spring 😁
* ˚ ✦ Nightfall * ˚ ✦
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pairing: arthur morgan x f!reader word count: 1.9k a/n: OKAY-- i have experienced this and i LOVE it. I couldn't help myself from writing the smut, really. Smut in a hot spring is too good. I'm obsessed with this. warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, thigh riding, inexperienced reader, cowgirl
cowboydisaster's christmas countdown: TWO days 'till christmas!
christmas countdown┊main masterlist┊rdr2 masterlist
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The breeze is cold against your bare skin, the snow soft against your feet.
“Are you sure this won't hurt?” You ask again, eyes flickering over towards Arthur. He chuckles as he unbuttons the bottom of his shirt, slipping it off his shoulders and letting it fall to the rocky ground. 
“Yes, I'm sure.” He says, amused. 
“Why did we have to wait ‘till nightfall?” You ask, teeth chattering, hand running up your bare arm, over the goosebumps that are appearing. 
“You’ll see. C’mon, darlin, before ya catch a cold.” Arthur whispers, hand on the small of your back as he leads you across the flat rocks, towards an unknown destination. 
He’d wanted to surprise you, had planned this little trip weeks ago. Your horses eye the landscape curiously, not daring to leave the forest and venture out onto the strange, warm rocks. A nervous smile rests on your lips, a slight anxiety resting in your stomach. Arthur doesn’t miss the shudder in your breathing, nor the beating of your heart in your ears. Wishing to quell your hesitation, Arthur reaches for your hand, squeezing it gently in his own.
“You trust me?” He whispers, green eyes searching yours, and you nod. Hand in hand, you both venture across the rock. Arthur smiles for the way you marvel at their heat. The snow melts away from them, and small bubbling puddles of water rest at your feet. You raise an eyebrow, never having seen anything like it. 
“Where are we?” You ask, looking down, seeing more water, ponds and pools of it, hot and steaming. The warm pools are crystal blue, and seem to glow in the pitch black of night. 
“Cotorra Springs.” Arthur smiles.
Your eyes go wide, taking in the beauty and the wonder of the hot springs. Arthur leads you towards a particularly large one, and you study it. The way the water steams, warmed by some forces in the earth, the way the moon reflects in the strangely clear waters, the halo of light that shines out from the circle in the earth. 
Arthur watches your curiosity with loving eyes. He knows that you were very sheltered, and he’s trying to show you as much of the world’s beauty as he can. The wonders of nature are something that he often takes for granted, but not you. Every flower you come across, every landscape and every animal you meet is met with deep wonder and appreciation. Seeing the way you study, how your eyes light up at something new is… enchanting for him.. 
“Is it magical?” You whisper, your eyes filled with stars reflected from the water. You lean down, running your fingers through the spring, pulling away quickly at the warmth. You look to Arthur for reassurance, relaxing when you see him stepping down into the water. 
“Reckon it might just be.” He hums, extending a hand out to you. You take his calloused hand, letting him help you. Your toe meets the water first, and you pull it back, hesitating. 
“S’alright, sweetheart. I gotcha.” Arthur whispers, and trusting him wholly, you step in. 
The warm water envelops you, chasing away the chill that had been sinking into your bones. Arthur sits on the naturally carved ledge in the spring. You hesitate, but he nods– signaling that you’re okay– and you follow.
“Incredible, ain’t it?” Arthur whispers, head tilted back, looking up at the stars. The snowfall combined with the bright stars enrapture your attention, and you stare at the sky, wondering if it’s the snow falling onto your tongue, or the stars themselves. 
“It’s beautiful.” You murmur, brushing your hair back with wet hands, extending them to the sky, catching snowflakes that promptly melt against the warmth of your skin. 
Arthur is sure that in all the things he’s seen, all the places he’s gone, he’s never seen anything as beautiful as you. Your wet hair falls in tangled waves down your back, your smile is brighter than the stars above as you try and catch the ones that sprinkle down to you. The wonder in your eyes. That wild streak in your heart. Arthur could draw you day and night in his journal, and never truly capture your glow, or the way your smile brightens a room, the way your laughter heals broken hearts. 
Sometimes he wonders how you do it. How does someone with so much pain– so much trauma– stay so optimistic? So grateful for life and for people? In all that Arthur endured, all it ever made him was an angry fool. But you. You’re a phoenix. 
Arthur’s hands grip onto your waist, pulling you into his lap, your legs sitting across his own as he holds you wedding-style in his arms. 
“How’d I ever get so damn lucky?” Arthur whispers to you, green eyes laden with emotion. 
Your smile picks up all the cracked pieces of his heart, the liquid gold pouring out from your soul glues it back together.
“Karma.” You answer quickly, “Because good things happen to good people, Arthur.” 
Your legs are toasty warm in the water, but your chest and shoulders shiver lightly in the cold breeze. You cuddle closer to Arthur to make up warmth, laying against his chest. 
“I ain’t a good m-” 
“Shh.” You say into his ear, lips remaining there for a moment, pressing a slow kiss to his cheek. 
“You are a good man.” You whisper, turning in Arthur’s arms to face him, straddling him, “and…” You press a soft-as-silk kiss to his neck, “I love you for it.” 
His breaths grow a little quicker at the contact, and suddenly you become all too aware of the position you’re in.
“Too good to me.” Arthur whispers in between open mouthed kisses to your neck. His hands find your waist, fingers digging into your soft flesh, gripping you tightly. 
You whimper, breath shuddering as he pulls your hips down, grinding your core against his leg. 
“Arthur we’re–” You take a breath, “What if someone comes along?” 
“No one will come along, darlin.” Arthur reassures, thumbs trailing up your torso, pressing circles against your firm, sensitive nipples. 
Despite your sheltered childhood, you struggle none with this. When you were eager, Arthur had shown you– again and again– what you could do to make yourself feel good, to what you could do make him feel good.
“Keep talkin’ to me, sweetheart. Tell me how it feels.” Arthur’s voice is like velvet against your ear, his lips locking on to your lips, your jaw, your collarbone. One of his fingers continues massaging your swollen, pink nipple, and the other travels lower, teasing your thigh, stroking your hip. 
“Please, Arthur.” You whisper, hips rocking gently, waiting for friction.
“Jus’ wanna touch you, sweetheart.” Arthur groans, pulling your hips down against his leg, helping you to rock them, to fuck yourself against his thigh, your warm bodies still half submerged in the spring. The temperature does something for you all on its own. Your breasts are exposed to the cold, only warmed by Arthur’s touch, but your lower half is heating all on its own, and combined with the hot water, it's almost overstimulating. 
“Just like that-” You gasp, head tossing back, hair dipping back into the glowing water. Snowflakes flutter about, landing in your hair, on your face, and your breasts, scattered white specks that Arthur picks up with his trail of kisses. Your hips keep their steady pace, and Arthur continues teasing you, featherlight fingertips trailing down your legs, ghosting over the backs of your knees. 
“Easy, sweetheart.” Arthur’s voice reaches your ears in a strained huff. 
He wants to pull you down onto his throbbing cock, to roll his hips up into you, watch you rock yourself, fuck yourself on his length. He wants to watch those beautiful eyes roll back into your head over and over, wants to hear his name coming from those pretty, plump lips. He wants to mark you, kiss you, make you his. He’s not sure if at heart he's a good man. However, he is sure that you make him a very bad one. His cock is straining against his stomach, and every rock of your hips is rubbing against him, and jesus, he can’t take it much longer. 
It’s selfish, purely selfish as he dips his hands below the water, pulling you up. Your face wrinkles in pleasure when he slides you down onto his cock, and the gesture nearly sends him to heaven. Your soft skin goes tense, muscles tightening, cunt gripping him, pulling groans from his cracked lips. 
The glow of the water shines impossibly brighter, illuminating you. Your face is flushed, your breasts bouncing with every one of your rocks.
“Oh–” You moan, hands gripping onto his sturdy shoulders, “Arthur!” 
“Tell me what’cha need, darlin.” Arthur grunts, squeezing your ass in his hands. 
You reach for his wrist, grabbing it tightly, and shoving it down between your bodies. Arthur smirks against your skin as he nips at your earlobe, sending waves of pleasure through all the pressure points in your body. His thumb makes a steady pace on your clit, and when you toss your head back in pleasure, snowflakes spot your eyelashes. 
“Feel good? Gonna cum for me?” Arthur groans, cock twitching inside you, pushing up into you. You press your chest to Arthur’s, the added stimulation of your nipples against him creating an influx of sensations.  
“Good… Good, there you go.” Arthur praises, feeling the stutter of your hips, noticing the whine of your voice. 
“Cum for me, sweetheart.” Arthur kisses your neck, and your stomach clenches down on him, “C’mon, baby. Cum for me.” 
Your hips stutter, voice growing louder, strained as you rock against him. Arthur curses as your walls tighten around him, squeezing out every bit of self control that he’s clinging on to. Your orgasm works through you slowly, building and building, like a dam cracking before it bursts. 
“There, there, just–” Arthur groans, “Jus’ like that, darlin’. Doin’ so good. I’m– nearly there wit’ ya–” 
You shudder and gasp, fire erupting in your abdomen, spreading over your limbs. A few unrhythmic, upward thrusts and Arthur is there with you. His hips grind up slowly, pumping his cum into you, filling you full as he groans, hands tearing into your hips with their force. He thrusts again, slow, breathing deeply as you both come down. 
“That–” You shiver, sweat clinging to you, cold from the temperature. 
“I know.” Arthur finishes for you, pulling your body against his chest, keeping you mostly in the water for warmth. His arms wrap around you, fingertips trailing slowly up and down your spine as tingles spread through your limbs, little waves of aftershock hitting you now and again. 
Arthur doesn’t pull out, just keeps you in his lap, holding you, kissing your head, praising you. 
The falling snow lands in your hair, and as Arthur looks up at the vast expanse of stars, he's sure you’re one of them. An angel, come down as a star. Something divine, surely.
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bimrsadler · 1 year
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hello, i was wondering if you were down and vibing to do some tired and sleepy arthur sneaking into f!readers bed late late at night after being away from camp for a long time? ty!
Goodnight and Goodmorning
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Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female reader
Word count: 1,000
Warnings/tags: fluff, high honor Arthur, mutual pining, first kiss
Notes: I absolutely vibe with it! Since you didn’t specify I went ahead and just made it good ol’ fluff, if you had more in mind like smut (or if anyone wants a smutty part 2) feel free to let me know!
ETA: part 2 is here
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Sleep didn’t come easy for you when Arthur was gone, not for lack of trying. Tossing and turning, the emptiness beside you and the constant worry of if he was safe kept rest at bay. You wondered if he was somewhere in the The Heartlands under the stars, worrying the same about you.
There was a mutual desire that hadn’t been spoken aloud. Arthur was surprisingly shy for a man of action, you found, and you didn’t want to push him because of this. It happened naturally in moments of solitude away from the others, around the fire when neither of you could sleep, on the outskirts of camp when you found excuses to run into each other. It became more with your head on his shoulder as you drifted off against a tree, his hands on yours as he taught you to shoot even though you already knew how.
Eventually you found your way to his bed on a cold night. Diverging to head to your own tents your gazes lingered and walking slowed; finally hinting to Arthur that there was no harm in wanting company. It was endearing to watch as he stammered a nervous, “I ’spose,” placing a gentle hand on the small of your back.
For a man who kept company at arms length most of the time, he held you close that night. Reassurance was needed before he felt comfortable of course, wanting to hear that you were okay with it multiple times over.
“Promise I won’t do anything untoward.” He must have said that and other iterations of it at least five times before you placed his arm around your waist yourself and confided how much you trusted him.
And it was true. Though Arthur was intimidating, angry and tough as nails; he always made you feel safe. You’d been around “gentlemen” who were perfect on paper but predators behind closed doors.
You’d been in the company of many lecherous and pushy men — some even in the gang, but Arthur? He would put them in their place and apologize to you with their blood on his knuckles.
You always missed his presence in camp but it was a far worse struggle now that you shared a connection.
Drifting in and out the time of night was indiscernible each time you briefly woke, the sound of chatter and guitar steadily replaced by crickets and the dying fire.
As the night wore on the familiar feeling of Arthur’s rugged hands on your bare shoulder roused a fluttering jolt in your stomach. It took his shifting weight behind you and warm chest against your back to convince you you weren’t dreaming.
Peering back the faint moonlight breaking through the canvas revealed Arthur gazing down at you with a grin. “M’sorry, didn’t mean to wake ya.”
“Was worried you weren’t coming back, big guy,” you murmured only half-joking, voice heavy with sleep.
“I’ll always come back darlin’, just hopefully a little sooner nex’time.” He pulled flush to him, “now try’n get some more sleep.”
“Gonna hold you to that,” you stretched underneath his bulky arms with a yawn.
The unexpected feeling of Arthur’s lips pressed gently to your temple made a warmth blossom in your chest, spreading to the rest of your pining body.
Slowly rolling over to be face to face you saw an anxious expression highlighted by bruises and cuts along Arthur’s cheekbones. “I missed ya sweetheart,” he admitted softly while rubbing his thumb delicately along your shoulder.
You inquired worryingly with a gesture towards his face, “what happened?”
“Eh, weren’t nothin’.” He shrugged, brushing it off as usual.
“Sure looks like something.” Propping yourself up on your elbows you reciprocated the comfort and allowed your lips to meet Arthur’s skin for the first time. Lightly wetting them you pressed gentle kisses to each bruise, his breath hitching before he let it out in one long, relieved sigh.
He looked at you with a reverence that was almost overwhelming, how a man as rough and wild as him could radiate such softness for you.
“Guess I needed that, thank you.”
“Maybe you need a proper one Mr. Morgan?”
“Huh?” Arthur’s eyes darted, not quite catching on as you smirked with anticipation. “A proper wh—oh!”
Blushing at the realization that you meant a proper kiss, he swallowed hard. “Well uh, if that’s somethin’ you wanna give me…I’d be a damned fool to say no.”
Brushing a lock of hair off his brow, you leaned in and parted you lips for his. Arthur met you the rest of the way and locked them tenderly, staying still together to savor the moment.
He moved back slightly to peer down at you for any sign of hesitation — finding none of course. Cupping the side of your head with his sizable hand he pulled you close for long, languid kisses, accentuated by his tongue gingerly meeting yours.
The moment was soft and sweet and everything you never thought you’d have with Arthur Morgan. The light whimpers with smiles in between, the ever so subtle urging of your hips wanting more but unsure of how far to take it. It could have easily been a dream you’d had in days past.
As Arthur slowed he pressed his forehead to yours with eyes closed, peaceful and unworried. “This is the only place I wanna be right now…”
Gently adjusting you to lay on your back, Arthur tucked the blankets around you before resting his head on your chest and draping his arm across your midsection.
“Let’s sleep darlin’, we’ll take our time in the mornin’ too…”
It was a gift to know Arthur was this comfortable with you. He wanted to talk to people, to let his guard down and be vulnerable. You were sure he wouldn’t admit it and hadn’t noticed that you had noticed, but it was clear as day in his quieter moments.
Whatever happened on whatever mission Dutch had sent him on, he was battered and tired. If Arthur made you feel safe then you could be his safe haven too.
Running your nails along the expanse of his back and broad shoulders, you watched his head rise and fall with your breaths as he drifted off. The warmth of his skin on yours meant you were sure to follow suit, relieved to have him back and looking forward to what the morning might bring.
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photo1030 · 3 months
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Anonymous asked:
Heyy , so i had this smut idea for a while now, but bare with me please cuz my English isn’t that good lol . Anyway it’s about arthur and f!reader who’s been teasing arthur with a lot of touches and stares all day. But they were all busy that day so nothing happened. Then at the end of the day arthur finally got to be with her alone to sort things out (if you know what i mean) and confront her.
Ik … not very fluent in English lol , but I really really LOVE your writing so i figured i should maybe request something
Hello again, my lovely Anon!
Thank you for the "ask"! This was certainly a fun one to write out. I wasn't sure if you wanted Arthur and reader to be friends with longing tendencies, or in an existing relationship. I went with the latter. Hopefully that is okay. Either way, it ends up with some steamy goodness. If you need it tweaked the other way, let me know.
LEATHER AND LACE - CLOSE, BUT NOT CLOSE ENOUGH
Summary: You and Arthur have been trying to get some time alone together all day, to no avail. But by the end of the day, Arthur finally gets what he wants.
Warning: 18+ please. Minors - DNI; NSFW
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*This is not my image. I have found it posted on multiple pages on Pintrest but can't find the originator. If anyone knows, let me know for specific photo credit.
Masterlist
The early morning sun tries to cut its way into the woods, cutting the dewy mist with its beams of warm, golden light. The burgeoning glow sets the birds into motion, their busy little chirps filling the brisk air around the camp. 
You are dead tired this morning. It was a long, hard day of chores yesterday and when you had turned in for the night, all you wanted to do was rest your weary head on that lumpy pillow of yours atop of that squeaky cot. And with all of the hustling and work lately, Arthur was hoping to have a little “private time” with you last night, too. 
But much to his disappointment, you had already passed out the moment your head hit the pillow, already fast asleep before he could even get his boots off. So with a sigh and just a bit of frustration, Arthur lumbered onto the cot next to you for the night. 
So this morning, you are reluctant to crack open your eyes when the feeling of Arthur’s heavy arm makes its way around your waist, slowly exploring your midsection and creeping up to your breast with his fingertips. His chest is pressed up against your back as he spoons you tightly to him, his skin radiating a comforting heat that sinks down through your skin and into the very center of your body. You can already feel his half-erect cock finding its place against the bottom of your rear. 
In this precious little moment, you are faced with a “difficult” decision:  do you try to get some very much-needed sleep? Or do you give in to the temptation of your beloved outlaw? 
“G’ Mornin’, Darlin’”
His low, raspy voice, cracked with remnants of sleep, floats its way into your ear and breaks through your mind’s thoughts…and that is all it takes for you to decide. A smile slowly emerges across your face without you even opening your eyes. 
“Good morning to you too, my lover.” You playfully reach up to encircle your arm around his head, turning your face back towards his. Your greeting is met with a simple low groan of approval as Arthur’s lips seek out the cuff of your ear. 
You gently roll over onto your back, looking up into his awaiting face. His hair is rumpled from the night and his eyes are still heavy-lidded with fatigue. Yet those eyes still sparkle like the bluest sky as they meet your own. And your heart could burst at how that is the first thing you get to see in the morning.
He leans down to gently catch your lips into a kiss. It’s the first of many to come for the day, knowing you two. You push your body upwards to flatten against his, your leg bending up to entwine with his burly ones. A soft giggle emanates from your throat as you deepen the kiss and run your hand along his cheek and up behind his head to pull him down to you. Arthur is quick to roll himself to climb over you, settling himself between your spread legs. Your lips press together, repeatedly working over the other’s as his hands begin to explore along your chest, grappling at the tender flesh there.
You lift your hips just a bit in invitation as Arthur rocks back and forth ever so slightly. Your eyes roll back as your fingertips drag along the thick muscles of his back, trailing through the soft body hair that scatters across his wide frame. 
“Arthur? You in there?”
Your eyes shoot wide open, instantly snapped out of your blissful reverie at the deep-sounding voice coming from the other side of your shared tent. Arthur seems to be oblivious to the intrusion at first as his motions atop of you do not slow down in the slightest. 
“Arthur?” the voice repeats.
Finally, Arthur collects his thoughts enough to respond.
“Go away, Bill,” mumbles Arthur, pausing in his administrations only long enough to warn the burly man outside the canvas, as he has no intention of stopping right now. 
“There’s a group of us heading out. Got a tip on a stagecoach coming through.” Bill pushes insistently. “Come on, we gotta go.” 
“Not now, Bill!” barks Arthur as he keeps kissing you, his teeth nipping at the tender skin of your neck and collarbone. 
You are trying not to focus on the fact that someone is not only outside your tent at this inopportune moment, but actually having a conversation with Arthur as his erect cock is rubbing against your aching heat, mere moments away from being embedded into the warm cradle between your legs. 
“Well, Dutch is askin’ for you. So what do you want me to tell him, then?” Bill asks impatiently.
“Bill!” you suddenly snap, lifting your head to turn your burning gaze over Arthur’s broad shoulder towards the tent flap. “If you do not walk away from this tent right now, so help me God…!”
“Oh!” Bill’s eyes open wide and his face suddenly turns beet-red as the realization of what he is interrupting becomes all too clear. “Oh, sorry! I’ll..uh…come back, I guess.” He snickers as he abruptly turns to hurry-off back to the waiting group. 
An exasperated sigh pushes out of your nose as your head plunks back against the pillow. Arthur has finally stopped the amorous actions, but still lays overtop of you, motionless and reluctant to move. 
“Well, that just killed the mood,” you huff, noting how Arthur’s face has turned down into a hard frown. 
Arthur takes a deep breath to steady himself. “I know I said I can never leave the gang, but there’s moments like this that I am open to the discussion.”
“Don’t tease me, now,” you warn as a tiny grin creeps its way across your lips. Arthur just rolls his eyes and sits up, playfully pushing your legs to the side so he can sit at the edge of the cot to get himself dressed. 
Back at the hitching posts, Bill approaches the waiting group with a smirk on his face, shaking his head. 
“Where’s Arthur?” asks Dutch impatiently, his gaze looking past Bill’s shoulder when he does not see the man in question in attendance. “You were supposed to go get him.”
“He’s…uh…busy at the moment.” Bill offers this obscure excuse to the men with a quirked eyebrow.
Dutch’s ringed hands land on his hips, his impatience growing by the minute. “Busy doing what, exactly?”
“More like, busy doing who?” chuckles Bill. 
It only takes Dutch a moment to realize what Bill is talking about before his dark eyes roll to the heavens. “Oh, for Christ’s sake…”
—-----------------------------------------
Fortunately, the coach job didn’t take too long. Arthur had begrudgingly pulled himself from your warm and loving arms to drudge over to join his companions. He got a good ribbing from the men, as was expected, but all it did was aggravate his already irritable demeanor. He wanted to spend the morning buried between your legs in his tent, not between Bill and John on their smelly horses.
By the time the men get back to camp, you and the other girls are already embedded into more chores. Seems there is always something to do. In fact, the moment he gets back to camp and unpacked, Ms. Grimshaw is quick to get Arthur to the wood pile, stating that the firewood is already low again. He shoots you a quick glance, your eyes meeting briefly across the camp, before giving her an exasperated sigh as he reluctantly heads over to the ax to get started.  
As you work with your needle and thread to mend shirts and darn socks, you delightfully treat yourself to observe Arthur as he chops the firewood. His strong arms slam the ax down onto the chunks of timber, causing them to splinter in his wake. His muscled arms flex with each blow, his wide shoulders set beautifully with each stroke. His burly legs set into a wide stance, the tendons there rippling beneath the fabric of his trousers with each jarring blow. 
The sight of it makes your heart race so fast that it skips a beat in your chest, knowing that this hulking man belongs to you. Your legs involuntarily cross and squeeze your thighs in an attempt to contain your arousal, a feeling that has yet to be quelled since your abrupt separation this morning. You try to finish your mending as quickly as you can so that you can steal away to go over there. 
“Hey, you,” you call to Arthur as you eventually saunter over, swinging your hips with a cheshire-cat-like grin on your face. 
Arthur lifts his head as he tosses a heavy piece of wood as if it were feather-light. The second his irritable eyes land on your beautiful form floating towards him, the tension melts away from his weathered face. He stands up straight, grinning from ear to ear. “Hey, you.”
You hand him a cup of cool water, which he gratefully accepts as your fingers linger across his knuckles like an ivy vine. You intently watch him as he gulps the refreshing liquid down, observing how his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. God, how you want to plant your lips all over his neck right now. You shift your weight from hip to hip and bite your bottom lip as you watch him.
You step up even closer, bumping your hip into his and giving him that look. Arthur looks at you with intrigue. He swipes the back of his gloved hand across his mouth, wiping away the water droplets that escaped his lips. He dips his head to kiss you, but halts mid-stride when you hear Ms. Grimshaw’s shrill voice hollering for you from across the camp. 
“Y/N! Quit foolin’ around with Arthur and get over here! I ain’t done with you yet!” You and Arthur turn your heads to see the woman standing in the clearing, arms crossed and face twisted up in annoyance.
“You gotta be kiddin’ me,” Arthur mutters. He turns back to you and the disappointment is plain on your face. You could be off wrapping your legs around this man’s waist, but no. You are needed elsewhere…to stitch holes in socks. 
—------------------------------------
And so it goes for the rest of the day. It's as if the universe is purposely trying to keep you and Arthur apart. But Ms. Grimshaw is shrewd. Normally, you and Arthur can get a lot of work done when paired together. But when the two of you are acting more flirtatious than usual, the only way she can get anything done is to completely separate the two of you. Like wound-up teenagers, you and Arthur are known to play around and get distracted, sometimes even disappearing altogether. So the matriarch has been keen to assign you tasks on opposite sides of the camp. 
Seeing an opportunity to catch you alone, Arthur comes up to you while you’re cooking. You are over at the food wagon, stirring the heavy cast-iron pot for tonight’s dinner when you hear the grass and leaves crunching behind you. You don’t even have to turn around to know he’s behind you, as the scent of leather and cigarettes, mingled with clove, permeates your senses. It’s a familiar fragrance that will immediately set your mind to race, making your blood run hot. 
Arthur pushes his chest up against your back just enough to create that electricity. You suck your lip in between your teeth to silence any wanton noise that would be in danger of bubbling up from your throat. You turn your head slightly to the side, catching the pale blue color of his faded work shirt as he runs a single finger down the length of your arm.
“Ah, Mr. Morgan, there you are! I haven’t seen you all day.” Mr. Pearson suddenly appears out from behind the wagon with an armload of ingredients for you to cut and chop for tonight’s stew. 
“Glad you’re here! Listen, did I ever tell you about the time I got into a fist-fight with a fella from town? He was an honest-to-God boxer. But I was too quick for him, you see. It was a good fight, too.”
Mr. Pearson is so wrapped up in his own story that the disappointed groan that comes from you goes unnoticed. Arthur’s brow settles into a hard, dangerous frown again. If it wouldn’t land him a stinging slap upside the head from Ms. Grimshaw, he’d land his fist in the portly man’s face just to shut him up. On and on Pearson goes, excited to have a captive audience for his rambling. You try your best to be polite and smile and nod along, but Arthur has never been one for social etiquette and quickly finds an excuse to walk away. 
After you suffer through yet another one of Mr. Pearson’s stories and manage to get tonight’s dinner going, you set off to find Arthur again. The sexual tension is building and you can’t wait too much longer to deal with it. You finally locate him over by the horses. 
Arthur is preoccupied with getting Buck saddled up, fixing the straps of the saddle and filling his saddle bags with provisions. He’s bent over at the waist, checking Buck’s hooves for any muck or debris, and you come up behind him, slowly running your hands up his back, pushing your fingertips into the muscle. You can feel Arthur shudder from your touch. But he quickly switches gears, muscles stiffening up under your hands.
“Quit. I can’t be startin’ that now,” he quickly scolds you.
“Oh really?” you purr as you press up against him, thinking he’s playing hard-to-get.
“I mean it. Knock it off.” He spins away from you, putting his hand on your forearm and holding you at arm's length as if you were something offensive. 
Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. “Excuse me?” Your arms cross indignantly over your chest in disbelief. 
But he doesn’t mean to be cruel. He has to focus on what needs to be done. He can’t get sidetracked by those improper thoughts of you. And he has so many of those thoughts about you right now. 
He sighs, rolling his eyes. “Look, it ain’t you, alright? I gotta head out. Dutch needs me to handle something for Strauss.”
You give a long frustrated huff. “Figures,” you mumble under your breath, taking a step back even further away from him.
“Don’t get mad at me for it!” he snaps.
“I’m not.” 
His ocean-colored eyes flash at you. “Yeah, you are!”
“Arthur, if I was mad at you, you’d know it,” you snark back.
“Oh, so this look on your face is one of joy, then?” he says with dripping sarcasm as his hand waves inches from your nose. 
You slap his hand down, your eyes narrowing at him. “Don’t be an ass.”
“I ain’t bein’ in ass!” His voice raises in volume as his limits get tested. He drags his hand over his face in frustration. “Nevermind. Can we deal with this later? I got things to do.” He plants his hands on his hips in impatience.
“Of course you do.” You give him an eye roll, your hair tossing in the air, as you spin on your heels to head back to the campfire. 
—--------------------------------------------------
Later that night, you are walking through the camp. Arthur is nowhere to be seen, which is annoying. You grab the water bucket and head over to the edge of camp to dump it, when you hear a whistle. Confused, you follow the noise as it leads you to the tree line. Suddenly, a massive hand shoots out of the shadows and clamps over your wrist. It's Arthur. He holds his finger up to his lips in a shushing motion, tilting his head to indicate to follow him before you can even utter a word. 
You quietly follow as he leads you away from camp and into the dark and awaiting forest, confused as to what in the world he’s up to. When you get to a thick collection of trees, he stops. 
“Arthur, what are you doing-” but you can’t get another word out before he spins on you and roughly grabs your face, crushing his mouth into yours. You can’t even breathe, as he sucks the air right out of your lungs. He backs you up a few paces, hands still clamped around your cheeks, until your backside hits a tree, trapped and unable to move anywhere else.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day, sweetheart,” he whispers. “Can’t wait a damn second longer. I gotta have ya and have ya now.” He grabs at the fabric of your skirt without warning or permission and starts to hike it up, but you are quick to grab his wrists.
“What?! Out here? Arthur, someone is going to see us!” you gasp, shocked at his brazenness. 
“Don’t care,” he grits out as he pins your body to the tree with his own, his lips attacking your neck. He maneuvers your hands away from his own in order to keep pulling at the skirt fabric which is the only barrier between him and his prize. 
“But Arthur-” You try to take a second to try to talk some sense into him, but he silences you again, shoving his tongue down your throat. Your hands shoot up to his shoulders with a feeble push to try to get him to stop. But by releasing your grasp on his wrists, it frees him to reach up further under your skirt and yank your bloomers off, ripping them at the seam. 
The sudden jerk causes you to gasp and it’s as if a switch has been pulled within you. The culmination of pent-up desire has come to a head as you no longer care about the world around you two. You look up at him with hungry, needy eyes of your own, but see nothing but pure lust reflecting back at you, like looking into the face of a wolf.
Your own pupils are blown wide with yearning and briefly flick from his captive gaze to his full lips. And with that brief glimpse of approval from you, Arthur shoves his arms under your thighs and lifts you up off the ground, slamming you back into the tree trunk. The motion causes the wind to briefly knock out of your lungs as your arms wrap around his shoulders to hold on and keep yourself from falling to the ground. 
His hips grind harshly into you as his mouth devours your jawline and neck. You can feel how hard he is under the fabric of his trousers. Your precious little gasps only spur him on faster. Arthur fumbles with the buttons of his pants, pulling out his rock-hard cock. You can feel the tip of him rubbing hotly against your inner thigh, the length of him dragging along the folds of your heat. He seems impossibly rigid at the moment and you take a split second to wonder if it's actually painful for him. The thought of it causes you to desperately whine and moan in anticipation. 
Arthur can be soft and attentive as a lover, and he can also be hot and passionate. But, every once in awhile, he can be just outright insatiable. A downright, dirty outlaw. 
“You like that, don’t you?” he smirks, pleased with your reaction to his thick manhood teasing your sensitive skin. Cocky bastard. 
All you can do is nod, your mouth agape and gasping for air.
“Good. ‘Cause I ain’t about to stop now.” He lines himself up to you and pushes in, burying himself until his pelvis is flat against yours. You cry out with a wanton little whimper, your head thrown back until it knocks onto the bark behind you with an ungraceful thud. Arthur is large between his legs, always a tight fit within you, but you have zero complaints about it. 
“C’mon, baby, let me hear ya,” he coaxes in your ear. He immediately starts to pump into you, quick and desperate. Your back begins to drag along the tree as he ruts into you. The tree bark cuts into your skin, even through the fabric of your blouse, but you couldn’t care any less. 
“Jesus, Arthur,” you moan. “Right there…(gasping) just like that…just like that.” You try to lean back, pushing your hips towards him and he grunts with a devilish grin. 
“That’s right, girl”.
The beautifully lewd symphony that the two of you create could be heard by anyone in the area if they are close enough. Moans and stifled screams wrap around the wet sounds of tongues and lips clicking, while the unmistakable sound of skin against skin vibrates throughout the ring of trees that encompasses you.  
Arthur lets your one leg drop down so that he can use that hand to reach between you. The pads of his fingers find their way to that sensitive bundle of nerves nestled within your folds and he begins to curl and rub. His other arm that is still hooked under your knee pulls your hip up, opening your gait even more, allowing his cock to ram into the back wall of your cunt with full force. 
It's too much. You loudly cry out at the additional stimulation, your breath gasping as your hands pinch into the meat of his shoulders. 
The sight of you coming undone before his eyes is enough to melt his mind. You lean forward this time, burying your head into his shoulder and letting your whole body go limp in his arms like a rag doll, giving in to sweet pleasure and just letting him have his way with you. 
When you cling to him, he immediately pulls his hand away from your heat and lifts you back up again to get better leverage. He pounds into you even harder, chasing that euphoric ending. You are completely at his mercy now, mercy which will never come. The sexual tension that has been building all day like the pressure of a tea kettle boiling some water has finally been released. And like that scalding hot water, Arthur’s lust burns you.
“Baby, I’m…I’m close…” he sputters, his forehead digging into your temple. You can’t even form coherent words to give him a reply. In fact, you couldn’t care any less about anything he is saying right now, only about what he is doing. 
Your climax is a tidal wave as your hands dig into his shoulder like the claws of a bobcat. The painful sensation of your fingernails cutting into his flesh is enough to push him over the edge as he quickly drops your legs, pulling himself out of you before his spend is sent hurling into the grass at your feet. Lightning clouds his vision as Arthur lets out a loud moan of release, not even bothering to try to hold anything back. His rough hands clasp the rough bark of the tree behind you, snapping pieces of it off in his palms as he braces himself for his own overstimulation.
As his large body comes down from its high, Arthur hangs his head, leaning it against your collarbone, his chest heaving for air. Your legs are shaking, trying to keep upright as you bring your hands up along the sides of his face, cupping his cheeks. Your thumbs begin to stroke his cheekbones to calm him and you press light kisses to his temple as you catch your own breath. 
He slowly pulls his face back to look into yours. Both of you are left speechless. That feral beast that drug you off into the woods to be devoured is no longer in front of you. The man you recognize and love oh-so deeply is back, that sweet grin on his lips. 
“What the hell was that?” you pant out in surprise.
“A man’s got needs,” he smirks with that devilish grin. “And I needed you.” He shakes his eyebrows suggestively at you as he kisses your still-trembling lips. 
“I guess so."
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rosemary-morgan · 8 months
Text
HC's - Making love with them includes... (+18!)
Warning: Nsfw 18+! Language, cum play, oral sex, erotic massages, chocking
Characters: Javier Escuella, Arthur Morgan and Charles Smith X Female Reader. Missing someone? Feel free to ask (❁´◡`❁)
Thanks to all who read and like my stories. Stay healthy and take care, my lovely bees 🐝🌺
Many thanks to @fangirl-ramblings 🖤 she has been beta reading for me 🌹
(Just the screenshots are mine)
Javier Escuella
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He is in a flirty mood all the time. Just like you. You both can hardly wait to be undisturbed. You need your peace and quiet, far away from the others, to give each other the love you need.
You have been a couple for three weeks now and you are madly in love. There is nothing as delightful for you as making love to Javier.
And you do it very often. But as already mentioned, you prefer your privacy.
Often you will retreat to a nearby town, where you will rent a hotel room to let your love run free. There you both can be as loud as you want; or rather, YOU can be as loud as you want.
Often, in the early morning hours when everyone is still asleep, you make love under the blankets. Quietly and secretly, Javier fucks you slowly and sensually.
⦁ Javier knows how to satisfy you and he knows what you like.
⦁ He loves to hear his name on your lips. He loves the sound of your voice as you lay whimpering before him and, by God, he loves to see your body tremble while he fucks you.
⦁ Also he enjoys whispering naughty words. His voice arouses you deeply, even more so when he whispers in your ear and nibbles on your earlobe.
⦁ You always take time to touch each other, kiss and enjoy the sight of each other.
⦁ Javier loves the feel of your soft skin, loves to feel your breasts on his body. The scent of your beautiful femininity.
⦁ Javier is very tender, makes sure you feel comfortable with him. But he also has a wild and passionate side that you can easily awaken. Then he can also get a little rough.
⦁ But there are also moments when you are getting wild. And that is when you have been separated for a while. Javier will tear your blouse off, rip it apart, and won't lose a moment to press his face into your tits, breathing in the scent of your skin. Whispering how much he desires you.
⦁ Oh, he loves to satisfy you with his tongue. The taste of your vagina, the sweet sound of your voice when you fall into ecstasy. Javier takes his time with it. Playing with your clit; sucking and licking it before entering deep into your wet hole and tounge-fucking you out of your mind.
⦁ But also he loves to receive as well. The sight of you kneeling in front of him, looking up at him while you have his cock in your mouth. Your plump, delicious tits pressing against his thighs...
He loves the way you play with his cock. Your fingers stroking his thick balls, massaging them, only to be taken in your mouth afterwards, greedily sucking them. Javier goes crazy every time you doing this, moaning loudly your name.
⦁ He is also into choking. Not too rough, but he grabs your throat during sex when he wants to increase the arousal; and you love it. And while he's chocking you, he's whispering things to you.
⦁ Things like, "Yo te quiero mucho" "You like the way I fuck your sweet little pussy, Y/N?" "You love it a little rougher, don't you? You're so naughty." And "When I'm done with you, I'm going to fuck you with my tongue. You like it, don't you? Oh, you sweet, sweet girl."
⦁ He loves to take you from behind. Your buttocks that wobble with every thrust. The smacking, wet sounds when his tight balls slap your pussy every time. 
⦁ And when you ride him, he enjoys the sight of your bouncing breasts. Your buttocks wobble with every thrust from him. The seductive sight when you roll your head back in pleasure and show off your gorgeous throat.
⦁ Loves to cover you with his sperm. 
⦁ Whether you kneel or lie in front of him, spreading his cum on your face or body will make him go crazy with lust!
⦁ And after your lovemaking, he will hold you in his arms, whispering loving things to you until you both fall asleep.
⦁ You will often find a rose next to your sleeping place in the morning, when Javier has to leave early for reasons.
Charles Smith
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King of foreplay. He takes a lot of time to please and satisfy you. You will come at least once, before you welcome him deep inside you.
⦁ Sometimes he also gives you a massage. He rubs your beautiful body with fragrant oils and he knows exactly which parts of the body he has to massage and caress extensively to arouse you.
⦁ The sight of your shimmering tits, covert with oil, makes his cock hard as stone.
⦁ And when he massages your pussy, he takes a long time. His fingers circle your clitoris while he looks into your eyes. You clearly see the fire, the passion in them. "How does that feel? Is that good, yes?"
⦁ Eventualy, it leads him to finger-fucking you. You get incredibly wet for him, every damn time.
⦁ Love to give oral sex. Charles takes his time and enjoys you to the fullest. Your scent is overwhelming and if it were up to him, he would lie between your thighs all night. You will often hear words like: "You smell wonderful" "Mhm, you taste so good, babygirl."
⦁ His lips and tongue will explore your whole body, every corner. Charles is very tender, very careful with you, like you're as fragile as flower petals.
⦁ You love the feel of his hands when he touches you, caresses you. And the tingling on your skin where he kisses you.
⦁ Making love with you is something very special and intimate for him. Therefore, he wants to be as far away from the others as possible.
⦁ You both go camping often, and love being in nature. It also often happens that you take a longer break of several days. And in these days, you love each other passionately.
⦁ During your lovemaking you smile a lot and words full of love leave your lips.
⦁ He prefers missionary, for he wants to look into your eyes while he fucks you. This is an intimate moment you share. But Charles also loves to have sex in a sitting position. Your wonderful legs wrapped around his strong hips, your heated, sweaty bodies tightly pressed together and your trembling fingers clawing at his long hair, while he kisses your throat, your round tits... just perfect.
⦁ You have a secret place by a river; where there is no human soul, you make love at the edge of the shore. Your naked and wet bodies shimmer under the sun and under the moon.
⦁ And there's something magical about embracing each other at night while the moon shines down on you and fireflies dance around you.
⦁ Charles often spreads flower petals on your cot or on your bed. Whether it's wildflowers or roses, it's a loving gesture that says a lot.
⦁ He washes you gently with lavender water afterwards, holds you in his arms afterwards. He holds you in his arms until you fall asleep. 
Arthur Morgan
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⦁ The two of you look at each other. Full of love, full of affection, holding hands and whispering words of love to each other.
⦁ He also prefers his privacy with you.
⦁ You would camp often in nature, where you can make love in your tent, protected from prying eyes.
⦁ Arthur takes his time to undress you, enjoying every moment with you. He praises your body, kisses and touches every corner with incredible tenderness. This alone arouses you so much that you get all wet for him.
⦁ The first thing he always does when you are naked is to make himself comfortable between your thighs.
⦁ He starts by kissing your inner thighs. Very slowly, agonizingly slowly, watching you very closely. Every twitch, every tremor from you he enjoys. But the most beautiful thing is to see the lust in your face.
⦁ Then, when his own lust grows to strong, he starts to eat you out like a pot of honey. He enjoys every drop. The scent of your femininity makes him crazy with lust. Arthur desires you so much.
⦁ He loves the feel of your delicate body on his manly, strong one. Your skin on his - it's heavenly.
⦁ Slow and sensual. Arthur is a pleasure seeker, but after a while the love making gets a little rougher and Arthur reaches for your body a little harder. 
⦁ He loves to press his face between your tits! It's pure pleasure for him to be able to feast on you. Greedily he takes them in his mouth, sucks on your nipple, while you claw at his hair and go for pleasure.
⦁ He also loves it when you grab his hair and pull it. Whether he's tongue-fucking you or sucking your tits, do it and he'll be yours for eternity.
⦁ He loves missionary position, for he wants to look you in the eyes while he loves you. Arthur wants to see how beautiful you are while feeling incredible pleasure.
⦁ Afterwards, he will hold you in his arms, words full of love will leave his lips. Always asking you for forgiveness, if he was too rough. 
⦁ But Arthur always takes good care of you, and lying in his arms gives you a wonderful feeling.
⦁ Sex in the kitchen is also not uncommon (depending where you live etc.) Desire often overcomes him when he sees you in, while you're making the coffee, or chopping fruit... and by God, he's going to fuck you really good from behind.
⦁ He lays you flat over the table, watching you moaning his name in pleasure. Enjoying the view every time his cock sinks deep into your pussy, his balls smacking against you... You're so wet for him...
⦁ Often he'll smack your ass, gripping it firmly.
⦁ And he is also into roleplaying - Usually he is the bounty hunter and you are his prisoner, completely at his mercy
⦁ You will often find him in the morning preparing some good breakfast for you
498 notes · View notes
chubbunnyy · 7 months
Text
soft sex with gentle m!dom arthur morgan :((
just imagine him coming home late at night and you’re just not feeling well and he can tell. he approaches you and hugs you from behind
“what’s a’matter, baby?” he’ll ask while pressing his lips to the top of your head
you squirm and then it clicks
“we haven’t uh…. in a while right?” he laughs sheepishly and helps you to your feet and brings you to the bedroom.
he’ll help you strip, praising your body the entire time
“so beautiful, baby… i missed seein’ you like this” he peppers soft kisses all over your soft belly as he slides your clothes off
soon enough he has you seated on his face, his hands digging into the fat of your thighs. your mouth is hanging open in pleasure as your fingers tangle in his hair. his tongue is working fast, nearly making you cum until he stops.
“if you’re gonna cum i want it on my cock” he says sternly before gently guiding you onto the bed.
you stare at his dick, it was hard and dripping pre. he needed you
he lays you down on your belly and gently gropes your ass “this okay, baby?” you nod and he continues
you feel his tip start to prod at your entrance which makes you shudder.
“love you s’much, darlin’… need you s’bad” he mumbles before slowly sliding inside you
he lets out a deep groan, his grip on your asscheek tightens almost painfully which makes you whine
“y’okay?” he stops and releases his grip, gently rubbing circles on your bare flesh. you nod, your fingers gripping the sheets. he smiles softly and continues.
he begins to thrust soft and slow, cooing in your ear as his painfully slow pace continues “doing so good, baby… my favourite girl…” you whine at his brutal pace which makes him chuckle
“you want me to speed up, huh?” he teases before pressing his lips to your neck softly. you whine louder “i know baby, i know. just let me…” he pulls out and flips you onto your back, pressing your legs up to your chest. your stomach folds as your thighs press into it. arthur wastes no time in reinserting himself into you.
you cry out as he reaches deeper parts of you. he can’t hold back anymore. his pace quickens, his hips snapping into yours
you don’t even remembering cumming all you remember is him groaning in pleasure “good girl…. such a good girl”
i am having intense cowboy brainrot mhehehe
(my reqs are open!! pls send some rdr2 stuff plsplspls)
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obsessivelullabies · 1 month
Note
bonjour again !
(i luved what you did for my last request 💗)
headcanons on arthur morgan falling face flat on the ground hard in love with the reader? how would he be around you? show his love? would he draw or write about you? jst a cute lil blurb idea on him confessing his feelings 💗🎀
(shy!fem!accent reader once again !!!💗)
Love, 🦢🎀
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arthur had already been having a shit day. he was frustrated and sore from his day. seeing you was exactly what he needed, he stared at you as he approached you slowly. the moment you turned to face him, he got nervous and tripped over a stupid rock.
he’d been shamed and embarrassed, yet when you helped him up sweetly, asking if he was ok, he felt good about his fall. his heart swelled as he glanced at your concerned face.
arthur would struggle to start a full conversation with you. he didn’t want to overwhelm you. he’d always try though. he never gave up on talking to you.
sometimes, he just lounges around wherever you are. so he can peacefully keep an eye on you.
arthur shows him love through gifts and acts of service. “i got ya’ this while i was away..” and “i got it, you stay.” are very common for him.
he’d most definitely write about you! he wouldn’t be too sappy, just noting little details about you and things you said. if he has the time, he’ll draw pictures of you, especially if he thinks you look extra pretty that day.
arthur confessing his feelings would be awkward. he’d find you alone and try his best asking you out. “hey, uh, i got some spare cash.. i was thinkin’ you and me go out.. do somethin’. just us.” would sum it up.
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aaa i’ll work on my cod requests soon i’m just rlly into rdr2 right now
masterlist! | reblogs and comments appreciated. | unedited.
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elfven-blog · 1 month
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Deals with the Devil ain't so bad
Summary: Arthur Morgan became the devil's bounty hunter...but god does he miss you fiercly. Ghost Rider!Arthur Morgan x F!Reader CW: MDNI, 18+ Only, p in v, fingers, forest/public, nearly caught, fingers, flames used during. Is this technically monster? Word count: 2.9K
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He remembers signing that contract like it was yesterday. Remembers how the wind felt against his breath as he looked at the sun rising, how he struggled to breath, the sound of his own raspy voice shaking as he took what should have been his last breath. How his lungs hurt, and his eyes watered from the realisation that this was it.
Then suddenly there was the man. He stood watching Arthur dying on that mountain, his hands wrapped on his cain and the silver skull glinted in the morning rays. His eyes were cold and his voice worse as he spoke “I can help you” was all he said. The outlaws' eyes flickering to the strange man. The corner of his mouth turned up as he watched the dying man give a small nod, his breaths starting to wheeze.
Echoes of his steps fall around the mountain as he bends at the knee, resting right next to Arthur “I won’t ask you to get up”. He unrolls paper, and places it on the ground next to the outlaw. Arthur see’s something shining in that pale man’s eyes, there’s something wrong with him. But Arthur’s greedy.
He wants another chance at life, he wants to right his wrongs, he wants to see you again. He’s a selfish man, he thinks as his hands struggle to grasp the paper, and he doesn’t even read the contract before he tries to sign his name. The man laughs as Arthur coughs and his blood splatters the page “That’ll do just fine Mr Morgan” and he takes the contract away from him, rolling it back up and sheathing it in a metal cylinder. “When you open your eyes next, you’ll be healthy as a horse”. The man grins before he’s gone, and Arthur’s eyes slipped shut.
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And now here he was a year down the line. The devil’s bounty hunter. He’d spent the past year collecting souls and returning them back to hell, never seeing you. He should never have taken that contract, he should have died that day on the mountain. You thought he had, Charles and John thought he had. Even set him up a nice little grave that he’d watched you visit time and time again over the year.
His heart yearned to be near you again, to feel your warmth and your softness beneath his fingers but he refused to let Mephisto know his weakness. So he spent his days wandering the west, the shire he’d gotten from Hosea had become his ride and he went everywhere with Arthur. 
Even right now, here he was in the small town you’d settled in, watching as you brought in the washing. Your head turning up to look at the sky causing your shoulders to sag when you saw the grey clouds hanging overhead. Arthur kept his hat down low so if you happened to look, you wouldn’t see that rugged outlaw you’d lost a year ago.
The rider stood there for a little longer watching you but his sadness quickly turned to jealousy, his gaze dropping from that aching to venom as he watched some man he’d never seen before riding up to your house. The stranger dismounting as he pressed flowers into your hand which you seemed to accept willingly. That smile you reserved only for him was present and all Arthur wanted in that moment was to drag that man down to hell.
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It was a few days later when he returned to you, and you were out tending to the small garden you’d managed to maintain. The sky had been clear for some time and he watched you worry your bottom lip between your teeth. You disappeared inside the door for a few seconds before coming back out with a basket, leaving the garden and turning down to walk through the trees that your property backed onto.
Arthur stood up straight, his hand shaking the cigarette and throwing it onto the ground once it was out. He pushed his hat slightly down as he began to walk after you. The outlaw watched you carefully, not showing himself just yet, and fooling himself that he was following you because the forest wasn’t safe. Who knows what was here, you needed that protection.
While he had taught you to use a gun some years ago, that didn’t mean you were any good at it. Least not better than him.
He followed you for a while, you hadn’t even noticed. More reason for him to be accurately worried. And he watched as you bent to pick more flowers, adding them to the already full basket. His brow furrowed as he finally took note of them, originally he thought the book you held was full of the information and pictures of them but now, as he looked closer, he noticed the familiar worn leather. His own journal.
You’d kept it. You’d kept it.
And that seemed to be what made him snap. Your head turning fast at the sound of someone stomping towards you. Hands forcing you to stand up, an arm wrapping around your waist and someone's mouth crashing to yours.. Teeth clashing against your own as your eyes widened and you tried to push this sudden figure off you. Anger filled your mind, until he pulled slightly away from you.
Your eyes still wide as you dropped the basket, shaky hands holding his face gently. One of your fingers gently tracing his face, mouth opening and shutting as you tried to speak.
It was Arthur who spoke first “I missed you darlin’” came that rough timber that you’d spent nights trying to replay in your mind “Missed ya somethin’ fierce”.
You were the one to kiss him this time, pulling him forward so quickly it knocked his hat back but he didn’t care as he kissed you back. Tongue pushing your lips apart so he could explore every inch of your mouth, you didn’t fight it like you normally would. His brow furrowed as he tasted something salty and opened his eyes to see you crying.
He pulled away again, shushing you gently as his thumbs brushed away the tears “I’m sorry, I know baby girl but I’m here now” you buried your face into his neck, breathing in the scent of him. Leather, gunpowder and sandalwood flooded your nose and it felt like you could breathe for the first time in a year. Your hands took the hat from his head completely so you could run your hands through his soft strands, looking up at him in wonder.
“You were gone” Arthur swore he could have fell to his knees right there with the way your voice cracked, he had never meant to cause such pain. Maybe taking that deal wasn’t such a bad thing, if it meant he could hold you like this, if he could hear that sweet melody of your voice.
“Let me make it up to ya” one of his hands slowly moved down from your waist to grab your ass, squeezing it tightly as his mouth crooks up into a grin and your cheeks go red at his insinuation. You try to stammer a reply but he just shushes you again “Come on girl, just lay here and look pretty, alrigh’?”
Those words are all it takes for him to quickly have you on the floor, hiking your skirts up over your waist and Arthur’s quickly pushing his trousers down. The gun belt is somewhere near his hat. His hands are as rough as you remember as he pushes your thighs open, his eyes dark at the sight between them “Hold” comes his gruff voice, and your hands immediately go under your knees to keep yourself held open for him.
The way his eyes watch you sends arousal thrumming through your body and your hole clenches around nothing causing the man above you to roll his neck and breath through his nose. His hands trace down the fat of your thighs before his thumb pushes against your clit and he slowly circles it “Missed me that much, sugar?”
You can only nod and grip your legs as he applies more pressure “I missed you so much Arthur” he leans down to kiss at your neck, your eyes fluttering and mouth dropping open as his teeth scrape against the skin. His fingers slide down your wet lips, gathering some of it before he gently pushes against your hole. Your body doesn’t deny the man entrance, he meets almost no resistance as he begins to move his fingers in and out, his thumb still rubbing at the sensitive nub.
“Then I won’t tease ya” he mumbles against the pulse in your throat, and you mewl in agreement. He stretches you gently, adding another finger and this causes you to gasp “S’okay darlin’ just been a while, gotta get you ready” your hand moves to the base of his hair, tanging in the strands and tugging to get his face to move up, pressing your lips to his again.
Your legs tremble in your own hold as his fingers press up against the soft spot inside you, the pressure on your clit and the way he kisses you until your breathless has your back arching. His mouth swallows all the sweet noises you give him. 
It doesn’t take long for the man to expertly bring you to that edge, it’s been so long since you felt like this. You’d tried to do it yourself once you’d thought you were done grieving but your own hand just hadn’t been enough. Oh but Arthur’s hand? It knew exactly where to stroke, how fast to go, the right amount of pressure to apply. “That’s it sweetheart, just like that. Such a good girl f’me”
And his words had you going over that edge, your fingers leaving marks on your own skin, your legs trying to close even as you held them open. Arthur’s eyes watching the way your hole tightened around his fingers, slick drooling down to the forest floor as your eyes fluttered shut and you could only whimper and whine at the feeling.
Arthur’s fingers left your cunt leaving you to whine as he shushes you, his hands making quick work to pull his trousers half way down his thighs, enough to bring his cock out of his underwear. The fabric pressed just under his balls. Your eyes gravitated there, tracing the hard dick he sported. 
You couldn’t tear your gaze away, his own hand barely able to wrap around it as he pumped a few times, his head tipping back with a groan and his cock jumped at the action. Arthur stroked the head against your folds, the precum oozing from the slit and coating your pussy as he gathered the wetness. You pouted up at him, trying to roll your hips up against him and Arthur raised an eyebrow.
His free hand moving to pin your body down as he threatened “Have I gotta crush you to floor, girl?” his tone let you know not to do that again, and your entire body relaxed against the leaves and sticks as he finally pushed into your hole. A gasp leaving you, and he stilled with just the tip inside as he let you get used to the feeling again.
Both of you tensed at the sound of your name being yelled through the forest, seeming to echo as someone called your name and suddenly Arthur’s loving exterior was gone. Your hands let go of your legs and you sat up to push him off you “Oh oh, we got to stop” but the outlaw only pushed you back to the floor, his body weight on you as he pushed the rest of his cock inside you.
“We ain’t gotta do nothing. You gotta lay here and take it” Your eyes widened, you’d never seen him like this before, but as Arthur started to buck his hips up against you, you could only do as he said. Your arms wrapping around his shoulders and clinging to the back of his jacket, his own hands gripping your thighs this time to keep them open. His fingers dimpling the fat as he almost seemed in a frenzy to fuck you.
You couldn’t see his face, but you heard the grunts and growls as his hips humped at you, his cock stretching you out over and over as he used your cunt. The yelling of your name got louder before fading away, the person walking in a different direction “He couldn’t do ya ike this, nah, he aint the type to give you what ya need darlin’”. You had no idea what he was talking about, brow furrowing but you couldn’t focus on one single thought. Not with the way his fingers bruising your thighs as the head bruised your cervix.
And then, all of a sudden, you felt very hot. Your eyes shot open as you watched flames engulf Arthur. His hands burning at your skin and as you looked down all you saw were bones gripping at your thighs “W-what?” you whispered out, your body tensing and Arthur froze too.
His mind went blank as he realised what had happened, and he stammered and stuttered as he tried to think of something to say “Darlin’ I, well, er” Your hand moved to touch the skeleton fingers, and they seemed to change back into his own fingers. And then you realised the flames didn’t really hurt. They were just hot.
Arthur’s eyes widened as he felt your hole clench around him, and it caused him to groan as he thrust into you again. Calming enough that he could morph back into your loving cowboy, his hands gripping your thighs again as he set back into his brutal “Ya like that, dont ya, sugar?” his voice dripped in arousal as he continued the assault on your cunt. This time his touch was accompanied with the flames you seemed to find fascinating. He watched you nod up at him, that devious grin charming up his face.
He brought one of his hands up to your corset, setting it on fire and you gasped as it turned to ash, blowing away in the wind. Mouth going dry as he teased at your hardened nipple, the flame licking at the bud but never burning you. And your hips rolled up forcing more of his cock into you, and your back arched pressing his hand against your breast again. “yeah you like it” came his deep timbre again.
With the added touch of his flames against your skin now, it was easy to get you back into that syrupy head space allowing Arthur to fuck you against the forest floor as he humped into your cunt, his cock dragging along your g-spot in the most delicious way. His words slipping into your ears as he brought you closer and closer to that edge again, his hand making it’s way down your body, burning the pieces of clothing that stopped its path before it could press against your clit.
Your entire body thrummed as he applied some of that heat while he circled your clit, your cunt starting to ache from how he used you and a whimper leaving your mouth as you soaked the floor and Arthur’s pants. He pressed closer to you until you could feel his shirt against your face, his hips keeping your legs apart while his hands moved to grab at the floor. Trying to keep himself grounded as he slowed down his pace “Fuck darlin’!” his voice rang out as you came undone around him.
His eyes rolling as his cock twitched, hot ropes of cum painting your walls white and he stayed as close as possible as his hips rolled and pressed you into the floor. His hands grasped around dirt and leaves as he filled you. “Forgot how good that feels” the outlaws voice was a raspy pant as he breathed heavily above you.
And you both stayed there for a few minutes, until his cock had softened inside you and he pulled out slowly, his hands soothing at your thighs while he shushed you. Your body tensing at the ache between your thighs, and little whimpers left you as he pulled out “I know, I know, ‘m sorry” came the once again gentle Arthur. The one you knew.
As you slowly blinked, trying to gain control over your breathing again, you moved your hand to touch his face. Brow furrowing as you tried to make sense of what you had seen. Not only was the man you loved back from the dead…but he seemed to be some kind of fire skeleton. Confusion swarmed your mind.
The rough man pressed a kiss to your palm, his hand moving to take your own off his face as he gave you a shy smile, his gaze full of concern and something else. Something that seemed awfully similar to that look when he was self-conscious all those years ago “I can explain”
You nodded up at him, looking at him expectedly as he began to explain what had happened. And while it didn’t all make sense to you, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was you had Arthut back. Whether he was tethered to this ‘Ghost Rider’ demon or not.
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cloudynoiire · 3 months
Text
Abstinence
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Forbidden love with a happy ending. This has not been proof read in its entirety!
rating: nsfw ending / word count: 11k / fem reader
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     "No!" Hosea scolded for the last time that afternoon, putting an end to your quarrel. A quarrel that had taken place time and time again, on the subject of you and Arthur.
You'd fallen hard for the outlaw, for his rugged charm and quick wit. But also for the simpler things, like the way his golden hair fell in his face while he scribbled in his journal, or the little scar on his chin you'd always wondered but never pried about how he'd obtained. He'd fallen for you too, albeit very slowly, but surely.
He loved the calm you brought upon him whenever he was in your company, and the little butterflies he felt when you shared a glance from across camp; something he was almost sure he would never have the privilege of feeling again.
Something he'd told himself he'd never allow himself to feel again.
He'd found over the years of living together that you completed him, as much as it scared him to admit. At first he believed it to be simply a wonderful friendship with the way you clicked so well, the way you'd wait up for him into the late hours of the night, refusing to sleep until he returned safe from his travels, and the conversations you'd have into the early hours of the morning as a result. But it didn't take long for him to realize that you did that out of love; a love above one shared between close friends. And it didn't take him too long after that to understand that, despite the idea making his stomach twist, deep down he wanted to be more to you too. It just took him a long time to admit it to himself.
You complemented eachother perfectly. Where Arthur lacked in confidence you were there to pick him and his spirits right back up, and where you lacked in experience he was there to show you the right way. It was a match made in heaven, as the saying goes, but for your father Hosea, it was the last thing he ever wanted to be informed of. That his daughter was sweet on an outlaw. He wanted better for you than a life of crime, for he'd raised you better, or at least he'd sure tried to after Bessie's passing.
He wanted you to eventually leave the gang and make a life for yourself, where you wouldn't have to live in constant fear of having possibly everything you knew and loved taken away from you in an instant because of your ties.
But here you were, despite his warnings, still swooning over the very outlaw he'd tried to forbid you months ago from being anything other than friends with. The very outlaw who would hold you back and keep you in this dangerous way of life. Who would sully your name were you to be exposed with him to the outside world. The very outlaw who could cost you your future, or even your life.
"I can't let you just throw your life away!" Hosea turned his back to you and the table that separated you in the dusty Shady Belle room, his fingers squeezing the bridge of his nose. "And by being with Arthur, you're doing just that."
You turned your nose up at his comment while his back was turned. He'd had the first talk with you about Arthur around three months ago, and for three months you'd continued to pursue the outlaw despite Hosea's disapproval, continued to learn about him, and you only loved him more for doing so.
"It's our own fault that we're here. We know that." He turned back to you with a sigh. "Yes you were born to outlaws, and yes, this way of life is the only one you've ever known," he paused, "but that doesn't mean that you have to follow in our footsteps and make the same stupid mistakes that we did to get ourselves here." He huffed, his blood starting to heat ever so slightly. "Is this the life you want? Constantly looking over your shoulder? Constantly in fear of the ones you love being captured or hurt? Because you're headed straight down that path."
You pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down quietly, studying his face for a few seconds before you spoke up.
"That's precisely it, Pa. This is all I've known for all my years, so why would I want to leave behind the only routine, and the only people that I know?" Your voice grew quieter as the emotions started to rise. "I know you think that sending me away is what's best, but doing so nowadays is as good as throwing me in jail yourself. We may think that the law doesn't know my name, that they don't know my face or the people I'm tied to," you leaned backwards against the chair, a sigh escaping you. "But we've been wrong before, Pa. Oh, so wrong. We're too large a gang nowadays, and too conspicuous. They have an eye a lot closer on us than we think."
Hosea sighed back, knowing the point you made was uncomfortably true.
"This is where I belong, with or without Arthur." You tried a smile. "If you want me safe, keep me here, under the protection of those who care." Hosea pulled out a chair himself and sat, propping his elbows on the table, head in his hands now. "I just don't want you to spend the rest of your life like this, (y/n), because we're not living. We're surviving, and I want more for you than just surviving."
You dropped your eyes to the floor. You didn't truly understand the privilege that you had, the privilege of living over surviving. Your entire life you'd been tucked away safe and sheltered from the outside world, so that if the day came where you did want to leave, you'd have a better chance at going unrecognized.
But your father's comment had you perplexed. The only thoughts that most of your family had were about food, or ammo and protection, and those thoughts were so far from your own. Your mind was consumed with all things positive; joy, love, support, the list could go on. To you, you were living. Having such a beautiful relationship with Arthur made you feel that the life you lead was so much more than just the dangers and the worries the gang were faced with.
But of course, you weren't the one hunting. You weren't the one searching for leads and coming home with either a big bag of cash or on a mediocre day a few bullet wounds. You dreaded to imagine a bad day. You'd had everything that you needed delivered to camp and around the clock protection. You just didn't understand the privilege.
But your life was exciting with Arthur and you didn't want to change that for the dangers of being alone in the outside world. You had no idea what it was like to be part of society, part of those who actually followed the rules. Just like you had no idea whether the Pinkertons were watching and would take the first opportunity they had to grab you and take you in for questioning. That was, if they didn't just hang you that same day in an attempt to intimidate the gang into turning themselves in.
You'd much rather face the dangers as part of the gang, and you'd much rather face them with Arthur at your side. You just didn't see things the way your father did. And sadly, he didn't see them your way either.
"I'll just never forgive myself if you end up like us," Hosea spoke softly now, leaning back with a shake of his head, almost as though he was in denial about the fact that you already had. "Arthur will never change. He'll never get out. And seeing him is a sure fire way of ending up stuck like us. Like us, or worse," he rubbed a hand over his face in despair.
"You could end up six feet under."
"I could end up suspended six feet off the ground if you send me out there, too. And if I'm to die, I'd much rather do it here." You were well aware of the risks that came with being with Arthur, but they were no scarier than those presented by society. You never asked to go out on jobs, you never put yourself in the line of fire. If you did you'd understand and maybe appreciate your father's lectures more, but the risks truly felt as though they'd never happen to you, and if they did, at least you'd go happy.
"Listen, your mother," Hosea paused again, longer this time. "Bringing her into my world was the biggest mistake of my life, and I'd give anything to go back, to stay away from all of this for good."
You didn't really remember Bessie. She'd passed when you were young; wrong place at the wrong time. A bullet not meant for her, but for Hosea who afterwards was drunk for a year, or so you'd been told a few times. Your memories were truly hazy, but maybe that was due to the fact that Ms Grimshaw had stepped up and raised you for that year Hosea was unable to. She'd been the mother figure you were robbed of and protected you from the outside world. Or maybe your mind had just erased those memories, to keep you safe from the trauma.
Hosea reached for your hand, which you gently placed in his with a feeble, empathetic smile. "Arthur knew Bessie," he looked at your hand in his, before returning to your glistening eyes. "I'd like to think that he understands the risk of loving someone when in his line of work. To think he'd be responsible enough to put some distance between the two of you, before something inevitably happens to one of you."
Hosea released your hand after a moment's silence and stood, asking you with a flick of his head to follow. He guided you towards the front door of the manor; you both needed some air now, as heavy and humid as it was in Lemoyne. "I buried Bessie," he spoke, with a tinge of emotion in his voice he tried his best to keep at bay. "I'll be damned if I'm to bury my own daughter too."
You sniffled, the thought of your father going through so much pain, pained you.
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," you took a deep breath of air as you stood on the front steps of the manor. "But if it does, at least you'll have some closure when burying Arthur, too."
Hosea chuckled slightly, but his stern look swiftly returned. "There is no 'let's hope', my dear." He sighed. "I can't have you seeing Arthur and that's just that. After all this, after your mother, I was hoping you'd see that clearly."
Your stomach flipped, you thought you'd somehow managed to evade the subject or even change his mind. Alas, Hosea's only goal was to persuade you to part ways with Arthur, and he'd just circled back to it. "I've nothing against Arthur." Hosea looked at you with compassion. "I've known him just as long as I've known you, and he's about as good as it gets, I'll admit." He took a step down, giving you some space. "But he's just not worth the risk of you losing your life, or me losing the best part of mine."
You were lost for any civil words. Those that sprung to mind were far too angry. Of all the talks you'd had, you felt as thought this one might've been the one to sway Hosea.
But of course not.
You felt betrayed, but you weren't about to make a scene for everyone at camp. You didn't reply, and Hosea knew of everything that you were hiding behind your silence. "For your mother's sake," he tried a final time to get his point across, though only adding extra salt to the wound, "make the right choice."
He stepped away and headed for Dutch's tent, probably to relay to him that you believed you were all being closely watched by the law. No doubt Dutch would have some sort of feeling about that, and would surely make life a little difficult for you one way or another for having so little faith in him. Probably what you deserved anyway in the eyes of your father, for making such a wrong call and continuing to see Arthur. And if you were occupied with jobs all day, you'd be too tired to wait up into the night for him. He probably hoped that if he broke your routine, eventually you'd grow apart.
But despite your anger, your heart broke a little at the thought of him not knowing that you'd already chosen to betray his wishes, and you always would. He only had your best interests at heart.
You'd been raised to be trustworthy, and in a gang that was built on trust, you did your best to respect it. So, maybe ending your relationship with Arthur was on the cards after all.
With a deep, anxious sigh, you stepped down into the courtyard and headed over to the gazebo where you'd left a book earlier that day. You rubbed your face as you sat down and kept your hands there momentarily, so many thoughts and feelings rushing through your mind. You looked over the swamps at the alligators that just breached the water's surface. At this very moment in time, you almost wished to fling yourself in.
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It was late evening by the time Arthur returned, tired from his travels but never too tired to find you.
You'd moved from the cold concrete of the gazebo to the warmth of the main campfire. John was there to keep you company, whittling what you weren't quite sure. The thin wood shavings floated down into the fire, some barely even touching it before they caught alight and flickered back up into the night sky. Javier was there too, strumming quietly on his guitar, but no singing tonight.
"It's so late," you remarked as Arthur came to sit beside you, "I was starting to worry."
"You needn't worry about me darlin," he smiled softly, placing a gentle hand on your knee under which your muscle tensed and you all but pulled away.
His eyes were nothing short of confused, concerned even, and yours told him that maybe he in turn did have something to worry about. "I'd like to talk to you," you hummed, trying not to make it sounds like it was one of those talks in front of the other boys. "I spoke with my father again today but, we'll do this later, with a little more privacy."
Arthur only nodded, lost for words for what you'd sprung upon him. It certainly wasn't what he wanted to hear after a long day away from you.
"Now, you must be starving," you jumped to your feet with the aim to change the mood. "Let me get you some food, then you can tell us all about what kept you away from us for so long." He nodded again, only this time he managed an "of course."
After a good bowl of stew and stories of his travels between the sweet melodies of Javier's guitar, you wished both him and John goodnight before you stepped away with Arthur. You led him back to the gazebo, where you sat him down on the now rather cold cut out bench with you and took in the song of the bayou by night, before breaking the news.
Of course, Arthur was no stranger to these talks your father had been having with you. They'd happened at least once a month since you'd announced your relationship a few months ago. He was no stranger to the feeling of inferiority in the eyes of his in-laws. But to feel it coming from Hosea? He'd be lying if that didn't hurt him a little more than it had with others before him.
"So," he started, hesitation in his voice. "What is it this time?"
You shrugged and turned to him, a hand on his forearm now. "The same as it's always been, Arthur," you sighed. "He just doesn't agree with us being an item. He thinks you're putting my life in danger. Or, more so than it already is."
Arthur respected Hosea, respected his decisions and choices, always had. He understood the reasons for Hosea's disapproval. And despite always having been loyal to Hosea, parting ways with you was one request that Arthur just wouldn't fulfill. He hadn't felt love both from him and for him in what felt like an eternity, and he'd be an absolute fool to let that go.
"So what are we to do?" He paused, studying your face for any sort of answer. There was a moment of silence, though not uncomfortable. It was more a moment to think over your next words.
"I've been going over this for a while," you started, "ever since our first talks really, both with my father and you. At first I thought, maybe he was right. Maybe we should end it before it went too far, before we got too involved and one of us got hurt."
You let out a somber sigh, squeezing his forearm as he came to rest his hand on yours. "But I've grown far too close to you to ruin what could one day be something truly beautiful. A little house with some livestock. A family of our own, with none of the fears we live with now. That's something I want with you, Arthur. I picture it so vividly."
Arthur smiled shyly at your comment. The feeling was mutual, of course, but he knew that the gang would never truly stop running in a world that was hunting down their kind. He knew that if he one day had the opportunity to whisk you away and try for a fresh start in a new place, you'd still be hunted.
In the changing world, outlaw dreams like these were only ever to be just that; dreams.
"Well," he spoke quietly, moving his hand to cup your cheek. "You do paint quite the picture, and I sure ain't gonna just let the chance of having that slip away." His thumb caressed your skin, a flicker of sadness in his heart both at your naïveté and that he'd gone along with your fantasy. He just didn't have the heart to ruin it.
"Unless o' course, for Hosea's sake you want me to." He moved back to his original spot. "You and your feelings mean more to me than any other 'round here."
You tutted, your brow slightly furrowed at him. "No, Arthur. Listen." You took a quick look over to Dutch's tent where Hosea sat, chatting away. A quiet sigh escaped you.
"I hate to go behind my father's back, Arthur, I really do. And this sounds like something out of one of those silly romance novels I have but.. that's because it is. It's my last resort."
You expected Arthur to laugh, but he didn't.
"In the one I'm reading, I can't help but see.. us." You met his gaze before dropping it to your hands. "Star-crossed lovers, who meet every night beneath the tallest tree that shelters them from prying eyes. And while I don't think that we should play it out word for word, I do think that we should take a page out of their book, so to speak."
Arthur dropped his eyes to your hand, small and delicate against his forearm. "Keep us a secret?" He all but whispered.
You nodded, bringing his eyes back to yours. Arthur knew that you hated going against the rules, and even more so lying and manipulating an unfortunate soul to get your way. But this act only showed that you were in it for the long run, and after past relationships he'd had, a little reassurance about that went a long way.
"We go about our days as usual, only we limit our interactions, act a little sad, or avoidant, even. By night we'll meet up somewhere. Spend our evenings as we usually do, just, after everyone has turned in. Or at the very least my father, and Dutch." You smiled softly. "We both know that the others don't have a problem, nor will they care to relay what we're doing."
Arthur hummed in agreement, a slight chuckle escaping him. "Most probably won't even notice a change. They all have their own problems to worry about."
You smiled in return, he was right.
"So, how will I know where to find you?" He almost tilted his head. You chuckled, now it really did sound like those forbidden love novels you read.
"We haven't been forbidden to be in eachother's company." You took his hand in yours, your thumb tracing gently over a small new wound he'd acquired from his last outing. "The way I see it, we can still be around eachother, and we can still talk. But we have to seem distant from eachother. At least for a few days. And I'll be distant from my father, too. Hopefully sooner than later he'll come around. I hate that I'll be hurting him, but, I know that he won't be able to live with his daughter giving him the cold shoulder. It's the only way."
Arthur sighed, wishing that you didn't have to do such a thing. Hosea knew that he was good, that he'd let no harm come to you. He could let you both at least try before outright forbidding it. It all felt so strange, like Hosea was trying to reduce the two of you to mere children, incapable of looking after yourselves. It didn't help that you were going to be sneaking around like teenagers now, either.
"Alright," he mumbled, rubbing the stubble on his chin.
"I know it's not ideal," you smiled understandingly. "Frankly it makes me feel a little silly too. But I'd rather do this for a few days and have my father come around to the idea of us, instead of him continuing to disapprove and us being in this uncomfortable situation for the foreseeable."
Arthur only hummed, but it was all you needed.
"Now we should turn in, you must be exhausted." He nodded, a yawn creeping up on him at the mention of sleep. "I am."
You both rose to your feet, your fingers now intertwined for what felt like would be the last time in a long while, before making your way down the gazebo steps under the cover of darkness.
You said your goodnights and shared a tender kiss, before heading to your respective rooms as you always did. You'd never shared a room with Arthur, nor a tent. Not even a bed in the time you'd been together. You felt bad enough for just being with him against your father's wishes, but to be intimate with him on top of everything? Now that felt like a step too far.
Of course, you wanted to be. You both did. But Arthur understood, you didn't want to go that far until you got your father's blessing. And if he was honest with himself, he wasn't quite sure he wanted to be physical until getting a blessing either. He respected Hosea just too much to do such a thing.
And besides, when that day came it would only make it all the more special.
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You rose early the next morning. You wanted to get out and away from everyone, to give an air of sorrow.
Arthur was already gone, his horse the only one missing from camp at such an hour. Oh how you wished he'd calm down, settle a bit. He'd sure earned a break for all the years of work he'd done. Hell, there were so many other men in camp who could give him a day's rest, but you knew he wasn't able to without receiving an earful from Dutch.
You sighed as you made your way to the little cabin a short walk from the manor. You didn't want to go further than screaming distance for the many gators that called the swamps home, but it was far enough to hear no noise from camp.
You'd brought that one book with you, one of your favorite things to do was read the hours away, and what better way to fill the necessary lack of socialization for effect and lack of attention from Arthur than by picking up where you'd left off on the star-crossed lovers. You sat on the river side of the cabin with your back up against the wall, hidden from the first morning rays. The air was already humid enough to keep you at a nice temperature.
With the warmth awoke the smaller creatures like the frogs and toads. You heard them jumping into the murky water here and there, escaping the hungry eyes of the early rising birds.
With a deep intake of the heavy air, you opened your book to the chapter you'd left on, but kept a wary eye on the riverbank, just in case a gator had you on its breakfast menu.
Before you knew it an hour had passed, maybe even two, and you were brought back to reality when you turned your gaze to see none other than Hosea, making his way over to you. "I thought that I'd find you here," he greeted gently, not too sure how you'd ended things with Arthur, if you had at all, and therefore how to approach the situation.
"Good morning," you turned your attention back to your book and your finger on the line you'd last read.
"I brought you coffee," Hosea cooed, extending his arm down to you. "Oh," you tried a smile, "thank you."
Hosea wasn't quite sure what he was expecting, but you being so quiet and distant from him wasn't it. He hated your silence more than anything. To him, having you kicking and screaming would be preferable. At least then he'd be able to just hold you for consolation. But this was something he wasn't sure how to tackle.
He'd never wanted to hurt you or break the bond you shared, but he was starting to feel like maybe he'd done just that, only by trying to keep you safe.
"I came to talk," he started, standing a little way off from where you sat. "I know that it isn't what you wanted," he paused with a sigh, "and truthfully it's not what I wanted, either. What I want is for my family to be happy. Safe, and happy. But I just don't see any way for you to be both if you're romantically involved with Arthur."
Silence fell upon you, your unwillingness to respond and the lack of knowing what to say on Hosea's part made it rather awkward.
"But I can tell that my peace offering wasn't as effective as I was hoping," he shrugged, "so I won't bother you any further." His voice was quiet, upset. "Just, please don't hold it against me for wanting you safe above all else. It's a father's duty, and I owe it to your mother."
The last part struck a nerve, and your eyes teared up in pure guilt as he walked away. You weren't sure if you were going to be able to go through with this, outright lying to your father and giving him the silent treatment. You shook the thought off and returned to your book, listening to Hosea's steps as they trailed further and further away with the urge to call out to him and tell the truth.
You spent another hour reading and taking sips of your coffee, trying your best to keep your mind away from the wrong you were doing, but you could only read so much and needed a change of scenery. You headed back towards camp without the usual spring in your step, and made your way to the other girls who'd only just risen.
"Morning," you smiled feebly, walking straight past them and grabbing a few clothes that needed repairs.
"What's got you so glum?" Karen questioned through a yawn as she tried to resist having just five more minutes of shut-eye. "Oh, nothing," you shrugged, sitting beside them on their wooden pallet to get started on patching. "I just didn't sleep too well, too much on my mind." The girls shared your feelings, they'd all been struggling to sleep since the move to Shady Belle, but you could tell they weren't quite buying that a lack of sleep was the only reason for your melancholy.
You tutted at them, they'd grown too good at reading you.
"It's just the same old story, I won't bore you with it again." You tried a chuckle.
The girls had heard this all before, and each time it'd ended up the same; you stayed together and defied your father, so they were sure this wouldn't be any different.
Karen chuckled and went to stand up. "If you ask me, you're old enough now to make your own decisions. None of us had our parents around to tell us right from wrong but we all turned out great."
You sighed through a smile as you moved to the next tear that needed patching.
"I know," you spoke quietly, taking a break from your sewing, your hand falling to your lap. "I'm not a child anymore, and my father knows that. I think it's something he just doesn't want to come to terms with."
The girls just listened, wondering whether what you were going to say next was what they were hoping for. "So he's getting the silent treatment until he comes around. Until he realizes that it's better for him to have me with Arthur than not have me at all."
And it was.
They hated seeing you upset over this, over something that shouldn't be under anyone else's control, and they were glad that you were finally putting your foot down.
"And?" Tilly drawled, wrapping her fingers around her first cup of coffee. "And, well," you lowered your voice, "we've.. faked a split. An act, until my father comes to his senses. We're going to meet only by night, for now."
The girls all smiled, of course you would meet in secret.
"Oh," Mary-Beth sighed longingly, "secret midnight rendez-vous? You only read of those in books."
You chuckled, placing your first finished garment to the side. "Please keep your voices down, my father can't know about this. It would break his heart beyond repair."
You got a nod from all of them before they went about their mornings as usual, only to eventually join you back for a little group sewing. But you didn't have much more to do yourself, so you were quite happy just keeping them company and listening to all the new gossip.
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     The rest of your day consisted of avoiding others, more reading, cursing the bayou for it's sweltering humidity, and waiting for Arthur to return to camp and spend as much time with you under the cover of night as you felt you could.
The next few days were exactly the same; avoiding, reading, cursing, and more waiting for the cover of evening to spend some time with your beloved.
As the days passed your father tried to talk to you. He tried to repair the bond he now was sure he'd broken for good, but it seemed all in vain. You were truly too heartbroken to want to talk to him and it was all his fault, or so you made it seem to keep up your little charade.
You were sat with Arthur on yet another warm night, behind the cabin where you'd found yourself a few days ago, hidden from prying eyes.
"How long do we have to keep doing this?" Arthur drawled, cigarette between his lips. You sighed deeply, wondering whether the time had come for a change of plan.
Humming quietly, you placed a hand on his thigh. "We shouldn't keep doing this. My silence is hurting my father too much. He doesn't deserve this treatment, no matter what his views on us are." You paused for a moment, your heart heavy. "I've been eating less, my sleep is worse than usual, and it's all because of this.. game we're playing."
You folded the corner of the page you were reading and closed your book gently. "And if I may be honest, being confined to a hiding spot together for an hour or two a night isn't how I want to spend my time with you."
Arthur looked over at you with concern, not sure whether this was breakup talk or not.
"I want to be free to be with you wherever I want, and in the presence of whoever I want," you squeezed his thigh reassuringly. "So I say that tomorrow we confront my father. Tell him it's us together, or neither of us at all. I know he's having a hard time now that him and I aren't speaking, and as terrible as I feel to use that against him, I think it's better than continuing this awful lie."
Arthur took a drag, holding the smoke for only a moment before letting it escape him. "You know I ain't too good at talking to in-laws."
You chuckled quietly, moving your hand back to your own lap. "You've known Hosea for far too long to see him as a real threat, Arthur. And I think I'll have more of a chance of success if you're there with me."
Arthur didn't reply, it was as though he was lost in thoughts of his past. Just Mary and the disapproval from her father all over again.
"He isn't like that," you turned to him and settled on your knees, taking his face in your hands. "You know he isn't. You know my father won't be unkind to you. He loves you. He just disapproves of our lifestyle, and at the moment there's nothing we can do to change that. So," you rubbed a thumb tenderly over his cheek, "he either has to accept that, or accept that his only daughter and the man he's counted on for two decades won't speak to him again."
Arthur knew you were right, but he was still hesitant. He'd heard similar to this before and it hadn't gone well that time.
"Why don't you sleep on it?" You smiled softly. "Just, please let me know in the morning, before you set off."
He hummed as you planted a tender kiss on his forehead, a move you knew would sway him if your words hadn't already. "I'll see you bright and early then. Goodnight, Arthur."
You rose to your feet with a tired groan, now looking forward to sleep and the new day.
"G'night darlin," he cooed, taking another drag and a long, uneasy exhale as he released the smoke into the night. With that you returned to your room and settled down to rest, only closing your eyes and fully relaxing once you heard him walk by to his own, just a few minutes behind.
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     You scrunched your nose up at the first morning rays coming through the cracked glass of your room's windows, your skin tingling at the newly found warmth.
It'd been a while since you'd slept well, and last night was no exception. You cleared your throat and turned over, using your shoulder to block as much light as you could. It was just too early for you to feel like socializing, and either way you had to wait for Arthur. You hoped he'd show.
You turned over as you came to again, an hour or so later you assumed, not opening your eyes for the nap you'd just taken had made them more stingy and sensitive to light than they had been the first time you opened them. You lied there on your side for a while, listening to the quiet sounds of the wildlife around you and the clattering of mugs and Pearson's pots and pans as camp started to wake up, too.
Turning over again, your cot rather uncomfortable this morning, you clocked the sound of footsteps and the jingle of spurs making their way across the landing that separated the rooms. The gait was all too familiar to you, and you greeted Arthur with a sleepy smile as he quietly entered your door.
"I was hoping not to disturb you," he mumbled, closing it behind himself and standing there momentarily.
"You didn't wake me," you hummed and settled back down onto your side as you watched him sleepily with one eye, barely open. He made his way to the chair not too far from your bed, and his hat came off and rested in his lap as he sat down and gathered his thoughts.
Unbeknownst to you, his eyes slowly took in every inch of your body as the morning rays danced across your skin. It wasn't his first time seeing you in so little clothing, but to anyone who could sense his heartbeat they'd sure think it was. Though, behind the tinge of desire that was cause of his raised heart rate, he was more in awe at the woman who lay before him. He still couldn't quite believe that someone so beautiful had actually chosen him. You looked so perfect, so peaceful.
"I'll be back early afternoon," he spoke softly, shifting in his seat with the same unease as he had the night before.
"Thank you, Arthur." You smiled through a relieved sigh, sleep starting to creep up on you again now that the anxiety had shifted.
He hummed and you heard him stand and take a step towards you. His fingers carefully graced your skin, brushing the hair from your temple to make way for a tender kiss he left in its place.
"Be safe," you spoke sleepily, only just above a whisper.
"I always am," you could hear his soft smile through his tone. "You get some more rest now."
He gave one last gentle caress to your temple before he moved to pull your blanket up over your legs. It wasn't cold, it never was in the bayou. It was more to prevent others from somehow seeing you. This view, the few clothes you wore, were for his eyes only, and he'd be damned if he were to let prying eyes see more of you before he'd had the privilege of doing so himself.
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      Arthur returned in the early afternoon just as he'd promised you he would.
You'd had a knot in your stomach ever since you'd actually got up; you hadn't been able to eat any breakfast or do much patching for the shaking of your hands, and you linked it to the anxiety at the thought of him maybe deciding not to show after all.
You knew he'd never betray you in such a way, you knew he'd never lie. But seeing his horse walk back into camp immediately untied the knot and loosened any tension you'd been stuck with for the last six hours or so.
You felt a little bad for doubting him.
His first thought after turning his horse out to graze was you. You could see him from where you sat, alongside the cabin with a book as usual. You'd made your way there after you'd had to take a break from chores due to the shaking, and you'd been sat there for longer than you realized.
He eyes searched for you while he walked down the path into the courtyard, his entire body relaxing when he noticed you at your usual spot. But with a slight wave in your direction, he turned towards Dutch's tent with a sense of urgency.
You knew he'd been out looking for leads this morning, as he did pretty much every morning, but his demeanor was different than usual which only caused the knot in your stomach to return. You truly hoped that he only had good news; perhaps rich pickings to be had from a nearby O'Driscoll camp, or a legendary animal whose hide or pelt would sell for a pretty penny. You'd heard talk of an alligator at least two wagons long in length, with white scales that shone brightly in the moonlight. You were sure something like that could bring in some real cash, and probably feed camp for weeks, though, the thought of eating such a creature made you feel a little queasy.
It probably wasn't even real anyway, but dwelling on that thought made you stand and back away from the water.
Arthur soon made his way over to you with less urgency in his step now, cigarette between his lips and a soft smile to go with it. "You're in a good mood," you chuckled as he came to a halt beside you, swiping a match across the sole of his boot and leaning his shoulder against the cabin for a first drag. "How was your ride out?"
"Not too bad," he took a drag from his newly lit cigarette, "got wind of a score."
"A score?" You almost gasped, it was certainly more than you were expecting. "What kind of score?" Arthur just shrugged nonchalantly, clearly proud of himself for finding the information but trying to play it cool. "A riverboat," he took another drag, "a poker game, on a riverboat."
Your heart sank twice as much as it'd jumped at his first announcement.
"A riverboat? Oh, Arthur," you sighed, clutching your book to your chest. "Wasn't Blackwater lesson enough?" Arthur just shrugged again and took another drag, offering the cigarette to you which you politely declined, despite the need for a pick me up after everything you'd been through today already. And you still had the talk to deal with.
"Blackwater wasn't my idea," he grumbled, "this time we'll do it right."
You shook your head at the idea of him putting himself in so much danger, again. "But it's just word o' mouth as far as I'm concerned. Dutch and I will do some more digging over the next few days." You lacked the words for a response, looking away from him and out to the bayou for a moment. "Don't you worry yourself."
"Speaking of worry," you sighed and turned back to him. "We should talk to my father soon, before he gets too wrapped up in.. heist planning." You spoke the last words quietly, the thought of Hosea endangering himself as well as Arthur was a little much for you.
His smile all but vanished, as if he'd forgotten what he'd promised you. "I don't mean to be the bearer of bad news," you smiled apologetically. Arthur only took another drag, and after a moment spoke up.
"He'll be too busy with planning already," he started, "they had their map out before I'd even left the tent."
You sighed and shifted your weight, looking away from him again. "We can't keep making excuses, Arthur. We can't keep avoiding." You couldn't see him, but you could sense him furrowing his brows at you as he let out a quiet huff. "If this is your way of getting out of talking to him with me, then frankly I'm a little offended that you went through all this, just to avoid telling me outright." You paused, keeping your eyes on the swamp. "But, I understand."
"Now it ain't nothin' like that," he dropped his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out with the heel of his boot. "I'm just sayin' that now ain't the time to go over there. Best wait until nightfall."
You turned back, your expression tired, more mentally than physically. "Whatever you say."
The both of you sat against the cabin together for a while, you felt a lot safer being so close to the water now Arthur was there with you. You even asked him about the alligator, to which he admitted he wasn't sure was entirely true either. After a while you went back to your chores, and he went back to working around camp too, even riding out but returning not too long after. The day overall was pretty average after his return, despite the anxiety that you were still battling with.
You met for dinner around the campfire that evening, and for the first time in a few days you sat next to eachother. Of course it didn't go unnoticed by Hosea who happened to be at the fire too with his own bowl of stew. You tried your best to avoid his quizzical gaze; the complete opposite of Arthur, who seemed none the wiser to his looks.
Ignorance is bliss, you thought.
So with one final mouthful and a raise of your eyebrows in disbelief at your father's scorn, almost a week on now, you stood and left without a word. You felt so foolish for having had any empathy, throwing your bowl and spoon into the wash basin without a care about what would get splashed. Had Hosea made peace with the silence you were giving him? Had he made peace with the fact that his relationship with his own daughter was well and truly broken? It sure seemed like it, or felt like it. He was just too stubborn to accept any other outcome than the one he wanted.
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     While others shared food around the campfire and sang a few songs to lift their spirits, you sat alone by the cabin, once again. There was a new feeling brewing inside you. It wasn't quite anger, and it wasn't quite sadness. In fact, you weren't quite sure what it was at all. But whatever it was, it made you feel so small, so insignificant to the rest of the world now.
Arthur joined you after a while as he always did, but no words were shared.
You assumed he felt a little bad about how the day had gone, and about the fact you hadn't been able to have your talk or sort things out the way you'd wanted to.
As he lit a cigarette, you turned to look at camp, only to find that Hosea was slowly making his way over, too. You mumbled under your breath, barely loud enough for Arthur to hear before you turned away and hoped that he hadn't seen you looking.
"What was that?" Arthur spoke quietly after exhaling into the night. It took you a while to respond, a lump forming in your throat. "I think I'm about to get the final lecture."
"Cat's outta the bag," you jested, too tired of the whole situation now. "Come to shun me for lying on top of everything?" Hosea just stopped a few feet away with a slight chuckle. You felt a little uncomfortable. For the first time, he seemed to accept that the two of you were alone, together. Or at least, he hadn't immediately commented on it.
"I'm not here on account of my disapproval, my dear child." He started. "So wipe that look off your face." Again, you were startled by his tone. Was he playing you? Surely. After the looks from across the campfire, there was no way this could be anything but that. "I'm here to talk about something," he paused. "A job," he paused again, "and how I won't have the peace of mind to be able to plan this correctly if I don't make peace with you, first. I can't risk endangering everyone's lives, including yours, for some silly story that's been clouding my mind."
Maybe this heist was a blessing in disguise after all.
"Silly story?" You huffed. "And how do you intend on doing that, Pa? Because unless you've decided that I'm grown enough to make the right choice in who I love, our relationship as we knew it will just remain a thing of the past."
Hosea only sighed at your harsh words, moving closer to lean up against an old barrel.
"You know your silence hurts me more than any words possibly could," he looked down at you, "and your silence, my dear, has been louder than ever."
You rolled your eyes and gazed out at the murky waters of the swamp, only for him to continue since you'd denied him of a response. "So," he shook his head at you before looking out over the bayou himself. "After a long pondering, I feel that at the very least, I owe you an apology."
You shrugged. Of course you appreciated it, but at the same time you hated what you were hearing. He didn't need to apologize, not really. His priority was to keep you safe, and to him, in order to keep you safe, he had to keep you away from Arthur. He was just doing his job as a father.
"I let my own insecurities, my own fears get the better of me." He cleared his throat. "But my fears, the past that I'll be forever tormented by, shouldn't be reason to deny you of the future that you desire."
You let him talk, it seemed as though he had quite a bit on his chest.
"I've been a fool," he shook his head, "clouded by my fear of the past repeating itself, despite the situation being entirely different, despite you always staying safe inside camp and making the right choices. I risked losing the best part of me, and the only tie I have left to Bessie. I can't lose you, and I can't lose her, not again."
Your gaze dropped to your hands, watching as you twisted your ring around your finger in what you were sure was more anxiety.
"What are you trying to say, Pa?"
"What I'm trying to say, is that your happiness and well-being is worth more to me than you'll ever understand," he smiled softly. "I'm saying that you keeping yourself safe and out of the way doesn't make my fear any less valid," he paused, "but that I've come to understand that it's unfair of me to let it rule your life. Your life is yours to live the way that you want. I can only serve as a guide."
You looked over at Arthur, who seemed just as stunned as you at your father's words. "So," you paused for a second, not sure whether to ask, or whether to even look at him. "Is this, you giving us, your.. blessing?"
Hosea was quiet for a second, almost as though the realization that he was had taken him by surprise too.
"Well I- yes, I suppose I am."
You let out a sharp breath in disbelief, turning to Arthur and placing a hand on his thigh which you gave a light squeeze. "I knew you'd come to your senses one day," you smiled and looked up at him.
Hosea returned the warm smile, a hand on your shoulder with the same reassuring squeeze you'd just given Arthur. "Don't make me regret this," he spoke softly, and turned to head back to camp.
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     With nightfall came an urge, unlike any urge you'd felt before.
Usually they only happened in your cot, when your mind wandered and created scenarios in the dead of night. But you were getting an urge now, sat around the campfire with a few other gang members. Arthur was opposite you, and with your head slightly tilted towards the ground you looked at him through the flames, unbeknownst to him. His chiseled jaw, his battle scars, his stubble; every feature your eyes skimmed over made your core wind tighter.
There was no noise except for the fire crackling, you feared others would soon hear your heartbeat if you didn't think of something else- anything else to keep the hunger you had for this man at bay.
With a slight shake of your head you brought yourself to sit upright, catching Arthur's eye as you did, and one corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk. You weren't sure whether it was because he knew what he'd caught you in, or whether it was just him acknowledging he'd seen you eyeing him, but it sent a small shiver down your spine nonetheless.
You were surprised to even be feeling these things at all around others, averting your gaze from his. But you knew that the blessing was what had triggered it; the go ahead that you were yearning for to have the softer parts of Arthur's skin right at the end of your fingertips.
"I should get to bed," you faked a stretch before standing up, "it's been a long day for me. Goodnight everyone."
The gang hummed you a goodnight as you turned on your heels, letting your eyes linger on a certain outlaw only a second longer than usual to give him an idea of what was going on in your mind.
Your cot was cold, it always was. But tonight it felt colder as you sat down and ran a hand along it. You wondered if Arthur had got the hint or if you'd be spending yet another night alone. Hell, you weren't sure this was something he even wanted himself. Sure, he showed his love for you in his own ways, but he wasn't the openly over-affectionate type. You often had a hard time reading him, and it was no easier task when it came to this subject.
After a short wait you settled down under your blanket, hearing others were heading to bed too and assuming Arthur keeping you warm wasn't for tonight. Within only a few minutes you fell asleep.
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     You stirred and groaned as you were pulled from your slumber, though not by noise, but a presence.
Arthur, slinking into your cot and gluing himself to your back as though you'd been made to fit there all along.
His hand snaked over your hip as it came to rest on your lower belly, holding you close as though he expected you to move away. Of course, you didn't. In turn you sank into him with a contented sigh, turning your head slightly to see him out of your peripheral were you to even bother opening your eyes. "You're so warm," you smiled, "just what I needed."
His hand moved up your side to cup your chin, kissing your jawline once tenderly and leaving another on your lips before he let you sink back down.
You were happy with this. It was a big step up from what your relationship had been for the last few months, and just being in his company while he was as relaxed and vulnerable as he could be made you feel so happy deep inside. You spent a good moment like that, enjoying eachother's warmth and the comfort it brought you both to be so at peace together.
But your breathing quickened only slightly as Arthur's hand began to move. It moved back up to your hip, and instead of leaving your body as you expected, he slowly moved it down towards your thigh.
With the stroke back towards you, he collected the material of your night gown against his fingers, bringing it back up to expose to his rougher hands the softness of your outer thigh. His lips graced your neck as he did, ever so softly.
"Arthur," you stuttered through a breath, instantly aroused by these new feelings, to which he only hummed into the next kiss. His hand moved higher but hesitated at the top of your thigh before he revealed anything more intimate, even if he couldn't see it with the blanket still over you both.
"Yes," you sighed, your hand moving to his to guide him higher, "please."
Arthuragain only hummed into you, all the confirmation he needed. His hand rubbed down your thigh again, and as you expected him to return back to your hip, he didn't. He instead moved across your thigh towards your core, grabbing the inside of your thigh and gently asking you to pry your legs apart.
You only obliged, slowly bringing one knee up towards the ceiling and resting your outer thigh against him, still in jeans and a loose shirt.
Your breathing shuddered as his fingers came so close to where you wanted them, caressing up your inner thigh and then up to your hip bone and back. He traced your thigh one last time, savoring the softness at his fingertips, before moving up to your lower abdomen and bringing his caressing to a halt.
"Hush," he spoke merely above a whisper as he watched your eyebrows scrunch in protest. His hand shifted, and fingers first he slid it down your stomach, over the neat patch of hair and slowly down your folds. "Let me savor you."
Your breathing hitched at the feeling, one you'd enjoyed by yourself, increased tenfold under Arthur's touch. He rubbed back up, hovering over the nerves that begged to be stimulated, before brushing back down again. You could feel your heartbeat down there, so strong you were starting to wonder if Arthur could too.
His fingers dipped into you ever so slightly, gathering the slick you'd made for him and coating your folds up to your clit.
And he rubbed.
He rubbed the most delicious circles, coaxing the most gentle moans from you as you breathed. "Arthur" you sighed again through a smile, threading your arm under his to hold his forearm that worked on you.
He gathered more slick and continued his movements, watching the pleasure wash over your face with every new circle, and just as he was about to bring you to the edge, he stopped and gently pressed against your leg to ask you to close them.
Your discontent must've been louder than you'd liked, for Arthur chuckled at the noise you made and turned you to be completely on your side again. His hand met your lower back oh so tenderly, pulling up your garment further to reveal your behind to his touch. His hand slinked down, over your folds and back up again, a single finger breaking the seal and lubricating itself as he went.
"Do you want to do more tonight?" He murmured, almost too muffled for you to understand. You turned to him with a look of slight concern. "Don't you?" Your voice was quiet, a wave of anxiety crashing over you as you waited for what felt like forever for an answer.
"Course I do."
With a contented hum you turned away again, feeling his hand bump against you as he unbuckled his belt. This was it. "Take it all off, Arthur, won't you?" You pleaded as his hand returned to your hip. "I'd like to feel your skin on mine, not those." You spoke of his jeans.
Of course Arthur wanted the same. He didn't want the boundary of an item of clothing between your body and his, but he wasn't quite sure why he hadn't just removed everything. Perhaps the fear of being caught, or maybe just first time nerves.
He pushed the blanket off of himself and sat up on the bed. His shirt was first to come off, before he stood and removed the rest.
What a sight.
His warm body was soon against yours again, and if you hadn't had such built up anticipation right now, you would've been happy to just enjoy the embrace for the night.
But that wasn't the case.
Arthur wrapped a hand around his cock, tracing your folds with the tip, giving you a taste of what was to come. He wasn't small by any means, and you were excited for it. You rolled your hips back into him, words unavailable. "Alright," he cooed, removing the blanket from the both of you to see himself so close to being inside you.
"You sure this is what you want, now?" You chuckled in disbelief, though you did appreciate him pressing for full consent. "Fuck me, Arthur."
Before you could roll your eyes, Arthur made you do it himself, slowly sliding his tip inside and pulling from you the quietest but most obscene noise.
His hand moved to your inner thigh to part your legs only slightly as he pulled back before going to slide in again. You grabbed his forearm as he pushed in a little deeper, your walls clenching around him almost as tight as your hand was. He was so thick, you were sure to be a little sore by morning.
With soothing words of affirmation he lifted your leg slightly for easier access, and after a few seconds of breathing and adjusting to him, you relaxed for him to move deeper.
"Oh," you sighed between slow thrusts, "this.. was worth.. the wait."
Arthur's chest rumbled against your back, and his hand moved to sit in the dip near your hipbone to pull you closer into him as though it was even possible.
After a few lazy thrusts his hand moved from your hip to snake across your belly and came to rest just below your chest, as if in hesitation. Though he heard no words, only a chuckle against his hand which was promptly moved to cup one of your breasts.
And he finally gave in.
You'd never imagined Arthur to be rough, and you were right. His thrusts that now held more intent held so much love, so much passion it made your insides burn with desire. If you ever had a doubt for his love for you, all that has been washed away with the embrace he has you in. You couldn't get close enough to him, and he couldn't get close enough to you.
He held you so close to his chest, his warm breath tickling the back and side of your neck with each gentle yet sharp exhale.
Your hand moved to the back of his neck, your fingers getting caught in his dirty blonde hair which changed his pace slightly; a little faster but no less passionate. He almost couldn't believe it as he opened his eyes momentarily, your bare skin against his, the warmth, and the glistening at the base of his cock as he pulled out only to slide right back in. Into you.
Your gasp brought him back, a gasp that only meant one thing, you were close. But Arthur didn't want you finishing where he couldn't look you in the eyes.
"Don't," his voice was deep as he pulled out and moved down the bed. Your face was expressionless, not understanding what was going on and feeling a little disappointed and robbed of what would've been your first orgasm by him.
"Don't look at me like darlin'," he cooed, opening your thighs so you'd move to be flat on your back, "I just want to see you better."
Your eyes almost rolled at the comment alone, as if him looming over your body and dragging his cock along your wet folds wasn't doing it enough for you already. His lips met your collarbones and moved up to your neck as his cock met your entrance once more, sliding in with more ease and filling you even more deliciously than it had the first time.
You instinctively placed a leg on his back, pushing down ever so gently asking for more. Arthur hummed but his lips never left your body for long enough to speak. His thrusts grew slightly harder as he moved down to your breasts, kissing and licking the skin before he took his lips to one of your nipples.
Your back arched in surprise and you let out a quiet laugh after your initial shock, making Arthur chuckle with you.
Your moans grew only slightly louder, mixed with giggles and gasps as he worked you as though he'd done it a thousand times before. You were aware that being too loud would probably be the death of you if your father found out that you'd been at it so soon; or at it at all.
"Arthur I'm so close," you panted as he raised his eyes to meet yours. Your skin glistened just as his did, you looked so beautiful under him. "Me too, darlin'."
His lips returned to your neck as he gave you a few more thrusts, lazy and clumsy as he neared his own high. Oh how you'd craved to see him come undone. His forehead came to rest on yours as he gave his final thrusts to push you over the edge. You writhed under him and your walls tightening made him pull out with an urgency you hadn't seen before.
He sat back and did his best to control where he went, decorating your lower stomach though he'd have preferred not to sully you in such a way the first time. As you caught your breath he wiped you down and came to rest beside you once again, only this time in front of you. No words were needed, the both of you truly on cloud nine.
You snuggled into his chest despite still being quite warm, you'd be damned if you were to cut this moment short, this buzzing feeling that coursed through your body. But as the minutes passed you both battled with sleep, and too relaxed to fight it, you let yourself drift off in Arthur's embrace.
For in Arthur's arms was where you were meant to be, and where you hoped to remain forevermore.
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margowritesthings · 9 months
Text
The Greatest Gift III: She Sleeps
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SERIES MASTERPOST
pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader word count: 1017 words warnings: teeth-rotting fluff, tbh this made me cry a/n: just a cute lil drabble for my favourite family in the world
taglist:@cowboydisaster@inkandbloodbound@beea-nie@cloudynoiire@punctillous@missvanderlinde@twola@pine4pple-b0i@alice-vanderlinde@photo1030
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The newly appointed Uncle Dutch stays for a little while, admiring his new goddaughter until he and Arthur notice you struggling to stay awake. You’ve drifted off completely by the time Dutch hands Jade back to her father and congratulates the pair of you once more, returning to his tent to gush over the new addition to the gang.
Sleep overtakes you completely and utterly, your body so exhausted from the last nine months you could probably sleep through a riot. That much is proven about an hour later, when Jade stirs in her cot and begins to cry, the very first time in a long, long period of sleepless nights for the three of you. Her little screams pierce the formerly tranquil air, the trauma of waking up in the real world seemingly alone not really agreeing with her.
You’re normally not such a heavy sleeper, where the snap of a nearby twig or Uncle’s less than melodic singing, no matter how far away, is enough to wake you. But exhaustion doesn’t begin to cover how your body aches right now, how it longs for rest and clings onto it with a mighty grip when you finally get it. You don’t even stir.
Arthur, on the other hand, is woken instantly, paternal instincts already setting in ferociously. He looks down to you, smiling to himself when he sees you’re sound asleep, just about managing to untangle his limbs from yours without waking you and pressing a kiss to the top of your hair. When he gets off your shared cot, he makes sure to wrap the blanket back around you. 
“Hey, little lady…” he whispers, almost apprehensively as he walks towards his daughter, hands raised in the air as if he’s approaching a spooked horse. Force of habit. “It’s all right, baby girl… Daddy’s here.”
To Arthur, Jade is made of glass, and he lifts her into his arms as such. His precious, fragile little masterpiece, who makes him feel bigger and more brutish than he ever has before. He sits in the chair at the foot of your cot, Jade settling in his strong arms like she was made for them. She was, Arthur thinks, he just never realised until this moment. That’s all it takes for Jade to stop crying: her daddy, who would lasso the moon for her if it meant she could see the stars a little brighter. 
Even in the dark of your tent, Arthur can see her eyes glistening up at him, and can still make out her tiny features. She’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, save for you, of course. 
He thinks of Isaac for a moment, and how he held him like this precious few times, vowing that his memory will live on in the way that he will protect Jade from the evils of the world no matter what stands in his way. He will do for Jade what he failed to do for his son, in his honour. 
Breaking the silence settling around your little family, you moan softly in your sleep, turning onto your side. It draws Arthur’s attention to you again- not that it would ever be too far away- and he smiles to himself, entranced by how peaceful you look, how beautiful you are.
Jade reaches up to Arthur’s chin, pressing tiny fingers against his stubble and capturing his attention once more. The quietest of chuckles escapes his chest, a smile so pure stretching his lips. 
“Ain’t she beautiful, baby girl? I’m so damn proud of her…” Arthur physically winces when he realises he just cursed to a 4 hour old baby, but will later realise he should be the last of his own troubles, what with her having a dozen outlaws for aunts and uncles. “Sorry…” he hums, glancing between his wife and daughter to direct the apology to both of you.
“But I am. Proud of her, that is… We’re the luckiest two people in the whole world, little lady, cause we got her…” 
Apparently finding her father’s chin to be a little scratchy (with Arthur making a mental note to shave first thing in the morning), Jade reaches out into the open air, and Arthur can’t help but reach right back. He adjusts his hold on her, freeing one hand to let her grip her tiny digits around his singular finger. He feels like a giant, but he’ll be damned if his heart isn’t pounding right out of his chest at how happy he is right now. 
“You’ve got the best momma in the whole world, you know that? And I… Well, I’m gonna do everything I can to be a good papa, baby… Everything I can.” 
He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t terrified. Arthur has owned a fair few front row tickets to displays of how not to be a father, from his own Pa to how easy it has been for Marston to mess up again and again over the years. And hell, he’s never seen anyone raise a little girl before. But as he promises, with his entire heart and soul, he is going to do his absolute best to be everything he can be to Jade. 
“Hey, and I hope you know how loved you are, little one. Your momma and I… God, I can’t even tell ya’, baby… You were a surprise, I’ll tell ya’, but we love you so much…” She’s squeezing around his finger as hard as she can, leaving the tiniest crescent moons from the smallest fingernails Arthur has ever seen. 
“You both did so well today… you were both so brave, huh? My brave girls…” He whispers, his words riding a content sigh. Jade’s eyes begin to flutter shut, her eyelids too heavy for her little self to fight. “You get some sleep, darlin’... I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.”
The moon is falling fast, and it’ll soon be sunrise, but Arthur just can’t bring himself to sleep and miss one second of this night, watching his girls and silently promising them the world. 
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mothtra · 2 years
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now it’s time to rest
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pinkgibbon · 6 months
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some rdr guys… it’s mostly javier bc he’s my random muse of the month lol
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cowboydisaster · 10 months
Note
Hey could you write a little fic about Arthur hearing fem reader crying and comforting her? Really pile up the fluff if you decide to write please 🩷🩷 love your stuff so much xxx
A Shoulder to Cry on
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pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader
word count: 1000
a/n: Thank you for this sweet prompt, nonny! I was looking to write some fluff and this was perfect.
beta read by @margowritesthings
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You feel foolish for even crying, but you can't bring yourself to stop the glistening tears from streaming down your face. You’re petrified, miles away from your former camp, stuck up in the Grizzlies. The Pinkertons are on your tail like a cat on a mouse, and you know it’s only a matter of time before they inevitably catch you. Your time is running out. You’ve had a good run with the van der Linde gang, but it’s time is nigh on done. It's a daunting realization, especially after losing so many folks back in Blackwater. 
Because of your position in the gang, you’ve been given your own bedroom in the same cabin as Arthur, Dutch and Hosea. It's a cold room, but better than what most of the gang have. The wind whistles outside as thick snowflakes land on the roof, causing ice cold water to drip repetitively from the ceiling above. The wind and the leak intertwine with your cries, forming a sad, sad song. 
You sit on the bed with your knees hugged to your chest, sobbing into them with no sign of stopping. You try to keep quiet as your breathing comes in shudders, and your shoulders shake violently. There is an ache in your ribs from the sobs erupting from your chest, but it pales in comparison to the ache in your heart. You hiccup, catching your breath, and unknowingly alerting Arthur who is walking by to catch some shut eye. 
With his eyebrows pulled together in worry, he gently nudges your door open. You don’t even look up, and he stands in the doorway for a moment, glancing over your curled up, crumbling form. Of course, he knows what's wrong, and his heart shatters at the sight of you looking so broken. His heart– it’s been longing for your own for so long, and seeing you like this breaks him. 
“Oh, darlin…” He murmurs, stepping forward in only a few strides. You hear his boots clicking against the floor before the bed dips under his weight, and then his big, warm arms are around you. 
“I'm so sorry.” He whispers.
There’s something about his arms around you. They are sturdy and unmoving, and yet piece by piece, they begin to build your broken heart back together. There’s so much safety and comfort in his arms, you’re sure that he could protect you even from the storms raging in the Grizzlies with his hugs. You wrap your arms under his, hands on his back as you sniffle and cry into his shirt. 
“Do you wanna talk about it?” Arthur asks quietly, swaying you lightly in his arms as he shields you from your pain and the cold. Arthur doesn’t push you. He knows exactly how you feel, and opening up about these things is far from easy in his own experience. The gang– it’s coming to an end, and you both know it. Now you just have to find a way to exit peacefully, hopefully taking those that you love with you. 
"Shh, shh. You're okay." He coos, tucking your head under his chin.
Arthur is radiating with warmth, and you feel the frostbite leaving your nose as you nuzzle into his chest. His thumb reaches up to wipe away a fresh tear as he frowns lightly at the sight of you so upset. Your skin is soft against Arthur’s calloused hand, and your eyes slip closed as you savor the feeling of his touch.
“I’m scared, Arthur.” You admit, lip trembling as silent tears slide down your frozen cheeks. 
“I know you are, I know, but I will get you out of this mess. I promise you.” Arthur swears, resting back against the headboard as his mind runs rampant. He can’t let you die for this gang, and he’ll get you out safely if it's the last thing he does. 
“You just rest now, alright? You don’t gotta worry no more. I gotcha now.” Arthur murmurs, laying down with you nuzzled into his side. You cuddle against him as tightly as you can manage, placing your head on his chest as you nod your head. For the first time since Blackwater, the trails of tears from your reddened eyes cease.
Arthur’s hand runs soothingly up and down your back as he makes sure you’re comfortable and taking deep breaths. He wishes he could take this pain away from you, but he knows he can't. All he can do is hold you. 
Your eyes slip shut as you nuzzle against his blue wool coat, your cries dying down to soft sniffles. 
"Feelin' any better?" Arthur asks, watching as your breathing settles back to normal. Your cheeks are red from the cold, and your lashes stick together from sticky tears. Arthur pulls the blankets up over the two of you, not wanting you to catch a cold. 
"I am now that you’re here." You whisper, feeling a heavy tiredness fall over you. Arthur is so comfortable, and you feel safe enough to fall asleep in his arms. Arthur can tell you're drifting off, and he wraps his arms around you tighter for it. 
"It's okay, get some sleep. I'll still be here when you wake up." Arthur murmurs. Seeking more of his comfort, and taking another step towards telling him how you feel, you unwrap one of his arms from your body. Arthur's eyebrows pull together, and at first he's worried that he's crossed a line until you intertwine your fingers with his own and hold your joined hands against his chest. 
Arthur smiles down at your hands, watching your face relax as you finally drift to sleep. He'll hold you the rest of the night, making sure you're okay. 
"I'll get you outta this mess." He reiterates, "If it's the last thing I do, I won't let you die for these fools." 
He hopes that you'll go with him, run away to some place far. Arthur's never been one to daydream of pleasantries, but you make him want a home, a family. He'd leave the gang for you, he'd buy a home and work an honest job just so he could come home to you. He'd make you proud. 
But for now, all he can do is hold you, comfort you from the storm outside alongside the one raging in your mind. Now the only sounds in the room are the leaking roof and your light snores as you take comfort in the first safety you've felt in days. Arthur will always be that comfort for you. 
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taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow @holyratrimony
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bimrsadler · 11 months
Text
Goodnight and Goodmorning: Part Two
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Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female reader
Word count: 1,700
Warnings/tags: high honor Arthur, smut, wet dream, dry humping, hand stuff, first time together, unprotected piv, praise kink (what else is new), language, fluff
Notes: Smutty part two of a request for Arthur sneaking into readers tent after being away, fluffy part one is here
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A soft morning sun peeked through the tent while birds chirped cheerfully and the horses huffed at the edge of camp. There was a chill that came with the early spring morning but it was hardly felt given how tightly Arthur was wrapped around you.
Sometime during the night he moved behind you, pressing his thighs against the back of yours and pulling your back to his warm chest. You couldn’t recall the last time you woke up so peacefully.
It was clear through Arthur’s deep, slow breaths that he was still asleep. He needed it and you didn’t want to disturb him, but it was hard to ignore the hard line in his union suit pressed against your lower back.
You knew it was possible he wasn’t dreaming of anything intimate and was just his body doing what it does naturally — but your mind certainly did wander.
Was he dreaming about your kiss the previous night, where it could have led? If you had asked him would he have taken you right then and there? Given what you felt of him behind you, it was all too easy to imagine how full he would make you feel, how deep it would go…
The wetness between your legs gathered and your hips instinctively rolled against Arthur; eliciting the smallest whimper and twitch of his manhood. Good God, now your mind wandered further.
Did he know on a subconscious level that your body was aching for his? Was he dreaming of burying his cock in your wet folds? His hand was tantalizingly close to your chest, thumb brushing lightly against your hardening nipple.
Arthur’s breaths quickened against your ear with another whimper, suddenly grinding against your backside. Well…maybe he was dreaming about that after all.
This had never happened before and Arthur surely would have been mortified if it had. It was difficult to tell if he knew what he was doing or was merely acting out his wet dream while still asleep. But the pleading “sweetheart” he let slip out against your ear was torture — you needed to know.
Testing the waters, your fingertips trailed along his forearm as you pushed your backside to meet his thrusts. With a shudder Arthur slowly woke, pushing himself away from you at the realization of what he was doing.
“Jesus…darlin’ m’so sorry, I didn’t mean — I… I’d never,” he stuttered apologetically.
“Arthur…”
“I’ll uh I’ll head back to my tent and,” he continued with a “dammit Morgan you fool,” muttered under his breath.
“Arthur please…” you gently stopped him as he began to sit up.
“It’s okay, you didn’t know what you were doing, but…” you paused nervously, hoping to sooth but also let him know you wanted more.
“…I liked it,” you admitted sheepishly. “Hope you don’t think less of me for saying so.”
Arthur took so long to reply you began to fear that he did, but eventually he whispered softly, “’course not.” He cautiously brought himself back to his original position behind you, “but I’d have a hard time believin’ ya.”
A pang of sadness hit your chest upon hearing that. He deserved to feel good, to feel wanted.
“Well you should, Arthur. I was just biding my time this morning thinking about all the things I want you to do to me…”
You felt his chest rise against your back, “that so?” You nodded silently with a smirk.
“Well maybe you should show me then…” His husky drawl was thick as honey and smooth as a good whiskey.
Reaching an arm behind you brought his face to yours, “oh I would love that Arthur,” pulling him in for a kiss far more heated than the night before.
You moved Arthur’s calloused hand along your stomach and between your thighs, warming him up slowly. He broke the joining of your lips to instead kiss your neck, covering every inch of skin tenderly. “Goddamn you feel so soft…”
“C’mere sweet girl, wanna see that pretty face.” He grabbed you by the hips and took control for the first time, moving you to face him. Gingerly running his knuckles down your cheek he cooed, “that’s better.”
The sunlight hit his bright eyes as they wandered along your body, taking in every inch with disbelief.
“Touch me Arthur,” you brought his hand to the swell of your breast — encouraging him to take over from there. He moved his thumb along the stiff peak showing through your thin chemise.
Your hips jolted forward, moaning timidly at Arthur’s touch and the feeling of the satin material rubbing against your sensitive nub.
Leaning down he planted kisses to your collar bone while massaging your breast in his shaking hand. Kneading gently, he let out soft groans into the crook of your neck.
Exploring further his hand traveled to your upper thigh, touching your ass in the same strong yet tender way. Clenching around nothing, Arthur took notice to your thighs squeezing together to relieve the ache between them.
He looked there where his gaze lingered, towing the line between lustful and proper. “Want me to touch you there?”
Smiling, you parted your legs ever so slightly with a shy smile, inviting him to feel what he did to you.
Positioning himself above, he kissed you slow and deep as his fingers gingerly slid down your folds, collecting the slick. “Jee-sus sweetheart,” he laughed in disbelief, “you tryna kill me?”
You felt your body flush with heat and let out an embarrassed laugh as you hid your face in the blanket, suddenly overwhelmed that Arthur was touching you there, when it was so obvious how aroused you were. The intimacy of his attention left you dizzy and buzzing.
“Hey — you don’t ever have to hide from me, beautiful.” Lifting your face to meet his, his lips pressed to yours while sliding a finger inside of you; swallowing your moans as he did.
If it weren’t for Arthur’s passionate kissing, the whole camp would have heard your ecstasy as he pushed another finger into your pussy, moving gently in and out with his thumb circling your clit. “Just like that baby…” you mewled.
It was for Arthur’s benefit too though, his raspy groans getting louder every time he stopped to breath. Somewhere between massaging your tongue with his and massaging your inner walls, he draped his leg over yours; desperately rutting against your thigh.
Feeling his hardness move against you was enough to finish the job. The waves of pleasure rolled through your clenching abdomen, breathy whines escaping as you pulsed around his fingers.
Arthur watched you come undone with murmured expletives and a hungry stare. “That’s it sweetheart, I gotchu.”
Not interested in waiting any longer, you urged him on top of you and pushed him up on his knees to unbutton his union suit — stroking the hard line straining against it as you did.
Arthur towering over you this way was something you never thought you’d see, masculinity and strength filling the air around him. Yet the quiet whines and softness of his touch brought together the best of both worlds.
Kissing his chest and stomach as more skin was revealed, you admired his form and the hair that nestled around it. The lower buttons practically undid themselves as his hardness broke through. Taking it firmly you rolled the velvet skin in your palm, thick and heavy.
Running your other hand along his muscular thigh you purred, “how’s this baby?”
Arthur’s head was thrown back atop his heaving chest. “So good, yer doin’ great sweetheart.”
Drunk on his praise you stroked him more fervently, Arthur shuddering and swearing as you did. “Dar — oh darlin’ I ain’t gonna last.”
Slowing your momentum you instead laid down, coyly pressing your legs together while rocking them back and forth. “Better take me then huh?”
Arthur parted your legs with a hand on each thigh, waiting at your entrance. Nodding gave him the permission needed to bury his cock in your heat, bottoming out as he did.
After the time spent teasing yourself while Arthur slept behind you — and his bringing you to orgasm, it was an exquisite relief to finally feel him inside of you.
Falling forward with an arm on either side of your head, Arthur whimpered your name. He stilled for a moment to let you adjust before finding his rhythm; fucking you gently into the cot with slow and sensual movements.
You gripped his arm with one hand and threaded your fingers through his hair with the other, tugging gently. White hot pleasure rippled through your core, still sensitive and swollen from Arthur’s handiwork.
“Y-you feel so good darlin’ everything boutcha feels, fuck — so good,” he rambled praises into your ear, unable to control his stream of consciousness.
His bicep flexed under your fingertips with each thrust, turning you on all that much more. Writhing beneath him you wrapped your legs around his waist and met his bucking with equal enthusiasm.
“Just like that Arthur,” you keened as your walls fluttered around his pumping cock, pushing him closer to the edge.
The small tent filled with the sounds of your stifled moans and amorous whispers. Arthur buried his face in the crook of your neck, hot puffs of breath hitting the skin he had gently marked, his full weight rocking your body as his bucking reached an erratic pace.
Without using his hands Arthur pulled out, thrusting his pulsing cock between your wet and swollen folds. Gruff groans disappeared into the pillow, Arthur’s body trembling on top of you with stiffening muscles, hot ropes coating the skin where your stomachs met.
Arthur took his time in leaving your embrace; drawing out languid kisses and quiet questions of if he did well and how you liked it. Blissful and satisfied, it was easy to reassure him.
When the time came to part, Arthur cleaned you thoughtfully with a bandanna — wondering how you got so lucky as he tended to you.
“It’s good to have you back, handsome.”
Arthur chuckled, “well it’s good to be back gorgeous. You have no idea.”
After moments passed tangled up together, you began to gather your clothes with a heavy sigh. It was — unfortunately, another day with more camp responsibilities.
“Where ya think yer headed to?” Arthur playfully grabbed your wrist and pulled you back down to the cot as you landed with a giggle.
“Told ya we were gonna take our time this mornin’.” He kissed your knuckles and pulled the blanket over your lower half. “Now get comfortable again and I’ll bring ya coffee.”
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photo1030 · 10 months
Text
Leather and Lace - Chapter16:  Feelings Revealed
PART 2 - WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE?
Summary: After Arthur’s rejection, tensions run high between the two of you and decisions need to be made.
*As always, special thank you to my best-y @rivetingrosie4​ for beta-reading and all the helpful notes & encouragement. 
*Full disclosure: The line about “the moon and stars” further in the story is based on a meme I read. And I have images from @red-dead-simp​ and @regwishesshehadmagic​ in here. 
Previous Chapter / Next Chapter 
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*This stunning image comes from @red-dead-simp​
Tag List:  @rivetingrosie4 @bimbo-dollz @pine4pple-b0i @redwritr @kuri-chans-blog @queer-sadie-adler @joelmillerswifey @gimmethosedaddymilkers @pcotarelo @delilah-grimes @maemortem @wistfulwisteriawitch @lilacxxdreams @mentallyillfrogs @absolutegeek @spurz @sophiaj650 @uniqueclodzinevoid @lookingformaurice @pawoui @randomidk-123 @yyiikes @eddiemetalheadmunson @twola @kmartkiddieisle @red-dead-simp​ @regwishesshehadmagic​
*I tagged people who expressed interest in the continued story. If you’d like to be added or removed, please let me know.
The ride back to camp from the overlook is terribly awkward. Your mind is blank and foggy and your body numb as you sit slightly slumped in Blue's saddle. You are reeling from the preceding events. You keep your horse moving at a quicker pace to stay ahead of Arthur's as you head home. Any time that you hear him approaching closer to you, your muscles tense up and you spur your heels into Blue's side to encourage him to go just a bit faster to maintain the distance between you. You can't even bring yourself to look at Arthur for fear of shattering into inconsolable pieces out of humiliation.  
For Arthur, the entire ride back is riddled with regret and second-guessing. He casts his gloomy eyes on your backside the entire way home, without so much as a glance back or sound from you. It causes his heart to break in two. And oh, how he wants to give the other half of it to you. But as he looks down at his gnarled hands and the worn metal of the guns that hang so naturally on his hips, he knows this is the way it has it be. He is going to keep you safe, whether you like it or not. You may hate him for it, but at least you'll be alive to do it.
When you hit the treeline of the camp, you push Blue just a bit faster and lead him to the far end of the hitching posts, determined to stay as far away from Arthur as you can for the time being. You quickly dismount, with the hair on the back of your neck standing up as you feel his eyes watching you, while keeping your back to the man. Once you have Blue settled in for the day, you make haste to head to your tent, walking briskly and keeping your head down. Your eyes stay focused along the soft grass at your feet, desperate to avoid any attention from anyone else in camp. Somewhere in the distance, you can hear Karen calling your name, but you pretend not to hear her. You are not in the mood for visiting and carrying-on with your friends right now.
As soon as you reach your tent, your trembling fingers fumble to draw the sides down, a clear indication that you do not want to be disturbed. You can only hope that no one hears you sobbing quietly within the canvas. You are numb, totally and completely, as you fold your arms around yourself to keep from shaking. You cannot wrap your swimming mind around what has just happened. You poured your heart out to Arthur. You literally begged the man to be with you. And he rejected you. And worse yet, he basically severed himself from you in the process.
Arthur slowly climbs down from his own horse upon arrival, and silently watches you walk away and head to your tent. Regret coats his insides like water pouring over a river rock. But he doesn't have time to wallow too long. The man isn't even in camp for five minutes and Dutch is calling his name. He lets out a heavy groan, accompanied by a long sigh, at the sound of Dutch's voice carrying through the camp. Dutch is the last thing he wants to deal with right now.
Of course, Arthur's heavy footfalls and scowl are lost on Dutch as he approaches the older man's tent. Arthur is his guard dog; Dutch is used to seeing him angry and sullen. In fact, he almost prefers it. Dutch needs him this way. Arthur stands in front of Dutch's tent, his gaze unfocused and mind wandering as Dutch speaks to him. The man's deep voice sounds muffled in Arthur's ear as he half-halfheartedly pays attention to what is being said to him, his mind somewhere else entirely.
"Think you can handle that?" Dutch's words finally catch Arthur's attention, snapping him out of his listless thoughts.
Arthur lifts his eyes to meet Dutch's expectant gaze. "Whatever. Just make sure the tip is solid and I'll make it work."
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Arthur takes advantage of the quick job Dutch sends him on the day that you have confessed your feelings for him. He smartly uses the opportunity to give you some breathing room and time to calm down a bit. After checking in with Dutch upon his return, he heads over to his tent to put away his things and takes a minute to breathe. Arthur stands with his thumbs hanging from his gun belt as he surveys the camp, checking the state of things. His body naturally falls into this stance whenever he stands still for a moment. And right now, he is more weary than he’s been in a long while.
His wandering eyes eventually find you working alone in your med-tent. Your hair is pulled back and out of your face so you can work, but a few tendrils of soft locks have escaped and dangle to frame your face. Your hands move slowly, practically dancing around the bowl that has enveloped your attention. Arthur takes in the heavenly sight of you, standing in a simple white blouse and green skirt set comfortably upon your hips, mulling over what he should do, as he nervously chews his plump bottom lip for a moment. Eventually, he decides to see how things feel between you two and tentatively makes his way over to your med-tent.
Arthur kneads his thumb into the palm of the opposite hand nervously while he waits for you to notice him standing there outside the tent.  He stands with an uneasy grin, fidgeting slightly. "Hey you.”
You briefly look up from the steaming bowl of herbs and boiling water that you are stirring, careful not to look him in the eye for too long. "What can I do for you, Arthur?" Your voice carries none of the usual excitement that he hears when you see him.
Arthur's face drops, disappointed with your short reply. He clears his throat to attempt to dislodge the knot there before trying to continue. "I was out earlier and found some of that yarrow and dandelion root you use all the time. Grabbed some for you." He reaches into his satchel and pulls out a bundle of the fragrant herbs. He carefully unwraps them from the white cotton rag he's kept them in and holds them out to you with his large hands. A hopeful look sits upon his brow as he cranes his neck a bit to see if this peace offering will get you to look at him.
"Thank you. You can set them down on the table there," you instruct softly, pointing to the end of the table with your wooden spoon. Usually you'd jump at the chance to take something from Arthur, seizing any opportunity to touch his hands and for your fingers to teasingly graze across each other’s. But not this time. And this deviation in your behavior isn’t lost on Arthur, either.
"I could take you out and show you where I found it, if you like? In case you need more?" He gingerly sets the bundle of plants down, watchful for your reaction.
“Actually, that bundle there will last me awhile. But thank you.” With a quick and awkward smile, you return your full attention to the steaming liquid in front of you.
“Sure” he murmurs, feeling crushed. Arthur stands there a moment longer, as there is usually some sort of chatter from you. You always try to utilize his attention as much as you can when you have it. But now, you venture nothing else for him. So he turns and walks away, his boots slow to move in the grass. He does not notice that you discreetly reach up to wipe a rogue tear that escapes and cascades down your cheek as he turns away.
And so it goes on this way for a few days. You speak to Arthur only when he speaks to you, and even then, it's simple exchanges. There's no more joking or banter between you. Gone are the stolen glances and discreet blushes when catching each other staring. You have no harshness towards him, of course. But you can't bring yourself to maintain the flirtatious nature of your relationship either. You are not mad at Arthur after your revelation at the overlook, nor are you mean to him. You simply treat him like anyone else. Which, as it turns out, is something that Arthur is not prepared for. He is used to your smiles and greetings just for him. He is used to being special to you. But now, Arthur is just like everyone else in the gang.
This change in the dynamic weighs heavily on Arthur. His feelings aside, he simply misses you. It's been a long time since Arthur has had someone he can talk to and confide in. For someone who is generally annoyed by other people, Arthur has found that he enjoys your specific company. Your conversations and activities together range from the profound and insightful to the delightfully mundane and ordinary. In fact, he has come to need your companionship to balance the negativity of his life. Your softness counteracts the harshness that he experiences every time he is away from you. He craves the blissful distraction that your honey-sweet voice offers him.
One afternoon, Arthur decides to make another attempt to talk about this precarious situation. He catches you by the laundry while you are hanging today's wash to dry. You notice him out of the corner of your eye making his way over to you and you can feel your stomach start to churn as you avert your eyes to the task at hand.
He stops just in front of you as his hand comes up to rub against his chin nervously. "Y/N? Can I talk to you a minute, please?"
With a blank stare, you say nothing in response. You slowly lower your hands from the clothes line, twirling the clothes pins in your hands in distraction.
"Look, I know you're not happy with me right now, and I understand that," he starts. "But I was hoping we could still be friendly and all." Arthur's sapphire eyes search yours, looking for some indication that you are willing to put this unpleasantness behind you both.
Nibbling on your bottom lip, you hesitate before you answer him. "Did you change your mind?"
"No," he shakes his head, glancing down at his boots. "No, I can't go about that. But I want things to just go back to how they were between us." Arthur is a simple man, and he is also a creature of habit. He is used to your presence in his life and, more importantly, the impact that you have on it.
“It doesn’t work like that, Arthur." You furrow your brows at him, finally speaking more than a few words at a time. "I understand your reasoning, I suppose. I don’t agree with it, but I accept it." You pause, looking down as your eyes begin to flutter at the emotional wave that you are trying to halt in your gut before you continue. "You’re allowed to feel what you do about it. I suppose I can’t be angry with you for that." Rolling the smooth wooden clothespins between your fingertips and inhaling deeply through your nose, you lift your chin to catch his gaze again. "But don’t expect me to act like nothing happened, Arthur.”
"I just can’t go down that road again, (Y/N)," he says, gesturing with his palm out, imploring you to understand. "Besides, I just want you to have a normal life."
With a slight shake of your head, you look up into his face. "Arthur, I have no interest in a 'normal life'. And besides, my life has been anything but normal already."
His only response is an eye roll before looking off to the side in frustration, trying not to start a fight with you again. The movement causes a pang of annoyance to strike in your chest as your hand plants onto your hip.
"I don't need your constant protection, Arthur." Your statement comes across a little more harshly than you intend to when you notice he is trying not to look you in the eye.
It is a comment that makes him slowly turn his face back to you with a sarcastic scowl. "Oh, I beg to differ on that one." God, the condescension is almost tangible.
You let out a deep and disappointed sigh as you study him a moment. "Nevermind. You just don’t get it." Shaking your head and dismissing this whole conversation, you bend over and harshly snatch up the laundry basket at your feet. You maneuver around him to head back to the tents and leave him standing there.
---------------------
By this point, you have become quiet and melancholy around camp. Everyone notices that you're not your usual bubbly self, as you seem to float through camp now, rather than be a part of it. Always observant, Abigail has had enough and pins you down to ask what the hell is going on with you.
"Why are you and Arthur so odd lately? Did something happen? Did you have a fight or something?" She eyes you suspiciously, handing you a cup of coffee while you and the girls take a break from chores and sit at one of the tables. The weather is still fairly warm today and everyone is bustling about to prepare for the oncoming colder months ahead.
You look over at Abigail with a woeful look as you accept the hot cup. "I told Arthur how I feel about him."
The girls all gasp in excitement, eager to finally talk about this thrilling topic. But your somber expression immediately halts their celebratory giggles.
"I don't understand, (Y/N), why aren't you more excited about this?" asks Tilly, leaning in closer to you from across the table to know more, astonishment draped across her cherub face.
You stare listlessly at the cup in your hands. "He turned me down. He said no."  
“He said what?!” Abigail’s eyes shoot wide before quickly screwing down in confusion.
“No! Why would he say that?” breathes Mary-Beth in hushed wonder, bringing her hand up to her mouth in shock. She exchanges a confused glance with Tilly before looking back to you, anxious for details.
You shrug softly with a sorrowful smile. “He doesn’t think he’s good enough for me, I guess.”
“Well, duh, of course he isn’t!” Karen blurts out with a wave of her hand before it slams down onto the table with a loud clap next to you. “But let’s be honest, there probably isn’t a man alive who is.”
“He’s entitled to his decision,” you quietly repeat the worn excuse you had given to Arthur already. “Besides, he’s been hurt before. I suppose I can’t blame him.”
“This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard," argues Karen, her pouty red lips frowning. "Do you want me to go talk some sense into him, honey? I’ll put my foot in his ass and set him straight.” Her doll-like eyes burn with intensity as she crosses her arms over her chest in a huff.
“No, no." You can’t help but smile at your friend's defense of you as the image of Karen taking on Arthur makes you chuckle a bit. "I can’t force him to be with me and I wouldn’t want to anyway.”
“It just doesn’t make any sense, (Y/N),” Mary-Beth points out. “I mean, we’ve all seen the way he looks at you. And when you two are dancin’ by the fire… I wish I had that.” Mary-Beth is so sweet and always the hopeless romantic of your circle. And while all of the girls have been pulling for you and Arthur to be together, it is always Mary-Beth who is the biggest supporter of it. When you had your hang-over confession of your crush on Arthur after your drunken night out with Karen, Mary-Beth told you that you and Arthur are like a real-life story out of one of her romance novels. At the time, you dismissed the silly notion as nothing more than a foolish daydream. But, still, it was a comment that made butterflies flutter in your stomach.
With a dejected sigh, your chin lands into the palm of your hand. Your shoulders sink as you lean onto the table. "Well, doesn’t matter now, does it?"
There is an awkward stillness as this discussion settles amongst your little group. Frankly, the girls are speechless. But your quiet moment with the girls doesn't last too long before Ms. Grimshaw saunters over and disperses you all. As long as there is daylight, there is work to do, and she will make damn sure that it gets done. Dividing up the chores between you all, the matriarch ushers you and Abigail over to Pearson's wagon to start prepping vegetables for tonight's dinner. You grab yourself a cutting board and a bowl of potatoes and amble over to a small work table to start peeling.
Once she has Jack occupied, Abigail grabs a bowl of carrots for herself and sits down across the table from you. She watches you with a heartbroken and disappointed look as you set about your task. You and she have become quite close since you've come here to join the Van Der Linde gang. While she certainly cares for Arthur as her own family, she feels just awful for you. She knows how much you care for Arthur. It's so obvious in everything that you do. And she knows that you could make Arthur truly happy, too. 'Damn him,' Abigail thinks to herself. 'Why does he have to be so god-awful stubborn?'
"I’m sorry, (Y/N), really I am." Abigail's voice breaks the painful silence as the two of you work. You look up at her with the eyes of a puppy that's been kicked. "I don’t know what’s gotten into Arthur. I really thought he’d jump at the chance to call you his," she insists tenderly.
You nod in understanding, but honestly, the whole situation is becoming exhausting. You've tried so hard to come to terms with it, but it's becoming harder than you expected. “Maybe it was a mistake to come here," you admit softly, your voice slightly broken. "But back home in the east, I have nowhere to go, and I can’t go back to Rosewood." You reach into the bowl of potatoes again, your fingers working as you precariously drag the knife over the starchy vegetables. "But, I don’t want to be a problem here either, though. I’d leave here but I'm afraid to even do that." You cringe internally at how pathetic you sound, especially complaining to Abigail who has had her fair share of hardship in this world.
She observes you with a sympathetic click of her tongue being the only sound she is able to muster at the moment as you continue.
"You know," lifting your eyes back Abigail, "Arthur said I shouldn’t even be here. Suppose he’s right about that. As usual." You roll your eyes a bit. "I guess I just don’t belong anywhere."
Abigail reaches over the table and wraps her hand over top of yours. "Oh, (Y/N) please don’t say that. Of course you belong here." She affectionately squeezes your hand a bit more. "Don't listen to that fool. You're one of us now." Chuckling, she adds, "Whether you like it or not."
You finally stop peeling potatoes and give her a tired but appreciative smile. "It's times like this that I really miss my father, you know? At least we were misfits together.” Your face drops a bit at the memory of him. You and he came out west together to start a new life and, well, that is certainly what has happened. You have forged a new path for yourself with this gang of thieves and miscreants and found a new family within it.
But still, you miss your father terribly, as he was always your one true and unyielding ally in this world. There have been many moments where you have caught yourself in tears and heartache over his abrupt death. While the members of the Van Der Linde gang have been most gracious in welcoming you into their circle, that pang of sorrow still lingers like a fresh wound. And now in light of this situation with Arthur, it seems to have come back to the surface ten-fold as you're not sure what to do now. Your father was always such a kind and understanding man, very pragmatic. You’d give anything just to have his council again.
After the two of you are done helping Mr. Pearson with dinner, you head back to the privacy of your tent to nurse a throbbing headache, and Abigail wanders over to the fire with Jack in tow. While her boy plays with his wooden figurines at her feet, Abigail sits cross-legged on the ground with her chin in her hand, staring into the crackling flames with a contemplative scowl on her face. Soon enough, an all-too familiar raspy voice catches her attention.
"Oh boy, who's on your shit-list now?" jokes John as he playfully tugs on the few wisps of hair that hang from her loose bun and dance along the nape of her neck. He slowly lowers himself to sit next to her, leaning out onto his knees with his elbows. "I'm hopin' it ain't me." He bumps into her shoulder with a smirk.
She snorts in his direction. "No, for once, it's not you. It's that idiot brother of yours."
John listens to Abigail vent her frustrations out to him as she goes on for a good twenty minutes. (Honestly, it feels good to him to not be the target of her ire for a change.) And after hearing of what is going on between you two, John decides to talk to Arthur about it. He actually agrees with his woman for once and wants to see if he can nudge Arthur in the right direction. You and John may have gotten off on the wrong foot when you first came to join the gang, but since then, he has come to be quite fond of you. He appreciates the friendship you have provided for Abigail, and you’ve helped him to create a better relationship with her. And, as much as he and Arthur bicker, John has to admit that you are good for Arthur. Plus, if he doesn't talk to Arthur, Abigail certainly will. And John will try to spare his brother her wrath that he knows all too well himself.
John finds Arthur over by the horses, getting them fed and watered for the night before everyone settles in by the fires. He saunters over to Arthur, no announcement, no greeting. He just blurts out “Are you crazy?!"
Arthur halts in his movements, looking over his shoulder and giving John a confused look. "What in the hell are you goin' on about now, Marston?"
"You have a woman like (Y/N) throwing herself at you and you say 'no'?! Jesus, I don’t ever want to hear you talk about how stupid I am!” John plants his hands on his narrow hips as he scolds the man in front of him. Arthur just gives him another confused look. "Abigail told me," replies John. "Apparently (Y/N) is all upset and was talking to Abigail about it."
Arthur rolls his eyes to the sky. "Shit..."  
"And before you get all mad at (Y/N) for blabbin', Abigail had to drag it out of her," John says quickly. "She was wonderin' why (Y/N)'s been actin' funny the last few days. "
"Oh..." Arthur sighs. He tosses the horse brush that is in his hand into the bucket at his feet and shoves his fingertips into his eye sockets in frustration. Great. Now the whole damn camp is going to know his business. "It ain’t that easy, Marston." He offers John his feeble excuse with a dismissive wave of his arm towards his brother.
John rolls his eyes in exasperation. "Well, what’s so damn hard about it, Arthur? She likes you, you like her - and don't tell me that you don't!" he quickly points his finger at Arthur before the man can even deny it. "It don’t get much easier than that!"
"What if..." Arthur's hand waves haplessly in the air, his eyes scattering across the camp, as he tries to find the words. "What if I get her killed? Huh?" A long, depressed sigh escapes his chest as he turns to lean his burly arms out over top of Buck's backside as he thinks. "Or, what if she decides that she really doesn't like me after all?" His chin turns back over his shoulder to meet John's questioning gaze again. "What then?"
"Well, that's a real possibility. I mean, I've known you for years and I still don't like you," John snickers.
"Don't be an ass," Arthur snaps back.
John proudly places his hand over his chest. "I can honestly say that for once, between the two of us, Arthur, I am not the ass in this situation here."
“She deserves better than the likes of me,” Arthur continues, flipping his hand about wildly again to indicate himself and the camp. And as he hears his own words hanging in the air, Arthur knows he's trying to convince himself more than John right now. Deep down, he's desperately trying to justify the huge mistake he knows that he is making.
“Well, that goes without saying." John walks a few steps closer to Arthur, casually patting Buck's hind quarters as he speaks. "But I say, if you really want (Y/N) to be happy, then just give her what she wants. And for whatever reason, that’s you, jack-ass." He looks his brother in the eye, an impish grin on his thin lips. "(Y/N) is not dumb, Arthur. Did you ever stop to think that if someone like her fancies you, then you can’t be all that bad?”
Arthur thinks on this for a moment, stunned by this idea. He's never considered it from that perspective. His vividly colored eyes dart around as the notion rolls about in his head. "You know, Marston, you may not be all that dense, after all."
John simply snorts in response. "Well, ain't that hard, considering the company that I keep."
"I can't believe I'm taking relationship advice from you of all people," Arthur mutters, as he draws his hand over his face in disbelief.
"I know, right?" John chuckles a bit as he slaps Arthur on the shoulder.
To Arthur's surprise, his talk with John actually makes him feel better. He decides to try to make things up to you, or to at least make the focused effort to go back to how things were before. But to his dismay, you resist his advances. You are trying to keep your distance from him at this point, avoiding him whenever you can, as you find that it's just too painful to be around him. You eat your meals in your tent, and you keep to yourself when you work. You are not unkind or rude to Arthur, using only simple one word answers when you have to talk to him. But there is no fondness or attachment with him as usual. The familiarity between the two of you has dwindled like a dying candle flame about to be swallowed in a bed of used wax.
You strategically place yourself the furthest away from Arthur whenever he is in camp, volunteering for any task that Ms. Grimshaw has available to keep yourself preoccupied. Grimshaw hates it when you girls are interrupted from whatever work she has dictated you to do. So you will use her iron-will to your advantage to shield yourself from Arthur if you can.
Aside from washing laundry all day, you run errands with Mr. Pearson, run scouts with Javier, and try to get out of camp altogether whenever you have the opportunity. You jump at the chance to go hunting with Charles any time he offers. In fact, you have come to rely on Charles quite a bit lately. Charles naturally has a calming presence about him and he has become a great comfort to you. He himself is also a bit of a loner and outsider in this group, and you have found a kindred spirit in him.
At one point you are in your tent cleaning up and turn to head out to find Charles. You are not paying attention, looking down as you shake out the jacket in your hands and you run right into Arthur, almost bouncing off of his chest. He has come to try to talk to you yet again, and corners you by your tent. He is standing in front of you with his thumbs tucked into his gun belt, as he usually does, but this time he has a slight scowl set upon his face, his eyes dark. If you didn't know him better, you'd be intimidated by his demeanor standing there.
You gasp, jumping slightly and placing a hand over your chest in surprise. "Jesus, Arthur! You scared the hell out of me!"  
“Figured I had to sneak up on you lest you run away from me again," he retorts, his voice carrying a tinge of annoyance to it. "What, are you trying to make me jealous by hangin' 'round with other men, now?”
You halt at his accusation, your face twisting up. "Excuse me?"
“You’ve been hangin' 'round with Charles quite a bit lately." His eyes level at you with a cold and mirthless stare.
"Have I?" Your reply is sarcastically innocent. You do not care for his insinuation in the slightest, and now it is you who is getting annoyed.
"Yeah, you have," Arthur pushes. "You won’t go out hunting with me, but you’ll go out with him.” He juts his thumb over his shoulder back at the camp behind him.
“I like Charles," you counter harshly. "He doesn’t talk much. I don’t have to worry about stupid shit coming out of his mouth.”
"Is that a fact?" His slow drawl is clearly an indication that he is not amused at your statement.
"Yes, it is. Is that a problem, Arthur?" You are not about to back down from him, no matter how much he towers over you as he steps even closer to you now while you glare up at him bitterly.
He waves his hand at you in irritation. "No. No, you do whatever you damn well want.” You can tell he is getting riled up now, as his eyes are flashing, and you can see his jaw clenching, even under his beard.
“Good, because I plan to," you snap at him again. "Besides, what am I supposed to do?" You toss the jacket that you are still holding onto your cot behind you before crossing your arms defensively over your chest. "And where’s this coming from, anyway, Arthur? I thought you wanted no part of that?"
He just stares at you, not really sure what to say to that. The argument is right there on the tip of his tongue, ready to strike its ugly head. He wants nothing more than to grab you and hold you tight, never letting you go; needing you to just stop lashing out at him for a damn second. But he can’t. He just…can’t. So instead, he stands there like a mountain; silent and not moving.
Anger begins to build in your chest, causing the brows above your beautiful eyes to crease. You can feel your heart beating painfully faster as the adrenaline courses through your body. And you can sense that your mouth is about to pour forth words that will be an unstoppable waterfall.
"First there’s the glances, the lingering touches, taking me out places, talking to me all the time," you start rambling, your composure quickly crumbling now that you are speaking to him again. "Then all of a sudden acting like I'm nothing to you-“
"Hey! I never said you were nothing to me!” he interrupts with a shout as he takes another step closer to you.
"- only to be jealous, now?!" Your voice squeaks as it hits the louder decibel.
“I ain’t jealous and I never promised you anything! You’re the one who made it complicated!” He points his large finger in your face, mere inches from your nose.
"Right, my error. My miserable error for giving a damn about you!" Your arms shoot straight at your sides as your voice continues to rise in anger, your eyes dangerously brimmed with tears that threaten to spill forth and betray your hard front.
You lower your head to your hands, driving your fingertips into your temples, desperately trying to keep your brain from exploding. "What are you doing, Arthur?"
"What?" he snaps defensively.
"What are you doing to me?!," you holler at him, lifting your face back to his. "You want me here, but you don’t want me here. You don’t want me, but you don’t want me with anyone else, either. You can’t keep stringing me like that! What is it that you want, Arthur?!"
"I don’t know what the hell I want!” His voice roars into your face, standing nose to nose with you now, so close that you can feel his hot breath across your cheeks.
"Well that’s obvious," you say flatly.
And as you fearlessly hold his stony gaze, it occurs to you that you're going to have to let this fantasy of yours die. You've tried so hard to make him see what’s in himself, and to see you; to get him to see that your heart is here for his taking and, more importantly, that he deserves to be loved in return.
But he’s a broken outlaw. And you're going to have to come to terms with that and let him go. The reality of this idea painfully nets over your heart as your gaze flutters before it drops from his angry eyes to his heaving chest and finally falls to the ground to his dusty boots.
Defeated, your shoulders drop. You shake your head as you turn away from him, not able to look upon his face anymore. "Just…get the hell out of my tent, Arthur." Your tone is quiet and broken now after all of the yelling. He's done it. He's won the argument and finally gotten what he's been pushing you for. You're done with your childish fantasy of making this fearsome outlaw a partner to you.
Arthur stands there staring at your back for a moment, the corner of his eyes stinging slightly. Rage electrifies and radiates throughout his whole body as his hands flex in and out of a fist at his sides. Finally, he turns and storms away from your tent. "God damn it!" he mutters harshly to himself. Why is it that everything he touches turns to shit?
From where he's been watching this whole exchange, Hosea quickly stands up from his chair, alarmed, as he watches Arthur stalk angrily away from your tent.
“Arthur!” Hosea calls out, his face clearly laced with concern. For an "angry Arthur" is a "dangerous Arthur" for sure.
"Not now, Hosea!" Arthur snaps, waving the older man off without so much as a glance in his direction as he stomps off.
Arthur is so infuriated right now, he's not really sure what to do. He's irrationally upset with you. He keeps replaying that day at the overlook when you revealed your affection for him. Why in the hell did you have to do that? It ruined everything. The two of you could have remained friends, and if he longed for you, he could just do it secretly as he's been doing since he's met you. But no, you had to push the idea and now the two of you are either hollering at each other or not speaking altogether. Why did you have to come here and be so nice to him? Why did you have to make him fall for you?
But he soon realizes how foolish he is being, chastising himself. It's not your fault, but his. He never should have let it get this far. He should have kept his distance from you from the start. He should have known he’d be weak-willed and defenseless against someone as good and pure as you.
Arthur stalks back to his tent and as he does, he looks up and sees Charles sitting outside of his own tent. He's sitting upon a log as a makeshift chair, his attention acutely fixated on the materials in his hands. Looks like he is making more arrows. 'Probably so he can take (Y/N) out hunting again,' Arthur sourly thinks to himself.
Arthur walks over to Charles, knowing he probably shouldn't right now. All of his reasoning argues that he should just stop and try to calm down. But unfortunately, Arthur is not thinking rationally at the moment. Charles casually lifts his head as he sees Arthur approach out of the corner of his eye.
"Arthur." Charles greets him with an air of caution, as he can see the tension on his friend's face. He could hear you and Arthur arguing just a few minutes ago. From where his tent is situated in camp, it is farther from yours, so Charles couldn't hear exactly what was said, only the volume and tone with which it was.
"Charles," Arthur coolly greets in return. "What you workin' on there? Hmm? More arrows to go huntin' with?" He cocks his head to the side as he coldly stares down at the items in Charles' hands.
"Yeah. I promised (Y/N) the next time we go out that we'd work on her bow skills. Been working with her on tracking lately. But she really wants to get a grasp on working with a bow."
Arthur looks on with disdain as Charles’ large fingertips delicately wrap the end of the arrow shaft with feathers.
"Oh, I'm sure she wants to get a grasp on somethin', alright," Arthur retorts bitterly.
Arthur's tone makes Charles hesitate. He looks back to Arthur and measures his words carefully. "You got a problem with me taking (Y/N) out hunting, Arthur?"
"Maybe I do."
Charles is not a violent man by nature, but he will stand his ground if need be. He has no designs to "steal" you from Arthur, if that is what the other man thinks he's doing. He has no intention of fighting over you, either. But Charles will fight for you if he has to. He puts the shafts and string in his lap down on the ground next to his feet. Arthur doesn’t move a muscle of his large frame as Charles slowly stands to square off and meets him at eye level.
“If you got a problem with (Y/N), Arthur, that’s between you two. She and I are only hunting together. That's all." Charles's voice is low and even. He doesn't want to provoke his good friend, but he also resents his tone. "Apparently, she's looking to get out of camp a lot lately, looking for some peace and quiet. And, she's a good shot, damn good shot, in fact. So she is welcome to hunt with me whenever she wants." Charles pauses, standing a little straighter, pushing his chest out a bit. "Besides, she’s my friend, too.”
Arthur cocks a knowing eyebrow at Charles. “Yeah, and we all know how friendships can go.”
“Mind yourself, Arthur,” warns Charles, pointing his finger at his chest and giving his friend a look that is more of disappointment than anger, before he sits back down and calmly resumes his work. He understands Arthur's frustration, and understands that he is not the target of the outlaw's anger. He also knows Arthur is better than this pettiness, too. But more importantly, Charles won't stand for anyone speaking badly about you, regardless of who it is.
Arthur says nothing else, realizing that he is not getting anywhere with Charles. So to avoid ruining yet another relationship that he has come to rely on, Arthur smartly buttons his lips and walks off to sulk in the solitude of his tent.
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This stunning image comes from @regwishesshehadmagic​
The morning following your fight, Arthur is awake before the sun. He watches with bleary eyes as the crisp morning sun begins to fracture into his tent between the opening in the canvas. Not being able to sleep all night, he drags himself to sit up on his cot with a groan, rubbing his hands through his disheveled hair.  Despite his overwhelming fatigue, he is so restless, he can’t stand it. Feeling as if he is on the edge of going crazy, Arthur quickly gets himself together and rides out of camp before anyone is aware. He doesn't know where he is going or what he is going to do, only that he has to get out of this godforsaken camp and clear his head.
He spends the next two days out in the woods, thinking about what to do and what he really wants. He is being torn apart by this rift between you and him, torn between what he wants and what he feels is right. Arthur sits among the trees, silent as a statue, while the forest life goes on about its merry way around him, and rolls his doubts and misgivings over and over again in his mind, along with what Micah had said. Torturing himself with angry and hurtful words, the man blames himself for allowing himself to be in this situation to begin with.
As the long day draws out into the night, Arthur still sits, legs stretched out before him as the small campfire illuminates the now-encroaching darkness. And of course, Arthur also thinks of you. He takes his journal out and reads over the entries. Refreshing his memory with thoughts of you, he relives the moments you've spent together. Each passage brings forth a plethora of emotions, each stronger than the last. Your image is scattered throughout the worn pages in various forms, from the details of your eyes and lips, to the graceful curve of your neck, visible when your hair is pulled up, to a full-body likeness of you standing with Jack on your hip. His rough fingers trace over the lines of your face as he sits in deep thought, a small smile involuntarily blooming across his features.
But most importantly, he thinks about what you said at the overlook. His eyes relax and stare unfocused into the dancing flames of his fire, and Arthur's chest tightens as he vividly remembers the look on your face when he declined your affections and sat there and did nothing as he watched your eyes rim with tears. Your voice still booms in his ears:  “What is it that you want, Arthur?!”
Arthur’s fingers move as if combing through mud as he pulls a cigarette out of his satchel and lights it. Pulling a long drag off of the end, he lets out an extended and tired sigh. What does he want?
He knows he’s lonely. He hates to admit it, but he is. Cold nights and empty beds; no warm arms waiting to welcome him home. But the fear of exposing himself to love again, only for it to end horribly, is terrifying, even to a fearsome, hard outlaw. Losing Eliza and Issac shattered his heart. And Mary’s rejection has left him bitter and angry. Over the years, Arthur has channeled his hurt and pain into an armor until he has become someone else altogether; a shell of what he once was, and he wasn’t all that great to begin with. He’s no good, like a rotten apple that’s fallen from the tree that no one wants to take. Arthur doesn’t think he has it in him to do it all over again. And now, he is in a position to be stuck between living his life and running from it.
But you are different. You are not as young and naive as Eliza was. Nor are you as self-serving as Mary. Though he cared for and loved both women, Arthur knew, even then, that he was doomed, for these women did not fit with his family and lifestyle. But with you, that burden is removed. Not only do you accept the gang, but you have embraced it. And you are someone who cares for him, not for what he does, but for who he is.
You are delightfully chaotic; quite the beautiful mess, in fact. Arthur finds you to be wonderfully out of place in his life, but maybe that is as it should be. Kind of like when you see the moon during the daytime. You’ve turned your broken into beautiful and made your strength look invincible. You have never asked Arthur for the moon and the stars, but only to lay in the damp grass at night with you to watch them. And to Arthur, this means more than anything. The way your nose wrinkles when you smile. The way your eyes light up when you see him. The way you snort sometimes when you laugh. The way you get impassioned when you speak of something that touches you. Even the way you walk away from the fire at night to head back to your tent. Arthur wants it all.
And it is then that Arthur is hit with a profound realization. His eyes open wide and the air is sucked out of his chest as if he's been thrown from his horse. Arthur loves you. He loves you. And, more importantly, he wants the two of you to be together. More than anything. But can he do that?
He knows it's not the safe path, and probably not what is best for you. But John is right: if this is what you both really want, why not do it? He finally comprehends that he’s spent so much time being strong for everyone else that he’s never allowed himself to be happy. Maybe that needs to change now.
With resolve in his veins, Arthur quickly packs up his makeshift camp, literally tripping over himself in his haste, and heads back home.
As Arthur comes down the path back to camp, his eyes immediately notice that your horse is gone. Disappointed, but not discouraged, Arthur thinks about his next move and decides to ask Abigail and Mary-Beth what to do. If he is going to fix this great divide between you and him, he is going to need help to do it, as so far, he clearly doesn't know what he's doing on his own. He needs to bring "the big guns," as they say. And fortunately, Arthur finds the very two people he needs sitting together at a table.
“Can I talk to you ladies a minute?" Arthur calls over as he walks with purpose in their direction with a very determined look upon his face. The two women halt their conversation upon hearing him, curious about what he could want.
Mary-Beth smiles up at him as Arthur gets close to their table. "Sure, Arthur. What do you need?" He sits down next to Mary-Beth, pausing to organize his thoughts before he just comes right out with it.
"(Y/N) told me how she feels about me. You know, that she likes me an’ all. And like a fool, I pushed her away.” His eyes dart back and forth from both of their faces before shamefully down at his own hands that fidget on the table. "I guess I underestimated how I’d feel about that."
Abigail sits up straighter as a huge smile begins to cross her lips. “Are you saying that you want to be with her then, Arthur?”
"The question was never if I wanted to," he says to Abigail. "But she won’t even speak to me now." He holds his hands up in defeat before letting them fall haplessly onto the table, and looks to the women with a pathetic face, pleading for help. "Every time I try, we end up yellin’, and I make it worse."
Abigail gives him a scolding look. "Well, Arthur, you wounded her pride and broke her heart. What do you expect?" 
“Maybe you need a grand gesture?” suggests Mary-Beth, gesturing with her arms in emphasis. Her eyes go wide with excitement, eager to help usher this new relationship into existence. "(Y/N) can be stubborn, for sure. So if she won't talk to you, Arthur, then make her listen. Maybe you need to show her how you feel?"
“If you’re going to do something, you may need to do it soon, Arthur," warns Abigail, tapping her finger on the table. She goes on to tell him that you feel as if you don’t belong and have been distancing yourself from the whole camp.
 "She's up and out before anyone else, and when she is in camp, she rarely leaves her tent now." This worries Arthur because what if you decide to leave? Then what? He’s scared to lose you even though you're not his to lose.
Arthur sits quietly, taking in all of this information. He tries to think of what he could possibly do while Abigail and Mary-Beth both stare at him, waiting for the answer. "Thank you, girls. I appreciate your help," he finally says. "Do me a favor though, and don't mention this to (Y/N), please? I don't know what I'm doin' just yet, and I don't want to disappoint her even more than I already have."
"Sure, Arthur. Whatever you say," Mary-Beth answers with a hopeful grin. “Good Luck!”
He then looks to Abigail, who just stares back obstinately.
"Abigail?"
"Ugh, OK fine! I won't say anything. But you had better do something, Arthur Morgan!" as she points her finger at him. "Or so help me-"
"OK, OK!" he holds up his hands in surrender as he stands up. "I don't need two women in camp after me. I'll take care of it." And he smiles to himself as he heads to his tent to plan.
After mulling over his options, Arthur decides to ride back to Rosewood where you came from to see if he can find anything of your father's there. If you are missing your family, as Abigail told him, Arthur is hoping to bring back some sort of remembrance of him for you. After a quick check-in with Dutch, Arthur immediately heads out of camp and on his way to Rosewood. It's a few days' ride, so he needs to get going so he can hurry and get back.
Meanwhile, back at camp, you notice Arthur has been gone intermittently since your revelation, and now he’s been gone for several days after your fight. Things seem to be going from bad to worse. Figuring he’s outright avoiding the camp itself because of you, you don’t know what to do. This is his family, his people. And if you're the one making things difficult, then you will need to be the one to leave. So, you start coming to terms with the idea that you will need to find a new place of your own.
This evening, as the sun starts to crawl back behind the mountains, you find yourself sitting outside of camp by yourself. You stare out into the watercolor-painted sky, thinking over where you'll go and what you'll do. The idea of leaving is terrifying. You'll have to start over yet again. You'll miss everyone in this camp who you have come to love so dearly. You’ll surely miss Abigail and Jack. And of course Hosea. You'll miss Arthur. 
You draw your knees up closer to your chin and wrap your arms around them as an overwhelming fatigue cascades over you. You are so lost in your own thoughts that you do not hear footsteps behind you.
“(Y/N)? What are you doing out here?” You hear Charles' soft voice cut through your thoughts. When he didn't see you at dinner yet again tonight, he decided to come to check on you.
You hastily wipe away a few tears from your cheeks and try to smile for him. “Hi, Charles. What can I do for you?”
He cautiously approaches you as one does a wounded animal. His brows knit in concern when, even in the setting sunlight, he can see the red-rim of your wet eyes. "Arthur ain’t gonna be too happy if he finds out we’ve let you wander off by your lonesome.”
You scoff at that. "Oh, I highly doubt that," giving Charles a sad smile. "Although Arthur is the expert on what I shouldn’t be doing, it seems." You turn your attention back to the horizon, watching the last flecks of golden sunlight begin to fade for the day. "Besides, he won't have to worry about it much longer."
Charles freezes before nervously shifting his weight from hip to hip. "What do you mean by that?"
"Oh…nothing. Forget I said anything." You wave off the comment as if it is nothing more than a rambling thought, but you still avoid his dark eyes.  
"(Y/N)…you OK?"
"Yeah…sure. I’ll be fine"
Charles steps closer to you, studying your face and countenance, not believing you for a second. "Listen (Y/N), I know you and Arthur are in a weird place right now-“
"Oh, Charles, I really don’t want to talk about Arthur. Really, I don’t,” you insist, shaking your head vehemently. Your eyes have a glassy sheen that causes Charles to cringe in pity for you.
“OK,” He’s silent for a moment. "Can I do anything for you?" His hand tentatively reaches out to you, not really sure what, if anything, he can do.
"No, sweet man, I’m OK. Thank you." You try to give him another smile for reassurance. "Go ahead back to everyone. I won't be out here much longer. I promise."
Charles hesitates a bit longer, before turning to head back to camp. "All right, if you're sure you're OK, then."
When you see him disappear amongst the tents again, you turn back to the horizon. The sun is gone now. The light has been snuffed out, leaving a cold and lonely atmosphere in its wake. The first few pin-pricks of starlight begin to emerge in the purple sky. You sigh deeply as your shoulders drop even more and your eyelids fall like stones. 
"I'm not sure of anything anymore," you whisper to yourself.  
A/N: *Oh my goodness, half-way there! More drama to come, but I promise, we’re getting there, and it’s definitely worth it (I hope anyway)
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