#and after a few days. i started thinkin more bout mary and i was like: actually... she aint rlly that bad... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mileycyprus-hill · 5 years

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Has anyone else thought of this? If not, hear me out for a second!

What if, instead of Arthur sleeping with Eliza after his breakup with Mary...he sleeps with the reader? And gets her pregnant instead? 🙌🏻Strap in folks, we’re going for a ride.

Arthur x female reader

Mistakes

warnings: small mention of suicide, smut, smut, smut, cursing, drinking.

You’ve been a part of the gang shortly after John joined in. Age wise, you’re in between John and Arthur and are really good friends with both of them. Perhaps more so with Arthur.

You come back to your camp outside Blackwater after a successful hunt. You were away for about 12 hours - shorter than usual - as the antelope are flourishing in your area.

The gang is fairly small in numbers, but very close with each other. You treat Dutch and Hosea like your adoptive fathers, and you seem to be the only one Ms. Grimshaw truly gets along with. She’s still hard on you when it comes to chores. But whenever there’s lady issues, you can trust her to be kind and understanding.

Everyone seems to be settled in camp, except one person who seems to be missing. You look around and don’t see Arthur anywhere.

It’s not uncommon for him to be gone on a job or a lead, but he’s been gone for at least three days. Normally, he calls on you to go with him on long trips for support. Whether that’s moral support, or just another helping hand to carry robbed goods. He knows he can trust you.

As you look, your eyes spot John carrying hay over to the horses at the corner of camp. You quickly walk over to him as he drops the bale.

“Hey John.”

“Hey, Y/N.”

You don’t beat around the bush.

“Hey, where’s Arthur been? I’ve barely seen him these past few days.”

“I saw him yesterday coming through. You must’ve been gone ‘cause he didn’t stay long.” John answers. “I guess he only stopped by to grab some things and then he ran off.” John points over to Arthur’s tent as he speaks. “He looked in such a sour mood. So I didn’t say nothin’.”

“He’s always in a sour mood, isn’t he?” You joke.

John laughs. You two were like twins, despite you having a couple years over him. Arthur was always the big brother who loved pestering the both of you. As the three of you grew together, the closer you became in different ways. With John, it turned from an intense sibling rivalry to a close brother/sister bond. With Arthur, it turned from relentless fighting to a budding romance - at least on one end it felt that way.

“Ask Hosea...” John says. He must have noticed the worry on your face.

Was it that obvious?

“...I saw Arthur talking to him before he ran off.” John continues.

You reply, “Thanks,” and slap his shoulder gently. John smacks your hand away playfully. The two of you snicker as you separate. You walk over to Hosea.

Hosea must’ve heard you walking over to him, as he keeps his nose in his newspaper, “Y/N! How’s things?”

“Alright,” you answer. Plopping down on a chair in front of his table. Resting your elbows on the table, you fidget with your fingernails. There’s an uncomfortable silence.

Hosea, being the ever-loving parent, doesn’t need to look up from his paper to sense your worry. You hated that he could see right through you at times. You couldn’t keep anything from your adopted father.

“Something on your mind, dear?” Hosea asks.

You take a breath, trying your best to hide your concern for Arthur. You didn’t want to come across as clingy, but unbeknownst to you, Hosea already knew about your feelings for Arthur.

“Just...you seen Arthur anywhere?” you answer nervously.

Hosea finally drops a corner of his newspaper to peer over at you. An eyebrow raised. It drove you crazy seeing him look at you that way, like he already knows what you’re about to say.

But then his expression changes. He folds his newspaper and sets it neatly on the table. His eyebrows now furrowed and his mouth turned to a slight frown.

Hosea sighs, “Figured you should know by now that things are done between him and that Mary Gillis.”

You immediately sit up straight at this news. Your eyes have gone wide. Your mouth drops open to ask, but Hosea already answers.

“Yep.” Hosea sighs again. “Guess she finally came to her senses...Or perhaps daddy made up her mind for her.”

Hosea reaches into his pocket to grab his pipe and fills it with tobacco.

“Seems our little Romeo and Juliet are no more.”

He looks out to the horizon as he speaks. You can tell he truly feels bad for them. Not everyone may have agreed with their relationship, but Hosea only wished for Arthur’s happiness. Much like you did.

Your heart broke for Arthur. You were jealous of Mary, but you didn’t despise her. You just hoped she could give Arthur the happiness he deserved.

You often hoped you could give him that happiness.

“Is...he ok?” You finally ask.

Hosea looks to you fondly, “Well, for someone who’s just had their heart broken...I’d guess he’s alright. Just needs some time to get through it.”

“Where is he now?” you ask. You know having your heart broken can cause you to make some foolish decisions. You just wanted to make sure Arthur wouldn’t do anything he’d later regret. Much like he probably regrets his prior engagement to Mary right now.

“He told me he’s camping on his own nearby...Said he wanted to be alone for a little while.” Hosea stares at you as he utters that last sentence, hoping to emphasize it for you.

You scoff a little and shake your head.

“Please.” You say. “I just wanna see if he’s okay.”

Hosea lights his pipe and studies you across the table.

“He went North,” he finally says, pointing his pipe in that direction. “Not too far out. Several miles, I’d say.”

“Thanks,” you say as you rise to your feet.

You turn your back and begin to walk away when Hosea calls.

“You’re a good friend, Y/N.”

You turn to Hosea, and he gives you a wink. You smirk and start walking over to the horses to saddle your own. John has already finished unloading the last bale for the horses and is resting under a nearby tree.

“Where’you goin’ now?” he asks, tiredly. For a scrawny young man, he sure tires easily from physical labor. But he still works hard, unlike Uncle.

“Nowhere,” you lie. Heaving your saddle and horse blanket onto your steed.

Your horse is a beautiful black thoroughbred you stole from a rich stable owner, one who trains racehorses. Your horse was supposed to be the man’s prize stud, but his temperament was so unruly, he was gelded and trained to run the tracks. That horse never made it to the tracks though because of you. You wanted him. After successfully stealing him with Arthur’s help, you decided to name him König.

Arthur wouldn’t stop making fun of you for that.

“Kahn-nig?” Arthur reads the etching on his leather halter, “What kinda name is that?”

“It’s ‘coo-nic’ you dummy,” you laugh at him, lifting your chin and tapping your throat, “nic, in the back of the throat. ‘nich’. ”

“Kooo-nick...Well, what the hell is that?” Arthur asks.

You laugh again, “It’s German. It means ‘king.’ My grandma only spoke German. Remember?”

“Yeah, I remember. ‘Member her being a wild, crab-ass of a woman too,” Arthur drawls.

You slap his shoulder with the back of your hand as he laughs boisterously, yourself hiding a smile.

You’re jogged back from your memories as John gently pushes you.

“Liar,” John calls you, smirking.

You try to smirk back and jeer at him in response, but you’re distracted. Your thoughts are only on Arthur.

“Helloooo.....Y/N! What’s with you?”

You cinch the girth of the saddle and look to John, “Sorry. I- I’m just thinkin’.”

“ ‘bout what?” he asks. Your horse is saddled and bridled as you walk to your tent to grab the rest of your things. John walks alongside you.

“Arthur...’m gonna go see if he’s alright,” you respond.

John stops with a annoyed groan and looks up to the sky, rolling his eyes.

“Let him go, Y/N. He’s just out there brooding as usual. He’ll be fine.” he states. “He’s probably in a mood ‘cause of Mary.”

“Well that’s just it,” you look to him as you grab your bedroll and supplies from your tent. “It is about Mary. And I know if someone broke my heart, I’d want someone to talk to. I got you, but... Arthur doesn’t have anyone else.”

John sighs in defeat, “Whatever.”

You walk past him towards König, putting on your satchel.

“Just give him one of these for me,” John punches you hard in the arm.

“Ow!” you yell, rubbing your arm.

“Tell him I said ‘Hi’. ” John laughs and jogs away from your retaliation punch.

“Asshole!” you yell to him, your arm still sore. You hear his wheezy laugh in the distance and turn back towards your horse.

It only takes a couple of hours to find Arthur’s little camp. The sun sets and the sky is painted in strokes of beautiful pink, orange, and purple ribbons. You look above the tips of the emerald trees and view the clouds reflecting the wonderful hues. It makes you feel so small looking at the vast sky. Taking in the scenery, you trot König towards the low plume of smoke from Arthur’s fire, hidden within a patch of trees and shrubs.

At the sound of hoofbeats, Arthur quickly stands with his hand hovering over his gun belt, ready to draw his revolver.

“Arthur?” you gently call out, hands raised, as if trying to avoid spooking a wild animal. “It’s me. Y/N.”

You see Arthur relax a bit, but he doesn’t look pleased.

“What’r you doin’ here?” he gruffly asks, the timbre of his voice like rich black coffee poured over gravel.

You halt König by a tree next to Arthur’s horse and dismount, patting him on his massive neck.

“Figured I’d check on you to make sure you didn’t kill yourself,” you say as you approach his fire.

Arthur plops onto the ground next to his fire, eyeing the small dancing flames.

“Perhaps I should,” he responds, “Be best for everyone if I do.”

You stand at the fire, looking down solemnly at Arthur. He throws a pebble into the fire, sulking.

“You don’t mean that.” you say gently.

Arthur looks up at you, but quickly looks away. In that brief moment, you could see his bloodshot eyes. You could see he was in pain, though he attempts to hide himself beneath his hat. A wet sniffle reaches your ears as he shrugs his shoulders in response. You step over and sit down by him near the fire, the dirt is soft and warm beneath you.

“You wanna talk about it?” You ask him carefully. Arthur is like a trap: you try to avoid reaching him in a way that causes him to close up, making it harder for you to pry him back open...if you can at all.

Arthur quietly shakes his head, fumbling with the toe of his boot. He grabs his neckerchief from around his neck and wipes under his nose with another harsh sniffle.

“You’d feel better if you do...instead of bottling it all up. You’re bound to explode if you don’t.” You reassure him. “But, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Silence.

You don’t push any further. Instead of forcing your way in, you wait patiently and let him come to you when he’s ready, like taming a wild dog.

A few moments pass as you both sit in silence. The sunset now gone as the sky is blanketed in stars. You take off your satchel and dig through its contents.

“Here,” you pull out a bottle of rum. “Want some? There’s not much left, but it’s enough.” You shake the bottle gently, swirling the contents inside.

Arthur scans the bottle in your hands. “Shoah,” he whispers. You hand him the bottle and hear the cork slightly pop with a *fwoomp* as he opens it.

The two of you hand the bottle back and forth to each other. Neither of you say a word, only taking another shot of rum. The only sounds coming out of your mouths are the hisses you make at the warm sting of the rum.

You finish it rather quickly, as it was only half-full. But still a decent sized bottle. Tossing it into the fire, you sigh. Your body feels warm and loose, wrapped in a spiritual cocoon of cotton and distilled molasses. You feel ultimately relaxed.

You look up to see Arthur laying another dead log on the fire, stirring the embers as golden sparks dance into the air like fireflies. He returns to his spot next to you, sitting closer.

You continue looking over at him and notice his eyes are now slightly hooded behind his eyelids. He seems to have relaxed a little as well, but still has a gloomy look on his face. He looks to you from the corner of his eyes. You notice and quickly avert your gaze to the growing fire in front of you. You decide to move closer to the warmth of the flames as the chill of the night air gets to you. It still amazes you how cold it gets when the sun goes down in this arid climate.

Pulling your knees to your chest, you rest your arms on your knees, your chin on top of your arms.

“Got a spare blanket?” You ask him, still gazing into the fire. You can feel him stare at you, so you turn your head to him, now resting your cheek on your arms.

His features are softened in the orange glow of the fire. You can’t help but smile a bit at how handsome he looks. He always made your heart flutter when he winked at you with those gorgeous eyes. Or when his nose crinkled as he smiled and laughed at your jokes. You would give him anything and everything to make him happy.

“No...” he finally answers, breaking eye contact and looking over to his shelter. “But’chou can have mine.”

Despite your protest in taking his only blanket, he slowly gets up and walks over to his small tent. It’s more of a lean-to than a proper tent. The effects of the rum rush to his head as he loses his footing a bit, showing his slight inebriation.

You didn’t think that the rum would hit him that hard, as you only feel tipsy yourself.

“Have you eaten anything lately?” you query.

“Besides whiskey and that rum of yours? No,” he mumbles. “Ain’t hungry.”

After handing you his blanket, he plops down next to you again. His leg brushes against yours as he clumsily adjusts himself to sit comfortably.

“I should get you something to eat, Arthur. Otherwise, you’ll be sick in the morning.” You ready yourself to get up and walk to your horse until Arthur grabs your wrist.

“I said I ain’t hungry!” he pulls you back down angrily. His nostrils flaring as he looks at the fire, avoiding eye contact with you.

“Ow, geez! Alright, Arthur...god.” You hiss. He nearly popped your elbow out of place when he pulled you down. You rub at your wrist, the knees of your trousers are rubbed with dirt. Arthur hadn’t been physical like this towards you in years. It was only when you really pissed him off, usually during your shenanigans with John to get under his skin.

Suddenly, you notice Arthur huffing, breathing in short heavy breaths through his nose. In the firelight, his eyes have turned glassy. He appears to be holding back tears.

His voice is hushed, “I just don’t understand.”

You look at him silently, letting him gather his thoughts to continue. He continues staring at the fire, like he’s speaking to it instead of you.

He looks up to the stars with a sniffle, “I thought she was gonna marry me...said she would, but...”

His breaths are ragged as he holds himself back, biting his lip.

“We’ve been fightin’. Fightin’ so much lately. And then she told me that–that she can’t live with someone like me. That...if I can’t change –won’t change –” he pauses. He can’t bring himself to continue.

A moment of silence passes and you rest your hand on his knee. You caress the fabric of his jeans with your thumb, feeling the bone of his knee beneath the material.

Normally, Arthur would tense at the touch. But this was you, he trusts you. You were always there to comfort him, like the good friend you are. When it comes to fighting, you’ve seen Mary and him argue from time to time. Mary never liked arguing though. She would always recoil and shed a small tear, asking Arthur to ‘be considerate’. Arthur liked arguing, with anyone and everyone. Including you. Sometimes you’d get him riled up on purpose; say something to him that you knew would get him pissed. You liked getting him mad, and he knew it, and he’d do the same to you, much to Mary’s dismay.

She was always trying to cage the bear in him, but you regularly let him loose.

Arthur continues to explain, “She said...a lady of her standing has to think of other prospects. That she has her family’s reputation to uphold...whatever that means.”

Finally, you speak. “It means she wants you to change but isn’t willing to do the same for you.”

Arthur finally looks to you, “Well, she has. I mean...look at what she’s done with us.” He tries to defend. Even in heartbreak, he still sides with Mary. She really did have a hold on him.

“Really, Arthur?” You question him, holding his his gaze, his eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed tightly. He’s rethinking their whole relationship, dropping his head at the realization.

“I love her,” he says defeatedly. He rests his head in his hands, rubbing at his eyes.

“I know, Arthur.”

Truth be told, your heart breaks too. You never had a chance to tell Arthur how you feel about him. Once he was with Mary, you thought your opportunity was gone forever. Now that you have a chance, you still can’t bring yourself to do it, to tell him that there’s someone else waiting for him. Someone else who is willing to take him for who he is. But it’s too soon.

Arthur sighs, his voice breaking, “I wish I can forget about ‘er. Make the pain go away.”

You sit there thinking, “Well, I know something that could help.”

Arthur turns, staring at you like you’re a magician ready to turn a trick.

“It’s not like you’ll forget her forever, but at least for a moment you can. You wanna come with me to town? Get some drinks at the saloon?”

The idea of getting drunk with you in town made Arthur give you a teary smile. You are best friends after all. You always were a good time...when you weren’t fighting with him.

Arthur nods his head, “That sounds good.”

“On one condition,” you point, “You gotta promise me you’ll eat something.” You give him a wicked smirk.

Arthur chuckles, his eyes still bloodshot. His expression is a bit more cheerful. “Okay,” he mumbles.

You help Arthur tear down his shelter and fire and mount up on your horses. Before riding into town, you head back to camp to tell Dutch and Hosea. The last time you didn’t, you caused a ruckus in town and Dutch chewed your asses out for days. That was tame compared to the tongue lashing you both received from Hosea when he bailed you out of jail. It took you both a month to get the money to pay him back.

Luckily, Dutch and Hosea let you go to town. But only if you two promised not to cause trouble again. They threatened they wouldn’t bail you out this time.

Making it into town, you both step into the saloon. Arthur saves the both of you a table at the far, dark corner of the building, as a precaution to stay out of trouble. You’re left at the bar to order drinks, and a simple meal for Arthur. He must’ve lived off of nothing but whiskey for the past few days because he didn’t appear to sober up. Which means you’ve got some catching up to do. You sneak a double shot of whiskey before walking over with your beers and a humble bowl of stew.

“Here,” You say, sliding the porcelain bowl in front of him, grabbing his hand and wrapping his fingers around the spoon as if he’s a child learning how to eat.

“Eat that, and I’ll let you have a beer,” you bargain.

Arthur sighs with a frustrated huff. He wasn’t one to break promises, but he loved disobeying you. He’d always claim he didn’t have to listen to you because he’s older. But time and time again, you prove him wrong on so many levels. He didn’t want to resist you tonight, he’s far too hungry, but far too proud to admit he’s hungry. So wordlessly, he shovels the beef and vegetable stew into his mouth, holding back groans at the delicious taste.

Time has quickly passed throughout the night, along with several jaunty tunes on the piano, and a table full of beers between you two. You’re entering the twilight hours as the number of patrons begins to filter out like the candlelights on the walls, but the night is still young for you. You both find yourselves chatting about everything and nothing. From an outside glance, it’s as if the pair of you haven’t seen each in other in months, and are now catching up and relishing in each other’s stories. Somehow, the topic of conversation veers to the subject of “who has had the best sexual conquests”...

“Nuh-uh! You and Mary?” You pretend to be shocked. You’re only slightly shocked at the knowledge that he and Mary were physically intimate. She would be a fool not to sleep with Arthur. You just didn’t want to believe in the thought of the two of them in bed.

In fact, the image made your blood boil.

“Yup.” Arthur replies, popping the ‘p’.

“She was real good too,” he continues to boast.

“Pffft! Yeah, right,” you scoff, taking another swig of beer. You hold a belch in your mouth.

Arthur is offended at your scoff.

“She was!” He defends. “She would—” he laughs. “She would sneak outta her room and meet me in the barn. We’d lay down in the straw, real nice and...Y’know.” He waves his hand to make his point.

“Do tell,” you say to him, resting your chin on your hand as if you’re entranced by his story.

“Shuttup...” he replies. He can see right through your façade. He knows you’re mocking him.

“She’s the best woman I ever had.” He says lovingly. He stares down at his bottle, only a swig of beer left. He guzzles it down.

“She knew how to please me,” he smiles.

“Doubt it.” You cut in, holding the tip of your bottle to your lips.

Arthur’s head snaps up at your jest, looking at you in disbelief. That familiar look of annoyance paints across his face.

“What?” he asks, his voice rising an octave.

“I guarantee you she was not the best lay you ever had,” you state with confidence. “If anyone knows how to please a man, it’s me!”

Arthur is speechless. He looks at you with his jaw dropped, swaying back and forth slightly in his seat from the booze. His world is spinning.

“I bet she’d just lay there like a dead fish and just take it. Hmm?” You ask.

Now perhaps you’re taking things too far.

“I bet she was too ladylike to do it out in the woods, y’know? Ride you like a bronco...”

The resonance in your voice drops to a whispering, sultry tone,

“Out in the wilderness at your camp. By the fire, naked...out in the open. Howling so loud that the coyotes join in.”

Without realizing, you’re holding the neck of your bottle between your index finger and thumb and began stroking. You’re too busy staring down Arthur.

At his lack of response, you take your chance.

“I’ll bet you that I can do a better job in just one night, than she ever did with you.”

What the fuck are you doing?

You silence your conscience.

Arthur’s eyes run up and down your face. You could swear that he even sneaks a quick look to your breasts, your silky skin exposed through the open buttons of your blouse. You forgot you undid the top three buttons in the heat of the crowded saloon.

“You really think so?” Arthur asks softly, the gruff of his voice causes the hairs on your neck to stand straight up.

You reply slowly, “I guarantee you...that I can make you cum faster than she could.”

Arthur eyes you with hooded lids, giving a devilish smirk. When he leans across the table, you can faintly detect the smell of yeast from his beer breath.

“Prove it.” He growls.

Your heart is beating frantically. You were joking, of course.

But, every joke has a kernel of truth.

You keep your composure as you don’t want to ruin this moment. You know Arthur is calling your bluff. But this is your only chance at finally getting him to yourself. Your chance to finally get what you want.

“Alright,” you say coyly. “Gimme a second.”

You rise to your feet, not very gracefully, mind you. The beer is dulling your senses but you continue to the bar. You pay for a room upstairs.

You leisurely strut back to the table with confidence, thanks to the beer. Arthur watches you the entire time, not breaking eye contact. When you reach the table, you barely falter your stride and lightly grasp his hand, “C’mon,” you beckon him. You hold the key to the room in your other hand, leading Arthur up the stairs to the door of the bedroom.

You can’t help but tease him as you softly moan while slowly inserting the key into the keyhole. Arthur steps closer to you as you turn the knob. You can feel his heat behind you as you step into the room. If you were to bend over right now, your ass would brush against his crotch, perfectly. You turn to him, he silently closes the door behind him. Neither of you has uttered a word yet, just staring into each other’s eyes with mischievous smiles.

Your eyes wander down to his muscular neck, his shoulders, the dip at the base of his throat exposed by the open button of his shirt. Taking two steps forward, you gently push him into the door, placing both hands on his chest. Your fingertips brush against his exposed skin, your faces mere inches apart, the smell of beer and rum now strong in your nostrils. The tips of your noses faintly touch, as you both breathe heavy, calculated breaths.

Arthur’s hands are now at your waist, resting on your love handles. The touch of his bulky, calloused fingers send goosebumps to your skin. You’re lazily unbuttoning his shirt as he explores your hips with his massive hands. You tip your chin up and brush your lips against his. His hands now wandered to your upper back, and he pulls you closer to him. Your hands are pinned between your bodies, and you feel his luscious, wet lips against yours. They feel so soft compared to the coarseness of his beard. Arthur may hate dealing with his facial hair, but you love it. The way his follicles scratch against your upper lip and cheeks make you wet.

Your bodies are now pressed against each other. Reaching down past Arthur’s belt, you feel for his cock. It’s now bulging against his jeans. You lightly squeeze and rub over his pants. Arthur gasps, his tongue in your mouth. You chase his tongue with your own. Your teeth click against each other awkwardly in your drunken stupor. You’re ravaging him, pinning him against the door and continuously grabbing at his thick bulge.

Arthur moves his left hand from your back to your breasts, his right hand is on your supple rear. He grips your cheeks tightly, pushing your groins together. Continuing to moan into your wet kisses, he grabs at your breast and squeezes. You gasp and moan into his mouth, eventually breaking the kiss to take a breath.

Moving to his brawny neck, you litter it with kisses, teasing him with bites and suckles that leave behind marks. Your hand still on his bulge, you feel his cock pulsating as his blood continues to rush south. You decided to free it from its confines. The sound of his belt clinking as you unbuckle it is the most beautiful sound in the world, like you’re opening the gates to heaven. His gun belt drops the floor with a heavy *clunk*. Continuing to his fly, you unzip it, brushing off his suspenders at the same time. You pull your head away from his neck to look down at his cock.

“Oh my god,” You breathe.

“What?” Arthur asks with genuine concern, bless his heart.

“It’s...so big.” You exclaim.

It’s so thick and hard in your hands.

You wrap your fingers around it, but it’s so fat that you can barely connect your fingers. It’s like stroking a fleshy rod, it’s so hard.

You admire it. While it seems to be the same length as most men you’ve been with, there was something special about it. Gently pulling back his foreskin as you stroke him, you notice the girth of his cock bows out, starting right below the head and straightening out again further down the base.

Arthur stops massaging your breast and leans his head back against the door with a gravelly moan. You continue stroking his fat cock from base to tip until you see that glorious pearly bead of pre-cum on his tip.

I wonder if his precious Mary has ever done this? You think to yourself as you drop to your knees and pull Arthur’s trousers down to his ankles. Using the tip of your tongue, you lick the bead of pre-cum off the tip, causing his penis to throb.

Arthur sucks in a breath, “What’r’you doin?”

You look up at him, licking your lips seductively, his cock in your one hand and his balls massaged in the other. Compared to the men you’ve seen, Arthur definitely has the biggest set of them all. They feel so soft and warm as you admire them in your hand. You almost need both hands to cup them.

“Hasn’t anyone ever pleased you like this before, Arthur?” You wink at him as you lick the head of his cock again, then enveloping your lips on it, giving it a sloppy kiss.

“N-n-nooo.” He tries to groan out the words.

“No?” Your voice rises in surprise. “Tsk. What a shame,” you groan.

You don’t even give him a second to breathe before completely taking him in your mouth. You notice it’s been a while since he bathed as you taste him- a hint of saltiness- but you don’t mind. You moan, sending vibrations through his cock as you slowly bob your head. Looking up, you see Arthur’s eyes are now squinted shut in intense pleasure, breathing short shallow breaths, his hands hovering by your face, afraid to touch you. You wonder how long you could go on sucking him. You can handle all of his length no problem, but the issue was that bow in his girth. You could already feel your jaw getting sore, worried his thickness could pop it out of place.

It doesn’t take long though.

You continue to slurp along his cock, roaming your tongue upon his veins, relishing in the quiet moans and hisses coming from his plump lips. You take both hands and explore beyond his muscular hips and thighs, going around to grab onto his ass cheeks, feeling the dimples on the sides of his cheeks along the way. You continue sucking him hands-free, looking up at him, and he finally looks down at you. Seeing himself inside the mouth of a beautiful woman must have set him over the edge, as he involuntarily thrusts into your mouth. You sense he’s about to cum.

Immediately, you pop your mouth off his cock, denying him his release. Arthur gives a loud, rough groan at this denial and looks at you with passion in his eyes. You rise to your feet and feel his bulky hands grab harshly at your waist, yelping and giggling in surprise. Arthur rests his forehead against yours, his hands returning to grope your rear. You’re secretly begging for him to rip your trousers off and take you, as you’re soaking in anticipation. His mouth moves to your ear.

He whispers in a low growl, “Go lay down.”

You obey and step backwards, hitting the bed with the back of your knees, causing you to fall back gently onto the soft mattress. The springs squeak as you land. Meanwhile, Arthur kicks off his boots and removes the rest of his jeans that have pooled at his ankles, never breaking eye contact with you.

Lucky for you, there’s a full moon tonight, and the window curtains are torn, allowing the moonlight to shine into the dark room. Arthur stands completely naked before you, his skin glowing in the pale moonlight, the shadows accentuating every dip and curve of his muscles. He looks to be made of marble or porcelain, as if he’s been carved by Michaelangelo himself.

As he approaches you like a prowling wolf ready to strike its prey, your heartbeat races with excitement. You watch his dick lightly bounce up and down with each languid step he takes. He hovers over you on the bed, the springs of the mattress groan under his weight as he places both hands on either side of you. He moves to kiss you again. You can faintly taste the rum, now overpowered by beer and a hint of beef broth from the stew.

He’s much more aggressive with his tongue now, slipping it into your mouth and demanding control. You feel a warm hand slip under your shirt, caressing the skin of your stomach before stopping at your silky, soft breasts. In one smooth motion, Arthur pulls your shirt up over your head and tosses it on the floor, exposing you to him. For a moment, you feel self-conscious as he stops and stares at your naked torso. You begin to wonder if it’s not good enough for him, but you’re quickly mistaken as he drops his head to your chest and devours you, sucking and twirling his tongue on your left nipple while kneading the other with his hand. You let out a surprised and pleading moan at the sensation, the room filled with your raspy ‘oh’s’ and ‘ah’s’.

You let Arthur take more of you into his mouth as you arch your back off the bed, tenderly holding his head with both hands, pushing your breasts together as you do so. Arthur moans, sending a wonderful vibration onto your sensitive nipple. He picks his head up slightly, lips still latched onto your nipple, continuously sucking until it pops out of his mouth. He moves over to your other breast and repeats.

Writhing beneath him in pleasure, you desperately want to take your pants off, as they must be soaking wet by now. You move a hand from his luscious locks of hair and lower it between your bodies. Slipping your hand beneath your waistband, you rub a finger towards your opening and feel the juices pooling.

Arthur notices and straightens himself up, still straddling you and sitting back on his heels, his huge set conveniently resting on the fly of your trousers. He moves a burly hand to your crotch, unbuttoning the fly effortlessly with his lengthy fingers, the other slowly stroking his cock. A gasp escapes your lips at the feeling of his rough fingers exploring your vagina, his thumb hovering your clit. He slips a finger tenderly into your opening...then another.

“Damn, Y/N.” he sighs, “You’re soaked.”

You grin and bite your lower lip. Arching your hips, you wordlessly give Arthur permission to remove your pants, raising your butt off the bed. With both hands, he effortlessly slips your trousers off, taking your boots off with them, leaving you completely naked as you lean back on your elbows.

Arthur returns to hover over you on the bed, both hands on either side of you on the mattress.

“You gonna show me how you please a woman?” you whisper provocatively.

“Thought the deal was you pleasin’ me?” he cites with a wink. His nose brushing against yours.

“Alright then.” You answer, and playfully bite his lower lip. “Lay on your back” you order gently, he gives you a confused look.

“Let me please you,” you assure him.

Arthur obeys and rolls off you to lay on his back. His hands laying idle on his chest. Swinging a leg over, you straddle him, looking down at him. His hands move from his chest to gently grasp your hips, softly rubbing your skin with his thumb. His eyes are gleaming in the bright moonlight. You no longer see sorrow in them, but pleasure. You reach down beneath you to grab his cock and stroke it gently, watching his eyes flutter shut and his lips open to allow a small moan to escape.

Lifting your hips, you lean forward and tease the both of you by rubbing his tip along your clit- the feeling of his sleek head sends a tingle to your core. Placing it right on the edge of your opening, you continue rubbing his cock along the outside of your vagina to lube him with your juices.

Arthur jerks his hips impatiently, so you take your cue. Adjusting your hips, you guide him into your opening, your slick wetness allowing him to slip perfectly inside you. Your breath hitches as you feel the entry of his tip, then comes the stretch of your walls as he slides his girthy member further. You both gasp at the sensation, freezing in place as you make it all the way down the base of his cock. You look into each other’s eyes, your body trembling, lips quivering as you relish in the feeling of his thick cock filling up your tight pussy.

“Oh, Arthur,” you whine.

Arthur tightens his grip on your hips, sinking his fingers deep into your flesh.

You straighten up and begin to steadily grind on his cock, allowing him to stretch your walls out further. Arthur’s eyes roll back in his head and the sound of his guttural moan beckons the return of goosebumps to your skin...like the low rumbling growl of a grizzly bear.

You begin to pick up the speed with his cock deep inside you, Arthur’s hips moving with you in sync. You lean forward on his chest and let him wrap his arms tightly around you, holding you close to him. You feel Arthur’s knees raise as he readies himself in a new position, his feet planted on the bed. He thrusts up into you, hard and quick. The sound of your skin clapping together echoes across the room.

“Oh...God!” you breathe, “You feel so good.”

Arthur groans and tightly shuts his lips.

“So do you,” he finally moans.

He continues to drive his hips upwards at a rapid pace. God, you’ve never laid with a man with so much strength, so much power.

You look up at the ceiling and cry out. You no longer care if anyone hears in the saloon below. You, m’lady, are getting pounded by Arthur Morgan, and you don’t give a damn who hears your screams.

You don’t want it to end. You want this moment to last all night.

“Hang on,” you say. Arthur pauses and releases his grip on you, allowing you to sit up.

Laying a hand on his chest to steady yourself, you bring your knees up and squat on your feet. With Arthur still inside you, you sit on him in a low, frog-like crouch. You bring both hands to his shoulders for stability while you slowly bounce up and down off his cock.

Arthur’s eyes go wide at the sight of you hopping up and down, seeing his penis disappear into you. This position is an amazing new discovery for him. Never has he had a woman ride him like this. The feeling of your lovely bottom smacking against his pelvis, the power of your thighs and calves holding your weight up as you raise and lower yourself on him...it’s enough to make him faint.

Yourself though, you’re quickly losing strength in your legs. You power through the burning in your calves, the twitching in your thighs. You focus your attention on the feeling between your legs, the divine feeling of Arthur’s cock inside you. Luckily, the curls of his pubic hair tickle your clit wonderfully as you hop up and down. You feel so close, and Arthur sounds like he is too. Suddenly, he grabs at your hips again and retakes control, relieving your tired legs. He thrusts upwards and pounds into you at a much more frantic pace, leaving you screaming.

“Oh, Arthur! I’m so close! Cum for me baby!” You shout, your voice high-pitched in ecstasy.

His thrusts falter as he drives himself in you as deep as he can, the two of you gripping each other tightly as you orgasm simultaneously. Explosions of color flash brightly behind your shut eyelids. Your body releases a rush of endorphins, wave after wave like an electric circuit. Once you’ve been released from your orgasms, you’re both left a panting, sweaty mess.

You roll off of him and lay back with a satisfied sigh, breasts heaving with every pant. Your eyes look to the ceiling as your head swims and the room spins.

“I never came like that before,” you confess, slightly embarrassed. Here you were bragging about being the greatses in bed, when you never even got your own rocks off by a man. Most were two-pump chumps who’d leave you high and dry. Well, more like wet and unfulfilled and with stains on your skirt.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Arthur turn his head towards you.

“Really?” He asks inquisitively. You turn to look at him and see a crooked smile on his face. He looks so pleased with himself. Turning back bashfully and laying your forearm across your eyes, you chuckle out a “Yeah.”

“Can’t say I have either,” he admits softly.

Quickly, you turn your head back to him and cock an eyebrow.

“So...I won the bet?” You ask with a big grin.

Arthur stays silent, only shrugging his shoulders and smiling as he rolls over on his side to wrap himself around you. He was never one to admit he’s been proved wrong. So you accepted your victory in silence, rolling to your side to let Arthur spoon you.

It may already be a warm night, but you enjoyed the heat from his body huddled close to you. You feel safe and secure in the weight of his arms, though you worry if you need to pee you might not break out of his heavy embrace. Nevertheless, your eyelids quickly pull down like weighted curtains on a stage, as you fall into a deep sleep.

#i hit the max number of text blocks #tumblr wont let me continue #:(#so stay tuned for more!#a LOT more #cause we gotta know when that baby comes #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #nsft #fan fiction

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tiredcowpoke · 4 years

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TITLE: Wedded Woes [9 / Final] PAIRING: Arthur Morgan/Fem!Reader REQUEST: Unprompted. BLURB: Trelawny talked up a big game at a scenic boardinghouse and, playing some newly weds, you and Arthur are paying the price for it. WARNINGS: Some violence and shooting in this one, but nothing overly gore-y. NOTE: Aaand there we have it, the final chapter in this little series. I struggled with this, I had it planned and knew where I wanted it to go but I always have issues ending things so hopefully it’s good for all of those who have been following this fic! Thank you call for the positive reactions this has gotten, it’s meant a lot to me. c:

The ride back to the town outside of camp was almost an echo of the one you took out of it with the silence and tension.

You had a poor sleep the night before, the thoughts of kissing Arthur in the hallway playing over in your head as you tried to pick it apart bit by bit. There was hatred that it happened the way it did, and after not exactly the best or bonding experience. Yet, there had been reminances of the feelings you felt. Someone solidly there, the touches to the back of your shoulders and arms around your waist. You birated yourself over the fact that it was all part of a role, you both were playing a role. You gave Arthur similar touches and leans and you doubted that he was as torn up about it as you were. At least, that’s what the bitter voice in your head had been saying. He had kissed you that first time, but he had admitted to it being out of confusion and anxiety about having more suspicion on the two of you. He had kissed you back somewhat with the second, but you knew better than to take that uncertainty you felt in it as anything but a sign that you shouldn’t have done it.

It had complicated, too, with the thought that you had been starting to get used to sharing a bed with someone.

Needless to say, the sleep you got wasn’t great but you got up easily enough in the morning. You figured you would have time to address it eventually, but at Arthur’s silence and his avoidance of your gaze, you started to just really want to get back to camp. However, you were anxious about that in a way, too. If you had known you would feel so complicated about the whole thing once it was done, you would have put up more of a fight with Dutch. Still, you couldn’t take back what was done and the take was a good one. They’d be happy with that. Thankfully, you were closer to a stateline, the carriage ride being a little shorter than the one you took up there, but it would still be a ride.

One where you couldn’t even look at the man beside you without feeling some sense of frustration and embarrassment. You wanted to apologize, and you knew a time would come where Trelawny didn’t have to witness every moment of it, but as it remained it almost made it worse going back than it was leaving.

At least back then you had some idea on what Arthur was thinking, now you just had questions. Had you overstepped? Was he angry? Was he as conflicted as you were? Would he even want to pursue anything if you admitted to feeling something? They were hard questions to bring up, and certainly not something you wanted to share around anybody but him.

So, you kept silent for the most part, almost scared you’d say something to make the whole thing worse.

“So, where’re you goin’ next? Gonna up and disappear on us again since this whole thing’s done?” Arthur asked Trelawny, causing you to glance at him out of the corner of your eye but you found your gaze moving back to the passing scenery again.

“Oh, I always come back, Arthur,” Trelawny replied around a chuckle, “One can’t expect to find the leads I do while just sitting around camp.”

“Ain’t nobody knows where you come up with them leads, so I’ll believe that…” Arthur returned with a short huff.

“Well, I’m sure Dutch will have you back to your usual brand of fun soon enough.”

You could only hope.

“Yeah, then you’ll slither off to wherever it is you go until you come waltzin’ back in here with another job in a couple months.”

“Hm. Well, I’ll be sure to suggest leaving you two out of anything that involves anything more than a simple pickpocket.”

“Were we really that terrible?” you asked, despite yourself, as you turned your head slightly to glance toward Trelawny. He tilted his head slightly, rubbing at his mustache for a moment.

“Well, I’m afraid I can’t say you two were the perfect fit for the job, but we have what we came for so I suppose it’s unfair to say you were completely terrible.”

“I’ll be sure to let Dutch know you think that,” Arthur replied, his tone still light but you could sense something there. You weren’t going to look too deeply into it.

You let the silence fall after that, turning your focus back toward the road again. Eventually, the previous night started to catch up with you, letting yourself fall asleep off and on throughout the journey if only to keep yourself from overthinking yourself into a problem. There was some lightness that came with the short conversation, much as it wasn’t as relaxed and celebratory you had thought it would have been a couple days ago. Which you knew was through your own actions, but...well, it happened. It was a kiss, or two you supposed, it could have been worse if you had pushed beyond that. If Arthur would have even let you.

With another sigh through your nose, you shoved the thoughts aside as you tried to wake up a little more as the scenery started to become a little more familiar after a few hours of travel.

It was early evening by the time you reached camp, gone only for a couple days but the exhaustion you felt made it seem more than that.

You almost wanted to keep going, honestly, if only partly to avoid what waited within. Perhaps without the extra company of Arthur and Trelawny on their own horses, but you had almost missed riding in the open. You made a mental note to just go out for a bit the following day by yourself, but continued to keep pace behind the two men up ahead. Finally, you turned into some trees and down a path into a clearing with the familiar tents and wagons up ahead, Arthur calling out a greeting to the guard on duty. Sounded like John.

Steering your horse off toward a free hitching post, you allowed yourself a minute to pat your horse on the neck as you noticed a familiar figure stepping out of the central tent.

“Our own little wedding party! You are back…” Dutch called, jovial as he raised his arms up toward Trelawny and Arthur at the far hitching post. “All the more richer in spirit and money, I should hope.”

“Indeed! Quite the reward, I believe,” Trelawny returned, pulling the extra saddle bag off his horse that he had tucked the money into once you had all arrived at the nearest town to camp. He passed that on to the gang leader, Dutch weighing it in his hands a moment before he took at glance at them and then towards you.

“Well done!” he stated, “All of you! I think some celebrations are in order for your return and what you’ve brought us.”

Great.

You heard some cheers of agreement from camp, your hands coming up to rub at your eyes a moment but you couldn’t help the small grin that touched your face. Any excuse for a party these days, it seemed. You had only been to a few since you had joined, usually over successful scores or the camp in general just felt like it. It usually involved a lot of singing and a lot of drinking, two things you weren’t too sure you were up for in the moment but you figured you would get pulled into it one way or another.

Though, seeing Karen making her way toward you as you got out of the saddle told you that would be sooner rather than later.

“That was quick,” she commented once she was close enough, “I was thinkin’ y’all would be gone for a couple’a days at least.”

“Things lined up, I supposed,” you said, offering her a small but tired smile.

“Well come on, then!” she exclaimed, “Throwin’ a party in your honor and you’re lookin’ ‘bout as thrilled as you did when you left!”

“It’s been a long couple days, but I could use a drink and a good song so…”

The party had picked up shortly after you had relented to having a little fun before going to sleep and hopefully leaving this whole thing behind. Of course, a familiar unpleasant feeling grew at the thought, but you didn’t even want to address it anymore at the moment. Last thing you needed was alcohol and that at the forefront of your mind. Music and singing had closely followed behind as you sat yourself around a fire, Javier with his guitar as Dutch, Hosea, and Arthur seemed to be talking about something at a table.

However, you didn’t dwell on that. Not really. The night went on fairly easily outside of a couple scenes pushed forth by alcohol, some amusing, some not so much. You had grown used to them in a way, you supposed, not that they didn’t catch a couple looks but living with a group of outlaws wasn’t exactly smooth sailing most days. Dutch kept them together but personalities clashing was inevitable. Karen had started to get her fill, pulled off by Sean somewhere that left you being pulled off by Mary-Beth toward one of the wagons where it was more quiet.

It was surprisingly something you found yourself needing, and perhaps she had picked up on that but you couldn’t tell.

“So what was the most interestin’ thing about it?” she asked after a few minutes, bright eyed and interested, making you glance toward her with a raised eyebrow. “I mean, a big fancy house, rich people, the romantic intention despite it being fake on your ends…there had to be somethin’.”

“You know, I had been thinking you would have been better suited for it,” you replied with a small chuckle, “I found the whole experience to be strange and uncomfortable.”

Conflicting and confusing as hell, too.

“Nothin’ happened?”

“...Between what?” you asked, a sinking feeling in your gut about her rather pointed question. It was vague enough but you knew she probably didn’t want the details to the robbery in a situation like that.

“Well, we weren’t expectin’, but...with Dutch putting you together on that, I thought maybe it was a bit of fate that…”

“I...I can’t lie and say that those old feelings didn’t make the whole thing worse for me, but...I don’t know, it’s...it’s something I’ll talk about later when it’s not so fresh.”

“I understand,” Mary-Beth said with a small nod, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t tryin’ to get you to gossip about it. I just thought...well, you seem a little odd tonight.”

“It’s fine, it’s just…”

Speak of the devil. Mary-Beth had glanced up as you glanced down, trying to collect your thoughts a bit as you debated on telling her anything. However, she knocked her hand subtly against your arm, causing you to glance up to see Arthur making his way over. He didn’t seem all that hesitant, but he wasn’t exactly overflowing with confidence. Still, you let the words die on your tongue as he indeed decided to walk toward you both.

“Mary-Beth,” he greeted with a nod before glancing toward you, “I don’t wanna pull you away from what you was doin’ but I wanted to talk with you a minute.”

“Sure…” you started, glancing up as Mary-Beth stood from where she was sitting on the box next to yours.

“I should see how Karen and Tilly are holdin’ up,” she explained, giving you a quick grin before she turned and walked off. You had a feeling this would only add to her questions later.

You glanced back toward Arthur as he came to sit down on the box Mary-Beth had left, hands resting on his knees as he tilted his head down in thought. Nervousness came back tenfold from last night, keeping back any questions you may have asked to start this conversation but Arthur had approached. You figured he should start and you could get an idea on what type of conversation this would be.

“I ain’t all that good with words, least ones I can’t write down,” he admitted, glancing up and stared off into the fire lit darkness that had surrounded camp. “I just...want to know what the hell happened last night.”

“I...this whole thing got me confused, and not exactly for the reasons I told you about before,” you said, rubbing a hand across your chin. Come out with it. There’s no other time than now. “I thought it wouldn’t get in the way, but…I’m fond of you, Arthur.”

“Me?” he asked, almost sounding disbelieving, “This because we pretended to be married?”

“No, well…” you started before letting out a sigh, covering the lower half of your face with your hands.

“I know you know the reasons for why...why I kissed you that first time, but...last night, did that mean anythin’?”

“...Yes,” you stated after taking in a breath, heart pounding, “I just...your reaction. I have no idea if I stepped over a line or you just…”

“...I mean, look at me,” he stated, “I thought you was just confused by everythin’, just some...old ugly--”

“I’ve liked you since I first saw you,” you blurted out, taking a small breath in, “You’re not old, you’re not ugly. Not to me. That’s been there since before this whole mess of a job. I’d just...I buried it down because...I’d just met you and there was that distance, then some of the other women picked up on it and I was lead to believe it wouldn’t happen from what they’d said. Nothing bad, just that...well, there was that distance.”

“Christ…” he muttered, making you glance over at him as he seemed to be weighing his words.

“I just...I need to know,” you continued, trying to keep your gaze on his as he turned to look at you, “Is there...is there even a chance that we could...well, be something?”

There was a heavy pause after, Arthur dropping his gaze as he stared into the grass at his feet for a few moments. You could feel your stomach twisting, making it hard to sit still and not just stand up and pace around. Nervousness bloomed into anxiety that had you wanting to take all the words back the more silence situated. Yet, this was it. This was the moment to really know if it was really time to bury those thoughts and feelings.

“I was gonna ask you the same damn thing,” he stated after a few moments, shaking his head with a bitter huff, “Kissin’ you, you kissin’ me, hell I...I don’t know. I been beatin’ myself up all day ‘bout not bein’ able to say anythin’.”

“Me, too,” you admitted with a sigh, his words filling you with a lightness you couldn’t describe while pulling you back down harshly, “If we’re asking the same question, I’m sure you already know how I’d answer, but…”

“I ain’t an easy man to be with,” Arthur replied, “I’m a stubborn bastard, no good…”

“You…” there was a hitch to your voice, causing you to shake your head slightly before continuing, “You really come over here to talk me out of this?”

“...No. No, but I mean…”

“I’m not asking you to actually marry me, you know that right?” you asked, your chuckle a touch tense but it caused Arthur’s expression to soften somewhat, “If you want to try, I’d...I’d be more than willing.”

“You wanna try?” he repeated, looking over your face.

“Yeah, I’d like to,” you replied with a nod, “If you’re willing.”

Arthur glanced away for a moment, almost searching before he nodded lightly, glancing back toward you.

“Alright...I’d like that, too.”

The relief that settled into you at that was something else, the small grin that touched your face threatening to spread into a wider one. Still, you just found yourself nodding again, bowing your head a moment before giving him an actual smile.

“Okay, then we’ll do that.”

Arthur rose after that, causing you to follow with him. You were preparing for him to leave to return back into the camp’s little party, and for a moment it seemed like he was about to do just that. Really, you couldn’t say you felt like you could expect much other than what he had told you and agreed to, you weren’t too sure what speed he actually wanted to take with everything. However, instead of walking off, he paused to glance back toward you with some visible debate in his expression before it seemed to fade into something softer.

You stepped toward him when you noticed him closing the space between you both, bringing his hands up to cup your face before pressing a kiss to your lips. There was something much different about it, less sudden and uncertain, and it had you melting a bit into the feeling as you brought your hands up to grip onto the front of his jacket. You pressed back into it with the same intensity, something short and sweet but it had that hint of promise that you had been missing from the others. It had you lingering close once the kiss was eventually broke, smoothing your hands against the fabric of his jacket that you had been gripping, exhaling softly through your nose.

“I can almost hear the mocking now once they’ve figured this out…” you commented around a chuckle, Arthur returning it himself lightly.

“Yeah, well, ain’t their business and we ain’t gotta say anythin’ yet,” he stated, dropping his hands away from your face as you smiled softly at him.

“That’s true…”

The both of you had finally parted after that, you deciding to linger back for a few moments before returning to the party as you let everything settle in your mind. Really, you were surprised at how composed you had remained throughout that whole thing, though you figured you had already acted boldly enough the previous night anyway. Really, the whole thing had you pressing your hand to your mouth a moment to hide the wide grin that broke out, knowing this wasn’t the end of it and there was some uncertainty on how it would all play out in the end, but it wasn’t the end. That was enough.

However, you didn’t get to dwell on that thought for too long as you heard some rustling of grass behind you, along with a chuckle.

“Here I was thinkin’ I was gonna have to awkwardly step in, if only for my own sake.”

The voice was familiar, but it put a jump to your heart as you turned around to see Hosea stepping out from around a wagon. You gaped at him a moment as he regarded you with an amused grin, tilting his head.

“I noticed you missin’, considerin’ it’s your party, thought I’d find you out here but…” he started, “You two really fall for each other pretendin’ to love each other?”

“That’s a...strong question, Hosea,” you said with a soft chuckle. He gave you a knowing look, but didn’t comment any further, giving you a pat on the shoulder before he started to walk ahead toward the camp again.

“Well, come on. Dutch’ll least wanna thank you for your work before you disappear for the night. Now I’m thinkin’ he’s not the only one who’ll miss you ‘round there tonight.”

#my writing.#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader

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boffeeceans2 · 3 years

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Change Your Life

Chapter Five

Ao3

Beatrice slowly opened her eyes but quickly closed them again, she might've been inside her tent, but the light from the sun shone right through the white fabric. She tried to remember what the hell she did last night, but the feeling of someone trying to squeeze her brain out of her skull prevented her from doing much thinking.

She felt around for her hat with her eyes still closed, she grabbed ahold of a pair of scissors, a guitar, a pack of cigarettes, and many other things, but not her hat. "Where in the hell-"

"Lookin' for this?"

Beatrice shot her head up in the direction of the voice, "Arthur?" He hummed as a response. She looked at him through one squinted eye, all she saw was a hand holding a hat sticking through flaps of her tent. It didn't take long for her to notice the god awful smell that came off it when she took it, "Where the hell did you find it?" She asked him once she came out of her tent, her hat covering her eyes to shield them from the sun.

"In a pile of horse shit," Arthur chuckled at the groan that came from Beatrice.

"That explains the smell," Beatrice pinched the bridge of her nose in the hopes of making her headache less painful, "Why'd you let me drink so damn much?"

"Hey, don't blame me, you're the one that bought a whole bottle."

"Yeah, well… you could've stopped me," She argued.

"And you would've listened to me?" Arthur said, the corner of his mouth slightly turning upwards.

"No, but you could've at least tried or I don't know," She shrugged, "just taken the bottle away from me."

"I could've, but I wouldn't have been able to see you get booze blind."

"Great, while you got to laugh at my state of stupidity, I get to live with the consequences," Beatrice feigned anger, but the smile growing on her face gave her away, "Anyway, I'm gonna go sit right over there," She pointed at a table, "and wallow in self-pity."

Arthur laughed and placed a hand on her shoulder, "I gotta go meet John in town, I'll see ya when I get back."

Beatrice nodded and went to sit at the table with her head in her arms. Every movement she made caused her head to pound, she tells herself that she won't ever drink that much again, but she damn well knows that that's a fucking lie. She closed her eyes and tried to cancel out all the noise around her in the hopes that it would reduce her headache. Bad idea. It didn't take long for her to forget that she was in the middle of camp and dozed off.

"And they call me lazy," Sean laughed, he clearly didn't give a shit about Beatrice's raging hangover.

She slowly raised her head, eyes half-lidded and a pissed off look on her face, "Say one more word and I will shove that rifle up your ass and pull the trigger." She wouldn't actually do it, but she also couldn't think of a better threat.

At first, Sean just stared at her in disbelief, but he started laughing before long. Beatrice was not amused at all, luckily Hosea was there to shoo Sean away.

"Weren't you supposed to be on guard duty an hour ago?"

The look on Sean's face was enough to tell that he knew that he was in trouble. He quickly walked off to do what he was supposed to. Beatrice hummed as a thank you to Hosea and let her head fall back into her arms, but looked back up when she heard something being placed in front of her, "What's that?"

"Something to help with that hangover."

Beatrice sniffed at the drink and turned up her nose and reluctantly took a sip, the taste was much worse than the smell. She coughed, quite violently, after swallowing the liquid, "Jesus Christ, that is the most disgusting thing I've ever tasted!"

"I said it would help with your hangover, not that it would taste good," Hosea laughed.

"Can't I just get drunk again? I might have to deal with feeling like shit again tomorrow, but at least I won't have to taste that again."

"No, now drink it."

Beatrice looked at the cup and pinched her nose before downing half of the liquid, she paused, gagged, downed the rest, and gagged again. She placed the cup back down on the table with more force than necessary and looked over to Hosea just to see him smiling at her, "Is my misery really that entertaining?"

"No, I was just thinkin'."

"Whatcha thinkin' 'bout?" She asked him.

"It's a good thing you found us," Hosea said.

Beatrice raised her brows, "That so?"

Hosea nodded, "Arthur seems happier now that you're here,"

"I'm happy to be here," her eyes trailed down to her hands, "happy to… not be alone anymore."

He grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze, "You won't ever be alone again, dear." The corner of his mouth turned upwards when she looked at him, "Just… Arthur has been through a lot in his life, lost people that he held dear. I don't know what he'd do if he lost you too." Beatrice nodded in understanding. She was curious who he'd lost, but didn't ask knowing it wasn't Hosea's place to say. Hosea gave her hand another squeeze and got up. He placed a hand on her back, "Just be careful," He said and walked away, leaving Beatrice alone with her thoughts.

She brought her hands up to her face and sighed. Dying wasn't something she was concerned about ever since Elijah left, if it happened it happened. But she didn't realize until now that she had family and friends again. a reason to not act recklessly. a reason to live.

"Miss Morgan!"

Beatrice jumped a bit in her seat and did her best not to let out a yelp, Grimshaw never failed to scare the living daylights out of her. "Yes Miss Grimshaw?" Beatrice said while slowly turning.

"Are you just gonna sit around all day or are you actually gonna do something?"

"I'll get right to it Miss Grimshaw."

"Good," She said before she turned around and went to the other girls to tell them the same thing she told Beatrice.

---

"You're clearly sweet on John, It's so obvious," Mary-Beth said, she had a twinkle in her eye that always appeared when she found something new to talk about.

"You're delusional," Beatrice said without looking up from the clothes she was washing.

"Bullshit," Karen chimed in, "I saw the way you smiled at him by the butcher table yesterday." Mary-Beth agreed with a nod.

Beatrice sighed and dropped the shirt she was holding in the water, "It was just a smile, it didn't mean anything." Karen and Mary-Beth looked at her like they didn't believe a word she said, and rightfully so. Sure, she did like John, but he's married and it wasn't like she'd have a chance anyhow. "Alright, if smiling at someone means you're sweet on them, then you," She pointed at Mary-Beth, "are sweet on Arthur, I can tell by the way you smile at him every time he greets you."

Mary-Beth splashed water at her and Karen burst out laughing, "I don't like him like that! He's just a friend."

Beatrice smiled and splashed some water right back at her, "John is also just a friend, now drop it and get back to work before-"

"We're packing up and moving out!" Dutch interrupted her from the other side of camp, the girls got up and walked over to him.

"What happened?" Karen asked.

"Cornwall," John replied.

"Of Course Cornwall happened, that's what you get for robbing one of his goddamn trains," Beatrice said. She ignored the stern look Dutch gave her while he told miss Grimshaw to take care of Stauss and noticed that Arthur wasn't with them, "Where's my-" She stopped when she noticed what she was about to say, "where's Arthur?"

"Buying us some time," Dutch said before walking off to his tent. Beatrice scoffed, Arthur could handle himself, but holding off Cornwall's men all by himself couldn't be easy. She checked if her gun was loaded and was about to see if she could help, but John stopped her by placing a hand on her shoulder.

"He got this."

Beatrice looked at him and was met with a reassuring smile, "Are you sure?"

"He'll be fine, you just worry too much."

Beatrice took a deep breath and holstered her gun, "You're right. Thanks," She gave him a small smile, "Probably would've gotten myself in a heap of trouble if I went out there."

John gave her shoulder a small squeeze but didn't remove his hand. They just stood there, looking into each other eyes. Beatrice's heart was practically pounding out of her chest and she could feel her face heat up, she quickly looked down; hoping to hide her face in the shadow of her hat. This never would've happened if Mary-Beth had just kept her mouth shut, Beatrice thought, even though that most likely wouldn't have changed a thing.

"I- I should start packing," She turned around and quickly walked to her tent, leaving John behind. Beatrice saw Mary-Beth and Karen giggling from the corner of her eye, she was never going to hear the end of this.

---

It didn't take Arthur too long to return from wherever he led Cornwall's men to. It also didn't take long for him to leave again with Charles to find a new camping spot. He stayed there while Charles came back to inform the others that they found a place.

Beatrice sat in the back of a wagon with a lit cigarette hanging out of her mouth and a guitar in her hands. She didn't play any specific song or chords for that matter, she just picked at the strings and enjoyed the peaceful ride. Her gaze occasionally trailed over to John, who was leading her horse. The Mustang didn't much like being without a rider and got uneasy every few minutes, but Beatrice didn't only look that way because of the stallion. Seeing how John struggled to keep the horses in line and succeeded to do so every time was… attractive? She quickly focused back on the guitar every time he glanced at her, not wanting him to see the blush that just wouldn't leave her face. God, she was in deep shit now.

What felt like a three-day ride finally came to an end, Beatrice grabbed her stuff and hopped out of the wagon when it came to a stop. It was a bit of a struggle to hold onto a tent, bedroll, two bags, and guitar all at once, but she eventually made her way over to Arthur just when Dutch started to leave.

"It's real pretty here," Beatrice said.

Arthur turned his head to look at her, "You need some help there?"

Beatrice tried to hold her stuff in a more comfortable way, which was unsuccessful, "No, I got it," She said right before all her things fell to the ground, "...Maybe I do need some help."

Arthur chuckled and picked up the two bags and the tent while Beatrice picked up the rest, they placed it back down on a spot close to where Arthur's tent was being set up. And John's… Beatrice didn't say anything, she would be in even deeper shit if Arthur found out what she felt for John. Avoiding John for as long as possible and hoping that Mary-Beth and Karen would keep their mouths shut was her plan for now.

---

The next week or so was quite a mess.

Dutch, Bill, and Arthur became temporary deputies and helped the sheriff to stop a moonshine sale. A horrible idea if you asked Beatrice, but no one asked of course. The moonshine that they compensated belonged to the Braithwaites and Arthur and Hosea tried to sell it back to them, but Catherine Braithwaite told them to give it away for free at the local saloon, which belonged to the gray family, their rivals. After getting everyone in the saloon drunk the Lemoyne Raiders showed up, they were the ones that were supposed to buy the moonshine. Needless to say, they got into a shoot-out and barely escaped with their lives.

Avoiding John was also not an easy task, especially when he constantly wanted to talk to her. She was running out of excuses, and she was worried that he might be catching on, or already knew.

"Beatrice. Can we talk for a bit?" John asked her.

Lucky for her, she saw Arthur, Uncle, Charles, and Bill mounting their horses to go on a job and pointed in their direction.

"Can't right now, sorry. They're already leavin'," Beatrice said, already jogging to her horse and not even looking John in the eye.

Beatrice caught up with the others when they stopped at the side of the road, "where we goin'?" She asked and pulled up her bandana.

"What are you doin' here?" Arthur asked.

"Just had to get away from John," She shrugged, "Don't worry about it," She added after seeing the confusion in Arthur's eyes. Arthur wanted to ask but was cut off by Uncle when the wagon arrived. He would ask her once this was over with.

They forced the wagon to stop and learned that it belonged to Cornwall, of course it did. Arthur and Charles checked the wagon while the others kept lookout, but not very well because they failed to see the other wagon and more guards coming their way. They quickly made their escape and ended up hiding a barn somewhere.

Beatrice sat on the floor next to Arthur with her eyes closed, but she was still awake, unlike the others. The only one else still awake was Charles, who was keeping watch. She listened to Arthur's slow breathing to distract her from her thoughts, even though it didn't work. He was going to ask her why she's avoiding John and she couldn't give him the right answer. Arthur and John might not be getting along at the moment, but they're still like brothers, which made this whole situation just more complicated. Feelings are annoying and Beatrice wished she could just get rid of them.

"Alright, let's try and get outta here."

Beatrice lifted herself off the ground and everyone was ready to leave, but Charles stopped them and said there was a light by the house. They all hid and hoped that the guard who entered the barn didn't see them and he was about to leave when Bill knocked over a bucket. The other guards were alerted and a shoot-out ensued. They held their ground and shot most of the guards, but then they noticed the fire that was starting to spread. Bill kicked a hole in one of the walls and they ran into the woods and split up. Beatrice hid behind a rock with Arthur and Uncle.

"They're coming this way," Arthur whispered. He looked at Beatrice from the corner of his eye, "You take the left and I'll take the right, okay?"

Beatrice pulled out her knife and nodded. they waited until the guards got closer and approached them, staying low. Beatrice and Arthur both took a guard at the same time by kicking the back of their knees and then stabbing them in the neck. Beatrice wiped the blood on her knife off on the sleeve of her shirt, it was covered in blood now anyway and placed it back in its sheath. Uncle started to say something but got interrupted by gunfire from where Charles and Bill were.

"Uh oh, clearly those boys ain't as quiet as us," Uncle said.

Beatrice scoffed, all Uncle did was not scoping out a job correctly and getting them in a shit load of trouble. But she let go and followed him and Arthur to where the noise came from, getting out of there alive was more important than getting mad at someone who won't listen anyway.

They gunned down most of the guards with only a few left hiding behind trees and soon their lifeless bodies fell to the ground as well. Arthur told them to split up, Beatrice about to mount up but he stopped her, "What's going on between you and John?"

"Didn't I tell you not to worry about it?" Beatrice said and mounted her horse, she had to get out of there. Not only because she couldn't make up a good excuse, but also because there was no doubt that more guards would show up soon. "It's my business and I'll fix it. I'll see you back at camp." She said and rode off.

Arthur ran a hand over his face and sighed, It was becoming more and more clear that he wasn't cut out for parenting.

---

The sun had already risen when Beatrice returned to camp and remembered that she was supposed to relieve Karen from guard duty at sunrise. She quickly changed clothes and went to the trees to look for Karen.

"You're late," Karen said in a teasing manner and handed the rifle over to Beatrice.

"I know, I'm sorry but I'm here now," Beatrice expected Karen to just walk away, but instead she just stood there with a sly grin on her face, "What?"

"John?"

"No," Beatrice pushed Karen away, "go pester someone else."

Karen left, but not without looking back and laughing. Beatrice couldn't help but think that she was up to something, but God knows what. She decided not to think about it for now and focused her gaze on the road leading to camp.

Guard duty was the most boring task anyone could have been given and Beatrice was really starting to notice it after an hour of absolutely nothing happening. But the all too familiar gravelly voice that came from behind her grabbed her attention.

"Beatrice."

She turned around and met John's gaze, "John…" She had nowhere to go now; no excuse that would sound even remotely convincing. She was stuck there and to try to hide what she truly felt for him, "What is it?"

He grabbed the rifle from her hands and placed it against a tree, his hand brushed against hers and she could feel her heart skip a beat.

"Karen told me."

Beatrice was confused for a second, but quickly realized what he was talking about, "Oh… It's nothing really. I'm just a stupid girl with a stupid crush. Don't think about it, I try not to, Just-" Her rambling got cut off by the feeling of John's hands on the sides of her face and his lips pressed against hers. She knew this was wrong and that she shouldn't give in, but she did. She closed her eyes and returned the kiss. Just one step back and her back was pressed against a tree, John's hands were now on her hips and hers were tangled up in his hair. Beatrice's whole body tingled, she parted her lips to catch her breath and John took the opportunity to let his tongue invade her mouth. He tasted like whiskey and tobacco. She could feel a warmth blooming between her legs, she moaned and John smiled against her lips. His hand trailed down and he lifted her skirt a bit. Beatrice felt like she was in heaven before, but reality crashed back down on her. She placed her hands against his chest and pushed him away from her. She remembered Abigail and Jack and how John and Arthur are basically brothers. It was wrong.

"I thought-" John started, but Beatrice interrupted him and shoved the rifle in his hands.

"Think about Abigail," She said before turning around and walking to her horse. The guild was starting to overtake her and the need to scream into the void or go to Saint Denis and drown herself in fine wine was growing stronger with each step she took. Maybe she could lay with some fancy city man and forget all about that kiss, about John, about everything that went wrong. But she stopped in her tracks when she heard Dutch talk about a parley with the O' Driscolls. Or she could let the curiosity get the better of her and follow them. She waited a couple of minutes after they left and followed their tracks.

They were easy to follow and she caught them in the heartlands. From what she understood about their conversation at camp Arthur was supposed to be protecting them from higher up, but it seems like the plan had changed and all three of them rode to the place where they were going to meet the O' Driscolls. Beatrice took up the position that was higher up, maybe her curiosity would be a good thing for once and she would be able to protect them if things went south.

Or maybe she should have stayed at camp.

She didn't hear the footsteps behind her, too focused on what was going on down there. The butt of a rifle hitting the back of her head made the whole world spin before everything went black.

---

Beatrice heard voices when she regained consciousness, they talked about turning them into the law. Hosea was right, it was a trap and she had to get the hell out of there. she crawled a bit before getting on her feet and walking as fast as she could. Her head was pounding and her sight blurry.

"She's escapin'! Shoot her!"

Shit. She tried to pick up the pace but fell to the ground when a bullet hit her side.

"Did I kill ya?"

"Get the hell away from me." Beatrice spat back.

One of them kicked her in the ribs and she could swear that she heard something crack. She couldn't hear what they said after that, but she could feel a bullet lodging itself in her shoulder.

---

Beatrice woke to the sound of cellar doors being opened, she had been down there for a few hours with her hands strung above her head and all she had on was her chemise. The pain was excruciating and the cold wasn't exactly pleasant either. "I ain't tellin' you shit," She said when Colm entered the cellar, her voice was barely above a whisper and laced with venom. Colm grabbed her by the jaw and forced her to look at him.

"I don't need you to. Soon your friends will come for you and the law will be waiting here for them," He sounded so amused, like he made up the perfect plan and it pissed her off. She sneered and spit in his face.

"Fuck you."

Colm let go of her jaw to wipe his face but grabbed her by the throat seconds later, "I don't need you alive, I could kill you and they won't know."

Beatrice stopped paying attention to what he was saying when she looked behind him. Her gaze locked on someone standing on the stairs. His eyes were filled with anger. Anger directed at Colm, every goddamned O' Driscoll, and the whole world, But not at her. The sadness and regret behind the anger was directed at her. Beatrice never thought she'd see those eyes again, she hasn't seen those eyes in over five months and she thought they belonged to a deadman. Those eyes were the last thing she saw before she lost consciousness.

#red dead fanfic #rdr2 fanfic #Arthur Morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #CYL

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ranger-jedi-knight · 4 years

Text

A New Hero Ch 8

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20887313/chapters/54059041

Tag List: @vixen-uchiha

Ok, so here’s the next chap! So, Mari is 15, been a couple months since Lila came to France. So Volpina already happened ok? I was thinkin bout doing it but I like doing this time skip where the chaps aren’t close to each other. Especially since in a few chaps, it’s going to be basically close to each other the chaps. I hope that makes sense. I will try doing one of Lila’s akumatizations tho. I promise! Also, so I made an Akuma, who was made because her little girl was killed. Just thought I’d give a warning. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the chap!!

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The devastated scream echoed down the street. People ran down the street screaming in fear themselves. Some people turned in that direction to see the new victim and ran themselves to safety. With a wave, feathers flew at people, the ones they hit fell to the ground. People cried out.

Coming down the street pushing cars away from her was a woman. The woman’s hair was pitch black flowing down her back. Her skin was pale gray while her eyes were a deep unnatural blue. Blue, teardrop-shaped glass laid next to her eyes. Tears fell from her eyes when they hit the ground, it cracked the ground. Wrapped around her body was a deep gray dress. Hanging on her neck was a silver chain with a silver heart pendant with a purple tint. It had one sleeve that billowed behind her. Her feet were bare and pure white wings were behind her. The sun was almost down behind her, causing an orange glow around her.

“If I can’t have my family, then no one shall either!” the Akuma yelled, pushing cars away. Chat Noir landed in front of the Akuma and blocked any feathers coming toward them. Nino was hiding behind a building and recording them but knew to leave if things got worse. Ladybug landed behind Mourning Dove silently and crept up slowly and silently.

“Mourning Dove,” Chat called and the Akuma glared at them over at them, “you’re in pain. You lost something amazing, do you really want to cause other people the same pain? You know how it feels, why would you want to cause other people the same pain?” Chat asked and Mourning Dove stopped. Ladybug was creeping up, she was close to getting the necklace.

“I...I don’t,” she replied softly and a soft, broken sob left Mourning Dove.

“Then let us help you,” Chat said as the woman fell to her knees on the ground. Ladybug came up behind Mourning Dove and took her necklace and broke it.

“Time to de-evilize,” Ladybug spoke quietly and caught the butterfly quickly. “Bye-bye little butterfly,” she murmured as the pure white butterfly left her yo-yo. “Miraculous Ladybug!” she threw her yo-yo up and ladybugs left it and repaired all the damage Mourning Dove caused. She looked back at the woman and watched Chat council her and hug her close.

“I’m so sorry!” she sobbed out and Ladybug kneeled down beside her.

“It’s ok, miss. It’s not your fault. Hawkmoth took advantage of you while you mourned,” Ladybug said quickly and the woman nodded.

“Do you have anyone close to you nearby?” Chat asked and the woman nodded.

“My uncle. He was on his way over when…” she trailed off and Chat nodded.

“Ok, let’s get you back to him,” Chat said helping her up. “I’ll see you later, bug,” with that he helped the woman back to the hospital. Nino came up to her and patted her shoulder.

“I’ll delete that footage. She deserves some privacy after what happened,” he said and Ladybug nodded.

“Good. She shouldn’t have to deal with worrying about Hawkmoth taking advantage of her sadness,” Ladybug agreed. “See you soon,” Ladybug said readying her yo-yo to swing away. A groan had them look toward an alley. They walked over and saw a boy around their age gripping his head. He had brown hair that was messy and decent length. There was a short scar on his right cheek, cutting off at his jaw. He looked fairly fit, around the same build as Jason she’d guess. She kneeled down next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

She tensed up, corrupted magic came from him. It was the same kind she and Fu felt on Damian and Jason. The same they healed on them. It was from the Lazarus Pit. The teen looked up surprised, showing silver eyes with a faint green to them, and looked between Ladybug and Nino. his attire reminds her of the clothes Damian had, the ones he showed her and the others. League attire.

“What’s your name?” Ladybug asked softly.

The teens face scrunched up in thought. “My name is” he started in Arabic before shaking his head. “Sorry, my name is Xander Grayson,” he replied in French and Ladybug froze once more.

“What’s up?” Nino asked looking at her curiously.

“We had a brother. His name was Xander. He was killed years ago when Lana was just starting high school. But...he vanished before we could bury him. We don’t know what happened to him,” Alya had said when she was asked about when Lana had gotten together with Steve.

“Xander?” she asked and he nodded. “I know someone who can help you, just give me a moment to talk in private,” Ladybug said and Xander nodded slowly.

“O-ok,” he replied as Ladybug stood up and took Nino away to whisper.

“Does that name mean anything to you?” Nino whispered and Ladybug nodded.

“Yes. Remember? Alya and Lana had a younger brother. Named Xander. Who disappeared years ago,” Ladybug said and Nino’s face turned shocked.

“Oh yeah. You think he’s their brother, dudette?”

“I’m thinking yes,” Ladybug replied with a short nod while looking over at Xander. “Ok, you know Jason’s size right?” she continued and Nino nodded. “Go to some clothing stores and get him some clothes. He looks to be Jason’s size. After, head back to Fu’s. We need to heal him. He has corrupted magic running through his veins, just like Jason and Damian.”

“On it,” Nino said with a nod and ran off to get the clothing. Ladybug went back over to the teen and helped him up.

“Where is he going?” Xander asked softly confused, and Ladybug smiled at him.

“He’s getting you a change of clothes and will meet us at Fu’s place. He’s the man that can help you,” she explained and Xander nodded understanding. “Can you keep a secret?” she asked and he nodded. “Good, I’m going to de-transform since I can’t take you to him as Ladybug. It’d look weird,” she said and he nodded once more, she then hid between two trashcans. “Tikki, spots off,” she said and Tikki flew out of the earrings with a flash of pink, with that she stood up and went back over to Xander. “I’m Marinette, but you can call me Mari.”

Xander smiled at her and shook her hand. “Marinette why did you do that?” Tikki asked and Xander stared at Tikki in shock.

“Because Tikki, he has the same corrupted magic as Damian and Jason did. And you know very well we can’t risk doing anything suspicious,” Mari explained and Tikki nodded slowly.

“Ok, let’s get him to Master Fu,” Tikki said flying into Mari’s purse.

~~~~~~~~~~~~(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander tried holding back the tears, but he couldn’t. His vision blurred from tears while his heartbeat pounded in his ears, muffling everything. Along his body, it felt like needles were digging into him. A pounding started in his head as his hands gripped his hair tightly, pulling slightly. The day he disappeared flashed before his eyes in sharp clarity.

The scars along his back and neck stung. Lana’s desperate cries echoed in his head. He could still feel the rough asphalt on his palms and knees. The small scraps from falling. His croaked out ‘I love you, I’m sorry’, said so quietly, but seemed so loud. The pain he felt as his vision darkened echoed faintly. Joker’s maniacal laugh echoing as everything fades.

The feeling of being underwater. Liquid going into his mouth. Struggling, flailing. Coughing harshly when he escaped the liquids grasp. Everything was blurry as the liquid left his eyes. Faintly hearing talking, possible training.

The sting of getting hit, repeatedly. The cold a sharp knife cutting his skin. Slipping in the snow and ice, running. Wind whipping through his hair and across his face. Snow covering everything and making it hard to see. Shouts echoing harshly, ‘Get him! Kill him if you must!’. Arrows shooting at him cutting through the wind. Grazing him. Landing next to him.

Arms wrapped around him and he started struggling. His voice cracked as he yelled out. He didn’t know what he was yelling, just that he was. He heard gentle shushing, then humming. It...it was a french lullaby. He recognized it. It was a lullaby his sisters both learned and hummed to him after a bad day or nightmare. He relaxed in their grip and started crying. A hand ran through his hair in a calming manner. After a while, his tears stopped and he looked up. Mari was the one holding him closely and humming.

“S-sorry,” he whispered out, voice cracking once more.

“It’s fine, Xander. We were just worried about you. Are you ok? How do you feel?” Mari asked gently. Mari watched as Xander’s eyes flicked up to her, they were plain silver once more, before looking at the ground.

“I’m o-okay,” he whispered taking the tea Fu was holding out to him and taking a sip from it.

“Do you mind telling us what freaked you out?” Mari asked softly once more.

“I....” he started before trailing off and looking out the window, “everything from before now....and after that day....was a blur. But now....I remember everything. I....I died. I was dead but I was brought back to life,” Xander said slowly and Mari’s arms tightened around him.

“Being with the League....being kidnapped and revived by them....then being trained by them...it’s tough. I have two friends who went through that. One was with them for 10 years, the other only a few. You were there for 8 years. I can’t imagine how that was after they left. But you’re safe now. They won’t get you,” she replied softly and he looked over and watched as Nino and Fu nodded agreement.

“When you are....ready, you’re sisters will be very happy to see you again,” Fu said and Xander smiled at that.

“Really?”

“Really. They were...devastated when you disappeared. I imagine they’ll be very happy when they see you,” Fu said and Xander nodded. “To help you heal from what happened, would you mind coming here every day for the next week or two? After that, we’ll space out the visits,” Fu said and Xander nodded.

“That sounds fine. Where will I stay?” Xander asked looking between the three.

“With me. I asked my parents while Fu got you ready. They understand and are very willing to let you stay,” Mari replied and Xander nodded.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“No problem. Why don’t you change into the clothes Nino got you,” Mari said and Xander nodded as he slowly got up and took the bag from Nino. After he changed into a teal sweatshirt, white tee, and gray sweats, he sat down in front of Fu.

“Shall we begin?” Fu asked and Xander nodded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you sure you want to go to school, Xander?” Mari asked. It’s been a couple of weeks by then since Xander was healed. He’s meet all of Mari’s close friends who shared the same sentiment as Mari regarding him. They were just outside the school when she asked once more. Adrien stood next to them while the others went into the classroom to ‘deal’ with Lila. He understood that they pretended to hate each other in public for a movie they’re filming.

“Yes, I’m sure. I don’t think staying couped up at your place will help with anything. Not to mention, I’d rather be near you and your friends. I haven’t had an episode recently....but I’d rather be safe than sorry. Your parents and Fu are good, but not as good as you, sister,” Xander said smiling as he said sister in English. Mari beamed at him and took his hand.

“Ok, let’s get you enrolled then.” Mari then leads Xander, and Adrien as he trailed behind them, to the principle’s office. She knocked on the door.

“Come in!” Damocles muffled call came through. Mari opened the door and Damocles looked between her, Xander, and Adrien with a slightly confused expression. “What do you three need?” he asked and Mari had Xander sit in a chair.

“He’d like to enroll here. He’s from America but came here for a specialty therapist that’s really good. But since the therapist doesn’t know when he’ll be good to go home, we thought he’d enroll here for the time being,” Mari explained and Xander nodded. Damocles nodded at that and started typing on his computer.

“Alright. Now, what’s his name, where is he staying and who’s his family?” Damocles said.

“His name is Xander Grayson. He’s staying with me, Principle Damocles. So the info in my file should do,” Mari said and Damocles nodded slowly at that.

“Alright. Now, what about school records?”

“I was homeschooled,” Xander replied.

“Yeah. But he can be in my classes. That way if he’s behind in anything, I can help him,” she replied and Damocles nodded at that.

“If you are higher than the rest of the class, would you want to be moved ahead or stay in the same class?” Damocles asked leaning against his desk.

“I’d like to stay in the same class as my sister, sir,” he said and Damocles looked a bit confused at that.

“Sister?”

“That’s me, Principle Damocles. He’s become an honorary Dupain-Cheng,” Mari explained and Damocles nodded at that with a small smile.

“Alright. Marinette, Adrien, why don’t you two head to class. We just need to finish up some work before he can join you,” Damocles said and Mari nodded.

“Of course. We’ll see you soon, Xan,” Mari replied patting his shoulder before leaving.

~~~~~~~~~~~~(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bustier was smiling as Lila claimed her tinnitus was acting up. Right as Nino sat down next to Kim and Lila next to Adrien, a knock sounded. “Come in!” Bustier called. Damocles then came into the room with Xander following behind him.

“Miss Bustier, you are receiving a new student. Please take care, make sure to look at his file as soon as you can as we do not want to cause him any problems through negligence,” Damocles replied and Bustier nodded. “Good day, if you need anything, come to me,” with that, Damocles left the room and Xander waved to everyone.

“Why don’t you introduce yourself to the class?” Bustier suggested.

“I’m Xander Grayson. I’m from Gotham in the USA. Uh, if I say something makes me uncomfortable, please drop it and don’t talk about it,” he said and the class nodded, some looked a bit confused though.

“Xander, do you want to sit next to me?” Lila asked with a charming smile and Xander shook his head.

“If I could, I’d like to sit next to my honorary sister, Mari,” Xander replied and Lila made a show of grumbling.

“You don’t want to sit next to her, Xander. Mari’s a bully,” Alya spoke up and Xander glanced over at her.

“I’ve already decided to sit next to her. Please don’t argue with me,” he said as Mari beamed at him. He went up the steps and sat down next to Mari. Chloe was sitting next to Sabrina as Mari had told her what was going to happen.

“If you’re from America, why don’t you have an accent?” Mylene asked that and Xander tensed up.

“Practice I guess,” he replied shortly.

“Why don’t you save the questions for later. Give him some time ok?” Mari replied and the class nodded at that.

“Ok class, let’s begin today’s lesson,” Bustier called out.

Ok, so this was the new chap. I hope you guys enjoyed it. There was a bit of a wait, sorry. Anyways, we have Xander appear! He’s Alya’s and Lana’s younger brother. Rn Mari n the others r around 15 yo. Lana is 21-22. Xander is a few years younger so he’s 17. Alya is 27. Just thought I’d tell ya so your aren’t confused. I hope you enjoyed it, I’ll see you again soon! -Love Willa<3<3<3

#fanfic #fanfic update #ml x dc #maribat #daminette #my writing #A New Hero #panic attack #Xander Grayson #he gets a panic attack #memory loss #memory recovery #oc death #death talked about

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rcris123 · 5 years

Text

“Good morning.” Arthur tipped his hat off his head.

It’s been a couple of weeks; the wounds got better. And he hasn’t seen Sebastian since he left the next day after their meeting; fever or not, he felt like an intruder. They sold the pelts, returned to camp and Miss Grimshaw scolded him harshly for the entire thing – that let alone that Dutch ain’t really spoke kindly to him after that. Hosea tried, but that ain’t the point.

He got the kid in danger. And he apologized to Isaac. Boy was real forgiving, but he cried. With sobs, into his arms, just a bit away from the camp.

They gave him chores with that kid Kieran around camp to keep him busy while his idiot father convalesced, down with high fever.

Even now it’s still sore, but the pain drowned enough that he’s functional again. He should be seeing Hosea and Sean out at the Braithwaite manor, but instead he decided to take a lil’ detour to St. Denis. It ain’t far. Isaac ain’t with him.

And he found Sebastian.

“Mornin’...” Sebastian replies, just a tad confused. He was smoking a cigarette by the saloon he’s been dragged inside for healing. “What you doing here?”

“Said I be taking you huntin’ sometime. You got the time?”

Lips open in an odd smirk, head cocked slightly to the side; a long draw from the cigarette after which it’s thrown onto the pavement: “Not right now. How about tonight?”

“Whatever suits you.”

“Good...” Sebastian eyes the man from across the street; Arthur can’t help take a peek at it: an older gentleman, long, greying sideburns. Christ... Without warning the man walks past him to meet what must have been a client. And what comes out of his mouth is low, raspy, stinking of alcohol, and just for Arthur’s ears: “Thought I wasn’t gonna see you no more.” Then a bit louder: “I did buy whiskey off those money, you know. A whole heap o’it.”

Another crooked smile on thin lips and he was off. Arthur scratches the back of his neck, places his hat right back on again. Yeah, he left Sebastian 50$ worth of money and wrote simply on a paper: ‘for whiskey.’

Guess they’ll see each other tonight.

After he’s done burning the Gray’s tobacco fields as that Braithwaite woman requested of them.

And what a pain that was, ‘cause the whole goddamn plantation teaming with guards woke up and started shooting at them. He’s thinkin’ he burned the horse he rode out of there. Sean was all a giggle at the end; asked him if he comes back.

No. He’s gotta see someone, and he told Isaac to meet him by the train station in Rhodes.

Boy was half asleep on Big Sir, a brute of a horse, a Shire, whose full name was Sir Lancelot ‘cause the kid read Knights of the Round Table over and over. King Arthur seemed to be his favorite character of the lot: talked to Abigail and Mary-Beth about it with; told him too, but Arthur ain’t knowin’ how to feel about it all. He tried though; listened to him thorough, nodded along, asked questions when he could. And that was still long ago; back when they first started going hunting together.

And Arthur didn’t really have the heart to wake him up.

He tries to urge Big Sir to follow with a whistle, but Isaac jerks right awake.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” Arthur tries.

“What are we doin’, Pa?”

“Ah... Meeting up with a friend. Remember Sebastian?”

“The man who saved you?”

“Yeah. I owe him for that. So I thought I’d take’im huntin’. And I thought you might want to come along.”

“I guess...”

Arthur never really stopped to ask what he was dragging the kid into.

“You can head back to camp whenever you feel like it, kid...” Arthur turned his head to give a smile.

“That’s... not it.”

“You wanna tell me what’s it about then?” not accusing.

“I don’t know. I... I- I couldn’t help it. There was moaning in that house. Was it-”

“Yeah it was.”

“... Is that why you-”

“No...” Well he ain’t thought of it like that. He ain’t thought clearly at all back then and now... “Well I- I don’t know, son.”

“Is that why you’re taking me with you?”

Maybe it really was... reassurance. He ain’t a kid no more but he’s needin’ some too from time to time. He still shouldn’t burden the boy with it, but...

“Yeah... You’re always with me.” Another smile.

Isaac is a treasure; all the remaining way to St. Denis they muttered songs. It kept the animals and strangers away in a sense, and it ain’t all feeling as heavy.

“Look who decided to finally show up.” Under a lamp post, alone, with a black horse and a riffle on his back, fancy clothes gone, hair unmade, missing the pomade, Sebastian stood, smoking a cigarette with long drags.

“You really did wait for me.” It was well past midnight and in truth who was to go hunting in the dead of night with a man you met only once.

“You said you were takin’ me hunting.” Sebastian mounts up.

“I am. Any huntin’ spots you wanna try out on this particularly fine evening.” Arthur turns his horse around.

“There’s an old battlefield not far from here. There’s always deer there.”

“You like hunting?” Isaac asked.

“A little bit.”

“We go hunting a lot.” The boy continued. “We use the pelts. To make clothes and saddles and bags. Maybe you can make something for yourself, mister.”

Arthur stood quiet. Sebastian did so for quite some time as well.

“Well I had my eyes on a sturdy deer vest for a while now.”

“I’m really good at skinning animals, you know.” Isaac continues; the lights of the city dim behind them as they near the bridges heading towards the bayou.

Sebastian throws him a look.

“He really is.” Arthur encourages. “And better with a bow than I am.”

“You’re hunting with the bow tonight, Pa.”

“Don’t put me through that Isaac...” a defeated huff. “Of course.”

“Just my luck then. I’d say I’m decent with a bow.” Sebastian cut into the conversation.

Another look back at the man; was it just him or is the man standing too stiff in the saddle; not that Arthur’s any good a horseman, but- Maybe that’s just how he rode.

It really ain’t been long till they reach what looks like the remnants of a battlefield. The clouds pushed away, making room for the moon, almost full, to shine through. Place is deserted and looks filled with junk just waitin’ to impale them.

Huh... Impale...

“This the place?” Arthur asks.

“Yeah-”

“Then let’s see if we can pick up some tracks.” Isaac interrupts.

But there was little need for actual tracking. Just a bit further ahead, by an abandoned, collapsed in church a few does were grazing. They should try taking them down from a distance, but they were still too far away for that.

Isaac really did hand Sebastian the bow and Arthur was to hunt with his own; they let the boy man the horses, while they’d be sneaking just a bit closer in. The dark made it difficult to get a clean shot from here. Grass rustled under their feet, their step was light, even if with each of Sebastian’s came a huff. He ain’t noticed it at first, then wondered if it was ‘cause he was getting old, but man couldn’t of been much older than himself. Or maybe they were already elders at the ripe age of 35.

A smile flashes on his lips and Sebastian almost asks him what that was about, but Arthur just places a finger to his own mouth: sh. The deer.

They steadily get up, drawing their bows as they went; thou in all fairness Arthur’s more mimicking Sebastian at this point. Seems this man’s got a few secrets by him.

“On three.” Sebastian whispers.

“I get the one on the right.” Arthur replied and the man nodded.

“One.”

They take aim. The head. The neck. A deep inhale drawn in.

“Two.”

The cord is tensed, breath released. Muscles tremble under the pressure of the draw.

“Three-” Arthur mutters on the exhale; the arrow flies out of the bow.

The deer look up, briefly hearing the whiz of the arrow just before it pierces their necks. Almost perfect unison.

“Nice shooting.”

“Thanks for taking the lead-” Is that mockery.

“I mean it with the shooting.” Arthur tried to defend.

“You did good too.” They started making their way over the crumbled fences and other debris. “For someone who claims they can’t shoot a bow.” He saw that smile.

“Now, I ain’t sure if you’re insulting me or...”

“I’ll let you decide on that.”

A scoff from Arthur; a snort from Sebastian, as if he’d want to laugh. Their steps got loud. Wind rustled through the trees lining the field. A bell rang like a rumble from the tower of that collapsed church not too far away. There was some boars squealing somewhere near – probably ran off.

Now to skin the deer. Arthur gets down to collect the arrows.

“You hear that?” Sebastian lowered his voice. “Shit!-”

Arthur ain’t got time to respond. Tusks first a boar found its way towards them. Or maybe it was the whole gang of them. But Arthur feels just one. A tusk in his side. He grabs on to the head. Not a smart move. The animal drags him along. He lets go. Hooves press harshly into his torso before jumping off of him.

A glance: Sebastian was some way ahead, leaning on one of the destroyed fences.

And the boar wants to come for seconds.

He ain’t ever thought he’d die gored by a boar of all things.

A gunshot.

It still charges, but falls down a few steps in, snout in the soft ground. A muffled squeal.

“Pa?...” Isaac gets down from Big Sir with a riffle in his arms. “You a’right?”

Sebastian came to help him up: “C’mon up!”

“Yeah...” A cough. The boars took even the goddamn breath from him.

A wheeze as he’s strung up-

Only to stumbled backwards as Sebastian jerks away, grimacing, in pain.

Both Isaac and Arthur are at his side at once:

“You a’right there?”

“Ah. It’s nothing. Pulled a muscle today.” Sebastian responds, but it sounds almost like a growl. “You ain’t replied to the kid. You okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” Arthur croaks, looks away, a rushed scratch of the chin, then a hand goes to check his side. He ain’t bleeding thankfully; still hurts thou.

“We should camp here tonight.” Isaac proposed, though with that grimace on his face it was more of a demand. “Inside the church.”

Arthur’s down for anything, as long as Sebastian is too.

“Sure. Why not.” He says.

Arthur hears a sigh roll out of Isaac as he pulls down to skin the boar he killed. So, he gets the second deer. Even in this dark it’s almost an entirely clean job, the pelt’s got no previous nicks in it; should make for a fine vest.

He puts that on the back of Sebastian’s horse:

“You should take it.” Man comes closer. “And don’t you dare say no. It’s a gift.”

One defeated sigh from Sebastian: “I guess I will have to start refusing such gifts if you keep getting injured and I have to pull your ass out of dying.”

“That was one time.”

“Oh? So, what do you call almost getting skewered by a wild boar-”

“Being an idiot.” Isaac interrupts, unloading the sleeping bag off Big Sir after stowing the boar pelt on him.

Arthur raises his arms and lets them fall to the side: “I thought you had my back.”

“I do, Pa.”

A snort: “Agh, sometimes I wonder why I bother.” It’s playful, not meant as an insult as a hand goes to ruffle the mop of hair on the boy’s head. “C’mon.” He loves the boy to the heavens and back.

They set up camp: a fire just outside the church walls, their bed rolls inside. Isaac on one side of him, nearer the wall, Sebastian on the other towards what remained of the isle; it just felt right that way as if he could protect the kid like this. But before sleep came some dinner – well a 3 AM dinner...

They ended up roasting some of the venison they just caught, with some thyme and grilled mushrooms on the side.

And he saw that; the way Sebastian grabbed his right shoulder, massaging it between thumbs.

“You sure you a’right?”

“Yeah... Not a thing to worry about.”

Arthur insists: “Does it hurt?”

Sebastian throws him a glare: “How about you? Your side? The bulletwounds?”

“Black and blue all over, but I’ll live.” He takes a mouthful of that meat. A moment of reflection: “What? Was you worried I won’t, friend?” Arthur don’t you get smug.

“Friend?” Sebastian chows on his steak as well. “Ain’t thought we was friends.”

“Well whatchu wanting me to call you? Ol’ sport?”

A loud snort, followed by a cough, as the man chokes on the bite he had. Arthur flinched forward. Sebastian waves him away as if he’s fine.

A drowned out, dry cough: “I don’t think that’s even a saying.”

“Well ain’t everything just made up anyway?”

A bob of the head: “I ain’t knowing.”

A moment’s silence: Isaac found something that looked like a silver coin on the ground, flipped it on all sides, running his hand over the inscription, looked at Sebastian then pocketed the thing. The adults were busy chewing the meat in silence, or well as much of a silence as that bell still dangling gave them. Yet, somehow that sound grew familiar and pleasant. A thunder cracked in the sky above; downpour came soon after. The water didn’t really get inside the arch they camped under.

The fire smoked out soon enough.

“Thank you” Arthur whispers as they were getting inside their bedrolls. “For this.”

Sebastian doesn’t say anything else, just flashes a smile, then turns around and, Arthur presumes, falls fast asleep.

Next day he was gone before they woke up.

#rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #sebthur #arthur morgan #sebastian castellanos #isaac morgan #rdr2 tag #EEEEEEEEEEEEE CH A P TER 2!?

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readyourimgaines · 5 years

Note

Hey! I was wondering if you could write a second part to the Eugene’s sister story. I just loved it so much. Thanks!

I got the second part done. I left it open ended on purpose so I can write another part if someone wants me to. I hope you all enjoy the Part 2. -Freddie

“Father, we’ve got it,” Eugene said. The doctor was carrying a box of Alice’s clothes to Snafu’s truck. Snafu and Eugene had repacked their rucksacks and Snafu had gotten two sizable boxes from different air conditioner parts for Alice to pack her clothes and things into.

“I tried tell him I could get it,” Alice spoke up as she followed him.

“You fit all your clothes into the one box?” Mrs. Sledge questioned skeptically.

Alice sighed slowly. She hated this kind of question around Merriell. “I didn’t pack all of them, Mother. Just the ones I thought I’d need.” She shuffled under the stern woman’s gaze and Snafu figured he should step in.

“Your books still in your room, boo?”

“Yes.” Relief filled the girl as she pieced together what Snafu was doing.

“Let’s get ‘em.” He motioned for her to go first and she

led the way.

Dr. Sledge waited until he couldn’t see Snafu or Alice anymore before he spoke. “I don’t know how I feel about my daughter living with two men.”

“You’re not worried about it being two men, it’s that Merriell is...Snafu. I know he seems rough and really out there, but I promise she’s safe. Having spent so much in the service with him, I’ve seen a side of him you haven’t. Trust me when I tell you that Alice’s safe with him.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t let her-”

“Father,” Eugene turned and faced the doctor, “you’re worried about having an empty house. But Alice is 19, I’m 23. It’s our time to go.” Mary Frank started tearing up and Eugene didn’t know what to do. “Mother...we aren’t going far; we’ll still see you.”

The woman looked up at her son who was taller than her despite her slightly heeled shoes. “You’re still having nightmares from the last time you left. The thought of you suffering from such horrors…”

Eugene bit back a smirk. “We’re not going back to Japan. Guadalcanal and Okinawa are behind me now- behind Merriell. We’ll be alright. Merriell and I’ve got each other just like when we first met but with Allie stirred in. You know she’ll make sure we’re eating proper.”

There was a shriek followed by a peel of laughter from both Alice and Merriell. “What’d you go and do that for?” Snafu laughed.

“You two okay?” Eugene called. Their laughing got stronger again.

“Don-don’t. Doin’ it again ain’t gonna make it work, Allie.”

Eugene walked into the house and saw Alice sitting on the floor of the landing with her back against her box of books and her feet against the wall.

“Sledgehamma, I got it dis far an’ she said she wanted ta help so I put it down thinkin’ she was gonna take an end an’ I the other. 60 pounds in cardboard ain’t gon’ move this floor.” Merriell was still laughing.

“How do you know it’s 60 pounds?” Alice was looking up at the Cajun.

Merriell shrugged. “Weighs ‘bout as much as a mortar.”

“C’mon Snaf, let’s get going.” Eugene walked further into the house and up the steps. “We got it Allie.” He ruffled her hair and she smoothed it out with a huff as she moved from the steps and went back outside.

“Ain’t heavy, jus’ awkward,” Merriell informed the ginger.

“You’re coming back for sunday dinners, aren’t you?” Mary Frank was almost in hysterics.

“I don’t see why not,” Alice nodded.

“As much as school and work allow,” Eugene confirmed. He and Merriell slid the box into the bed of his truck and Merriell pushed it shut with a thud.

“We good?”

“I think so.” Alice was starting her way back to the truck but was stopped by her mother wrapping a hand around her elbow. “Mother, we talked about this.” Alice reminded her. “I’m an adult now. I can take care of myself. I’ll even have Gene and Merriell looking after me.”

“My darling girl, do be mindful.”

“I’ll be perfectly safe. We’ll see you on Sunday.” Alice stepped away from her mother and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “See you soon, Father.”

As Alice walked to the truck, Merriell opened the driver’s side door and tilted the seat down so Alice could get into the back seat. “You okay, boo?” he asked softly, helping her into the truck.”

“I’m good, Merl.”

“Got enough room for your hop-a-longs?”

Alice giggled at the wording. “Yeah. I’m shorter than you two. I’m good.” Merriell smiled at the girl and ran a tentative hand through her ginger hair. He tilted the chair back again and sat down. “Where does the term ‘hop-a-longs’ come from? Is that a Cajun thing?”

“Nah. Picked it up from the army. Get-a-longs, hop-a-longs, move-a-longs. ‘Pends on who ya ask.”

Eugene hopped in the passenger seat and slammed the door maybe a little harder than he had to. “Let’s move out.”

Wordlessly, Merriell pulled the truck onto the road.

Alice woke up in the early morning to muffled sobbing in the main of their new flat. She could tell it was Eugene. Going closer to the door, she heard Snafu whispering to her brother.

“Ya gotta be quiet. Yer gonna wake Allie up.” He kept whispering but Alice couldn’t hear all of it. She eased her door open and saw Snafu sitting on the couch with Eugene more or less in his lap. Eugene was sobbing into Snafu’s shoulder with Snafu’s hand wrapped his mouth. Feeling eyes on him, Snafu turned and spotted just the top of the girl’s head and her eyes. He nodded his head to beckon her closer to them. She pushed the door open the rest of the way and went to sit with the two.

“Did you have another nightmare, Gene?” Alice asked. Rather than replying, Eugene pushed himself further against Snafu and thereby his hand.

“You want me ta move my hand, ya gotta quiet down.” Snafu seemingly reminded. “Allie’s up but the neighbors ain’t yet.”

“I-Is he…”

“He’s okay,” Snafu assured. “Nightmare’s all and he’s been going like this half a’ hour or so. Just gotta cry ‘imself out and dry.”

“Can we do anything for him?”

“Not yet.” Snafu shook his head.

Alice sat on the couch next to Snafu and more or less wrapper herself around Eugene’s back. Slowly, with the pressure and presence of both Snafu and Alice, Eugene’s crying began to subside and Snafu removed his hand, wiping it on his pant leg.

Eugene turned a bit and practically draped himself over his sister. Nothing asked or spoken, Alice hugged him back as his worn out body and mind drifted asleep once more.

When Sledge woke up the second time, it took him a few minutes to piece together why he was sleeping on the couch and why he was resting on top of his sister.

Something resembling shame flooded his body when he remembered sobbing in his best friend’s shoulder as the older Cajun tried to quiet him with his hand. They’d have killed him if they were still in Japan. Eugene turned his head and burrowed his face against his sister’s neck.

Alice stirred at the new feelings and opened her eyes. She gently ran her hand over Eugene’s hair and the older Sledge found himself tilting his head slightly to meet her hand. “Are you awake, Gene?”

“Mhm.” His hum was a little more awake than he felt.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? What for?” Eugene arched his back so was looking at Alice and the action stopped her from rubbing his head. “I didn’t scare you last night. You come in here seeing your big brother sobbing like a child with his best friend trying to keep him quiet?”

“I know you have nightmares and I know Merriell does too. I’m not going to be scared of you. I wanted to help you.”

“You two’re brother an’ sister; that’s weird to see. ‘Least I know for sure you’re from Alabama.” Snafu teased as he came into the room decked out in a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. Eugene flipped him off as he laid back down.

After lunch, Alice had decided she was going to do the shopping for the week. She had invited either of the boys to come, but Eugene hadn’t been ready to leave the flat yet. So Merriell gave Alice the money and she set out.

“Sledgehamma, how with it are ya righ’ now?” Merriell asked after Alice had been gone for about ten minutes.

“Enough for a conversation.” He closed the book of Alice’s he had found and started reading.

“‘Member how how ya said for me ta not try anything with your sister?”

“Mhm.”

“Could I ask her on a date?” Merriell was sincere and the tone made Eugene look his friend in the eyes. “I ain’t kiddin’, Sledge. I wanted to ask ya first; I didn’t want to-”

“Go for it.”

“You’re serious?” Merriell watched his friend’s face for anything hinting at a joke.

“Yeah.” Eugene paused. “I’ve seen how you are with women who you’re just trying to get with for a night. You’re not like that with Allie. You haven’t been like that with any woman since we got off the train and you met her. So yeah. I trust you with her.”

“Wait, wait. This is a flush?” Alice giggled, laying her cards down.

“No, boo. That’s a full house,” Merriell corrected. Eugene had fallen asleep on the couch by the time alice got back so Merriell helped her put things away and offered to teach her how to play Poker. Black Jack (or Burn’n’Turn as Merriell called it) was easier.

“Okay, so a full house is when all five cards count up?” Alice checked.

“Exactly.”

“So like Yahtzee?”

“Yes.” Merriell laughed. “Yahtzee with cards instead of dice.”

“You could have just said that. You’re bad with giving instructions. Reshuffle. I’m going to smoke your ass at this.” She gave Merriell her cards.

“Can I ask you something?”

Alice stood and went to the kitchen. She got two cups out and filled them with the sun-tea she’d made earlier in the day. “What’s up?” She gave a glass to Merriell and sat down.

“Would you wanna go on a date sometime? Movie and dinner maybe?” Merriell kept his eyes on the cards he was shuffling. He wasn’t nervous. He didn’t get nervous.

“I’d love to,” she grinned. “When do you want to?”

“When would it work with your school an’ everything?”

“Oh goodness. Uh…” She ran her planner through her mind. “I don’t have classes on Thursday and get off of my shift at 4:15.”

“My shift always lets off at 1700. We could always get dinner first an’ then watch a movie.”

“I’d be good for that.”

“So Thursday for 1800?” Merriell made sure.

“That’s six o’clock?”

“Yep.” Merriell dealt their cards.

“I’ve got a better idea.” Alice smirked.

“What’s that?”

“So, whoever loses pays for the movie.”

“Fine. But I’m payin’ for dinner either way.” Merriell bargained with a smile of his own. He knew he wouldn’t regret this date.

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hysterialevi · 6 years

Text

When the Devil Cries pt. 4

Author’s note: I know I’ve said this already, but thank you so much for reading this story. I wasn’t really sure how this fanfic would go at first, but you guys have been very supportive since part one, and I really appreciate it. Hope you enjoy this part as well :)

From Arthur’s POV

OUTSIDE LEMOYNE NATIONAL BANK

Pacing to the other end of town, Dutch and I slithered our way through the groups of lawmen patrolling around Saint Denis as we hurried to find Hosea at the bank, keeping a low profile and eager to get back to camp.

At this point, the city was entirely awake, and all around us, we could see both men and women calling out to passersby as they advertised their merchandise, campaigns, charities, and more. It was quite the sight. Sure weren’t like anythin’ I’d ever seen.

We had already come across some rich fool by the side of the road who was hollerin’ at people to buy his book that would apparently lead folks to instant success, as well as some waste of space claimin’ that the white race was the only “correct” one, and that the blacks and Indians were nothing but animals. It was science, he said.

Well, last time I checked, “science” was the same thing trying to turn cannons and bicycles with balloons into forms of transportation. So that didn’t exactly count for much in my book.

On a more pleasant note though, I did also see a woman standing outside City Hall advocating for women’s right to vote. It wasn’t something I could see happening anytime soon, and her ideas of a female president within the next ten years seemed a bit far off, but there weren’t no shame in searching for a better world. I only hoped she had some sort of protection out there in the open. Not everyone was taking her proposals kindly.

As for Dutch -- well, ever since the man found me about an hour ago, he had been chewing my ear off about his plan to pick Saint Denis clean of its money before packin’ our bags and heading off to Tahiti or some place.

I wasn’t quite sure how that would work exactly, and if I was being perfectly honest, the west sounded like a much better area to lie low, but...I wasn’t really thinkin’ about any of that anyway.

The only thing on my mind at the moment...was Edward.

I couldn’t get that melody he played out of my head, and the man himself wasn’t easy to forget either.

I didn’t know why, but somethin’ about that boy just stuck with me. His words, his personality, his music...it preoccupied me completely. It almost felt like I was still sittin’ there by his piano.

Despite my pleasant thoughts about him though, I couldn’t deny I was a bit concerned about Dutch’s plans to rob the theater. I mean, I knew there was probably hundreds of dollars sittin’ in there and Edward and I were barely acquaintances, but it still seemed...I dunno, wrong to go behind his back like that. Especially right after doing a favor for him.

But I supposed that was the life of an outlaw. I could never truly befriend honest folk, or get along with them. I could only lie to ‘em.

“Hosea, old man!” Dutch called out suddenly, bringing my attention back to reality.

Hosea was sitting on a bench not too far away from the bank with a newspaper in his hands -- more as a mask than actual reading material -- and waved at us as we approached him, keeping our voices low.

“Ah, Dutch, Arthur,” he greeted, folding the newspaper. “There you are. How did you fellas get along?”

Dutch leaned against a nearby street lamp and crossed his arms. “Arthur here thinks he might be onto somethin’ about an upcoming gala. Heard some woman in the Bastille rambling on about it...and I’ve got a few ideas of my own on that theater as well. What about you? How’s the bank looking?”

Hosea rose to his feet. “Pretty much what you’d expect. Lots of money, and even more security to protect it. It also happens to be in the middle of the city. So if we’re gonna hit it, Dutch, we’ll need every gun we have. But if we can pull it off right, I guarantee it’ll be worth it. The vault’s got thousands of bucks just waitin’ in it. Enough to get us out of here.”

The other man nodded in contemplation. “Alright, then. Well, let’s head back to camp...and I’ll tell you all about this theater once we get there. I really think this could be quite the opportunity for us, but we don’t have too long to plan for it, so we need to move fast. C’mon.”

SHADY BELLE

DUTCH’S OFFICE

“Okay, gentlemen,” Dutch said eagerly, gathering us outside his room. “I have a plan. And this is a good one.”

Hosea and I exchanged looks, feeling both a little nervous and excited at the same time as we took a seat on the ornate couch.

“Well, what’ve you got in mind?” Hosea asked.

Dutch grinned, holding a finger up. “I did some investigating, and apparently there’s gonna be a show at the Râleur in two days. Lots of tourists are gonna come pilin’ in, and all the money will be sitting right at the front door while everyone else inside is distracted by the show. It’s the perfect time for us to slip in and swipe the cash. Which means the best way for us to do this is by makin’ as little noise as possible...”

He glanced at me. “...Arthur.”

I sighed in annoyance. “...Jesus, I get it.”

Dutch let out a hearty laugh. “That is the last time I’ll mention it. I promise. Anyway, I’m thinkin’ we bring in a small group. Go in quick and quiet. We don’t wanna barge into the theater, armed to the teeth. Remember, the goal here is to cause as little alarm as we can. We’ll probably disguise some of you as employees, too -- that way, you can keep watch while the others focus on the robbing.”

Hosea nodded. “And who’s doing what?”

“Hmm. Well, we don’t want anyone too tough looking to dress as the employees,” Dutch explained. “I think I’ll get Kieran to be one of them. You too, Hosea.”

“What ‘bout me?” I questioned.

“You...are gonna be doing the robbing. My plan is for you and Mary-Beth to enter the theater together. Pretend you’re a couple out to see a show. But don’t walk up to the ticket booth until it’s empty. That way, no one will be around to see what you’re really doing.”

I raised a brow. “Me and Mary-Beth?”

Hosea chuckled. “That poor girl has her eyes on you, Arthur. Everyone in camp can see that. Least it’ll make this job easier for her.”

I shrugged. “So, what, we just walk up to the ticket booth and take the money while everyone’s watchin’ the show?”

“That’s the idea for now,” Dutch confirmed. “But I’m still working out the details. In the meantime: Hosea, you keep focusing on that bank. And Arthur, see what else you can learn about the gala -- where it’s located, how we get in...things like that.”

“On it.”

The man smirked. “Good. Saint Denis will be our ticket outta this country, boys. I can feel it. We just need one, last score...and we’re gone for good. But it won’t help anything if you lose your faith. So stay with me. Both of you. The gang may be strong, but we’re nothing if we don’t work together.”

Hosea and I gave Dutch a firm, honest look.

“We ain’t goin’ nowhere, Dutch,” I said. “We got your back.”

Dutch began making his way out of the room, glancing at us over his shoulder before he headed out the door.

“I know.”

A FEW HOURS LATER

THAT NIGHT

Sitting on my bed, I mindlessly doodled in my journal while the rest of the gang chatted at the campfire outside, sketching the night away as I waited for another long day of work tomorrow.

Normally I drew things like horses, plants, landscapes...just stuff I came across while wandering around. But today, I found myself scratching down wobbly images of pianos, random music notes, and of course...Edward.

By now, it was honestly frustratin’ me that I couldn’t tear my mind away from him. Why the hell was I so captivated by that man? I mean, I had met much more prominent people in the past.

I had seen people who were retired gunslingers, civil war veterans, slave catchers, dinosaur bone hunters -- hell, I’d even come across a couple who were brother and sister.

Why was one pianist so interesting to me? Ain’t like he was the first musician I’d ever met.

I guessed...I guessed it was because he was so different from everyone else.

Most people I talked to always hid behind some kind of pretense. Acted polite and well-mannered on the outside, and danced around saying what they was really thinking...but Edward, he already seemed to know me better than I even knew myself. Within just a few minutes of talking with the boy, he had already come to the conclusion that I was a better man than I thought.

And based on what? Ramming into him? Makin’ a mess of his notes? Covering his clothes in mud?

Mister Ryan definitely had a unique idea of “good,” that was certain. I just hoped I could live up to it.

“Um, Arthur?”

Flicking my eyes upward at the sudden intrusion, I paused mid-action when I realized Mary-Beth was standing just outside the doorway, her head poking inside with a puzzled expression as she stared at me. I put my journal down.

“Oh, Mary-Beth. Did you...need something?”

The woman walked into the room. “No. I was just...walkin’ by when I overheard you singing. I was curious, is all. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

I froze in confusion. “Singing? What you mean?”

She giggled. “You were humming, Arthur. You didn’t notice? I guess that’s good. When you hum, it means you’re in a good mood.”

I bashfully looked away from the young woman instantly, admittedly a tad embarrassed.

When did I even start humming? Who else had heard me, if anyone? Christ, I hoped Uncle wasn’t sleepin’ on the floor downstairs again. Otherwise I’d never hear the end of this. That, and his goddamned lumbago.

“I, ah...” my voice faltered sheepishly, “...I didn’t notice. Sorry to disturb you.”

Mary-Beth waved a dismissive hand. “You weren’t disturbin’ me, you silly man. It was a pretty tune. Where’d you hear it?”

I pretended it was nothing. “Ah, just some song I must’ve heard somewhere or the other.”

She smiled in a way that said she knew I was lying, but dropped the subject anyway.

“Well, I’m just glad you’re feelin’ alright. This gang needs you to stay strong, Arthur. Dutch needs you. More than you may think.”

I stood up from the bed, placing my journal on the nightstand.

“Oh, I’m sure Dutch would manage just fine without me, but...that’s kind of you, Mary-Beth.”

She began to take her leave. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Stay safe out there, Arthur. Things is gettin’ pretty crazy -- both inside and outside of camp -- so be careful, okay?”

I escorted Mary-Beth out into the corridor, saying a quick goodbye to her.

“Yes, ma’am.”

The woman slid a hand along the staircase’s railing, looking up at me before stepping down.

“Good. I know our situation’s been tough recently, and I can’t deny that I’m scared too...but I know you and Dutch will pull us through. You always do.”

I nodded confidently. “And we will again.”

Mary-Beth descended the stairs, leaving me alone in the hallway.

“Of that, I have no doubt,” she was quiet for a second. “Good night, Arthur. These moments of peace that bore us now, are what we’re gonna be wishin’ for in a bit. Take care of yourself. We ain’t losin’ anybody else.”

I waved her goodbye.

“...No. We ain’t.”

THE NEXT MORNING

Waking up to the sound of Karen and Grimshaw yelling -- again -- I fluttered my eyes open to a slit, only to be blinded by a strong beam of sunlight that was seeping through the broken window.

I was facedown in my pillow, and judging by the brazen snoring I heard comin’ from downstairs, I weren’t the only one still dreaming. Despite wanting to sleep more though, I decided to head out for Saint Denis now, while the streets were still quiet.

The sun had barely warmed up the sky yet, but all this arguing and fretting at camp right now was makin’ me want to be just about anywhere else. I understood that folks were afraid, and I woulda been lyin’ if I said I wasn’t -- but there was only so much worrying one man could take.

Retrieving my hat, I strapped my belt on and threw my satchel over my shoulder, making sure everything was in place and stretching a bit before striding out of the room.

Fortunately, there weren’t really anyone awake yet to distract me or hold me back from leaving, and the weather seemed clear enough today.

The clouds were thin and the morning sun was just beginning to float above the purple horizon, painting the world around us with a nice, red tint.

It was the perfect time to ride out.

SAINT DENIS

Urging my horse to slow down, I began trotting into the city ahead of me as I was forced to adjust to civilized life, keeping a mental note that it actually mattered what the hell you was wearin’ out here.

Usually, I just wore a simple, loose shirt and a roughed-up pair of pants, but for the sake of blending in, I had stuffed myself into some itchy vest this morning along with a nicer set of trousers I didn’t even remember purchasing.

For a minute I felt like a walking joke on display for everyone to laugh at, but then I remembered the people around me looked even weirder. Women with gowns wider than the streets, and men with hats that made them an entire foot taller...big cities were definitely not the place for me. I didn’t mind the money, though.

Steadily trotting through the roads, I glanced to my side when I noticed the Râleur coming up on the left, the brightly-lit building immediately catching my attention.

It was indeed quite a view, just like Edward said. Through the tall, glass doors, I could see a luxurious chandelier hanging from the high ceiling, giving the lobby an intense, golden glow as its light reflected off the decorated walls and waxed floors. And browsing through the posters plastered outside the theater, it looked like he weren’t kidding about those fire-breathing people.

Apparently, they had some lady from Bavaria who was stronger than a bull, a duo consisting of a tiny magician and child giant, a man called Benjamin Lazarus who could escape death, and a group of dancers from France who...oh, my.

Well, I didn’t know if it was really my kind of entertainment, but I was definitely considering seeing that show with Edward in it. If the song he performed for me was anythin’ to go by, then his show would be something to remember. I just wished I had the time to stop by.

“Well, hello there, Mister ‘Not a Cowboy!”

Whipping around towards the sound of the voice, I felt a smile sneak its way onto my face when I saw none other than the pianist himself strolling up to me as if on queue...alongside another man whom I hadn’t met yet. I hopped off my mount.

“I see my terrible sarcasm rubs off on people fast,” I greeted Edward with a chuckle, closing the distance between us. “How you doing, Mister Ryan?”

The musician scoffed. “I’m from England, mate. If anything, it was my sarcasm that rubbed off on you. But...I’m doing as well as one can in this city. And what about you, Mister Morgan? I hope Saint Denis is treating you okay.”

I shrugged. “I’m about the same as the last time you saw me.”

Edward seemed pleased. “That’s good to hear.” He turned to the man beside him.

“Err, Mister Middleton, this is the man I told you about earlier. He’s a traveler I ran into yesterday. Quite literally, actually. He’s the one who helped me out with my new composition.”

I brought my focus to Middleton, admittedly feeling somewhat out of place compared to their suits and ties.

“Arthur Morgan.” I introduced casually. The man gave me a stern glare.

I couldn’t quite pinpoint it just yet, considering I’d only met him, but something about Edward’s companion just...put me off.

Not only did he have a permanently sour expression hiding behind his groomed mustache, there was also a certain...glint in his dead, gray eyes that reminded me of Strauss. And everyone knew how I felt about that creep. Only difference was, this man actually looked like he was capable of giving out a beating himself.

The man held out a stiff hand.

“...Thatcher Middleton,” he replied bluntly. He had the same accent as Edward. “Pleasure to meet you.”

I reluctantly grabbed his hand, gesturing to the hardened frown on his face. “Try not to smile too hard there, partner. You, uh...another pianist?”

He shook his head, completely ignoring my remark. “No. I have nothing to do with that business. I’m merely a...” there was an odd pause, “...friend of Mister Ryan’s.”

I glanced side to side, not quite sure what to make of that.

“...I see.”

Picking up on the tension between us, Edward quickly jumped in, changing the subject.

“I noticed you were checking out the theater, Mister Morgan. Are you thinking about watching one of the shows?”

I gladly took my attention off Middleton, shifting my feet awkwardly. “I am, actually. I was considerin’ that show you mentioned to me. The one tomorrow?”

The pianist’s face radiated with excitement. “Oh, yes. Well, like I said, I’d love to see you there. I won’t be the only act tomorrow night, but it will be the first time I’m performing on my own. I confess I’m a tad nervous.”

I chuckled. “I ain’t heard much of your work, but if that song you showed me is anythin’ like your others...you’ll be fine.”

Edward didn’t appear any less anxious, but hid it nonetheless. “Thank you. You’re too kind, Mister Morgan.”

I laughed at that. “If you say so.”

Flattening this friendly moment with his grumpy tone, Middleton spoke up once more as he threw an almost threatening gaze in Edward’s direction, his eyes piercing through the shadow cast by his bowler hat.

“Well, I can see you’re busy, Edward. We’ll discuss this more later. In the meantime, I’ll be returning to my house if you need me. I have many matters to attend to.” Middleton barely looked at me, briefly bowing his head as a goodbye. “...Mister Morgan.”

I returned the dull farewell. “Middleton.��

Skulking off into the busy city, the man vanished like a phantom in the thick crowds as Edward and I watched him leave, both of us feeling somewhat unnerved after that chat.

“Charmin’ feller, ain’t he?” I muttered.

Edward crossed his arms. “He wouldn’t know charm if it died in his bed. Though, I suppose it already has.”

I smirked at the pianist. “I take it you weren’t waltzin’ around with him by choice?”

He sighed. “Oh, definitely not. You’ve no idea how grateful I am that I found you. In fact, I’d much rather waltz with you, Mister Morgan.” Edward stuttered after that, as if realizing what he just said. “Erm, i-if that’s alright, of course. Want to grab a drink? We did meet at a saloon, after all.”

I shrugged in a “why not” manner.

“Sure,” I agreed. “Oh, and call me Arthur, would you?”

Edward appeared much more relieved now. “And you can call me Edward. Or Eddie, if you prefer. People call me both.”

I beamed at him, the two of us strolling side-by-side as we diverted our path to the Bastille.

“Eddie it is,” I replied. “Y’know, I think you’re the most sensible Englishman I’ve met so far.”

“You’ve met others, have you?”

I adjusted my hat. “Well, aside from you and Middleton, I’ve only met one out here. And his name was Margaret.”

A brief laugh escaped Eddie. “You sound like you’ve had your fair share of adventures. Perhaps it’s your turn to entertain me with story today.”

We hugged a corner, turning onto a new street.

“Ah, I dunno ‘bout that. I ain’t...I ain’t so good with words.”

Eddie persisted. “You don’t need words to tell a story, Arthur. Words...are overrated. In the end, your actions are what speak for you.”

I grinned at him, the two of us stopping at the edge of a sidewalk as we waited to cross.

“You, sir, possess a wisdom that I have yet to find.”

Eddie remained unconvinced that I was as dumb as I made myself out to be and simply rolled his eyes, beckoning me as we spoke with each other like a pair of old friends.

For some reason, whenever I was around Eddie, I felt like I didn’t have to hide nothing. The boy seemed to be drawn to me no matter how much I talked down about myself, and every time we crossed paths, he acted as if we’d known each other for a lifetime already.

I...enjoyed the time I spent with him.

I was only worried that this upcoming robbery would ruin our friendship. I mean, it was obvious how much this meant to Eddie, and lord knew how long he’d been preparing for this, but it was something I just had to go through with.

Then again, I guessed I always had the option to expose the plan, but...I could never do that. Not with the gang counting on me. Or Dutch. The old man was already paranoid we had a rat within the camp. The last thing I needed was to make him think it was me.

Well, I supposed all I could do was enjoy this relationship while it lasted. Eddie was too good of a man to be with me anyway. It was probably for the best if he kept his distant from an outlaw such as myself.

...Probably.

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #eddie ryan #oc #fanfic #story

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rcris123 · 5 years

Text

“How’re you feelin’?” Arthur asks Kieran that evening after things settled down a lil’.

“Dizzy.” The boy was still nursing his injured arm, looking rather pitiful. Grimshaw bandaged it “But I guess it’ll heal.”

“Unless you catch the fever.” Sean mocked.

It felt isolated the way all of ‘em that went away were the ones around this fire. That and Charles. Isaac fell asleep in Arthur’s arms; must have exhausted him being in an actual gunfight.

“Shut up!” Kieran mused up the courage.

Sean laughs: “Keep tryin’.”

And the kid scowls, and changes the subject: “Sadie, I ain’t got the time to thank you. I-I know you ain’t- I mean-”

“I don’t hate you.” She says drily. “But don’t you think we’re friends either.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t even think of it.” A pause. “I’m still sorry for what happened to Jack.”

“That’s done now.” Arthur says, brushes a few strands of hair from Isaac’s forehead. “We keep goin’.”

“An’ what ‘bout Dutch?” Sean interrupts.

Arthur just lets out a long sigh.

“Ain’t seen him that... what you call it?” Sean continued.

“Unhinged?” Charles chimes in.

“... Well... Without morals I mean. You went back for me, you did. And that pile of cowdungs that’s Micah.”

Arthur coughs a laugh at that; hearing Sean insult Micah in increasingly creative ways ain’t ever gonna get old.

“Guess I’m still an O’Driscoll to them- to Dutch at least. I mean it ain’t makin’ sense goin’ to rescue me-”

“The fewer O’Driscolls the better.” Sadie’s stone cold. “Just want them all gone. Every. Single. Last one o’em bastard.”

“I’m so sorry, Sadie...” Kieran truly sounds heartbroken and it seems he ain’t ever heard the story of what happened to her. “Truly I am-”

“I don’t want your pity, kid.” She spits.

Sebastian puts a hand on Kieran’s back before the boy gets to speak again.

“I think we all need to rest now-” Arthur tried.

Sean won’t have it: “Can’t rest now thinkin’ Dutch might just lemme rot if I were to get lost even just a lil’ bit, or worse put a bullet in me head ‘cause I said somethin’ he ain’t liked. It gave me the chills hearin’ him talk like that- how long’s it been for you Arthur? In the gang I mean?”

“20 years.”

“20 years and ye think that’ll gain a man some respect...”

“Ye’r thinkin’ too much lately, Sean.” Arthur chuckles.

“Ain’t you always said to use me noggin?!”

“Well it’s better that you don’t right now.”

“That ain’t fair, Arthur.”

A hand comes to rest on Arthur’s shoulders and everyone looks up: Hosea.

“Managed to calm the ol’ man down.” He says, taking a seat by Arthur and Isaac. And Hosea brushes the boy’s head with the same care as his actual father. “You really upset him this time ‘round, Arthur.”

A sigh: “I know...”

“It’s better if you apologize-”

“Yeah.” Arthur didn’t let him finish. “I ain’t meant it to end the way it did... I just-”

“No, I understand.” Hosea continues. “Things are... let’s say complicated.” It’s Sebastian that looks at the old man, knowingly. “And it’s the same for our good ol’ Dutch there. He cares for you, Arthur.”

“I know...” voice drops penitently.

“He fears he’s gonna lose a dear old friend-”

“But I can’t just sit an’ do nothin’!” Arthur sighs.

“Raising the boy made you real caring, ain’t it?”

“I guess...” A scratch of the beard, a purse of lips: “But you know how it was.”

“No, I ain’t blaming you.” Hosea lifted his hands defensively. “I’ve just been thinking that things feel like slipping. Ever since Blackwater.” Charles and Sean nodded. “And with you being gone more often I feel somehow older.” Old man gave a bitter laugh, followed by a dry cough. “I feel-” a drawn-out exhale. “I feel like I don’t have the strength to hold all together anymore.”

Arthur’s silent and if he wouldn’t be holding Isaac he’d try to comfort Hosea with a touch.

“It’s too much to ask this of you, Arthur... But here I am.”

“Hosea-”

“English’s tryin’.” Sean butts in, sounding somewhat more quiet than usual, and still that was some courage from him for all the trouble Hosea gave him for laziness. “I mean I ain’t knowin’ why the hell’ll save this soggy ol’ bread.” He gestured to Kieran and the kid scowled.

“It was certainly lucky.” Hosea replies. “It’s true that if the O’Driscolls found Kieran in the camp they knew where we were and could of come with even more men. But the undead- I mean there were legends among Creoles about something called zonbi. I guess the people around here should know something if there's a plague and if we're in any danger of getting it.”

Arthur nods: "I'm comin' with you."

"Well if you got the disposition.. I think bringing this to Dutch soon will appease him somewhat and make it all seem like less of an act of defiance."

"O'course."

Arthur goes to stand up, almost forgets Isaac in his arms. And he's also reminded of that letter…

"And I guess I'll go see Mary."

"Her?" Sean's surprised. "Ain't you got done with that long ago?... I mean no offense but I heard the stories..."

John couldn't keep his mouth shut, that and Uncle.

"I was, but she popped up again." A sigh. "But I ain't deserving her and she ain't deserving me. So I gotta end things. Proper this time…"

"You want me to come with you?..." Sebastian spoke quietly until voice died down completely and he pursed his lips as if he said something wrong.

"I…" Arthur tried to find words. "I would-"

"Rather do that alone. Yes…" He cuts him. "I get that…"

The world ain't kind to lovers like them.

"I'm sorry, Sebastian…"

But Sebastian gave a smile:

“You and Hosea take care out there.” Arthur nods. “I’ll get Isaac upstairs.” And now, trying his best to not wake the boy up he lifts him up, but Isaac’s eyes flutter awake.

Sebastian holds him up and Isaac mutters a half asleep: “Pa?”

“Go get some rest kid, you earned it” Father smiles to his son and one could see the pride that flushes on the boy’s cheeks as he’s lulled away with care.

And Christ, he'd love to kiss Sebastian right now, to give him the courage to see Mary, 'cause he's feeling like he'll go soft and weak again. A touch of the necklace; he’s still there. A deep breath in.

“Well… guess we should get goin’...” Arthur gets up from the log he was standing on: “Rest up, Kieran. Take blankets from upstairs if you need to.”

“T-thank you, Arthur.”

The road to Saint Denis he could do in his sleep by now, and with the sun setting like it was he almost did. Hosea didn’t talk, only coughed from time to time. Then:

“Arthur… I… Maybe there’s no good place to ask or say this, but- Do you remember how me and Dutch met? Back in ‘72?”

“ ‘Course I do.” Heart started to shrink in his chest; he knew what came after this.

“And is there anything that you want to tell me about you and...”

“There ain’t much to it...” a sigh; it ain’t even been that long ago. “Man saved my sorry ass just ‘cause Isaac happened to be with me and he happened to have been a childless father-” Another sigh, or maybe it was a defeated groan: “What you want from me, Hosea? ‘cause I ain’t knowin’ how I got here, just know that I goddamn did...”

Hosea remained quiet for a while; there was Saint Denis with all its electrical glory, there to illuminate fossils and human scum, then: “He strikes me as a good man. Sebastian I mean...”

“Ain’t I keepin’ a record of courting people much better than myself...” a bitter laugh. He’s going to see that Mary again; what a sad, deluded fool he was... “Guess we should be splittin’ up about here.”

“I’ll meet you back around here.”

Where were they even? Well that looked like the Police Station, by the way lawmen buzzed around the entrance. She’s at the Grand Hotel just a street further. Sun’s almost done setting by the time he reaches the structure, head’s bowed low and he ain’t even truly looking for her. There’s a pit in his stomach, gnawing at him. And then she hears her from above him:

“Arthur! Arthur you came!”

He dismounts, looks up for a brief moment: “Yeah, I came...”

“Wait there! I’m coming straight down” She had a bright smile on her face as she rushes downstairs.

Arthur takes a deep breath in: there were people staring and he throws them a glance. It ain’t none of their business, and he fears it’s hardly his own. Oh what a fool he’ll make of himself once more; seems to be a trend when it came to Arthur Morgan and love...

Dumb love... Is he going to let this one slip away as well. A scratch of the beard then hand goes down to rub the necklace. Christ!

She’s downstairs already: “Arthur...” She sounds as in love as she ever was, and to think back to how her face drained of color upon seeing Isaac...

“Hello, Mary.” He can’t match her enthusiasm.

“You came...” Arthur just nods. “How’s the boy? Isaac was his name?”

At last he gains the courage to look her in the eyes, it almost sounded like she cared and it’s tearing at him. If only she could of been a mother. If only he could have been anything but an outlaw. But things ain’t changed; she told him they never would. But maybe he just hasn’t been looking in the right places all this time. Sebastian ain’t no woman, but there ain’t no question that man loved Arthur, with all his biggest flaws and the son to boot – or maybe the son was the only reason Arthur was deserving of love in the first place. And with that tightness in his chest thinking of him now when Mary was right before him, Arthur surely seemed to love just as much in return...

He hasn’t replied in a while: “Arthur?... What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.” He purses his lips, shifts weight from one leg to the other. “The boy’s fine. Been a long day...” But she needed his help with something: “But what you called me for?”

She tucks her hands into each other: “Well... Daddy-”

“Your father!?” He’s offended but not surprised: “Should of known...” He takes steps away.

“Arthur! I’m sure you’d understand, being a father yourself and all...” she follows him, voice pitched.

Arthur spins on his heels: “Well at least I’m aware I’m a no good father, unlike your own.”

She purses her lips: “I know Daddy wasn’t kind to you... but... but can you hate a man for the sin of loving his daughter?...”

“What ‘bout his son? Jaime?” Arthur takes a stride forward. “Look where all that love got him! Running with a bunch of lunatics! And you! Is that where this pure life has gotten you!? Begging me for help?! ‘cause he no doubt went drinking and whoring and gambling?!”

Mary turns away almost putting her hands in her head: “Be kind to me!... Arthur...”

But Arthur spins away once more, his voice low once again:

“Were you kind to me, Mary? Were you kind calling my son a degenerate, tellin’ me I haven’t even tried, when I did. I did, Mary. It’s why I came, but I see now I’ve come all this way for nothin’...”

“Arthur!... Oh Arthur, I’m- I’m sorry...” He lets her draw close. “I... I missed you.”

And he looks at her, how she stretches her hands out for him to hold them. He does, only to fold them in on themselves, back towards the woman’s chest:

“I missed you for a long time, Mary. But it’s done now. I may be the best man you know at frightening decent people, but for my son, I cannot.”

He withdraws his hands:

“Okay... Arthur...” She’s heartbroken and when she wants to tear her gaze away it falls down on his neckline, the medallion. A moment’s ponder; Arthur already drew away: “Can I at least know if... Is there someone else?”

“Yes.” And he hoped that was enough.

“... Can I know who?”

He climbs back in the saddle with a deep inhale: “You read the name on the medallion...” Her eyebrows knit together before a hand hides her mouth from hanging loose “Be well, Mary...”

She says not a word more and Arthur finds himself sitting on the sidewalk back at the police station, head in hands, rubbing his face until it’s no doubt red. To love a man, what a goddamn fool he is. A moron even. Dug himself into a hole there ain’t no escaping from; all he once had felt torn away bit by bit and all his attempts at stitching it back together with reasons that worked before no longer did. He betrayed Dutch horribly with one simple act. Ain’t it of been better if he was purely ruthless and not wanting to do something that ain’t his domain: kindness? He ain’t a do-gooder, he murders people, animals; he maims whatever he can get his hands on, even hope for the goddamn future. And somehow this broken mess that he was became a father and had to raise the kid ‘cause his Momma was killed – and he thought that’s been in no small part thanks to himself, the way the boy was fathered.

He’s afraid he’s gonna lose the boy too somewhere, sometime... And the thought hurts more than he can bear. He sits up to try to shake the feeling, gets inside, maybe he can make something of use.

And there was a man there putting up a poster.

“That a bounty poster, mister?” Arthur asks with a sniff and a faked cough; he’s keeping the tears away.

“Indeed.” The man had an almost pristine white coat, and what looked like some burn scar on his face. “Are you a bounty hunter, mister?”

“Happen to be, yes.”

“And are you efficient?”

“Took down the Captain of the Lemoyne Raiders so I guess I ain’t too bad neither.”

“Good.” Man stops pinning the poster and hands it over to Arthur, and soon after a card too: “Here’s my address. Bring the bounty to my house please.”

“Not the police station?” That was odd.

“Oh, no. I have a permit for taking care of psychically unstable people. You see, I’m a psychiatrist.”

“And what you needin’ a bounty for?”

“Ah, well, I also happen to be a scientist. And my newest invention is in need of a subject.”

“Yeah, but why a bounty-”

“It’s a device made to administer an effective, painless death, mister.”

Arthur grunts: “ ‘kay. But I’m afraid I ain’t caught your name.”

“Victoriano.”

Another Italian?... Although he sounded British. But that ain’t no business of his; Arthur’ll just return to sitting outside, waiting for Hosea.

He must have fallen asleep ‘cause the man shook him awake:

“Let’s go Arthur. I’ll tell you on the way.”

He snorts and grunts getting back up on Ghost, how late was it even?

“So, what you found out, Hosea?”

“Well, not much, but you definitely ain’t been wrong-”

“I know what I saw, Hosea. People call’em Night Folk.”

“Yes, yes. People are afraid to go out in the Bayou ‘cause of them, especially at night. Some said they were spirits of slaves that died, others claim they’re people turned mad by something in the water.”

That caught his attention. “So the water in the swamp ain’t safe?”

“I fear so too, yes.”

“So what we gonna do about that? Boil all water? ‘cause we’re still in the Bayou.”

“It’s worth the try.”

“That also means that Lakay spot me and the boys found ain’t safe.”

“Yes...” Hosea was terribly distraught.

“What about what Bill and Micah found?”

“Well they said it was full of degenerates, a gang called Murfree’s Brood, I think. Said they acted like animals, that they had a mutilated corpse propped up at the entrance like some kind of trophy.”

“Christ!” No more places to hide for them... “We’re running out of time, Hosea...”

“It’s the last push, this one. We’ll be gone soon. Dutch found a boat, wants us to leave the country.”

A bitter laugh: “And you believe that?”

“Well I can’t have been running a fool’s errand all these years. And if I was I guess I just convinced myself it ain’t true just so I have one last thing to cling to.” Hosea sighs after that. “But I’m old, Arthur. For me it doesn’t matter that much where it ends, how it ends. I lived my life, but Isaac, Jack-”

“I ain’t letting no harm come to that boy, I swear.”

“I know. I raised you two both. Isaac’s the closest thing to a grandson I’ll ever have. Bessie loved him...”

“I remember. She’d smother him all up.” A chuckle. “And the kid loved it to bits, having no mother and all...”

“Don’t blame yourself for that, you did all that you could have done.”

“And still I ain’t been a good father. I ain’t been meant to be a father-”

“Think of it as it could have been a lot worse, Arthur.” Hosea doesn’t stand his self-doubt. Never did.

And still, to think Hosea believed him and the boy should somehow get out of this life came as a surprise but comfort too, and courage.

People were asleep back at Shady Belle. It was crickets, the crackling of fire and the occasional snore that broke the silence. They hitched the horses beyond the bridge before passing over and that’s when he saw Sebastian slumped next to the campfire he left from. Heart sinks to the bottom of his guts.

“Goodnight, Arthur.” Hosea salutes before splitting their ways.

“ ’night.”

Sebastian wasn’t asleep when he reached him; just looked up at him, a bottle of whiskey in hand and a smoking cigarette in the other:

“Everything a’right?” he asked trying on some sobriety.

“Her father’s a no-good bastard an’ she calls me for help with that after degrading the way I raised my son.” A deep inhale and Arthur sits down beside him.

“Oouch.” Sebastian slurred, leaned closer then stopped. “Wanna go stroll a lil’? ‘Round the back of Shady Belle.”

“Sure-” Arthur helps the man up not a moment later.

It’s pitch black for a moment, as the light of the campfires still flickered behind them, but once ‘round the corner, a dim blue light illuminated the side of the manor, the trees and their faces. But Sebastian slips behind his back, wrapping his arms around his chest, face nestled in the crook of his neck, breathing slow. A pleasant shiver runs down his spine and Arthur dares keep that inhale in as he closes his eyes. There’s things he wanna say, things he wanna hear Sebastian speak about, but he just keeps quiet, ‘cause words cram in his mouth and nothing’s right. And there’s that feelin’ croppin’ up again, and those thoughts that he mulled over at the police station come racing back. Arthur’s clinging to him now. Mary ain’t ever touched him like this. But they were different people.

There’s still a whiskey bottle in the man’s hands. Arthur takes it and draws a bit away:

“Bet you I can drink this whole bottle in one sip?”

“Arthur-”

Too late, the bottle’s neck is to his lips and the liquor drains into his mouth and with big gulps down his throat. Higher and higher. It burns, his chest caught flames. Then it’s done and he throws the bottle away. He gives a laugh:

“Told you I can-” then his knees buckle underneath him and he falls to the ground.

Sebastian’s quick enough to catch him, but not quick enough so that they don’t end up on the muddy ground.

What a pitiful man he was; eyes become watery:

“It’s caught up to me... This mess...”

Sebastian rests his head on his shoulder: “You and me both...”

Arthur cups the man’s face as soon as his says that.

“You’re gonna get out-” It’s his only promise, when sober and when drunk alike: “You have to, you and the kid-”

“Shut up-” It’s lips on lips, rough, Sebastian’s hands pinning him down.

And he don’t understand what that’s supposed to mean, just huffs into the kiss.

“Shut up, you fool, you-” It’s sloppy, words panted when mouths ain’t on each other. “I can’t go on alone.” Sebastian stops, bows his head and buries it back in the crook of Arthur’s neck.

“You love me?...” A question, voice is breaking apart.

A kiss on his neck to make Arthur gasp out: “ ‘course I do-”

“For me? I ain’t worth it- Agh!” Sebastian bit into his neck at that remark.

“Who the fuck else...”

“Isaac...”

“You both.” His nose rubs against the itching spot that was left behind. Then man shifts up, cups Arthur’s face, coaxing the head back, exposing the neck. “Arthur...” Another kiss trailing up from his collarbone. “Arthur-” The way that name slips out of his lips makes his pants wanna set up a tent. “I’m starting to make sense of things. With you.” A kiss on his jaw. “With you...”

Arthur strings him up by the thighs, stretching them apart until he’s straddled under Sebastian. And the man pants with the touch:

“You buckstuborn idiot- I thought of you.” Arthur muses, lifting his chin just slightly up, brushing his lips against the other’s where they ghosted above him. “She was right there, in front of me, and I thought of you... I loved her. I missed her...”

And now I miss you.

That he ain’t dare say it’s too much even for a drunken sap like he was.

Sebastian lunges in to devour his mouth once more, body grinds against Arthur’s; there’s whiskey on his breath, on his tongue. Cheap cigarettes, cheap liquor and cheap life choices ‘cause they’re both poor and got nowhere else to go. He’s gotten drunk so he ain’t gotta be afraid, of thoughts, of actions, of whatever the hell. He’s gotten drunk so he can be numb to the meaning of all these feelings. But not to touch.

And no one touched him like Sebastian did. Why is all he could ask. Why’s he deserving, why now, why Sebastian – why this moron that he was- And all this fighting raging on in his mind makes him grind the man against himself. It’s tights now and there’s a bulge bucking against his abdomen. Pants escape him. Wasn’t religion that talked about how the body desires without the mind consenting to it, ‘cause that’s what he wanted now.

“Sebastian-”

“Mhm-” the man purrs into the next kiss, coaxing him up. The grinding don’t stop.

“I-”there’s too much to say, mostly alcohol induced. “Shit-” There’s mud in his hair, on his clothes. It’s dirty work. They’re in camp-

He stops suddenly.

“You okay?” Sebastian runs a hand through sticky hair.

A single huff as he leans against the man’s chest, arms wrapping around his back.

“Isaac’s upstairs- Dutch, Everyone-” A sigh. “Not here...”

Sebastian presses a kiss on the top of his head, then a chuckle when he’s done laying his face on top of his own:

“We could always keep quiet.”

“Not with this mud.”

“And you don’t fancy bathing in the bayou?”

“At the risk of alligator death? No.” Somehow man’s got him chuckling again. He’s feeling warm now and not in the aroused way; he’s still hard thou.

“Guess I just have to fuck you when no one’s watchin’-”

“Good luck with that.”

Arthur laughs, but before he has time to finish, Sebastian’s hand groped his half hard cock. Lips purse and he bucks his hips up; success came in the form of a barely abstained moan from the other. It’s then followed by a soft kiss on the neck from Arthur’s part. And now Sebastian’s laughing, a throaty, drunken laugher and he leans back in his arms. Arthur sways with him.

“Por favor, dame un beso.” Sebastian coos with a faint smile on his face.

“What?” He doesn’t understand; that ain’t English, was it.

“Un beso-” A kiss on Arthur’s lips. “Just a lil’ one-”

“What you tryina’ pull here?” Arthur’s still quite amused.

“Trying to teach you some Spanish.”

“Why?”

“So you’d know when I tell you besame.”

“What’s that mean-”

“Kiss me-”

And Arthur does, sucking the breath out of Sebastian, that an’ a moan. Why all the doubting from before when he’s pretty goddamn certain that he’s in love... It’s been so long- And he ain’t a good man, no matter how he felt-

“Christ...” he exhales when the kiss is broken. “Sebastian-”

“Arthur...”

He rubs the man’s cheeks with his thumbs, smiling like the fool he really was.

“Te amo.” Sebastian whispers with such grace.

He wakes up with a headache; it takes a groan to set himself in motion- A blanket?

A hurried look to the side only to find Isaac curled next to them under a thin mat. A drawn out sigh as a hand goes to rest on the boy’s shoulder, offering gentle rubs now. Sebastian’s hardly awake himself, looking through half lidded eyes at the kid with one arm draped over Arthur’s chest. They slept in like that leaned on one of the porch’s posts, drunk again and with some wood to show what they’ve been thinkin’ last night, or it was probably the drink...

He’s been sighing a lot lately, so with the latest one he leans his head onto Sebastian’s.

“The boy really loves you.” Man says, voice gruff, glazed over by sleep and whiskey. “You’ve been a father many’d wish they had.”

A snort: “That ain’t true-”

“You love your son. More than anything.” Sebastian draws a finger across his chest. “I ain’t known any man to fight for their son like you do.”

“I’m coddling him...” Arthur scolds himself.

“Life ain’t of been kind to him if you weren’t.”

There goes one more deep exhale; finally admitting defeat: “Guess that much’s true. Wanted that for him. So he ain’t turning out like me.”

“He ain’t.” And he dips up for a kiss on the jaw before standing up and stretching his bones with a groan. Then a look at Arthur who ain’t yet got the courage to sit up: “And you need a bath.”

That and Sebastian’s gaze checks out the lil’ tent his pants put up with a smirk and for a moment he feared the man’ll put his boot on it. But Sebastian’s got at least that much decency. Instead he helps Arthur up.

By the time Isaac got up, Arthur got him some new clothes and to Miss Grimshaw’s surprise Arthur washed on his own volition, with a change of garments to boot. Sebastian went and fetches them some breakfast:

“Seems Pearson found alligator eggs.”

“Get outta here-” Arthur chaffs then he’s presented with a plate of hard boiled alligator eggs and a yellow sauce that smells like mustard.

“Alligator eggs?” Isaac almost trips over his pants while pulling them up trying to peek at the exotic dish. “Ever had ‘em Pa?”

“No.” And that’s signal that he should dig in already.

“What’s it taste like?” Isaac wastes no time asking.

“Chewy.” He hasn’t swallowed yet. “Fishy. Kinda salty but I think that’s on Pearson’s part.” Isaac giggles. “Sauce is decent thou.”

And once he’s all dressed boy wastes no time chowing down on his own portion. While Arthur should go talk with Dutch. ‘course Isaac notices.

“Where you going?” kid takes a bite. “Talk with Dutch?”

He can’t lie... “Yes.”

“Can I sit by you? ...Promise I won’t talk.”

“Yes...”

Isaac perked up: “Really?”

“Don’t ask twice I might just change my mind. Now c’mon.”

Sebastian didn’t follow; there were flames on the pyre and Sebastian was smart enough not to walk into them. Thankfully Dutch looked to be in a pleasant mood - not the same could be said for Molly O’Shea. She looked miserable, slumped on a crate.

“Mornin’.”

“Good morning to you too, Arthur.”

Here it comes; he sits down and Isaac beside him: “I’m sorry for yesterday.”

“It was very reckless of you.” Dutch’s tone was a note away from scolding.. “But I can’t not forgive you, Arthur.”

Arthur looked at him, trying to find the right words:

“You’re like a son to me.” Dutch continues. “All of us are family.”

He bobs his head: “It’s why I did it, Dutch.”

“I know...” Man sounded like he was just as sorry. “I just got scared.”

“I told you- What could I have done, Dutch?” he’s getting mildly frustrated.

“Distrust me. My judgement.”

“You ain’t lookin like ye’r trusting me very well right now.” Arthur’s real hoping his son either don’t catch what Dutch was saying or don’t stand up. A glance at him and sure enough he had his eyebrows knit

“Can I count on that trust?”

“Always, Dutch.”

Then silence.

“You know Hosea talked with the locals about them undead.” Arthur broke it at last.

“Yeah. He told me.”

“There’s something in the water that’s making it that way.”

Dutch turns to him:

“Would you and Hosea see about that? What’s causing it?”

“Sure.”

“Want to know who’s behind it.” Man rubs his hands with seeming anxiety. “There’s people out to extermin us. As if we’re vermin for not conforming to their uptight rules. Us and everyone who’s poor and unfortunate- Did you talk with the Indians?”

“Yes, saw them a couple of days ago. The father asked me to see his son near Citadel Rock.”

“Good. It might have something to do with that.”

“At this point who knows.”

“You’re right.”

Arthur gets up, urges Isaac to do the same, with permission and all he could go-

“I-...” Dutch utters, coaxing Arthur to turn his head back to him. “I’m sorry, for earlier.”

“Don’t mention it-”

“Are you taking the boy with you?”

“Yes...” Arthur scratches his beard.

“Take care there, Isaac, okay?” Dutch sounded much younger then, almost like someone he used to know a long time ago.

“Sure.” kid replies.

But first he makes sure he checks up on that Kieran kid. And he find him with Mary-Beth carefully tending to his wound.

Arthur leans on the pole keeping up the tent with a smirk. Isaac peeks behind his shoulder and snorts and with that both youngsters grow apart and a deep shade of red almost instantly:

“Ain’t meant to interrupt!” Arthur lifts his arms up. “Just came here to see how dear ol’ Kieran here’s doin’.” A chuckle.

“ I’m fine actually, thank you!” Yet he’s still rubbing his arm.

“Does it hurt?” Isaac asks making one more step forward.

“Not all that bad now.” Kieran darts is head to the side; Mary-Beth was looking down hiding her face behind curled locks. “Thanks to Mary-Beth.” Kieran lights up like fireworks. “B-but I won’t be here without you or your Pappy.”

Isaac’s beaming and Arthur can’t help smiling himself. Then he remembers:

“Weren’t you the one who said you wanted to go fishin’ sometime? For.. uh… that big Bluegill, ain’t it?”

“Oh! Yes!”

“Remind me when I get back and that arm o’ yours is stronger.”

“Sure- but where’re you going? After more O’Driscolls?”

“No. Not yet. Why?”

“ ‘cause there’s some things I wanna say.”

“Can’t you say them now?” Isaac intervenes.

But it’s Mary-Beth that talks next: “I said it’s best if things settle down a little. Dutch ain’t- well Dutch is...”

“I know.” Arthur says.

“I’ll tell you on that fishin’ trip. Promise.”

“Don’t forget.”

“No sir-” Kieran says that out of habit without paying mind that it wasn’t Arthur who said it, but his son. The father laughs.

“Get your strengths back soon, ‘kay?”

“Uh-huh.”

They should probably get goin’ already. He tells Isaac to fetch Sebastian and maybe some warmer clothes, while Arthur’s off to saddle the horses. But there’s something off. There by Pearson’s wagon, Micah’s talking. He listens in:

“Quite the woman.” He catches. “Quite the woman...” Arthur stops brushing Ghost. “You could make a feller real happy... bet you know how.” That’s it Arthur’s off, bagging the brush and that poor mare stretches her neck looking for pats.

“I got work to do now.” Abigail was pissed and after what happened with Jack this was a poor move of the bastard’s part.

But Arthur ain’t thought too far; Micah backs off hands in the air

“Oh, you’re a sneaky one, Morgan...” That inhale through teeth Micah did, tipping his chin up. “But I didn’t know I was your type.”

“Just back off, would you-” Arthur’s still larger than him.

“Woah there-” Somehow that cackle is uglier than he was: “Don’t wanna see you biting the pillows, cowpoke.”

Micah steps away like he’s facing off a wild beast and rest assured that comment sure made him bare his teeth:

“You watch that goddamn mouth-” Micah’s arms rose higher and there was fear at last in those cold eyes. “Lest you want a fist in it.”

“Easy, tough guy.” Man still laughs like he’s got the upper hand and the moment Arthur tears his gaze from him he notices Dutch looking over.

His lips purse as Micah backs even further away before spinning on his heels.

He didn’t even notice John coming by:

“You okay there, Arthur?”

“Don’t you pay him no mind.” Abigail reassures. “He’s all talk and no bite.”

He came there to help not to be helped.

“Sure, but you tell me if he ever gives u trouble again, Abigail.”

“What about you, thou?” John intervenes.

“I got fists and bullets.” Arthur grunts.

“He ain’t worth the trouble, Arthur.” Abigail encourages, the passes on to John: “And where’ve you been?”

Arthur’s already drawing away, back to his horses and saddles ‘cause Isaac’s down with the warmer clothes when John replies: “Been with Jack, playing something.”

“John Marston...” the surprise in Abigail’s tone is bringing him joy too. So the bastard can change.

“Did anything happen?” Isaac, bless his heart, noticed.

“No.” He ain’t gonna expose the boy to that idiot’s cruelty.

“Okay...” A hand rubs the kid’s back with rigour.

“So... Isaac said I can borrow one of your coats.” Sebastian said, packing that coat he called ‘the Grizzly’ ‘cause he made it out of one.

He entirely forgot about Micah; there’s a smile on his face: “I’d love to see you in it.”

Sebastian chuckles; Arthur knew exactly what was on the man’s lips but he ain’t dare say it.

They should be reaching Citadel Rock by Nightfall if all went smoothly. And then the next morning, if all, again, went according to plan, they should be reaching the Grizzlies border near the Heartlands’ Overflow where their bounty was last seen.

Road sure is long enough, and most of it comes quiet. At one point a wild turkey cut their path and Isaac pulled out his bow and with one swift motion downed the bird from a gallop. He almost heard Sebastian gasp then. They hung the bird on Big Sir and went on. A storm caught up to them sometime in the afternoon near Dewberry Creek, good thing they packed the thicker coats ‘cause they sure as shit needed ‘em now. Isaac rode with his arms crossed and hunched over and Arthur got the rear to make sure Big Sir ain’t getting lazy all of a sudden.

The sunset barely shines through the breaking clouds and for the first time in weeks it smells of cold. Citadel Rock’s up ahead and they pass just by Cornwall Kerosene and Tar – rather unbelievable he’ll be robbing Cornwall of all people yet again. Here’s hopin’ this time it’s quiet.

And there’s Eagle Flies on the cliff with that gorgeous splash horse.

“You came.” Lad almost sounded surprised when the lot of ‘em pulled up.

“ ‘Course I came. Said I would.” Arthur dismounts already, Sebastian soon following suit.

And Eagle Flies wastes no time telling them what they gotta do: “There’s a foreman. His name is Danbury. He has the files in the office above the refinery room.” He hands Arthur the binoculars he was using: “It’s that window with the blind drawn up.”

“I see it.” He replies.

“If the files are as incriminating as we believe” Eagle Flies continues taking the binoculars back. “Cornwall’s men will destroy them if they know you’re coming.”

“There’s only one of us goin’ in so I don’t intend on lettin’ ‘em know I’m comin’, son.” Arthur spoke, then turned to Sebastian. “Can you get me outta trouble if it comes knockin’.”

“ ‘course...” man said.

“Isaac, you find a hidden spot and set up camp, far enough away but not too far.”

“Got it, Pa.”

Arthur returns to Eagle Flies who was looking at the boy galloping off already:

“What would the files say?”

“There’ll be a report from Leland Oil Development Company.”

A sigh: “Now any ideas about how I sneak into the place’ll be greatly appreciated.”

“You could crawl under the fence. Or hide in a wagon; they keep rolling in.”

“Wish me luck, Buck.” Arthur’s off without thinking too much about what he just said; there was a wagon ahead and he fully intended to sneak in that way.

He’s lucky enough that a train passes by and the wagon stops just in time for Arthur to crawl inside. It’s empty. And now here’s hopin’ they mistake him for cargo if one as much as looks in the back of it; he’s barely hiding. But he’s soon inside and with the night falling people get to yawning rather than watching out for shadows scurrying in the dark. He makes it pretty easily inside the building. And there people mill about absent-mindedly; it’s easy to sneak by, then upstairs. Maybe he’s got too much confidence opening the office door.

There was a man inside. A chair to the door, some intimidation tactics: raising fists and applying one for good measure to know he’s meaning business, and in the end he’s got the papers. But o’course someone heard it, came around asking what happened.

So Arthur snuck out the window. Where was that Sebastian he can’t tell but he saw him on that roof ‘cause the moment he’s out there’s a loud whistle and the bang of a pistol. Guards gather round and sure enough they give chase to what seemed to be one, no two outlaws drunk or stupid enough, or both, to rob oil coaches alone.

And ‘cause of that madman Arthur get to sneak out with no problems, but soon enough pulled round and shot off some of the pursuers that head out from the refinery.

No more of them and they seem safe enough away:

“Thought you wasn’t getting involved?!” Arthur’s probably sounding too much like a father and much less like a business partner.

“I decided to help.” Eagle Flies comments, eyebrows furrowed. “Because he refused the money.”

So Eagle Flies tried to pay their services to Sebastian. Goddamn reckless fools, both o’em, but at least he’s expecting the ol’ Buck to be that way.

“Thank you.” Arthur says. “You saved my life.” He takes out the papers and gives it to the lad; he looks them over as if it’s a loaf of bread when he hasn’t eaten in days: too little, but still better than nothing.

“I hope...” Eagle Flies spoke. “Well, I don’t know what I hope... but who knows, maybe these will be of some use.” Then he turns fully to face the two of ‘em. “Thank you, Sebastian, Arthur...” He got in the saddle. “I hope we can see each other again on friendlier terms...”

Off he went.

“What you charmed the kid with?” Arthur chaffs.

“Nothing. I’m not the talkative type.”

“Su~re.” Arthur draws the word out and Sebastian paints a smile, closing his eyes. “You’re about the second most talkative bastard I know.”

“Second to who?”

“Dutch o’course.” Arthur laughs, and Sebastian soon follows suit.

“Now I ain’t knowing if I should take that as a compliment or not.”

“Well, I like you, Sebastian.” He draws closer; there’s still commotion downhill at the refinery. “I like you terribly much.”

They should be heading away, finding Isaac, but Arthur dares brush a hand over Sebastian’s chest, just ‘cause he loved him and for a moment he had the man all to himself. And Sebastian blinked at the touch almost in surprise before an arm reached to bring him back again. There’s people wailing in the valley; horse hooves somewhere, and he ain’t caring in the least. Breath’s caught in chest and that urge that came over him when Sebastian’s looking at him like that sweeps him again; and in turn Arthur swoops the man in his arms for a kiss. And Sebastian eats his mouth out, hungry, fingers soon gripped in his hair, making it a mess.

Kiss breaks: “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”

Sebastian drags him behind himself not a moment later, deciding to throw Arthur in the nearest bushes. Branches scratch his cheeks but he ain’t caring, not when mouth’s on mouth again and that whole man above him. His hands are already working at Arthur’s vest, then shirt, then his head dips down and it had Arthur gasping. Sebastian’s lips trail kisses down from his collarbone to his nipple. Clothes are tugged to the side and one arm arches Arthur’s back, pushing him against Sebastian. His fists clench in the man’s clothes as his lips and tongue make a mess on his chest, lapping, sucking, with the occasional gentle bite. He’s going hard and hot and restless. Arthur’s hands work on undoing his suspenders and pants.

“Christ-”

It’s quick work from there: pants thrown off, Sebastian’s as well, erections spring free, then fingers in his mouth to be pushed wet inside Arthur. Lips purse and eyes squeeze shut. It’s unpleasant at first, but Sebastian’s all gentle. A wet kiss on his mouth, tongue slipping by inside, makes him forget to clench his ass. Fingers’re slick, in and out, scissoring from time to time, turning stings to itching and pressure’s building up inside his navel. Hands don’t sit still; Arthur runs them underneath the man’s shirt, popping buttons as they went, now rubbing thumbs on stiffening nipples. If their mouths ain’t been locked to each other the pants and gasps’ll just roll out. He ain’t letting them, keeps them for himself, frustrated and rushed as they were. They ain’t saints, and they’re gonna indulge this sin much further when Sebastian takes those fingers out, props his ass up on his knees and slowly slips inside him-

“Arthur~” That names slips from those lips again, so goddamn deliberate and so goddamn erotic; hips buck and he regrets it, but Sebastian moans biting his lip and maybe it’s all worth it.

One hand sneaks up Arthur’s navel, ruffling short body hair the other direction, and now once touching his erection. Arthur can’t but exhale through barely parted lips as all this builds heat inside him that he ain’t meant to withstand. Sebastian’s slow, pleasantly, agonizingly slow.

He wants to talk-

“U-agh--” In and out the thrusts pick up: “I hope you know the mess you makin’ o’me. Ahh-”

Sebastian drives that hand to his jaw, and then the other one too to cup his face; rhythm doesn’t slow down and Arthur ends up rolling his head inside the other’s palm.

“If only you knew what you o’me, Arthur-” Forehead’s pressed to forehead as they’re there bucking off. “Arthur--”

It builds and builds this strain between his legs, it twitches and throbs:

“Keep callin’ me that-” Arthur pants out.

“Arthur!”

“Augh-Jesus-” Hands grab at Sebastian’s ass, his hair, pull him close and up, inside. “Keep at it, Seba-astian- Christ!- Keep at it!” ‘cause that’s the spot that’s sweet, right there, right goddamn there.

Legs are wide and ass is high, pounded with some form of cruel mercy. Waves run up him hot, then cool. The night air prickles. And he’s kissing him; kissing Sebastian where he can reach: the neck, the ear, the jaw, the lips, sloppy and wet, leaving trails behind. And Sebastian’s moaning in his mouth, his ear. It’s him; it’s him, for him, with him. How’s he so goddamn enamored. Thrust by thrust he gets a lil louder a lil’ more shameless. There’s hooves nearby; they draw closer than away- Sebastian stops for barely a moment, covering Arthur’s mouth and his own. And that man’s cock inside him pulsating, struck right against the spot that’s sweet and he’s begging that be moved-

He’ll regret that in the morning. He finds his footing and with dexterity he ain’t thought he had, nestles Sebastian to him as he gets up, then laying the man down with a thud. It hurt moving like that, his teeth are clenched and there’s a groan, but that goddamn cock’s still too good and there Arthur moves: up and forward then back again. Slow at first then fast ‘cause he can’t take it. Both his hands rest on Sebastian’s chest now, snuck under the shirt’s fabric where fingers brush against the nipples, as thrusts pick up in speed. And it’s relentless.

Sebastian has to turn his head to the side to let those sweet moans out and what a sight that was; and always will be: to have him at his mercy and be at his instead, ‘cause it ain’t like he’s not there as lustful.

“Arthur—Agh-a-” Faster, harsher, so he says his name out loud like no one ever did. “AGh-Arh-”

That was one fine goddamn dandy. So fine. Arthur’s propped in just one hand, huffing, biting his own lip, so with the other he can run his fingers through that man’s sideburns. And he should be saying something, but he can’t speak now; he just keeps working himself until the knot’s unbearable.

Sebastian catches his thumb into his mouth, and the way the lips and tongue moved to draw him in’s suggestive enough to have him buckle forward under the pressure of the orgasm. He stands still, Sebastian doesn’t: catches his hips and keeps on going-

“AUGH- Ugh- Seba-a-Christ!”

It’s just a few more rough thrusts before he’s done. Sebastian vibrates under him, moans long, drawn out, in hiccups. There’s cum in his ass and he sits right up to get it out. The shirt’s goddamn ruined. He wipes the stains off with one hand.

“What a goddamn mess-” Arthur pants; there’s a smile there and Sebastian looks at him from where he was flat on the ground with leaves in his messy hair and returns the gesture:

“Uh-huh...”

Arthur stretches up: “Shit!” It hurt. Sebastian cackles beneath him: “What?”

“Think of me.” That goddamn grin on the man’s face.

He scoffs: “Always, buck.” Nonchalantly, like it’s always been there.

The faintest gasp; Sebastian props himself on his elbows, lost in thought.

Arthur’s at last tying up his suspenders: “We should get going-”

The man pulls at his legs, shoves Arthur on his knees and on top of him. It ain’t gentle:

“The hell-” Sebastian found his neck to kiss it, warm hand wrapping around his back to hold him there.

“Just a lil’ while longer, Arthur.” Obliged; Arthur lays his head down, finding a way to rest it on his chest, as Sebastian draws lines over his shoulders. “Significas mucho para mí... Arthur. Buck...” the last one sounds like he’s tasting the word.

“You gonna tell me what that means in English?”

“You mean so much to me.” Sebastian combs Arthur’s hair with such grace. “It’s been...”

“So long?... Yeah... Me too.” A kiss to his forehead. “But we gotta get back to Isaac. We left him alone-”

Up they go; Sebastian lifting both of them up before he can finish his sentence.

Dust and fluids get smudged off, clothes buttoned back together before they get back up and set out. Arthur’s whistling and when the whistle returns they know it’s Isaac.

It’s a small fire the boy’s built.

“I burned the turkey a bit.” Isaac says before looking up at them both, then his eyes squint: “You fucked?...” No answer, kid turns his head away, shifts on the spot, then looks back at a loss of words, lips puckered and eyes wide.

The silence is awkward as they sit down; Arthur takes a bit of cooked meat and chews it on. Isaac shortly clears his throats and reaches for the coffee mug:

“I found some berries. We didn’t have any more mushrooms or other herbs.”

“And this’s got mint on it.” Arthur notes.

“Yeah... You like it?” Isaac picks up a more joyous face.

“Quite delicious actually!” Boy smiles wide. “Here. Can you hand me some berries?”

Sebastian’s still frozen in the knowledge that the boy asked him if they bucked it off behind some bushes; Arthur bumps him with his shoulder:

“Eat up, please.”

As if snapped out of some trance, the man does.

But there ain’t no nice dinner and sweet rest that could’ave prepared them for finding that bounty in a camp that starts shooting right at ‘em. Sure they went after Wofford but this time there ain’t no place to hide.

Isaac’s a decent shot, even in the open like this, but he’s still fearing for the boy’s life. And bullets fly past their target ‘cause he keeps darting back to a panicked Big Sir, galloping with his son in the saddle trying to aim. Sebastian says nothing; he’s effective. Finally, somehow, shots start landing where they need to; it much resembles how he used to be shooting: a few scattered bullets to the chest area until the body don’t flinch no more.

But in that frenzy he almost forgot the bounty’s meant to be alive-

“Pa! He’s escaping!”

Ghost’s a fast horse; he spurs her round and to a gallop, picking up his lasso as he goes. She’s huffing under him but the bounty’s lil’ horse can’t keep up.

Feller falls from his mount with a shout. Arthur pulls the reins while lassoing the man in.

“A’right! You got me!” Arthur dismounts and hogties him good. “I’ll come with you, you son of’a bitch.”

Something snaps inside thinking that this person before him’s gonna end up some scientist’s Guinea pig, but the bastard’s not done talking:

“You’re your own jail keeper, mister. In a prison of your own making.”

“Shut up!” A hard punch to the man’s face and the body slumps. He ain’t dead, just knocked out, but Arthur ain’t in the mood for a philosophy lesson from some goddamn outlaw he’s taking in to be judged.

He damn well knows he ain’t righteous, no need for anyone else to tell him that.

He picks the man up and whistles for the others. Ghost, the sweet darlin’, comes as well and he stows the bounty on her back this time. Isaac comes in view just as he got back in the saddle:

“You okay, kid?”

“Yeah.” He’s huffing from effort. “Sir Lancelot’s a lot to handle when spooked.”

Arthur purses his lips and sighs: “I’m sorry.”

Boy scratches his neck, twists his lips: “Wha-? But you ain’t done nothin’.”

That was the point... He worried too much and got ineffective and-

“Ah, don’t mind me, I’m just an ol’ geezer.”

“You did well, Arthur.” Sebastian chimes in.

A bob of the head: “Then let’s get the bastard back before he wakes up an’ starts talkin’.”

The road ahead seems interminable. And indeed the bounty woke up, but they gagged him so he’d shut his mouth. The groaning and choking got annoying after a while. About midday they take a break, for the horses and themselves to eat something. A storm was to roll in again. It got cold, frighteningly cold real fast, the smell of rain almost overbearing. It’s electric.

But the downpour don’t come until they pass the Kamasa River and enter marshland. Arthur checks the address on the little card Victoriano gave him; asks Sebastian if he knows where it is. Sure enough, man leads them straight there.

They’re all wet to the bone and the poor feller up on Ghost’s hide stopped struggling, but fear was written all over his face. He writhes as he’s taken down, but only for a moment.

Sebastian knocks on the door and sure enough mister Victoriano opens, who looks at the man before him, then Arthur with the bounty:

“Ah, excellent! You brought him. And in such a short time. Very good.” The professor exists the house, trying up his white coat to shield from the rain and comes to point him where to ‘deposit’ the bounty: “Bring him here, please.”

“He was a pain to deal with-”Arthur heaves flinging the body on a chair in the shed he was shown by the side of the house.

Mister Victoriano then darts back inside the house: “Wait here. For payment.”

Arthur joins Sebastian by the doorframe not a moment later.

He sees the woman: ghostly pale skin, icy blue eyes and hair of such a shade of blond that it almost looked white as well. She stares at them and then gets closer; and Sebastian’s staring back:

“Myra...” man gasps out.

That was his former wife wasn’t she...

#rdr2 #red dead redemtion 2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan #isaac morgan #van der linde gang #sebastian castellanos #sebthur #ruben victoriano #tew ruvik #nsft

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