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lise-soontobemarried · 8 months

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Hey everyone! ❤️❤️❤️ here's something to quench your thirst! Also, please give me a challenge!! If you have any picture requests, missions, characters, I'd love to try my best at it!!

Please, if there's something you'd like to see, give me a shout 🔥❤️

Love you guys take care ❤️❤️❤️

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nexionswild · 11 months

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IN WHICH MANEATER!reader admits their feelings for the van der linde boys. [p.1] [p.2]

includes: arthur ∿ john ∿ dutch ∿ hosea ∿ javier ∿ micah.

content warning: none, pure fluff, no pronouns [GN], some fem!words [“minx” “temptress”]

a/n: first headcanons in a while! personality may not be as accurate but eh, do what you will !!

✦ ﹒ arthur morgan

you.. what?

arthur doesn’t believe in being remotely worthy of any romantic interests, he always thought you were out of his league. needless to say, it’s a pretty loving yet interesting surprise. he even comes as far as questioning your tastes in men.

but of course, he doesn’t say no, and god knows what would happen to his mental state if he ever dismissed your feelings.

by the time your confession came out, he’d admit that he loved admiring you from a distance, seeing how you swayed men with your charms and wits. it was always fascinating for him in a weird way. he can’t quite put it in words, but by simply observing you, he could feel things.

“alright, alright … i’ll take the goddamn minx’s hand, but don’tcha go cryin’ on Grimshaw’s dress if ya’ startin’ to regret yer decision, understand?”

obviously, he’s so grateful to have you under his wing now. it’s almost like a dream he’ll never want to wake up from, it’s a blessing, even.

although arthur still doubt how long you’ll stay with him, due to his bad experience during his first relationships with some women, he’s trying to be optimistic about the way it will turn out.

he doesn’t have much to say or do, except awkwardly appreciating your presence and the way all of your attention shifted onto him, but he’s not a slacker in this relationship, hell no.

you’re constantly victim of his tease, and often gets to be his main focus every now and then. being a natural gentleman, he doesn’t mind offering you help during your missions. and his treatment gets especially more overwhelming after a task that includes seducing a feller for information. he’d like to say that he’s not the jealous type, he understands you’re just doing your job, but god. he should be the only man that gets to hear all of these sweet words.

✦ ﹒ john marston

completely and utterly baffled. him? you and him? together?

“why?” was the first thing that came out of his mouth. he regrets it.

when you explained it’s really by the way he behaves with you, the way he’s gentle and soft for you, always slacking around until he gets to work when you ask him to from dutch’s part, that’s where he realizes, he really didn’t made any efforts to try and keep his feelings away from you. he is embarrassed.

lord knows how red his face was when you admitted that he may be one of the most tender man you’ve ever came across from the millions of other ones you had to seduce for survival, to think he was one in a million, in a way, you made him feel special.

he could only hide his lips with the back of his hand as he reluctantly tried to look at you, in which he desperately can’t. and while you await his answer, his heart keeps beating faster and faster, he worries you may even hear the sound of his heartbeat from where you are.

eventually, after a long moment of awkward, peaceful silence, with the sounds of birds and winds clearing the void of noises your head, john eventually grumbled a little “yeah, i guess i like you too.”

he can’t believe that he managed to get into a relationship with someone as charismatic as you, knowing he absolutely has zero charms. but this reality doesn’t apply to you, it seems. with the way you shower him in compliments and constantly pampering him with kisses ever since your confession, it makes it hard to believe that he wouldn’t be a man of interest.

in return, he’d quietly shove all of his love and affection by pulling you into a simple hug or enticing you to join their partying when the gang suddenly pops out the alcohol and plays music for some event. he’s a fun man when he tries to be, otherwise, it’s really just long, and silent moments of adoration as he hugs and cuddles you from behind.

before he even got together with you, he was already a little frustrated with the men you had to engage with for the sake of the mission, but now that you’re his, his frustration is even worse.

“you better try and come up with som’ other plans, regarding [y/n] dutch.”

✦ ﹒ dutch van der linde

“of course, i’ll love you forever.”

he’ll tease you about your feelings, dutch already grew a reputation amongst women for his ability to entertain with just talks and conversations. he even swayed men to like him for being friendly. after all, why do you think he knows and have contacts with so many people?

admittedly, dutch secretly loved it when you confessed to him. there’s something about you initiating it that sparks a bigger interest in you. you were a pretty thing to look at, a painting in exposition for a museum. of course he had his eyes on you for a long while ever since you joined.

he only puts you in those (insufferable) tasks to see you in action, and boy, was he impressed with the way you’d easily wrap those creeps, men and women alike, around your finger so quickly. not only were you useful for the gang, but you proved you’re more worthy than those petty missions.

he’ll never admit how he would also punish himself watching you whisper those sweet-nothings into their ear, only hosea knew the kind of face he would make when you did your job.

surprisingly committed and devoted into this relationship, you honestly expected something lacking. i mean, the way he treated molly should’ve trigger those red flags, but there’s something about him that you couldn’t quite touch on, that was so annoyingly attractive. and that devotion never faded away, you always kept him entertain in some wicked way, god knows what kind of poison you have for him to be so hooked on you.

he’d always slide his hand around your waist, tracing the edge of your body with his fingers as he looked down on you. and the way you gracefully accepted his touch only made him want to crave for more, he wants more of your subtle validation every time he shares an intimate moment with you. you’re his elixir, and he will never stop getting sick if it means consuming you more and more.

don’t expect this relationship to end. he will never let go of you. ever.

good luck trying to contribute to the gang and do your job, because dutch will never stop fucking up your work for the simple fact that he should be the only one who gets to experience your seduction.

“i should seriously come up with different plans now that you’re mine.”

✦ ﹒ hosea matthews

it took hosea some convincing to let him know that you were serious about your feelings, he always took everything under a sarcastic joke, until he realizes you actually mean it, his smile drops as he’s processing the information.

hosea is aware he’s not as devilishly handsome as dutch, he thinks of himself as a boring old man who likes novels and wisdom. to think you, a young and seductive temptress, in love with him? he doesn’t know how to eat that in a whole.

that is probably the first time you ever seen him that nervous, but the way he plays it out as a joke was still endearing, but annoying, at the same time.

“who forced you? i swear, i won’t be mad if ya’ just told me, y’know?”

when he finally accepts the fact that you’re really interested, hosea couldn’t help but smile again. he’s a jokester, seriously, what do you see in that guy? he makes you laugh. (nudge nudge, wink wink) and the sheer fact that he made you bend over (not in that way)mon your tummy as you try to suppress your laughter into quiet snorts so many times was just charming, in your opinion. and impressive as well. no men made you laugh like that before.

you couldn’t care less if he was too old or too modest, he was the perfect amount of gentleman. he’s been loyal to you like some kind of butler, and it was just so lovely to see him act like such a domestic husband when you ask nothing from him, and it was even more funny to see him quietly appreciating your flirtatious remarks before you got together.

now that you are in a relationship, your teasing has gotten even worse, and hosea desperately tries to keep up with you but you always left him in long flustered silences before he cracks another joke to try and change the topic. but he doesn’t leave you do all the talk, when you need comforting words after a mission, he’s here. and he’s the perfect man for encouragement and motivation.

he understands that it must be hard to always be a man’s attention, and he couldn’t be any more proud of you for trying to play your part for the sake of the gang. he doesn’t care about the comments you have to use towards these men for information, he knows whatever you do or say, he’s the only one you love, and you’re the only one he loves.

“you’re just.. perfect.”

✦ ﹒ javier escuella

you’ve never seen him so. happily. flustered.

he doesn’t want to show this side to you, he’s a scary outlaw who knows how to handle a knife, guns and such. but you made his heart flutter, how is he supposed to react to your feelings in a way that wouldn’t miserably damage his image as a brave yet intimidating gunman?

being generally polite and soft-spoken, you couldn’t hear him literally grumbling in spanish under his breath, not like you could understand him anyways, he was talking too fast in your opinion.

“ay.. dios mío. i don’t know how to say it. but, i really..”

he can’t afford to look you in the eyes, you’re so beautiful and precious. you’re no saint and that, he shamefully loves it, so much. no amount of words can describe how he loves seeing you talking your way out of conflict with those honey words. and because of that, you’ll only ever hear his confession in spanish before he pulls you in an embrace, which told you that he’ll happily stay by your side if that’s what you want.

it frustrates you that he’ll only talk about his feelings in his native language, that’s his mother tongue, and as much as you love to hear his love words in spanish, you also want to know what that means. you want to hear those words clear and loud, and javier can’t help but chuckle at your desperation. it was adorable. he didn’t know you had that side for him; being cute. usually, he would only see you tempting men and women, or constantly hearing your teases.

seeing you pout just made him want to speak spanish more often, he savors everything you offer him. and there couldn’t be anything more delicious than your new expressions, he especially loves it when you blush for him, because it came to a point where hearing his mexican rants was.. weirdly attractive.

“te quiero mucho, querida.”

✦ ﹒ micah bell

WHAT? you had all the men in the world and out of everything, you chose him? him???

he doesn’t understand you, he really doesn’t. he’s been here, shaming all of your good graces and degrading you into oblivion since your sole purpose here is “to pretend to be a sexworker” and you like him?

fine. he may have been under your spell as well, i mean, you’re attractive. he knows that you are, why else would dutch set you up in dirty work like that? — but he have way too much pride, and if you think he’ll apologize for his behavior or told you about how he felt about you, safe to say: don’t get your hopes up.

not only is he straight up puzzled, but the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes he’s been craving for you this whole time, he was just in denial. he had too much confidence and pride to admit that he’d ever fall in love with someone like you, i mean, he’s been acting like this for so many years, what makes you different from the others? why was your attention so important to him? you’re nothing but some whore, right? or so he thought.

“fine.. but don’t get yer’ hopes up, pretty girl. just cuz’ i’m blessin’ you with my last name don’t mean anythin’. got that, sweetheart?’

he’s lying. you know he is. blessing you with his last name? is he expecting you to stay until marriage?

not that you mind, since you’re crazy enough to develop feelings for him. and he’s crazy enough to make you want this marriage.

ever since that day, micah has been noticeably more attentive towards you, both by hearing out your adventures and by touch. you wouldn’t notice him scooting closer and closer whenever you talked, you wouldn’t notice the way his head cocked to the side as his hand slid up your waist, tracing the frame of your body before reaching your shoulder and firmly grabbing it, pulling you closer to him. you only noticed when you felt his breath tickling your chin.

oh, he enjoys having an effect on you. all those months, he’d seen you play your way with people in sexual nonsense. he never liked how you got all the attention, or that you were focus on anyone else but him for that matter, but now he’s got you just where he wants you to be, right beneath him.

he loves to see you get quiet when he’s close.

“well? don’tcha keep me waitin’ pretty girl, better talk or waste my time.”

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moonah-rose · 1 year

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"What are you doing here, Dutch?"

"Same as you, I suppose." (RDR2)

"You're just like me, John. You can't change who you are." (RDR1)

Okay I'm currently hyperfixated on these boys and I gotta talk about how fascinating this relationship is.

Because while Dutch and Arthur's relationship is heartbreaking, there's something even more crushing about Dutch and John over the course of both games.

To start we're told by both Arthur and Bill that John is the "favorite", that he's "Dutch's pet", "the golden boy", even Micah brings it up in chapter six. Part of Arthur's bitterness over John's return is how cool Dutch seemed to be about it, how he was welcomed back with open arms. However nearly all the interactions we see (or rather Arthur sees) between Dutch and John are very tense and grow more heated over the game until they're outright screaming at each other - and of course things get as bad as they can be in rdr1. But how I imagine things used to be, pre-Blackwater or pre-John's gap year, was Dutch did dote on John and John worshipped him in return. John seems to have been found the youngest that we know of, twelve years old, so he was as much of a child as can be, which allowed Dutch to mold him into a younger version of himself, whereas Arthur was clearly more Hosea's son. Dutch taught John to sound smart without really saying anything, while Arthur learned from Hosea to be smarter than he appeared. To compare the two, I think Arthur was Dutch's joy (the mirror of his best friend, his first son) but John was his pride (his own reflection). It's very typical narcissist parent behavior to latch onto the youngest or one that most resembles you most as they're the most obvious extension of yourself. And for as long as John obeyed and adored Dutch, that fuelled his own ego - fitting then how Dutch's mental decline runs in parallel to John drifting away and learning to be his own person, a father in his own right, and seeing who Dutch is without rose tinted glasses. And the stronger John gets, the more Dutch feels threatened, like when he accuses John of "wanting to be the General". Dutch is a loving granddad to Jack and caring to Abigail, encouraging John to be a good father, but not if it means they become more important than the gang (ie Him). I also think a lot of the insults Dutch hurls at John later on are things he could be partly saying about himself, how he doesn't have the grit, how he's always been weak or blind. The more Dutch fails, the more he targets John as a punching bag for his own failures, to the point of wanting to leave him to rot as he admits in one hidden BH scene.

Side note, this also feeds into his resentment of Arthur, firstly of also no longer being a yes man, but Dutch also notes how much Arthur sounds like Hosea - except Dutch was ignoring Hosea right from the start of the game, even if he did help keep Dutch grounded to some sense of reality, Arthur is a reminder of Dutch's recent loss and also insulted at the idea of Arthur replacing Hosea - that's not Arthur's job, in his mind, it's just to be his big scary grunt. Once he's becoming weaker, he doesn't see the purpose in having Arthur around if he's just going to question and possibly (if he believes Micah) betray him. And he writes Arthur off as dead anyway once he starts getting sick, he already lost Hosea, he's not putting himself through that again so it's easy to just leave him for dead. But despite all that, Arthur still loves Dutch enough to ride back and try one last time to convince his "father" that Micah is out to get him, he even spends his last breaths begging him to see sense - not for his own sake, but the man who raised him.

But with John it's a different, more raw tragedy that Dutch's self-loathing and insanity grow in their time apart, despite both clearly having had Arthur's shadow hanging over them, eventually pushing them to the exact same destination on the exact same day with the exact same purpose - to kill Micah. John has been haunted by guilt that Arthur had to sacrifice himself for him, while Dutch has been haunted by (imo) the guilt of leaving Arthur to die as well as allowing Micah to manipulate him. But both men are also not killing "for Arthur's sake" here, more their own, as they both know Arthur didn't agree with revenge. But they do it to try to ease their own consciences. For John it works, for Dutch it just sends him off into isolation and his eventual fate.

And the saddest thing is, John thanks him. Even after everything Dutch did to him and Abigail, he makes an attempt to reach out. There was a brief glimpse from John of the boy who loved his adoptive father, but Dutch's ice cold stare and silence remind them they can never go back to what was. And John let's him go. But this moment seems to change something in John's perspective, as earlier he had always said he believed Dutch had been hiding who he was the whole time, but by the time of RDR1 he's saying similar things as Sadie that Dutch was a good man who "went insane". He now wants to believe that there was a part of Dutch that cared, long ago, but it's now gone.

The Dutch that John eventually has to hunt down is different than the one he last saw on Mount Hagen, the one who admitted that he didn't have much to say anymore, the man who still cared enough to spare John and leave him the Blackwater money. Dutch is now a complete bloodthirsty monster who kills for sport, who openly calls Abigail a whore and Jack a whore's son - the same boy he once doted on, found a puppy with, that he rode into hell for. His disgust for John, his boy, working for the government, being the "rat" he feared him to be, is enough to get him to not hold back on shooting him anymore, but I also can't help but think most of his words are egging John on to get him. "You'll have to kill me, John!" he yells. But when it comes to just the two of them, both on a mountain yet again, they both put away their guns. It's the closest thing we get in the first game to a hint of their past relationship, of father and son, rather than adversaries. John's name, his "golden boy's" name, is the last thing to leave Dutch's lips before he falls. The speech the same one he said with Arthur at his side. As insane as he was, he spent those last moments thinking of his sons, and possibly Hosea too, before he fell, how he wasn't able to fight his own cowardly nature to do right by them, you can't change my mind.

And while John would never talk about it openly, its just awful to think how this man had to watch the father he loved and who doted on him back, to slowly become a monster, to hating each other, trying to kill each other, then to see a glimpse of what was but being unable to save him. It also adds context to his own behavior to Jack, how he tries to be a doting father but doesn't discourage him too much from having his own interests, as much as they confuse him.

And then, the final nail in this angst coffin, walking out to face his own death knowing Dutch was right, that they did just find another monster to come for.

#rdr2 #rdr2 meta #dutch van der linde #john marston #arthur morgan #hosea matthews #horsegirl daddy issues

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irishmacguirefucker · 5 months

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Anyone can dodge the daddy issues until you find yourself attracted to hosea matthews

#THERE AINT NO DODGING THOSE DADDY ISSUES #THEY RUN DEEP #rdr2 #hosea matthews

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ellamorgan333 · 6 months

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ik dutch goes crazy but i feel like dutch and hosea would let young arthur or john cry and not be weird about it like most during the time period they have good dad energy fr

#thinking #rdr2 #daddy dutch #daddy hosea #arthur morgan #john marston

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hihomeghere · 1 month

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Dreams | Arthur Morgan/Reader

Word Count : 1.1k Summary : Arthur starts having dreams of starting a family with you Warnings/tags : Cursing, fluff, mention of infidelity, just Arthur being a sweet guy <3

He knows he shouldn’t feel like this. Shouldn’t be having these thoughts, because all they are just dreams. They’re never going to become a reality. Not when they’re constantly on the move, running from place to place. He sees the way it affects Jack, poor kid, not knowing what the hell is going on. And his daddy doesn’t exactly help him understand.

He can’t even say he would be a better father, he wasn’t before.

Hell you two ain’t even married yet, and he’s not that much of a fool. Not anymore. His regret for not marrying Eliza weighs heavily on him most days, even if he didn’t love her in that way. Now you on the other hand, he loves you more than anything. More than this stupid gang, more than life itself. He would happily lay down his life if he knew you would be happy, safe.

When these thoughts enter his head, he can’t say. His days sort of blend together, making it hard to pinpoint. Although seeing you interact with Jack doesn’t help.

You are so sweet, so motherly, hell you even mother the younger folks in the gang. Soft touches, kind words, but internally strong. You have all the qualities he finds attractive in a woman. Somehow you fell for him just as hard as he fell for you.

But he ain’t a fool, he knows this ain’t the right time or place. So instead he writes down all these dreams in his journal, his safe place. The place where he can say anything without being judged. He dreams of little girls, he didn’t know how to interact with Isaac. Too afraid of being his own father. Girls seem less daunting, and a little you would be perfect. He already has one angel, what’s one more?

He comes up with the name while north of Brandywine Drop. The bright purple flowers caught his eye just off the trail.

Violet.

Violet Beatrice Morgan.

His heart sings, scribbling the name down in the margins of his journal. He finds himself writing VM in his journal, smiling foolishly to himself. It’s beautiful, his precious flower.

It’s not like you meant to snoop. You were looking for Arthur, since he was nowhere to be found. You entered his tent, which in reality wasn’t much of a tent at all, finding his journal open. You walked over to it, looking over the worn page. There were the normal doodles he drew, along with his flowing hand writing. But one thing stood out to you, a pair of initials circled by hearts. VM.

You furrowed your brows, you couldn’t think of anyone you knew with the initials VM. Those definitely weren’t your initials either.

With your curiosity peaked you flipped through a couple more pages. VM was written everywhere, along with those damn little hearts.

You felt that little green monster grow inside you the further you looked into his journal. Biting your cheek so hard you could taste blood. It did nothing to quench the fire inside of you.

“Darlin?” Arthur called walking into the so-called tent. You dropped the journal back onto the table, turning to face him. “There you are.” He grinned walking towards you.

“Here I am.” You said forcing a smile.

“Hosea said you were looking for me.” He said softly, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, "Anything you need?”

“Must have forgot.” You said with a noncommittal shrug, “I ought to get back to work.” You nod walking past him. Arthur furrowed his brow at your attitude. Did he say something to offend you?

Then his eyes fall onto his open journal. His stomach drops at the sight. Jesus, you saw. You saw all of it. You were probably thinking the worst, seeing the initial surrounded by hearts. How was he gonna fix this?

You stomped off to the edge of camp, trying to wrack your brain as to who this VM could be. And why was Arthur drawing hearts beside the initials? Maybe you had this all wrong, Arthur would never do anything to hurt you. He was a good man, a man you could trust. Wasn't he?

“Y/n!” He called trailing behind you, a crestfallen expression on his face. You stopped at the tree lining, biting your lip as you turned to face him. “I can explain.”

“I’m sure you can.” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I-“ He sighed looking down, pinching the bridge of his nose as he let out a low curse.

“Who is she?” You asked clenching your jaw. He furrowed his brows looking up at you.

“What?” He asked, his hands settling on his hips.

“VM, the girl you keep drawing hearts around. Who is she?” You were blunt, something he loved so much. Always telling it like it is, never leaving him to guess your feelings. A small smile spread on his face, which only made you more mad. “Seriously, you think this is funny?” You hissed, taking a step towards him. Arthur only had one choice, to tell you the truth.

“Violet.” He said softly, reaching for you. “Violet Morgan.” You let him wrap his hand around your forearm, pulling you close to his chest.

“Who is Violet Morgan?” You asked, swallowing thickly. He sighed, looking off to the side, wetting his lips.

“She’s uh-“ He shook his head, a nervous smile on his lips. “She’s not exactly real, not yet at least.” He said.

You shook your head, brows knitted together, “Not real? The hell you mean, not real?”

“I-“ He rubbed the back of his neck looking down, “It’s uh- shit.”

“Spit it out Morgan.” You huff throwing your arms up.

“I thought of a name,” He explained, “A name for a girl if we- if we have one some day.” He said with a shrug, his cheeks flushed, almost as though he had been in a scuffle.

Oh.

If we have one some day.

“Oh Arthur.” You said softly, a smile spreading across your face. Feeling suddenly very foolish for doubting your man. “That's so sweet.” You took a step forward, tilting his face up to look at you.

“Yeah?” He asked, looping his fingers in his gun belt.

“Yeah.” You repeated, nodding. “Jesus you had me scared you were gonna tell me you found someone else.” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“Never. There ain’t no one else in this goddamn world that could replace you.” He said his hand reached up to cup your face. “You’re uh- you’re it for me darlin.” His bright blue eyes peered into yours, love and affection pouring out in his expression.

“When we have our girl.” You said brushing away a stray strand of honey brown hair, “Violet will be a perfect name.” He grinned, wrapping a hand around your waist.

“Guess it’s settled then.” He said as he leaned down to press his lips against yours.

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #rdr #john marston #jack marston #abigail marston #eliza #isaac morgan #hihomeghere #fluff

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cryptidcr3ature · 4 days

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I notice things about rdr fans and it’s 4 am and I don’t give a fuck anymore about quality. Here’s what your fav says about you.

Arthur: you’re either a twelve year old boy who only plays low honor or you’re a horse girl who thinks Arthur can do no wrong.

Charles: Most dedicated fans. You know you killed those poachers because Charles was mad. You know you keep his requests locked and loaded for when he asks for them. You know you kick your feet every time he says hi. Y’all’s fav went through all that and yall still stuck with him. Either that or yall are just horny.

Javier: y’all are horny and want a well dressed bf

John: you like your men stupid

Kieran: you like your men pathetic

Dutch: you either write essays about him and his complexities or you just have bad taste in men. Seek help either way. You have daddy issues.

Hosea: Daddy issues and you wish your dad was more like Hosea (or you saw the young picture and said DAMNNNN)

Molly O’Shea: I know she deserves better, we all do. Please save Molly please.

Sadie: You want women to step on you.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption #rdr 2 #rdr #van der linde gang #charles smith #arthur morgan #john marston #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #sadie adler #kieran duffy #molly o'shea #javier escuella

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strrwbrrryjam · 7 months

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i had this thought that the reason why arthur goes along with any job that dutch and hosea tell him to go on, despite how reluctant, or how much he really doesn't want to, or if he's having doubts is that in his head, he feels as if he is not being useful (and loyal) he is not worthy of love, and that's a thought that scares him, a little bit

i feel as if this is something that started with lyle, a man whom arthur despises so much that he thought the only thing that was wrong with his death was that it didn't happen sooner,

and it only grew when he was picked up by dutch and hosea, because, well, what reason would they have to gather up a street urchin, i mean, his daddy didn't want him, so why would these men want him to stay if he wasn't useful

id at least like to think that they maybe didn't mean to feed into it, and were only grateful for the help, at least, well, i can say that about hosea (because of his insistence for arthur to take a break, whether by hunting a bear or simply resting by the fire) though I'm not too sure on dutch (as even if arthur spends a minute in camp, dutch will tell him to stop loitering up the place) but i think its something that they (hosea) caught onto too late, and didn't look deeper into about why this kid was so insistent on doing the camp chores without a complaint in the world

#idk. just thinking.#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 arthur morgan #arthur morgan #rdr2 lyle morgan #lyle morgan #rdr2 dutch van der linde #dutch van der linde #rdr2 hosea matthews #hosea matthews #strawberry speaks

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outlaw-apologist · 1 year

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The Gang as Fathers (RDR2)

This was an anon request :D Characters: Arthur, Hosea, Dutch, Charles, Sean, Kieran, and Micah TW: Micah’s contains graphic/violent themes Requests are always welcome~ feel free to request anything hehe AO3 link here ___ Arthur - He always pretends to be stern with his child but gives in almost immediately. “You can’t have candy before bed….” He puts on his best mean face that only lasts a few seconds. “Fine, just one piece.” - His baby will learn how to ride a horse before learning how to walk. Arthur will hold his child while caring for the horses or will cradle them in his lap during trail rides. - “I heard a little alcohol was good for babies. Makes ‘em sleep better.” He’ll stick his pinkie finger in some whiskey and will let the baby suck on it to calm down, but only during fitful crying or when his baby won’t sleep.

- As his child grows older he’ll try hard to give them a good education. Not city folk education, but enough to know about the world. There’ve been many times Arthur wished he had gone to school as a kid. - When his child draws for the first time Arthur is SO proud! He shows EVERYONE and keeps the drawing tucked safely in his journal for many many years to come. It doesn’t matter how old his baby gets, he keeps every drawing no matter what. - If Arthur had a daughter I think he would try harder to learn more about women’s rights. He might even visit the protesting lady in Saint Denis and ask her a few questions. He’s seen how the world treats women and he wants to raise a strong woman of his own who will always believe in herself and love herself no matter what. - Also- Daddy daughter dates!!! He would go to all the nice little cafe’s and bakeries with his daughter or would take her on special little picnics. - Camping trips!!!! Every weekend Arthur is packing his kiddo(s) up to go camping. He doesn’t like fishing but he’ll take his kids forging and teach them how to live off the land. When they’re bigger Arthur teaches them how to hunt small animals, like squirrels, with a bow and arrow. At night he cooks dinner over an open fire and sings trail riding songs or tells stories of his days as an outlaw. - If his child ever goes through a tween or teen phase of hating him Arthur WILL cry himself to sleep every. damn. night. wondering what he did wrong. Even if he knows it’s just how kids are at times, it really hurts his feelings. That self loathing part of him mixed with old family wounds never leaves him. - Sorry to any wife or husband of Arthur’s out there – but Arthur would save his child before all else in ANY dangerous circumstance. He’ll save his spouse next but the kid(s) come first. - “When you’re older I’ll give you my hat. It was my daddy’s hat, and now it’s your daddy’s hat. One day it’ll be your hat.” “Hey! Stop playing with my hat!” “Di’ju take my hat to school? Don’t do it again.” - Even if his children are around people he trusts he will still watch them like a hawk, almost afraid someone will snatch them away. - He really hates being away from his children so he sends letters about his great adventures to them until he can return. - Arthur really doesn’t want his children walking in his footsteps, BUT he does wish they could experience true adventure and freedom. Because of this he’ll plan elaborate activities. Sometimes he creates treasure maps and will take his children riding around the state to find a ‘hidden treasure’ Arthur himself buried. - When his child turns 13 he’ll take them out to find a wild horse of their choosing, then he’d teach them how to tame the horse as a right of passage. It’s an amazing bonding experience between the both of them, and he thinks horses are special animals. Growing up with your horse is a must. - “Seriously gimme my hat!” -- Hosea - Hosea’s always secretly wanted a little one of his own. It doesn’t matter if he has a daughter or a son, that baby will be in his arms 24/7 - Literally wants to raise his child as a mini him – in the most positive way possible. - Bedtime stories were chapter books and his children learn how to read fairly early-on in their childhood. - Every few years Hosea gifts his child a new fishing pole that matches how big they’ve grown. Fishing is very important to him and he makes a point to have a special spot where he camps with his kids and fishes for days. Playing in the rocks and trees, hiding in the fields around the camp when not catching fish. Instead of campfire stories he reads books out loud or retells old memories he finds amusing. - “I want you to understand, the outlaw life is not for everyone.” Hosea is torn. He doesn’t want his children to become outlaws like him… However there’s a part of him he can’t deny where he wishes his child would be there with him no matter where he was. If his child became an outlaw he wouldn’t fully protest it. He’d feel guilty, I think, but he doesn’t want to be away from his kid(s). -That being said, his kid is raised with the Van-Der-Linde gang. Whenever Dutch or Susan tries to parent his child Hosea will always stand up to them. He puts a lot of emphasis on Arthur and John to protect his babies; mostly because he views Arthur and John as his children too, so they should act like good brothers. - He would LOVE taking his kids out to see plays or to the circus whenever the circus is in town. He’ll take them to films too though he prefers the performing arts (theater) first. However, he loves exposing his children to any and all types of art. If his child ever expresses an interest in acting or writing he’d swell with pride and do anything to support them. - Hosea is a smart man. He know he’s living on borrowed time. Making it to your 50’s as an outlaw was no minor feat. There’s money no one knows about, not even Dutch. Money that can set his children for life. He makes sure to bury it carefully and made arrangements for his child to receive a map of its whereabouts in case of his death. - “And that is ursa major and ursa minor.” Star gazing with papa Hosea! - He is firm but empathetic. Hosea will uphold any punishments that he thinks fits the crime. However, he’s never spanked or laid a hand on his kids. He’s more interested in life lessons. If he catches his child stealing then he’ll force them to donate something of theirs to the poor, ect. - If his baby is sick he’ll stay up all night by their bedside checking their fever and making sure they’re okay. He refuses to leave their side and won’t sleep until he knows his baby is okay. - Hosea’s biggest fear is losing his child. He’s big on teaching his kid safety from a young age, even if that means using a knife or a gun. - For their 18th birthday he’ll gift his child a very beautifully engraved pistol. The engraving will be a quote or a saying that is personal to him and that child. Something with meaning only they would understand. - Even if his child is a full grown adult, Hosea will come read with them at bedtime. It’s something that makes him feel loved and cherished and he hopes his child feels the same way. - You cannot convince me this man would not put on a play with his children. He encourages the gang to act excited or amazed while watching. He’ll shoot a glare at Dutch whenever Dutch acts a little too excited. --- Dutch - Let’s be honest, Hosea raises any and all of Dutch’s children. - No kid friendly books, his children learn how to read philosophy like men. -Will completely destroy his children in any and all board games. He’ll never let them win no matter how young they are. If his kid starts crying he’ll say something snarky like “Aww go cry to mommy/papa Hosea.” - He is definitely the fun parent though. (At least in his opinion). His 10 year old is robbing trains. He’ll rob a candy store too for shits and giggles, just so his little one thinks he’s cool. - He really does love when his child sits on his knee or rides on his shoulders. It makes his heart swell with happiness. - I don’t think Dutch really knows what to do with children. He just treats them as tiny adults. - He will ALWAYS introduce his children with pride. Because of that there’s this… unspoken pressure for his children to always be at their best. They always need to be well articulated or ready for action. Otherwise there might be a dreaded “I thought I taught you better.” speech. - Dutch really did try hard to make sure his children grew up smart and capable. However, if that ever turns them against him or if they question him he immediately gets upset/angry. - His children will grow up calling him daddy and Hosea papa. Dutch might try to correct them a few times. “It’s uncle Hosea-” But he gives up rather quickly. - Dutch does mean well. He tries to take his children on special or fun outings. Unfortunately it always ends up about him or the mood is ruined with a long philosophical rant/speech. - He is not a completely useless father though. If his child is hurt he’s the first one there to scoop them up and console them. He would bandage them up and kiss their boo-boo’s better…. Up until near the end when the gang starts splitting apart. Around this time it seems as if he’s not fully present and so it doesn’t register to him that his child is hurt or injured. He starts to see it as their own personal problem no matter what age they might be. - His children are brought up seeing him as this wise, smart, powerful figure. They view him more as a savior than a loving parent. Basically they’re brought up to view Dutch the same way as the rest of the gang sees him. He provides shelter, clothes, food, and safety. He is the reason they have a free life. And because of this I do think they would have a lot of love for their father, but, they’ll never feel like they’re good enough. - If anyone ever touched a hair on his child’s head… Without fail they’ll end up filled with bullet holes or burnt to a crisp. He’s not great at showing his love but his children are his everything. ----- Charles - Charles is the type of parent that loves his children SO much he doesn’t even need to say a word. His love is always shown through his actions. He’ll gently sweep their hair out of their face or he’ll rub their back. When they’re little kids Charles will always press a little kiss to the top of their heads. - He doesn’t give in as easy as Arthur does. No candy before bed. Eat your dinner before dessert, drink more water, don’t go off alone, ect. He’s never mean about it. Charles tries to make sure his children are as healthy and well looked after as possible. - What if he’s not here one day? What if his past catches up with him or something bad happens? This is always in the back of Charles’ mind. Because of this he teaches his children how to be self sufficient from a young age. He makes a game out of cleaning up and chores become a family activity. He tries to keep it fun for them since they’re still kids. - Children are the future in Charles’ eyes. He teaches his kids everything he knows. They’re taken on hunting trips and out forging or fishing. Charles teaches them how to make bows and arrows. He’ll tell stories about his mother or his experiences. Most of all he teaches his children respect. Respect for nature and all of the animals they may meet. - When Charles’ child is an infant or a baby he will ALWAYS be holding them. Doesn’t matter what he’s doing, that baby will be on his back or in his arms. He LOVES holding his children. It helps ground him and reminds him they’re really his and life can be good. - He won’t admit it but he loves dressing his children up. He likes to make or buy clothing and accessories he thinks would suit them. During winter his favorite part of the day is bundling them up in their coats and scarves. Charles thinks they look adorable toddling off to play in the snow. - HE WOULD BE SUCH A GOOD GIRL DAD! Charles goes out of his way to learn different hairstyles so he can do his daughter’s hair different every day. I think he’d make jewelry for his daughters and would always be singing with them or playing with them. Charles would be very protective yet respectful. He’d still teach his daughters how to track and hunt, ect. - Charles carries pictures of his children everywhere he goes. On the rare occasion he’s drunk he takes out the pictures to show everyone like “Look at my babies!” - He would be that annoying parent who’s children becomes their personality. He doesn’t talk much but if he’s with someone he’s friends with he’ll casually work his children into all of his small comments. “I need to get some fresh meat for my family.” “My children would love it here.” “I would never let a man like that around my children.” - Charles would totally call his child ‘baby’. “Hi baby!!!” “What do you need baby?” “Oh no, don’t cry baby.” He wouldn’t do it in public but in private???? He is soooo unbearably loving and mushy with his kids. It doesn’t matter how old they are, that’s his baby. - Charles didn’t really have parents while growing up. He wants to show his children as much love, kindness, and compassion as possible. The world is cold and cruel. If he can be the light and warmth for his kids then he’ll do it. - When his children grow up, if they decide to pursue goals/dreams Charles doesn’t fully understand, he will go out of his way to educate himself on that topic just to show them support. -Charles is one of those parents that really don’t want their children to move away from him. If they chose to he’ll respect their wishes but you bet that man will be crying DAILY because he misses his kids. - For the same reasons, Charles can’t be away from his kids more than two days without feeling heartbroken. - Charles would honestly do so well as a single father if he ever becomes one. - He’s a huge fan of gentle parenting. He keeps his voice calm and talks his children through anger/sadness with patience. It’s important for him that his children feel seen and heard. - Charles is the type of father that’ll beat the SHIT out of anyone who messes with his baby. - He’ll play dress-up with his kids. If his children want him to be a princes… he’ll be a mf princess! ------ Sean - God… Sean as a father? The house will be burnt down immediately the first time he watches his kid(s) alone. - He’s the fun parent. He’s also the unsafe parent. He really doesn’t see anything wrong with bringing his 3yo with him on a robbery. “They had a blast, it was great!” - Let’s be real, Sean is more of a friend to his child than an actual parent. He’ll never reinforce any rules. He’s always down to clown. He’ll be your best buddy but he won’t help you with your homework. - It’s fine to give kids alcohol sometimes in his eyes. “Go on, you can have a sip of my beer. It’ll put some hair on your chest.” - If his child isn’t as bubbly or loud as him he’ll be a bit disappointed. If his child matches his energy he’ll be 10x worse. They’ll be working off of the same brain-cell. - Sean loves to dress his children up to look like him. He thinks it’s hilarious. He even calls his baby ‘Baby MacGuire’. “Hello there baby MacGuire.” “D’ju have a good day today little baby MacGuire?” “This is my wee baby MacGuire.” - He has dropped his baby on the head, probably more than once. He felt really bad about it. - He will make his kids do the “two children in a trench coat” thing to rob a store. He literally pisses himself laughing when it actually works. - Half of the gang will end up raising his child while he pops in sometimes to have fun outings with them. -Is he a good parent? Fuck no. But his children will LOVE him and I think they’ll always have a good relationship with him. - Sean has tried to get John to teach his kids how to swim. He doesn’t understand John can’t swim…. - He never forgets a birthday because he loves eating sweets with his kiddos but he WILL forget every other important event. ------ Kieran - I think Kieran would be a really good father! He’d never raise his voice. His punishments are very light, yet he’d make sure his children would know what they did wasn’t right. - He’s not great at socializing with his children, but he LOVES to listen to them. It fills him with so much happiness when his children confide in him. He doesn’t always know what to say but he’ll be there whenever they need him. - If he has a baby he’ll be so afraid of making any noises while the baby is sleeping. If he’s holding his baby as they sleep, Kieran refuses to move in case it wakes them. - He writes the names of his children on the tags of their clothes so they don’t get lost. - Kieran is a doormat for any teenage children. He hates disappointing or upsetting his child, so if he has a teenager who tests his boundaries that teen will win every time. - However, I think his children would love him more than anything. Even if they did do bad things to Kieran I think they’d feel guilty and wouldn’t do it again. - Piggy backing off of that – The best ‘punishment’ Kieran could give his kids is disappointment. If daddy Kieran is disappointed in you then you KNOW you fucked up. Because of this his children end up pretty well behaved. - All Duffy’s grow up around horses. He loves bringing his kids to the stables. Letting them pet and brush the horses. He holds them up so they can feed the horses treats. - He likes fishing even if he isn’t the greatest at it. He’ll take his children fishing or would let them work on arts and crafts while he fishes. - While most kids walk home from school, Kieran always waits outside for his kiddos so he can walk with them. - He always wishes his children “sweet dreams” before going to bed. Every. Single. Night. He’s never missed a night EVER. - I think Kieran would take his children to visit Ireland. Maybe to see his father’s extended family. - Holidays are very special in the Duffy household. Even if Kieran and his kids have to hand-make decorations he’ll do it! Anything to make their childhood special. - He takes special walks with his kids. During the autumn he’ll make his children catch a falling leaf each before they can go home. He hopes it helps them feel the magic of childhood. - Kieran is terrified his children would be orphaned like he was. Because of this he works long hours when he can. He saves up a decent chunk of money and hides it. Only his children know where it’s at and understand it’s only for emergencies. ------ Micah - God forbid Micah ever has a daughter. There is a chance he would decide to raise her as a boy BUT I honestly think he’d either kill her, make her a dumpster baby, or would pawn the child off on someone else. In the even that the child is raised by someone else Micah would probably visit once every six months and probably stick around until that child is old enough to ‘work’ for him. - If he had a son tho…. Micah Bell the IV. - He’s a very cold father. Nothing his child does will ever be good enough for him. Because of that his child would probably try to win his favor until they’re old enough to realize they’ll never have it. - “One day this empire of mine will be yours.” and he owns NOTHING! - Micah definitely has shaken his baby. He probably spanks them or whips them with a belt whenever they’re bad. - His children grow up to take care of him and do things for him. They do all the chores. If Micah needs a beer one of them always has to go get it. - If one of his children ever becomes attached to an animal (cat, dog, horse) he would shoot that animal dead to teach them a lesson. And that lesson is to ‘not be soft’ and ‘attachments are useless’. - He doesn’t do anything to take care of them. Child rearing is a woman’s job. Micah makes the money. He comes home expecting a hot meal then he fucks off. His children are probably relieved that he’s gone so much. - Once his oldest is in their late teens Micah would gift them one of his guns. He doesn’t love anything more than those guns so it’s symbolic of how much he does care for his child. Micah can’t love normally, nor does he know how to show it. His oldest will understand the weight of the gesture and it may even make that child feel indebted to him. - He’s the very old fashioned type that thinks he automatically should have respect from his children. - If no one is willing to take care of his children, every night would be “fend for yourself night” in the Bell household. He’d never lift a finger to cook for or take care of them.

#Arthur Morgan #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #Charles Smith #Micah Bell #sean macguire #kieran duffy #RDR2 #RDR2 Imagines #RDR2 writing #My writing #the gang as fathers #rdr2 fathers #anon #anon request

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irishmacguirefucker · 11 months

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I think one of the things I really love about RDR2 fix it fics is that Hosea is never unsupportive of his sons getting out, of any of his family really. It’s like we all collectively agreed that he’s way too good a father to ever accuse his own of disloyalty or of abandoning the gang, because he wants what is best for them

#I could actually cry over hosea #this is where my fake daddy issues come in #hosea matthews #rdr2 #insecure ‘father figure’ dutch vs secure ‘i am your fucking dad’ hosea

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cowboydisaster · 1 year

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The Fire In Your Eyes

part X: Horseshoe Overlook vi

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 12.6k

summary: you face the camp with Arthur, coming home and shocking everyone with his return. Dutch makes it clear that he has a growing problem with you, and Arthur sweeps you away from the drama, taking you on a date.

a/n: hello! Sorry for the long wait. Finals are over, and I can finally breathe again. Therapy!!! Therapy this chapter yay! Everyone talking about their daddy issues! They need it tbh. But that aside, I love this chapter because they're just together. You all voted for a honeymoon phase so here it is! Poll can be found in series extras linked below. Enjoy! <3

beta read by @margowritesthings

warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni (skippable smut)

series extras

SERIES MASTERPOST

You trot past Flatneck Station, swallowing thickly at the memories from the last time you’d been past. Hoof prints are stamped into the mud from the chase where you'd leapt from the train, and you keep your eyes off of them as you ride side by side with Arthur.

“You think they’ll know?” You blush, eyes flickering up to the entrance of camp. You slow Athena down into a walk as you stare into the dark opening in the woods, leading you home.

“No sweetheart,” Arthur chuckles, “I don’t think they’ll know.” He smiles, regarding your shared night together.

“What about the girls? Oh god- what about Hosea? He’ll know.” You sigh, anxiety pulling at your chest.

“Well I gotta come back from the dead first.” Arthur chuckles.

“Can we keep this between us just for now? I don’t wanna hide it, but I can’t take the teasin’ from the girls, not yet.” You mumble, looking up to Arthur as he stops Balius, looking back to you.

“They been teasin’ you?” He asks, eyebrows pulling together lightly.

“No, well not really, but I just know it’ll be the camp talk and I can’t deal with that now.”

“Okay… anyone bothers you, just let me know. Well- actually, I know you can handle your own, but still, you need to talk, let me know.” Arthur mumbles, eyes flickering up and down over you bittersweetly before he clicks Balius to trot.

“Thanks Arthur.”

You continue following Arthur into the woods surrounding Horseshoe. You’re glad to be back, albeit a little nervous. You haven’t seen anyone but John since the train job, and you hope there's no hurt feelings that you declined to return with them. Suddenly a rustling in the bushes pulls your attention, and your head snaps to the left.

“Who’s there?” John’s familiar raspy voice calls out, and you smile for it as he steps around some bushes and trees.

“It's us, dumbass.” Arthur says, with a hint of a smirk on his lips. You watch as John steps out onto the trail, eyes going wide as he slings his rifle over his shoulders.

“Arthur? I’ll be damned,” John looks up to Arthur, extending his hand upwards, and they share a very brotherly handshake, “I’m glad you’re alright, brother.” John sighs, looking back to you with a deep nod in thanks for bringing him home.

“Yeah me too.” Arthur says, letting go of John’s arm and glancing toward the camp. It’s midday, and you can see a few people milling about but none notice you.

“Everyone’s real worried. You best head on in there.” John says, nodding towards camp. He follows the two of you as you walk your horses in. Arthur makes a note to thank John when you’re not around. John kept you alive, took care of you when Arthur couldn’t. He’ll owe the younger outlaw for that.

“Arthur?!” Marybeth calls. She’s carrying a pail of water across camp, and she drops it at her feet as you walk in, a little behind Arthur.

“Arthur, Star!” Hosea chuckles, clapping his hands together with a smile. Everyone’s attention directs to Arthur as he rides in, and a crowd forms at the front of camp when everyone realizes he’s alive

“Arthur- you’re alive!” Javier calls out, a big smile on his face. After Arthur dismounts, Javier slaps him on the back. Everyone riddles him with questions, pulling him into the crowd. Arthur glances back at you briefly as they pull him to the campfire, but you only smile, beckoning him to go on. John comes up beside you, sighing.

“How’d you find him?” He asks, and you huff.

“He found me, actually.” You chuckle, watching as Arthur sits at the fire next to Charles and Karen.

“He’s okay?” John asks, looking Arthur over, thinking of the fall.

“He’s saying he’s fine, but I know he’s in a lot of pain… you know how he is.” You respond, hitching the horses.

“I do.” John says as you pull his tent kit down from Balius. With a small blush, you strap it onto Old Boy.

“Your tent. Thank you by the way.” You explain, cursing Arthur in your head as you strap down the kit, “I reckon I’m gonna go unpack. I could use a bath.” You chuckle, bidding John goodbye as you walk towards your tent. Arthur’s eyes follow you with concern as you walk past the crowd, but you give him a smile, letting him know not to worry. You just don’t feel like socializing right now.

You part the white canvas, stepping inside and taking a deep breath. You’ve missed your little space. You run your fingers along your bedside table, stopping at the end and taking your guns off your shoulders, leaving just your holstered weapons on your person. Then reaching into your satchel until you find the familiar cardboard, you pull out a match, strike it against your boot and light two candles to brighten up your tent.

"Better." You hum.

You sit down on your cot, tucking one leg under your body as you reach into your satchel again, but this time you pull out your little journal. It's been quite a while since you've written in the ivory pages, and you flip to a fresh entry before pulling out your pen Arthur had given you from that man in Blackwater.

I thought he was dead. Guess the fear of losing him won over the fear of having him, because when he returned to me safely, having him was all I could manage to do. I poured my heart out to him finally, and he waited for me just as promised. Things are better now. I have hope.

A single tear drips down onto the page as your pencil hovers over the entry. Your head snaps upwards at the sound of three harsh knocks on the beam of your tent. Quickly you look up, seeing black boots from underneath the tent flaps. You wipe your eyes, quickly standing up.

"Come in." You call, and Dutch parts the canvas with one hand, stepping into your tent. His stature towers over you menacingly, there's an intention to his gaze, but you only sigh, turning your back to him as you tidy up your bedside table.

"Dutch." You greet curtly, moving some dried wildflowers and herbs to the top left corner of your table.

"Where have you been?" Dutch asks, jaw set. You turn your head around, looking at him like he's a fool.

"I've been at the river, looking for Arthur." You huff. Dutch hums deep in his chest, thinking over the information you've just given him.

"I heard the train was a mess." Dutch adds, eyes looking down at yours. You don't know what he's getting at, or where this is leading but he's really beginning to irritate you, and you grit your teeth.

"Clearly. Boys came home with three people instead of five. I'd say that's a mess." You bite, slamming a few homemade tonics onto the table a little harsher than necessary as you organize them. Dutch leans over you from behind just enough to grab one of the wildflowers from your table, a violet, and he spins it between his thumb and index finger.

"Why is that? What went wrong?" He asks.

"Cause the conductor was dead…? Didn't one of the boys fill you in on this?" You sigh.

"Yes, but I was hoping for the perspective of someone more… integral to the aftermath."

You turn around, and Dutch grips the violet tightly. He nearly has you trapped in and you can barely see over his large shoulder as he steps forward threateningly. You don't know what he wants or how to appease him.

"What do you want, Dutch?" You growl, back pressed tightly against your side table to avoid his touch. You glare daggers at him.

"I just find it mighty strange that the first real job I put you on, my best man manages to nearly get himself killed. He never misstepped before you came along. He's smart." Dutch growls, and you swear his lip curls.

"You're losing it Dutch." You huff, shaking your head, realizing that Dutch thinks you messed up the train job. As if what happened was your fault.

"No. I'm just trying to figure things out. I'm keeping my eyes on you, miss. I don't trust you yet." Dutch says, stepping one more step toward you. He places the violet behind your ear with a sickeningly satisfied smirk, and you shy away from his hands. Then Dutch is leaning down close to your face.

"Trust has to be earned." He hisses, chuckling deep in his throat. Your knuckles are white from where they grip onto the table behind you, back pressed tightly against the wood.

"Dutch?" A voice calls from the entrance to the tent. Arthur. You release a breath as Dutch backs away. His threatening glare turns like the flip of a switch into a charismatic smile. He turns around to Arthur then, smiling just the same.

"Arthur! Glad you're home, son. Oh and tomorrow I want you to go and get Micah. The boy has done his time." Dutch says, patting Arthur on the back as he walks through the tent exit. Left reeling, you pull the violet out of your hair and toss it onto the ground angrily. You shudder a breath, watching the purple flower on the ground.

"You okay? What the hell was that about?" Arthur asks, coming forward and looking you over.

You sigh, anger replacing coyness as you strut towards your bed, shoving your journal back into your satchel.

"He thinks that I- I don't know what he thinks- that I set up the train job? Or that it's my fault you fell somehow?" You huff, slamming the flap to your satchel as you sit down on the bed.

"He said that?" Arthur asks, stepping forward with his hands on his belt. He sits down on your bed next to you, looking at you with concern. He's not oblivious to the way Dutch seems to be slipping, even though he doesn't want to believe it.

"He implied it." You say, shaking your head. You can't believe Dutch, what he's blaming you for. What happened on the train was no one's fault, certainly not yours.

You cross your legs on the cot, sighing and leaning your head on Arthur’s shoulder. You've been back five minutes and Dutch has already ridiculed you.

Arthur leans into your touch, placing his palm on your thigh.

"Why don't we go into town for the rest of the day. They know I'm alive now. No harm in headin' out, no one expects us to be back runnin' just yet." Arthur suggests, and you look up to him, your head still resting against his warm arm.

"But we just got back… I don't want people to think we're slackin' off." You point out, leaning back from Arthur as he reaches into his satchel.

"Let them think, c'mon. We'll take the rest of the day for ourselves." Arthur adds, and your eyes widen as he pulls a thick wad of cash out of his satchel.

"This is yours. After everything, the boys did get the take." He says, taking your palm in his hand and placing the cash in it. Your eyes boggle as you take the cash, running your eyes over the sum.

"Jesus-" You whisper, counting out two thousand dollars, swallowing thickly.

"I can't keep this all Arthur, surely some should get spread around the camp." You say, eyes flickering up to him as you grip the money in your hand. Arthur chuckles, looking at the sparkle in your eyes.

"No, that's your piece. Half of the take goes to the camp, that little box behind Dutch's tent. The other half gets divided up between them who worked the job." Arthur explains, and you smile.

"I ain't never had this much money in my life… what should I buy?" You ask, glancing up to him with a smile that warms his heart.

"Why don't we get your guns fixed up, engraved to your likin'?" Arthur suggests and your eyes twinkle.

"And a bath?" You ask.

"And we'll get you a bath." Arthur chuckles, his hand on the small of your back, "C'mon gather your things. It'll be fun, just the two of us." Arthur helps you up, and walks to the exit of your tent. Just as he parts the canvas, he stops and turns back to you.

"And Star?" He asks.

"Hmm?"

"Pack a bag. We'll rent a room for the night." He winks at you, and then he's gone outside as your breath shudders. A shiver runs up your spine, and you turn to your wardrobe to avoid the distraction.

You rummage through your things, grabbing a fresh pair of clothes, knowing you won't be needing them until the morning. You grab your carbine, swinging it over your shoulder before heading out.

When you exit the tent, you scan the area, and find Arthur tightening the straps on Athena's saddle. With a smile, you step forward, but are almost knocked over by Strauss as he scurries in front of you.

"Asshole." You hiss under your breath, following after him towards Arthur.

"Herr Morgan!" Strauss calls out, and you see Arthur roll his eyes from behind Athena.

"Whatchu want?" Arthur grumbles, patting the mare lightly before stepping around her, towards you.

"I have a debtor for you." Strauss says plainly, and your stomach turns sour.

"Name?" Arthur asks, and your brows wrinkle as you look up to him.

"His name is Thomas Downes, a farmer. A failing one at that. He owes us quite a lot. I trust you'll get that money back by whatever means possible?" Strauss asks, hinting to the beating you're sure will fall upon the man, the same beatings your father died from.

"Arthur…" You whisper, glancing between the two men. You won’t tell him what to do, he’s an adult, but your mind begs him not to go. Your father was a debtor, and you suffered for it. You know nothing good comes from the loaning business. Arthur turns back to you for a moment, biting his cheek. He looks over you quickly, and then turns back to Strauss with a sigh.

“No. I’m takin’ the lady out for the afternoon. Do your own damn dirty work, or find someone else.” Arthur bites back, harsher than you’d expected. You’re proud of the man for standing up for himself, something he seems to struggle with when the gang comes calling. You’re proud of him for choosing not to beat a man to death over a few odd dollars like they did to your daddy.

“But Herr Morgan-” Strauss says, walking after you both. Arthur places his hand in your lower back, urging you onto Athena.

“No, now shut up. Go bother someone else with your loanin’.” Arthur growls, leaving no room for Strauss to argue. Like a wounded animal, he sulks back to his tent.

“C’mon, I’ve been here an hour and I’m about sick of this place.” Arthur sighs, clambering up into Balius’s saddle.

— — —

You swing Athena’s reins over the hitching post as you dismount, stepping up onto the sidewalk as you wait for Arthur. The saloon is loud for the early hour, and your stomach turns at the sight of it. You’ve hitched the horse’s down in front of Nils’ blacksmithing shop, leaving them closer to the hotel for later. You smile at Arthur as he dismounts, coming up to the sidewalk with you.

“Whatchu wanna do first? Go to the gunsmith?” Arthur asks, looking down the street. You’re about to open your mouth when a deep, booming voice calls to you from behind.

“Miss!”

You turn around with a confused look, but it blossoms into a smile when your eyes land upon Mr. Geddes, the man who works with Nils.

“Mr. Geddes, good to see you again.” You offer as he shakes your hand.

“I'm afraid I didn’t catch your name, miss.” Mr. Geddes says, and you blush, put on the spot. You tell him your real name, and Arthur glances down at you with some confusion. You never use your real name with strangers, but for some reason you trust Mr. Geddes.

“And this is Arthur Morgan, my… my- suitor.” You chuckle, put on the spot. You blush at the term, hoping Arthur won’t mind it. What are you supposed to call him? Your friend? The man you’re in love with? You bite back a laugh.

“Yes, that would be me.” Arthur huffs, shaking Mr. Geddes’ hand.

“Ah, I see you’re the lucky recipient, it’s a fine piece. Handmade.” Mr. Geddes points to the decoration on Arthur’s hat, and Arthur nods.

“I just wanted to say hello, you two have a fine afternoon.” Mr. Geddes says, tipping his hat.

“Thank you Mr. Geddes.” You offer as he raises a hand, stepping back towards his shop. With that, you start walking towards the gunsmith, leaving Arthur catching up.

“Who in the hell was that?” Arthur asks, walking quickly to keep up with you.

“Mr. Geddes, he works with the blacksmith, got a bunch of land I guess, sells a lot of tools.” You shrug, explaining all you know about the man.

“Seemed awful excited to see you.” Arthur points out and you smirk. Is he… jealous?

“Most are, Arthur.” You smile at your sarcasm, “He’s a kind fella. Helped me out when I got your hat ornament.” You explain, and Arthur hums.

“Quit bein’ so sour, we’re on a date.” You say, falling into step with him.

“Well I hope I’m doin’ good, y'know, since I’m your suitor and all.” Arthur chuckles and you roll your eyes.

“I was put on the spot, what else was I supposed to say?” You laugh, pushing open the door to the gunsmith.

“I don’t know.” Arthur admits, voice getting quieter now that you’re inside.

“What can I do for you fine folks?” The gunsmith asks, a middle aged, dark haired man.

“Gettin’ the lady’s guns cleaned and engraved to her likin.” Arthur says for you, and you pull your carbine over your shoulder, placing it on the table. You blush at the state of it. It’s a fine gun, but it’s never been upgraded and you don’t clean it like you should.

“She gets a lot of use, huh?” The gunsmith asks regarding your weapon and you nod.

“Mounted shooting, bit of a hobby.” You lie with a smile, and Arthur raises an eyebrow at the way your lie slips through so naturally. You make a fine outlaw.

“Really?” The gunsmith asks, in awe, “Bet you have a good nag for that.” He chuckles, and you nod.

“Yes, the best.”

He flips your gun around, looking at the barrel.

“Okay I can do a lot with this. I’ll give it a proper cleanin’ and if you want we can improve the stocks and barrel. Anything you like, really. On the matter of the engravin, we have a few styles and colors to choose from. If you get an engravin’ on the grip, you can put somethin’ big like an animal. I got a real fine artist, he can do whatever you like.” The gunsmith explains as you place your revolver on the counter as well.

“Here’s some samples, go ahead n’ look through them and let me know about any upgrades.” The gunsmith says, stepping back. He grabs a case of gun oil from his counter and gets to work taking your carbine apart.

“There’s so many options…” You whisper to Arthur, looking through colors of leather for stock wraps, and examples of engravings. Arthur nods, looking at the table over your shoulder.

“Take your time, find somethin’ you like.” Arthur says.

You flip through the samples for a while, but eventually you pick a dark, walnut colored leather stock wrap, and you pick some engravings.

“I want this leather, but..” You put the engraving samples aside, “You said your engraver can do anything?” You ask.

“Sure.”

“Can I get constellations?” You ask, biting your lip, hoping that he’ll be able to.

“Of course! I think old William will find it to be a nice change of pace. Anything else?” The gunsmith asks, and you tap your foot, looking down to your revolver.

“Do all the improvements on both guns, and can I get the constellations on this one too?” You ask, sliding the revolver across the counter.

“Course!” He says, taking your weapon and unloading it.

“Oh! And a wolf.” You add, and Arthur smirks behind you, “That’s all, I swear it.”

“No problem at all, miss. I reckon you’ll be able to pick these up in the morning. William should be done by then.” The gunsmith says, brushing down the interior of your carbine’s barrel.

“Thank you, mister.” You smile brightly, looking at Arthur then. It feels damn good to have enough money to buy yourself something nice for once, something more than the bare minimum. You have nice clothes, a nice horse, nice weapons. It feels good. Arthur leads you out of the gunsmith then, and starts walking across the street towards the Keane’s saloon, avoiding Smithfield’s like the plague.

“Hungry?” Arthur asks.

“A little.” You admit, walking side by side. A wagon rolls passed, and you wait, letting them go on before continuing across.

“C’mon, let's get somethin’ to eat.” Arthur says, hand on the small of your back as you cross the street.

Keane’s saloon is smaller than Smithfield’s. It was the original town saloon, and when Smithfield’s opened, it took all the business away, leaving Keane’s in the dust. When you enter, there are only two patrons in the entire bar, a finely dressed man sitting at the bar with no drink in hand, and a clearly wasted man, armed to the teeth with iron, throwing up in the can. You wrinkle your nose, walking up to the bar with Arthur.

There is a little menu on the counter that reads: Beer, Whiskey, Lamb fry, Oatmeal.

“I’ll have a lamb’s fry, the lady can get what she wants, it's on my tab.” Arthur says, pulling out a handful of dollars.

“The oatmeal.” You hum, curiously side-eyeing the man at your side. He’s staring at Arthur, specifically the guns strapped to his hips, and some sweat collects on your forehead with anxiety.

“N’ a beer and a whiskey.” Arthur finishes up, handing over enough cash to cover the current tab. His hand reaches to hold your elbow, but you don’t let him pull you away from the bar. Instead, you turn to the well dressed man, a little fella with too much pomade in his balding hair.

“Can I help you?” You ask, sounding irritated. If there’s a problem, you’ll handle it. There’s no reason for the man to be openly staring at his weapons, unless he recognizes you both, or wants trouble.

The man is shaken out of his trance, looking up at you from his seat at the bar. He looks mighty nervous when he sees the irritated look on your face.

“I was wondering if you could, actually. That man over there, he’s a fine gunslinger- Jim Boy Calloway. Im writin’ a book about his adventures, getting the first hand account of his old gang. I have one person left to interview, but I can’t go after her. Surely, she’ll kill me!” He says, getting awfully worked up. You glance across the room to the throwing up man. He's scrawny and weak, old, and the revolvers on his hips are nothing more than rust.

“Sorry, he’s a famous gunslinger?” You chuckle, pointing to the inebriated fool in the corner.

“Yes! Best draw in the west! – Oh! How rude of me not to introduce myself, Theodore Levin, pleased to meet you.” He says, and you nod, taking his offered hand. Arthur is watching the scene play out carefully from behind you, leaning on the bar while drinking his beer. You don’t introduce yourself.

“Now I see those holsters, miss. You haven’t gotten me fooled so easily! Are you a gunslinger too? And a lady! How perfect, you must go after the Black Belle!”

“A gunslinger?” You chuckle, “Nothin’ of the sort.” You say, taking the whiskey as the tender sets it down on the bar.

“Who’s the Black Belle, anyway?” You ask, bringing the drink to your lips. Levin’s eyes light up.

“She’s a gunslinger- she's incredible. A woman outlaw– who would have thought a woman capable?” He says, amazed. You squint at him, quelling the rage in your stomach. The man’s clearly a fool, you don’t hold it against him.

“Oh– I didn’t mean a thing by it!” He quickly recovers. Arthur puts his beer down on the table a little harsher than necessary, coming up behind you. He stands at your back, one hand on your waist as he addresses the man.

“We’re actually on a date of sorts, so if you could kindly leave us be, I’d appreciate it, friend.” Arthur hisses, and you smirk at his coin ‘friend.’ You love when he does this.

“I’ll pay you! Handsomely!” Levin stumbles over his words, pulling out a few pieces of paper and a pen. You sigh, rolling your eyes lightly before looking to the back of the saloon to see if your food is nearly done.

“Whatchu want?” Arthur asks, encouraged to continue by the offer of money.

“Find Black Belle and ask her about Jim Boy Calloway.” Levin says, emphasizing the annunciation of the ‘gunslinger’s’ name.

“Why?” Arthur asks, leaning back on the bar. Levin sighs, already having answered this question.

“I'm writing a book about him and I need her accounts!” He explains again, and you nod.

"Here's her picture and some important information including her last known location and my P.O. box. If you find her, I'll need a quote and a picture! Do you have a camera mister?" Levin explains and asks, handing you a small envelope with a few items in it. You take it, tucking it away neatly in your satchel.

"Yeah, I got a camera." Arthur replies, sounding frustrated.

"Thank you, we'll think on it." You smile. Jim boy Calloway stumbles from the can, slurring his words and cursing as he stumbles out the front door.

"Oh my… I uh- Best of luck to you now!" Levin smiles, worriedly rushing towards the door, yelling after the old gunslinger.

You turn to Arthur with a chuckle and a raised eyebrow.

"What an odd man." You huff.

"Very odd- now, go find a seat. I'll bring your food over." Arthur says, and you nod.

You take your drink and walk towards the window, hearing Arthur mutter something about having you to himself for five goddamn minutes. You can't help but laugh. Besides, he'll have you to himself plenty come nightfall, you're sure.

At the thought, you glance out the window, taking a seat at a table beside it. Wagons roll by, and orange light filters through the glass from the sun resting behind the tops of the mountains. It's beautiful.

Arthur watches from across the room, an uptick of a smile on his lips, the kind that makes his crow's feet wrinkle lightly. The light covers you like a halo as you watch the people go by, looking out the window with curiosity.

"Oatmeal n' lamb." The barkeep hollers, placing the two dishes on the countertop. Arthur balances the plate and bowl, all while holding his beer and silverware as he comes over to you.

"Good spot." He says, placing everything on the table.

You take your spoon, watching carefully as he sits down with a groan and a wince.

"You hurting?" You ask, concerned. Arthur shakes his head, brushing it off as he grabs his fork.

"Nah, nothin' I can't handle." He mumbles, and you bite your cheek, making a note to keep an eye on it. Maybe you can stop at the general store on the way to the hotel, get him something for the pain. You're sure it's bad.

"I worry about you, y'know." You say, poking at your oatmeal with your spoon. Arthur eats his lamb, taking big bites.

"There's nothin' to worry about, Star. I'm alright, just a little sore." He reassures you.

"I'll get you something for the pain on the way to the hotel." You say, and he nods. He'll let you take care of him, he knows it'll ease your worries.

"You actually wanna go find that woman? The Black Belle or something?" Arthur asks, taking a bite of his food.

"Maybe. The money's good, I doubt old Levin wants to swindle us, but we should wait till we're out of Valentine first." You sigh, bouncing your knee as you push your oatmeal around your bowl. You're itching to get out of Valentine. As much as you love Horseshoe Overlook and its good memories, new and old, you don't like how close the law is. They're nearly breathing down your neck.

"What's wrong? You're barely pickin." Arthur points out. He's finished nearly half his plate, and you've done nothing but push yours around. You sigh, placing your spoon down on the table. A hundred things run through your mind.

"Just worried is all. Dutch, you gettin' Micah, the Pinkertons, we should have left already, Arthur. Then we hit that train and there's a lot of noise. What if they find us?" You whisper, voice quiet.

Arthur puts his fork down and takes your hand in his across the table. He looks right in your eyes, swearing to you.

"They won't find us. We're leavin' soon, I promise you. But tonight, don't worry about all that. It's a problem for tomorrow, todays about you and me." Arthur offers, squeezing your hand lightly. You nod quietly, picking your spoon up as you start to eat. The oatmeal is good and warm, and it fills you up quickly.

You and Arthur chat, eating together until your plates are both empty. When your bowl touches the wood, you squint, noticing the scuff marks and imprints on the table. You pick your bowl up, inspect underneath it, and smile. It's clear the table has been used for games. Games involving losing some fingers and earning some money.

“You wanna play five finger filet?” You smile devilishly, placing your bowl off to the side before pulling your knife out. Arthur looks down at the table, then up to you and immediately shakes his head.

“No- No.” Arthur argues, and you huff, rolling your eyes.

“Star–” Arthur begins before you interject him.

“What? Can’t handle it, cowboy?” You joke, scooching your chair back before stabbing your knife into the center of the table.

“I don’t want you slicin’ a goddamn finger off.” Arthur grumbles, and your shoulders slump. The barkeep watches from behind the bar, a smile on his face as he polishes glasses.

“I thought you were fun.” You pout.

“In my younger years.”

“Just one round?” You plead. Arthur sighs, clearing the table before grabbing your knife from the table.

“Alright. Just one.” He says, grabbing his pocket watch and placing it on the table.

Arthur goes first, and you watch the clock as he does. As the clock ticks down from thirty seconds, Arthur starts the pattern, hitting the table every time and not his fingers. He goes at a decent pace, but you know you can beat it. He gets six rounds before the second hand hits thirty, and you stop him.

“Six.” You smile, and he stabs the knife back into the center of the table, “You’re pretty good.” You admit with a smirk.

“Think you can beat me?” He asks, taking the golden watch from the old table.

“Oh, I know I can.”

You start quickly, and Arthur watches the time on the watch. Its hard to tell whether or not you’re going along faster than he did or not, but you focus your all into the game, trying not to lose any fingers in the process. When you hit five rounds you begin to smirk, then six… and then just before Arthur stops the clock, you get seven. You smile, holstering your knife.

“You’re gettin’ slow.” You joke, smiling as he rolls his eyes.

“That ain’t fair, you got smaller fingers than me.” Arthur complains, standing up from the table with you. You toss a five dollar bill on the table, rolling your eyes as he picks it up and hands it back to you before throwing his own bill down.

“Don’t be a sore loser.” You chuckle, walking towards the door, waving a hand at the barkeep.

Golden light filters over the mountaintops, casting the evening in a beautiful glow. The wagons and riders have mostly gone home, leaving the streets empty except for a few people enjoying the evening.

“I'm gonna stop at the general store quick, meet me at the hotel?” You ask, walking down the gunsmith’s side of the street. Arthur’s eyebrows pull together in confusion for a moment.

“Sure, you don’t want me to walk you?” He asks, and you chuckle.

“I can handle it just fine, have a maid start a bath for me.” You ask, placing your hand on his arm before letting go. He nods, walking down the sidewalk as you cross the street.

The general store has a few candles lit inside, so you push the door open, walking up to the counter.

“Evenin’ miss. We close in about thirty minutes, but take your time.” The shopkeeper greets you kindly. You nod, quickly looking over all that he has to offer before stepping up to the register.

“I won’t be a minute.” You smile, “You have a catalog mister?” You ask, and the man nods, reaching under the counter before pulling out a thick red book.

“Here’s the Wheeler and Rawson, we’ll deliver right to your home if you’d like.” He says, and you shake your head.

“That won't be necessary but thank you.”

You flip to the table of contents, running your eyes down the categories until you find the ‘tonics’ section. You flip to that specific page, looking over your options. You need something for pain, so you pick a health tonic, figuring the added herbs will help at least.

“I’ll take a health tonic, the regular one is fine.” You say, and the shopkeeper steps into a backroom to grab your item for Arthur.

You flip through the pages with your thumb, skimming over the pages when an image catches your eye. You stick your thumb on the page, looking over the clothes category. There, in the bottom corner, is an advertised silk robe. Its fancy, trimmings of lace on the cleavage, arms and along the bottom trim. It's long enough to touch the ground, and has a silk tie around the waist. It's hard to tell from the picture, but it looks very light, almost sheer due to its paleness. Your cheeks blush at the thought of you in it, and they burn at the idea of Arthur seeing you in it. It’s just a robe, you tell yourself, but hell is it a scandalous one.

The shopkeeper comes back with a dark green glass bottle of tonic, setting it in front of you while making a tab.

“Anything else you’d like?” The shopkeeper asks, and you look down to avoid his gaze.

“Yes just uh- this robe please. In white.” You ask nervously, but the shopkeeper remains professional, nodding and heading into the back. He comes back out with a decently small box; black, wrapped with a small white ribbon. The robe must be folded up inside. He places it next to the tonic, and adds it to your tab.

“That all for you, miss?” He asks and you nod, pulling a big wad of cash from your satchel. You glance down at the catalog, eyes going wide when you see the price of the robe- nearly one hundred dollars, but you figure it’ll be worth it.

“109.99 please.” The man asks, and you hand over 110. He gives you back your penny, and you stuff it all into your satchel, wondering if the passersby outside will somehow know what you’ve just purchased. You ignore it, taking your written receipt and heading out.

“Thanks mister!” You holler, pushing the door open.

You glance towards the blacksmith’s to where Balius and Athena are hitched, noticing that the stablehands have refilled the troughs and left them hay. Athena's golden ears pop up when she sees you walking across the street, and you smile at her before stepping onto the platform towards the All Saint’s Hotel.

You push the hotel door open with your new items tucked away in your satchel. Immediately upon entrance, the owner recognizes you, and you put your hand up to stop him from speaking.

“I don't want trouble. A man came in here about ten minutes ago, where is he?” You ask, cutting to the chase. The clerk seems to appreciate your honesty, nodding as he points down the hall.

“He rented a bath.” The man says, “Now I’m goin’ home for the night in an hour so miss, no trouble, please.” He pleads, and you roll your eyes at his repetition.

“You’ll get none from us.” You say, walking down the hallway.

Now that you’re familiar with the layout, having been here on more than one occasion, you go down to the bathroom. Your hand hovers over the wood, ready to knock, but you lower it, simply turning the door knob instead.

Lavender scented steam wafts out the door upon you opening it, and you inhale deeply as you step inside. Arthur is kneeling on the ground, his shirt sleeves rolled up as he swishes his hand around in the sudsy water, stirring up the bubbles. Rose petals and oats float on the surface of the water, and it smells as if he's put lavender oil in the bath as well. You shut the door behind you, and Arthur’s head pops up at the noise.

“I can leave if you like.” Arthur says, standing up from the ground, “I was just gettin’ the water ready.”

“Isn’t there a bath maid for that? Or a working woman?” You ask. Typically someone gets the water ready. You feel bad he’s had to do it himself.

“Yes,” Arthur gestures to the bath, “but I know you like the lavender soap, and the water real hot so I told them I’d take care of it.”

You smile at him, taking care of you like a gentleman, and then remember that you have to take care of him too.

“I got you something for your pain.” You mention, carefully reaching around the ribbon tied box in your satchel to grab the tonic. Arthur huffs.

“You didn’t have to, I'm alright-”

“Please just drink it Arthur, it would make me feel better.” You explain, and he smirks, taking the bottle before popping the cap off and taking a long swig. He makes a sour face, but drinks enough down before stuffing it into his satchel.

“Thank you.” He says, tipping his head.

Arthur moves for the door, wiping his hands on a hand towel, but you grip his forearm, stopping him before he can step out.

“Don’t go.” You plead, grip tight on his arm. When he turns to catch your eyes, he can see how much you want him to stay. So of course he does. He'd move the heavens or fetch you the moon if you asked him to.

Arthur takes his time undressing you. He unties your little neckerchief first, setting it neatly on the dressing table before he moves to the bigger items of your clothing. With the adrenaline from your crashing together gone, you find yourself a bit self conscious as he strips you of your clothes, but you say nothing. Your breath shudders against him as he undoes the buttons of your shirt, it’s something he picks up on immediately.

“You’re nervous.” He points out. You nod lightly.

“A little.” You admit, thinking of what the rest of the night will entail. You were too worried about his safety last night, you didn’t have time to doubt yourself or feel insecure.

“S’okay. Let’s just get you cleaned up, we don’t gotta do anythin’ sweetheart.” He offers quietly, and you nod. He pulls your shirt down over your arms, eyes running over your body.

“So perfect…” He whispers, thumb rubbing circles over the skin below your breasts. You smile at his compliment, some of the anxiety falling away before he lowers you into the bath.

The water is hot, the perfect temperature as your skin meets its embrace. The tub is deep, and the water comes just over your breasts once you relax against the lip of the tub. The aroma of lavender swirls through your head, replacing any remaining anxiety with bliss. Arthur gets back on his knees beside the tub, and your hand snakes out from the soapy water to rest on top of his.

“This is perfect, thank you.” You sigh, eyes slipping shut. There is a nice, tooled slat of wood over the bath, and on it is a small assortment of soaps and a half filled decanter of whiskey. It looks expensive

the crystal reflects the firelight beautifully, shimmering and sparkling like snow in fresh light. Arthur picks up the crystal decanter and pours two glasses. You sit up to take the one offered to you, sipping the burning liquid. Arthur dips a small pail into the water, filling it completely.

“Close your eyes, darlin’.” Arthur says just over a whisper, and you set your drink down before slipping your eyes shut. Warm water cascades down your hair and back, but none gets on your face or eyes from the hand Arthur uses to shield them. He rinses your hair until it's completely drenched before placing the bucket down.

There is a rose scented bar of soap on the bath table, and Arthur grabs it, lathering it between his hands. Then his hands are entangled into your hair, scrubbing and scratching at your scalp as you moan. Arthur chuckles at your reaction, his fingers working delicately to scrub your hair, getting your scalp thoroughly clean all the way.

“That smells so good.” You exhale, eyes closed as Arthur fills the pail again and begins rinsing your hair out. After a handful of rinses, your hair is all clean and he brushes through it with his fingers. Once he’s done, you look up to him, overcome with the emotion of him taking care of you. No one has ever treated you so kindly. You look into his green eyes. They are unnoticing of your gaze, directed to where he sets the bucket down.

“Kiss me.” You plead, arms resting on the side of the bath as you lean over the metal lip. Arthur leans forward, his hand lining your cheek as he takes your lips. You tilt your head, opening your mouth as Arthur gives you butterflies, yet again. When he pulls away, his eyes are searching yours with a question.

“Back when I was in here, after Tommy… You almost kissed me. Why didn’t you?” Arthur asks. He realizes it's unimportant now, but he’s still curious. You had pulled away from him, and then curled into his bed the same night. Your head falls some, and you play with your hands under the murky water.

“Guess I was just afraid… of hurting you or getting hurt.” You admit out loud, and it feels good to get off your chest. Arthur sees the sadness creeping onto your face, and he's quick to fix it.

“None a’ that dancin’ around matters now.” Arthur whispers, index finger hooking under your chin, pulling you to plant one small kiss to your lips. You could kiss him forever and never get used to it.

He picks up the rose scented bar again, reaching behind him to grab a washcloth. You watch the bubbles pop under his touch as he lathers the cloth, dipping it under the murky water again. You slip your eyes closed, relaxing fully as he runs the cloth over your neck and chest.

His hand heats up the washcloth all on its own as he spreads the soap across your body. Silently, with a wrinkle of concentration, he cleans you up. Your wet skin glistens in the firelight, goosebumps rising on your arms

“You just wanna relax for a bit longer?” Arthur asks, and you nod, sinking deeper into the bath.

"Okay, sweetheart. Take your time, just come knock on the door when you're finished. I got the big room, 1A."

"I'll be right up." You smile, bringing your knees up to your chest under the water.

Arthur wipes his hands on the hand towel before walking out of the room. Your eyes flicker to your satchel resting on the little table beside your clothes, and you bite your lip, thinking of the bow tied box resting in it. Your fingers tap along the side of the bath for just a moment before you push yourself up, water dripping down from your hair as you step out of the tub.

The bath towel is big and soft on your skin, wrapping you up completely as you dry yourself and your hair as best as you can. Then the gray cotton slumps to the floor as you drop it, stepping forward to the table.

The box is of fine quality, and you pull the white ribbon, watching it release until it flutters to the ground. You pull the top of the box off, revealing the white silk robe. It's absolutely stunning, even more beautiful than in the catalogue as you pull it out.

You smile as you pull it over your shoulders, tying the silk ribbon at your waist before moving to the mirror. White silk cascades down from your hips, pooling on the floor in a small train. The lace on your chest and arms isn't scratchy, but soft, and it leaves just enough to the imagination. It's absolutely indecent to wear anywhere but to bed, but you have a few plans in mind. Smiling at yourself in the mirror and bouncing on your toes, you move to the door.

The hotel clerk should have gone home by now, but you still crack the door open and peek your head out. You hear nothing and see no one, so quietly you step out. The door clicks behind you, and you gather your silk skirt in your hand, scurrying into the hallway and up the stairs as quickly as possible. The wood is cold on your bare feet as you carry all your items, smiling and feeling like a schoolgirl as you run up the empty staircase.

You know he's waiting for you, and you wonder if he has anything else planned or if he's waiting to take you to bed. Either way, you smile, reaching the top of the steps and turning left. The door labeled 1B reaches your eyes, and you raise your hand to knock.

"Arthur? It's me." You whisper, knocking lightly on the door. You hear footsteps approaching before the door unlocks. You fix your robe quickly, pulling the cleavage down just a little, before the door opens.

"You enjoy your…?" Arthur pauses, eyes on yours before he slowly trails them down your figure. He swallows thickly, seeing the way the silk clings to your body before pooling to the ground past your hips. His eyes flicker up to the lace at your cleavage, and he blushes something fierce, reaching for your hand.

"Star.. you look- where did you get this?" He chuckles, blushing even further as he rubs some of the silk between his fingers.

"The store." You smile, hair falling down in front of your face as you look down at yourself.

"You look incredible." He whispers, hand resting on your waist. It's then that he realizes all that you're carrying, and he curses himself, taking your satchel and boots from your hands

"Shit- I'm sorry. Here, let me take your things." Arthur whispers, setting everything down on the dresser. You step inside, hands toying together as you wait.

"I got one more thing planned, c'mon." Arthur smiles proudly, taking your hand.

You walk side by side as he leads you down the hall. You pick up your skirts again, and you notice the way Arthur looks down at you on multiple occasions, groaning ever so lightly in his chest.

He leads you to the end of the hall, and out the door onto the back porch. It's just a small platform, and the only way to go is down the stairs. When you look over at Arthur, he's eyeing the roof, and your eyes go wide.

"Forgive me for not havin' a proper way to get you up here." Arthur chuckles and you roll your eyes.

"I ain't never been proper, now help me up." You joke, watching him jump up and grab the roof. He pulls himself up with a surprising amount of ease.

"You climb buildings often?" You laugh as he leans down and takes your hand.

"Usually, when I'm robbin' 'em." Arthur huffs, pulling you up as gently as he can manage. Eventually you not so gracefully land on the roof. It's flat, and from it you can see the the tops of The Grizzlies, the entire way down to the plains in Blackwater. You stare in awe, stepping closer to the edge as you look out over the town and the miles of nature beyond.

"It's beautiful." You whisper as Arthur stands behind you, pulling your back to his chest.

"Sure is." Arthur mumbles, eyes on you as his hands grip your waist.

"Got some chocolate n whiskey." Arthur says, and you turn around curiously.

You hadn't even noticed the decent sized, thick blanket resting in the middle of the roof, or the bottles of Tennessee whiskey and the chocolate bar. Your lips form into a pout as you step forward, robe swaying in the breeze as you lay down on your back.

"Come sit with me." You ask of him, and he comes forward, resting beside you on the blanket.

You lay beside him, hands resting on your stomach as you look up at the sky.

"Been a while since I looked at 'em." You point out, eyes running over the bright stars. You look over the clusters, how they shine and shimmer, wondering if that same shine still resides in you.

"I noticed." Is all he says.

"Which is your favorite?" You ask, finding lupus and locking your eyes on his howling figure.

"My favorite star?" He asks, looking over to you.

"Well, yeah, star- or your favorite constellation." You clarify.

"Never really thought much about it." He says, and then it grows quiet. So much has changed since Tumbleweed, and yet you stare up at the same stars you looked at all that time ago. It frightens you, knowing how badly things have gone in such a short amount of time.

"What now, Arthur?" You ask, taking the chocolate and breaking it into pieces, "Where are we goin'? What is Dutch's grand plan?" You ask. Arthur sighs, the same worries clouding his head.

"Well, we're supposed to be headin' out west. We still are, if we can get around the law." Arthur explains.

"And if we can't?"

"Dutch has a plan. He'll get us outta this, he always does." Arthur says, his faith to Dutch shows, blind as it may be.

"What else is on your mind?" Arthur asks, hand gripping yours from where it rests between your bodies. You hold his hand on your abdomen, playing with his fingers to distract yourself.

"Tell me about Mary." You blurt out. You don't regret it though. Now that you're together, the matter of his ex-fiancé sending him letters is something that should concern you. Arthur stills beside you, and then his head turns, looking to your eyes.

"Okay I will, but you gotta give me somethin' too. No more closin' off." He mumbles, and you nod. You don't have anything to hide from him anymore.

Arthur sits up on the blanket, and you follow suit, grabbing one of the whiskey bottles and setting it in front of him. He undoes the cap, bringing the bottle to his lips before handing it back to you.

"Well Mary n' I met when we was real young, even before Eliza. I was just a kid- eighteen." Arthur sighs. You take a drink from the whiskey bottle, savoring the burn, and hand it back to him.

"We were fools, living separate lives. We wanted different things entirely, but still eachother somehow. She was high society. I'd been runnin' with Dutch for three years, was still learnin' to read and write." Arthur laughs humorlessly.

"Asked her to marry me, she said yes. But her daddy didn't like me one bit. He said I was a 'no good degenerate'. Guess he was right on that account."

"He was not right." You correct, stealing back the whiskey and drinking some down. Owls hoot in the distance, and your head looks in their direction for just a moment before you return to Arthur.

"He treated me real bad; humiliated me, scolded me. Came a point where Mary broke it off. Said her daddy wouldn't allow her, but she also didn't want my life or my money. Just… didn't work out." He sighs.

Your eyes flicker from the bottle you've just handed him up to his eyes, sensing the deep, old pain.

"Did you love her?" You ask, pulling your legs closer to yourself.

"Thought I did. It's different, I guess. Back in that time I thought I loved her, but it weren't like-" He trails off, shaking his head.

He thought that he loved Mary, but Arthur never loved her like he loves you.

You swallow thickly, wondering if those were the words on the tip of his tongue. Either way it doesn't matter, he never says them.

"You ever been in love?" Arthur asks, and you frown, playing with the lace cuff of your robe.

"No." You state plainly.

"Why?" Arthur asks, eyebrows pulling together. He was surprised to find out that you had never taken to a man, and he's even more surprised to find that you've never loved one. He hands you the whiskey, sure you need it.

"I stayed home most of my childhood. Didn't get much chance to meet boys. Momma home schooled me, so I didn't have school mates." You take a swig of whiskey, slipping your eyes closed as it burns a trail down your throat.

"Never had the chance to fall in love really. After my daddy died and I killed that man, I- I never got close to no one." You admit, hoping he won't judge you for being on your own for so long. When you glance up, you find no judgment, just understanding.

"And how long we're you runnin? You didn't run with anyone? You didn't have anyone with you at all?" Arthur asks, wondering how you navigated it all on your own. He sees a whole new strength to you, and begins to understand why you have so many walls up.

"About a year, I think." You admit, a tear slipping down your cheek that you wipe away, "You're the first person I ever opened up to."

Your lip trembles, looking up to him with watery eyes. It frustrates you, how much you've been crying lately, and you huff, wiping them away with your sleeve.

"Stayed closed off to avoid gettin' hurt and hurtin' others. It worked… till you came along." You chuckle, a smile breaking through your tear-tracked face.

He takes one of your hands, soothingly running his thumb over your knuckles. Amongst your upset, the shoulder of your robe has slipped down your shoulder, and Arthur leans in to fix it so you're not left indecent.

"Can I ask you somethin'?" Arthur asks. You nod, he can ask anything at all.

"Your daddy… You said he was real mean after he took to the bottle?" Arthur asks, and you nod, unsure of where he's going.

"Yes." You say, not following his train of thought.

"He ever hurt you?" Arthur asks, and you look down to his hand on yours, avoiding his gaze.

"Sometimes, yes, when he was drunk."

"Why did you fight for him, Star?" Arthur asks, voice quiet. Your eyes flicker up to his green ones, and you look almost offended by his ask.

"What do you mean?" You ask, a bit defensively.

"When my daddy died, I reckon it was the first good day a' my life." Arthur admits, swallowing heavily, "It was me that got the law." Arthur admits, searching your eyes for any hatred or disgust and finding none. He's never told a soul that, not even Dutch or Hosea. It was a secret he was sure he'd die with. Your eyes go wide, your hand stills on his.

"What?" You ask, not fully grasping what he's just said from the shock of it all.

"I set him up so he got hanged… Didn't put the rope around his neck, but I killed him just the same." Arthur says, no sense of regret in his eyes.

"I don't regret it, never did. So I'm just askin, why did you get revenge for your Pa if he was hurting you?" Arthur asks, and you're so thrown off by his question that you pull away from his touch, shaking your head. He's got this all wrong.

"I… After Momma died, all I had was memories. My daddy was hurtin', drunk and mean, but he was still my daddy, the same man who taught me to ride and shoot. He used to be kind before the drink got a hold of him." You whisper, tears welling in your eyes, but you don't let them fall.

"I guess I wasn't just takin' revenge for my daddy, but for what could have been. I could have been raised up good by my parents, gone to some ladies school or somethin." You laugh, but it's shortlived.

"They'd be real disappointed if they could see me now." You admit, thinking over your actions, your bounty and the growing number of victims you've left behind.

"No, no they would not be disappointed in you." He says, hands grabbing each of yours as he reassures you. You nod, trying to listen to his reassurances. He pulls you forward on the blanket until you're resting in between his legs, leaning against his chest. He wraps his arms around you, holding you tight against him.

"I'm proud of you for talkin' about it." Arthur whispers, pressing a kiss to your hair.

"It's not so hard, talkin to you." You admit to him. From his arms, you glance up at the sky and see a shooting star, it zips across the skyline before the fire dies out, and turns to nothing. When you glance over, you see Arthur is looking as well.

"What's your wish?" You whisper against his warm skin.

"Oh, I already got my wish, darlin." He whispers back, hand rubbing circles on your back.

— — — —

The door clicks shut behind Arthur, and your heart thrums in anticipation. You hear his spurs click as he walks up behind you, arms wrapping around your waist. The bed is huge. Its thick, red comforter is welcoming from where it's sticking out in the middle of the room. On the wall adjoined to the headboard is a fireplace, with orange flames that heat the room. Albeit the fire, your body seems to be heating all on its own with Arthur’s arms around you.

“You tired?” He asks, and you shake your head.

“No.” You stutter, frustrated with the way you melt into putty in his hands. You turn around in his arms, hands sliding up to rest on his chest with a deep breath.

“Show me what you want.” Arthur whispers, hands gripping onto your waist. Looking up to him, seeing the dark look in his eyes, the freckles that dot across his face like stars in the sky, the smile lines from old and new joys, it seems painfully obvious what you want.

“I want you.”

And of course, he gives himself to you. He always will. His hands find the ties to your silk robe, and with one small tug to the sheer, snow colored silk, it falls to the ground. Without the rushed fear that pulled you both together last time, Arthur can really take his time looking you over. His eyes trail down your form, hands finding purchase on your waist.

“So beautiful.” He mutters, smiling when his eyes land upon your face. Your hair is still wet, forming small waves as it falls down your back. You practically glow, and the room is filled with the aroma of lavender as you step closer to him, infiltrating all of his senses. You lean on your tiptoes to kiss him, heels only hitting the ground once he leans down to take your lips. The kiss is not desperate like it was the night before, but instead, slow and passionate and wanting. Your lips are soft against his, meeting his pace.

He holds your chin, tilting it to the side before his tongue slips into your mouth. It’s like a flower blossoming for the second time. You’d thought surely nothing could top the emotion and the feelings you had last night, but you were wrong. Again, a tether pulls you two together, and it's so tight that you're sure nothing could pull you two apart. You reach for the buttons to his shirt. The little plastic circles pull apart from their keepers quickly, as if understanding the importance of their juxtaposition.

You pop the buttons out one by one, gasping as Arthur's lips connect with your neck. Your fingers pause for a moment as you take a moment to lean into his kisses, exposing your neck to him further. You whimper as Arthur slowly kisses your neck, feeling some suction and a small nip.

"Arthur, you're gonna leave a mark." You whisper, eyes fluttering as your hands still on his buttons. He pulls away only for a second.

"Good." He mumbles, lips kissing down to your collarbone where he repeats the same process.

"People will see." You point out, but your body betrays your mind, leaning into his touch with a moan. Your hands find the strength to continue pulling buttons out of keepers, making progress on the shedding of his clothes.

"Let 'em see." He hums against your skin, leaving a few dark marks.. He runs his thumb over the splotches, soothing the throb.

Once the last button is undone, you tug upwards at the bottom of his shirt, pulling it out from where it's tucked into his chaps. His hands run over your body, gliding and fondling and squeezing until you slide his plaid shirt down over his arms. Your hands run over the expanse of his chest, pausing once they reach the trail of dusty blonde hair that trickles down his abdomen and disappears under his jeans. He does the honors of taking his gun belt off, dropping it down to the ground before doing the same for his chaps. You step toward him, fingers wrapping around the zipper to his jeans as you pull down the metal, anticipation growing with each click.

"You're so beautiful…" Arthur whispers, leaning in to kiss your lips. Your heart flutters with anticipation and lust and love, but it's over too quickly as he pulls away again.

"My star." He ghosts over your lips with his thumb, eyes looking into each of yours.

You shudder, looking up to him with wide eyes before urgently finishing with the button on his jeans. He steps out of the denim, leaving the two of you completely bare again.

The fire in the mantle burns nearly as bright as the one in your abdomen, warming the room and yourself. Arthurs hands are on you as soon as he's free from his clothing. In one stride he comes forward, one hand gripping around your waist while the other cups your cheek. Your heart melts as he kisses you again, walking forward until the backs of your knees hit the bed. Alcohol has loosened your limbs and secured your confidence, you know what you want. So, with swollen lips and sparkling eyes, you nudge Arthur towards the bed.

"Ya sure?" Arthur asks, making sure you're comfortable taking charge. You nod, pushing him lightly down to the bed. Arthur sits up with his back against the headboard, and you look at him, feeling so lucky. Fate really managed to align the stars for the two of you.

Your eyes trail over his body, from his silk hair, his green eyes, following the trail of brown hair until they reach his member, standing big and tall. You swallow, glancing back up to Arthur.

"We got all night." Arthur reassures you, extending his hand out. You take his hand, and he pulls you forward as you climb onto the bed and sit over him on your knees. You're face to face, your head sitting taller than his because you're raised on your knees. You take a moment to drink him in, your soft hands running over his tanned skin.

Your hands find purchase on either side of his face, and you pull him up to kiss you. He tastes like whiskey, and the smell of lavender and rose swirls between the two of you. You moan into his mouth needily before he pulls away. Your head tosses back and your fingers intertwine into Arthur's hair as he kisses your left breast, massaging the other with his hand.

He pulls away a fraction of an inch, breath hot on your skin.

"This okay?" He asks, and you nod with your eyes slipped closed, pulling him back to your chest.

His tongue licks over your nipple, a new sensation and a tantalizing one. You moan, a high pitched whimper, and Arthur has to compose himself for a moment. His fingers that are pinching your soft skin release, and he trails them down over your hip, across your thigh…

You gasp when they brush against your core, and Arthur's chest shudders when he feels just how wet you are for him. Arthur doesn't move, and you grind against his finger, gripping onto him tightly as you moan.

"Please."

It's all it takes, and he slips a finger inside, curling it until he feels that swollen sweet spot. You grip onto his shoulders, the firelight dancing in your eyes as you moan.

"My beautiful girl…" Arthur mutters, his palm rubs against your clit as he works you, lips kissing every inch of skin that they can reach.

His words spur you on, and your nails dig into his shoulders. Not wanting to wake the whole town with your noises, Arthur crashes his lips against yours. You moan against his mouth, the fluttering in your core turns to waves as you approach a climax against Arthur's hands. At first you think you should wait, climax with him instead of on his fingers, but it feels too good to stop him. His other hand traces over your skin, squeezing your hip.

"Don't– Don't stop." You whimper against his lips, and Arthur focuses on keeping a steady pace for you. It builds and builds until inevitably it comes crashing down, and your whole body is racked with waves of intense pleasure.

You pull away from his lips to gasp and moan, hips grinding against his hand perfectly as your orgasm hits you. Arthur's member is hard against his stomach, twitching with every one of the moans you elicit. Your legs shake on either side of him, your head tossed back, exposing your throat. You look so beautiful atop him, and he's the proudest man in the world knowing that he's the only one you're like this for.

"Easy darlin', you're doin' so good." He mumbles against the skin of your throat as you come down, panting.

"Shit, Arthur. That was so– that was so good." You pant, resting your forehead on his own as you try and catch your breath.

“Let me know when you’re ready.” Arthur whispers, breaths mixing in with your own. You take a few minutes to recuperate, catching your breath and waiting for the tingling in your core to subside. Arthur waits until you tell him to continue, hands gripping onto your legs and hips, kissing your neck and chest.

“I’m ready.” You nod, and he adjusts himself underneath you. You raise your hips off of his lap, guiding him inside you as you slide down onto his length.

“Oh-” You moan, tossing your head back as you wince slightly from the stretch. He can reach much deeper in this position, and it'll take some getting used to.

“Y’okay?” Arthur asks in between a groan.

“Yes.” You moan, whimpering as you slide down a bit further.

“Just go slow, it’ll make it easier, n’ we can stop if you want.” Arthur whispers against your skin. With him sitting up, your chests are nearly against eachother, giving him the perfect vantage point to lean up and whisper into your ear,

“No, I don’t want to stop, I’m okay.” You quickly respond. You slide down slowly until he’s completely buried in you, moaning as he bumps into your sensitive sweet spot again.

Even the firelight reflecting on the walls feels as if it's intruding this moment as you start to rise on your knees, riding Arthur. He groans deep in his chest, and it spurs you to continue on. You go slow, and pull Arthur’s face up to yours in a needy kiss. He fights back his instinct to groan into your mouth, whilst you don’t even attempt to stop yours.

“Oh it feels so good-” You moan, and Arthur smirks against your lips, gripping your hips to stop your movements. At first you worry you’ve done something wrong, or he wasn’t enjoying himself, but all your worries melt away as he drags your hips back and forth over him.

Immediately you shudder, arms wrapping around to the back of Arthur’s head as he kisses and toys with your breasts. With the way he’s maneuvering your hips, his tip bumps into your swollen g-spot, and your clit drags against his pelvic bone, giving you an intense mixture of pleasure.

“How's this feel?” He whispers against your chest, and you arch your back, rocking against him.

“Oh- Arthur, good, so good, please don’t stop.” You stumble over your words as he looks up to you.

Your eyes are slipped closed, mouth formed into an ‘o’ as you moan and whimper from his touch. You grip onto him with just as much need as you had last night, but somehow this feels even more intimate, because it's twenty four hours later and you’re still choosing each other. The adrenaline and the fear have passed, but the one constant is the want. Be it emotional or sexual, you both want each other impossibly more than the day prior. Looking up at you now, Arthur is sure he’s in love with you, madly, desperately in love with you. What he had with Mary is a mere spark compared to the overwhelming burn that he feels for you. He won’t tell you, not until you’re ready to hear it but he knows.

He continues his ministrations, and you feel the now familiar fluttering in your gut.

“Oh, I’m close, don’t stop-” You mutter again, losing your composure as you stutter and moan, whimpering and gripping him as tightly as you can. Your walls constrict around him as you come undone again, something you didn’t even know was possible. You curse loudly, hips rocking against him at that same tantalizing pace until your orgasm peaks and falls.

“Good girl, that’s it.” Arthur coos as you pant. It doesn’t take long with those noises you make, plus the sight of you alone.

“I ain’t-” Arthur groans, eyes squinted shut as he grabs your hips tightly, “I ain’t gonna last much longer.”

You keep your pace, incentive coming from the sound of his groans that fill the room. You can feel him twitching and pulsing inside you, and you know he must be teetering. With your arms wrapped around his neck, you kiss him one more time, lips locking together in between hushed pants and moans. Arthur groans against your lips, and in a swift movement he pulls out of you. His hips buck against your stomach a few times before he finishes between your bodies, groaning loudly. Your foreheads still rest against one another’s, beads of sweat trailing down your skin and covering you both in a glistening sheen.

“Christ alive, Star.” Arthur exhales, and you smirk.

“I dread going back to camp… how will we keep quiet?” You ask, slowly climbing off of him with a wince as he gets up from the bed.

“That's a problem for later.” Arthur chuckles. He gets a wet rag, one he’d brought up from the bath house, and puts expert care in cleaning you up. He’s gentle, wiping away his spend from your belly until you’re back to your fresh clean state. He picks your robe up from the floor, handing it to you before grabbing his jeans.

“Come sit on the deck with me.”

You catch your silk robe, pulling it over your shoulders. Arthur parts the french doors straight from the room out onto the deck, and you watch as he leans over the rail, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his satchel.You follow him, tying the silk ribbon as you step outside.

“New pack. You do the honors.” Arthur mumbles, holding the open pack of cigarettes out to you. You choose the one in the top left corner, pulling it out, flipping it, and sticking it back in. Then he picks a separate cigarette, placing it between your lips before lighting a match and holding it up to the smoke between your lips.

“Today was perfect. I mean that. Thank you, for everything, Arthur.”

You pass the cigarette back and forth until its spent, and then you sit on the deck and talk for a while. Eventually he pulls you back through the french doors and rids you of your fine robe all over again. It’s the only night you know you’ll have him. You both reckon the gang will be leaving soon, and who knows where you’ll end up. But tonight, none of these worries plague your mind. Your only concern is Arthur, and the feel of his body on, under and in yours. You cling to him tightly, spending the entire night together until the sun begins to peak past the horizon. New days are coming, days where you don’t have to hide behind your feelings anymore.

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow

series taglist: @catnotbread @chxosangxl @globetrotter28 @justalittlerayofpitchblack @fruittiest-of-loops @randomidk-123 @heyworld-whatsup @btsiguess-kpop @how-the-heck-would-i-know @rratman @eyelovie @mykneeshurt

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #rdr2 #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 fandom

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drizzledrawings · 9 months

Note

So what's the complete story so far with your two little lesbian girlbosses. Like how they met, how their relationship formed. Did they hate each other because of nationality? Are they on the run from something? Ect

Cowbians lore:

Mattie (strawberry blonde) is two years older than flora (brunette)

They met when they were both trying to steal from the same guy, mattie failed and flora pulled it off

Mattie went off to drink away her sorrows only to get into a big bar fight, and who saves her ass? Flora

Mattie is in pretty rough shape after that so Flora offers her some assistance (tense wound care,, so much tension)

They kinda fall into working with each other because of that night

Though they don’t become anything more than business partners until later

They pull of a few cons together, mattie doing the conning and flora doing the stealing, they become a pretty well oiled machine

They function like that for a few months before they run into some trouble

They get caught stealing on a longer con, as they make their get away Flora gets lassoed off her horse, mattie with no other option flees or else she’d get caught too

While flora sits in the jail cell crushed that mattie would just leave her, mattie is frantically trying to find a way to get her out

She breaks her out in the middle of the night, silently creeping around and getting the cell keys like flora had been teaching her to

After that they both kinda realize that they mean more to each other than just partners

They grow closer and closer until one night, they just come together like they’ve always been like that

How they fit into the rdr2 canon is kinda iffy cause I mostly just do what I want with them but the basic idea is: Hosea catches them in the act of pulling off a con and gives them his expert advice and with him they succeed

He brings them back to camp but they aren’t permanent at all, more like Trelawny. mattie also has an anti authority mindset (thanks to her daddy issues) so they aren’t as loyal to Dutch’s grand plans as the actual gang are, though flora really does like all of them. The two of them are more like buddies that sometimes team up to pull off jobs

And yes they are on the run, they both have hefty prices on their heads (Mattie’s is higher) so they’re always moving

#Cowbians #lesbian cowboys #cowboy lesbians #Flora and mattie #mattie and flora

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