#strauss was forcing arthur to go collect the downes debt

[that-thing-in-the-closet]

Pretty pictures from the first 3 weeks of Arthurs early retirement <3

#aster flowers #honestly im living out my own fix it au #strauss was forcing arthur to go collect the downes debt #arthur didnt want to but dutch got involved and made him do it #so when downes coughed on him he thought fuck this #dutch doesnt give a shit abt me anymore #and up and left immediately after #rode up to emerald ranch to sell valuables for quick cash #then into the mountains #found the loft abt 3 days into his hike #and now him and apollo live there and break horses for the van horn stables #and sells pelts to the trapper near thr grizzlies #so far no ones even come looking for him so hes got it good #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthurs fool proof retirement plan #rdr2 fix it #fix it au

[tiredcowpoke]

TITLE: Blank Spots [17] PAIRING: (Somewhat pre-established) Arthur Morgan/Fem!Reader, could be seen as an OC. REQUEST: Unprompted. BLURB: After waking up at the base of a steep incline and nearly freezing to death, you stumble upon a group of strangers who swear up and down that they know you. WARNINGS: Some creative license for amnesia, violence, angst. Micah. NOTE: Here is the next chapter to this! Thank you all for your patience, life has picked up again but I did want to get another part of this out. There’s some canon dialogue in here near the end, but I hope there’s enough original content around it that it’s not too boring.   TAG LIST: @on-my-way-to-erebor / @otherthingstoreid @ireallyhonestlydontcare @elanisha @darlingsdevil @cirillamylove @bunnyreese12 @rollyjogerjones @callmemythicalminx @r4reland @itsnothingwithoutchaos

What the hell were you going to do now?

The question plagued you for a couple days since that terrible sleep, a part of you liking to doubt what you thought you knew about it by calling it a dream, yet there was also a part of you that felt like it was more than that. It was wholly indecisive, a war that went back in your head for the last couple days. Chores had become all the more monotonous and you wondered what you were doing with yourself very often. 

You knew that you wanted to tell someone, yet you knew that doing so wasn’t as simple as it seemed. You knew you had fallen, suffered a terrible injury that took your strength and memories away. It nearly left you freezing to death, and you had a solid idea that Micah had been the one to put you in that situation. 

However, how would you make them believe you? 

You weren’t completely unobservant to the goings-on in camp, you knew Dutch liked Micah for some reason. It was hard to find something to like about the man, from what you had seen of him. Really, you had elected to avoid him where possible. Yet, you knew it would eventually grow hard to keep doing so. If you had to interact with that memory sitting in your head…

What if you were wrong? You knew you had a hard time trusting your own mind lately, yet...something about what you remembered happening didn’t feel wrong. It didn’t seem like something you had just made up. It had sat, lingering on the edge of remembrance and you didn’t want to acknowledge it. 

You just didn’t want to be dismissed. You didn’t want to stay in a camp with the person who had tried to murder you. 

“How’re you holdin’ up?” 

The familiar voice startled you out of your thoughts, turning your head sharply with wide eyes. Arthur stood somewhat awkwardly, his brow tightening somewhat as he seemed to take in your expression from where you were sitting. You let out a small breath, turning your head to look back out toward the water. 

“As well as I can be, I guess.” 

“Mary-Beth’s concerned, said she noticed a change in you,” he commented, “asked me to check in. Guess I wanted to, too.” 

“Oh.” You hadn’t thought you had been that obvious, yet...well, with everything sitting on your mind, you had found it very easily to slip into the mess that was there lately. 

“I know I’m the last person you want to be talkin’ to right now, but we do gotta talk,” he said after a moment, your ears picking up on him approaching where you were sat near the shore by camp. 

It was true, you hadn’t really been wanting to talk to him lately. Yet, on top of everything, you had almost let that settle into the back of your mind. 

Still, you couldn’t find it in yourself at the moment to protest his presence, Arthur moving around to sit down on the same log as you. He let out a small sigh, letting a silence linger for a few moments as you waited for him to say what he needed to. Back when you had first lost your memories and learned that you had been romantically involved with him, you had thought things couldn’t get any more awkward and confusing as that. 

Yet, sitting with him in the moment, you wanted nothing more than to cave into yourself from the stress of it all. As much as what you remembered about Micah on that mountain dominated your thoughts, the other parts of the memory hadn’t left you either. That genuine guilt over leaving someone you cared about behind, possibly to die. There had been that specific affection you held for him, the frustration at not being able to say what you truly felt about him. 

That person and the person sitting on the log with him in the moment felt like two different people. Yet, you somehow had to try to merge those experiences into your current. 

It felt like trying to shove your shoulder through a brick wall at points. 

“I’m sorry…” Arthur started after a moment, his voice surprisingly quiet from how it had been a few moments ago, “For what I did to your family, for doin’ that while I knew you was tryin’ to pay their debt.” 

“I know you are, Arthur,” you replied, “Yet, that doesn’t change what happened.” 

“No, it don’t. I wasn’t hopin’ it would,” he replied around a sigh, “You can hate me all you want for that, I deserve it. Yet...I-I don’t feel like I got much power here.” 

You lifted your gaze toward him at the tone in his voice, as much as you had been struggling to do so since he sat down. There was a certain frustration sitting there, a desperation, that you hadn’t heard from him before. Arthur didn’t meet your gaze, letting out a slow breath as he seemed to be collecting his words. 

“I don’t wanna make this ‘bout myself, but I hate doin’ that type of work,” he continued, “When I first joined this gang, I had always been told we was not goin’ to rob folk who don’t need to be robbed. Rich folk, other gangs, but...these people? They’re just tryin’ to get by and I know that. Yet...I’m good at intimidatin’, I’m good at violence.” 

“That’s not all you have to be,” you stated, “I...when I woke up...I had thought that I had stepped into a group of violent murderers, and I’m not so blind to think you’re not violent and people don’t die, but...it’s more complicated than that. You’ve shown me a kindness, an understanding. I guess...maybe I did forget about what goes on around here a little bit, but I had thought that…” 

You had thought you were closer than what happened, that it would have had him standing up a bit for you. Or, at least, your motives. 

“...You ever try to stop collecting debts if you hate it so much?” you asked after your pause, meeting his gaze for a few moments before he dropped it somewhat in thought. 

“I...the way things is right now, I ain’t sure I can,” he replied, “If it was just Strauss forcin’ me, I would’ve stopped a while ago. Yet, Dutch has turned it into a reliable source of money. It goes against everything he stands for, even says that sometimes, but he ain’t cut it out.” 

“Why doesn’t he?”

Arthur let out a soft scoff, “I dunno, might be somethin’ to ask him if he’ll hear it these days.”

That...didn’t sound good. Even Arthur’s facial expression tightened somewhat at the words that had just left his mouth, yet he didn’t say anything else for a few moments before he shook his head, glancing back toward you. 

“I’m tryin’ to hold things together. Feels like I’m holdin’ most of the weight of that, sometimes, and...I dunno, guess I felt like I had no alternative in that situation. Dutch thinks we got somethin’ here between these two families, might get us out of this mess. Next list of debtors I get...I dunno, I’ll think ‘bout if we really need that type of money.” 

“...Sure.” The word left your mouth somewhat resigned. You knew deep down that you couldn’t force him to do anything, and even if it did stop...well, the damage was done. Yet, you had to admit that this conversation felt a little more productive than the one you had with him right after the fact. 

“Arthur…” you started after a moment, “I...I can’t say I forgive you for what you did to my aunt and uncle. I...I guess I understand why you felt like you needed to, but...I don’t know. I still need time with this. After...I’ve had a lot on my mind lately. I appreciate you approaching me about it again, but I need more time with it.” 

“I understand,” he replied with a nod, “I ain’t expectin’ your forgiveness. I care ‘bout you--a lot--but I know it ain’t that simple.” 

“It’s really not.” God, you wanted to tell him about the mountain. Out of everybody, you knew he was the most likely to believe you, yet you found it sitting behind your teeth instead. 

You needed to be sure.

“Just…” Arthur started after a moment, raising from where he was seated, “if you need anythin’...” 

You could appreciate the offer, yet you knew for the time being it would be torn between just wanting to go back to how things were before all of this and not wanting to ask him for anything. Yet, you knew that there was no changing anything about what happened. It was just a matter on how you wanted things to be moving forward. At the moment, you really weren’t too sure what to say to that. 

Instead, you just gave him a nod, letting him walk off after as you let out a sigh through your nose. Despite everything sitting on your mind, at least talking about one of those things left you feeling like you weren’t as stuck. 

You just had some decisions to make. 

                                                                ***

A couple days had passed since your conversation with Arthur. You could still feel the weight of everything you had talked about, everything said and unsaid, yet you tried to pick yourself back up a bit. There was the issue of Micah, of course, but you figured you would get a chance to sort that out with some more thought. 

You tried to put some more work in around camp, making sure to give Mary-Beth a light pat on the back shortly after and to thank her for the concern. She had sheepishly admitted to asking Arthur to check on you, yet you couldn’t really bring yourself to blame her. 

Though, you tried to let things settle in your mind a bit, yet it didn’t seem like much had settled in camp before it seemed like another big event was going to take place. 

Really, you hadn’t meant to listen in on the conversation. Yet, with it happening in the middle of camp, it was hard to miss as you lingered somewhat near one of the tents as you heard Dutch greet Micah, Arthur, and Pearson as he approached. Pearson’s voice seemed to catch your ear. 

“It’s peace, Dutch. With the O’Driscolls,” he stated as the gang’s leader stepped into the tent behind him, “I mean, I think there’s a way.” 

“What on earth are you talkin’ about?” Dutch asked. 

“Get the words out properly, fat man…” Micah prompted with a slight wave of his hand. 

Pearson seemed to launch into a bit of a story about meeting some men in a saloon, mentioning something about tigers. You had wandered closer, not too sure what was happening but Micah seemed to be at the head of it and you couldn’t help but want to listen in. Still, you managed to remain far enough away to not cause them to catch you. 

“They suggested a parlay,” Pearson concluded, “to end things like gentlemen.” 

“Gentlemen?” Dutch returned, his tone disbelieving, “Colm O’Driscoll? Have you lost your minds?”

“You’re always tellin’ us, Dutch,” Micah started, “do what needs to be done, but don’t fight wars not worth fightin’.” 

“They want a parley?” Hosea called out from where he was sitting at a camp table nearby, “It’s a trap.” 

“Well, of course it’s...probably a trap,” Micah said, turning to address him somewhat before looking back toward Dutch, “but what have we got to lose?”

“Get shot,” Arthur commented. 

“We ain’t gettin’ shot because you’ll be protectin’ us,” Micah returned, placing a hand on Arthur’s shoulder that he shook off, “If it’s a trap, you kill the lot. If it’s not, that slim chance…” 

“I don’t see the point in any of this…” Dutch replied, stepping past them to walk toward the table where Hosea was sitting. You shifted back somewhat, crossing your arms as you watched on curiously. 

“It’s a chance we gotta take,” Micah asserted, following Dutch toward the table as the other man rested his hands on the top of it. 

“I killed Colm’s brother…” Dutch started, “...a long time ago. Then he killed...a woman I loved dear…” 

“As you say,” Micah returned after a short pause, “it’s a long time ago, Dutch.” 

There was a bit of a pregnant pause as Dutch seemed to decide on the course of action. You couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your gut, especially with how hard Micah seemed to be pushing things. Admittedly, you only knew a handful of information about the O’Driscolls from what you heard around camp and what you had just heard from Dutch’s mouth. Yet...well, even you were uncertain. 

“...Let’s go,” Dutch decided, “you, me, and Arthur protectin’ us. No one else.” 

“What about me?” Pearson asked. 

“This ain’t the time for tigers, my friend.” 

You stepped forward as the group dispersed, watching as Dutch, Micah, and Arthur headed toward the horses. A part of you was really wanting to quickly run over to catch Arthur’s arm, ask if he’s really certain about this. Yet...well, with Micah and Dutch waiting on him, you could imagine the answer. 

‘I don’t feel like I got much power here.’ 

“Shit,” you cursed, stopping your walk short as you saw them mount up and ride off into the wooded path leading out of camp. 

“You ain’t sure about this, either?” 

Hosea’s voice came from over your shoulder as he walked up to where you were standing, staring off after the spot your gaze was lingering on. 

“No. What can we do about it, though?”

“We wait,” Hosea replied, placing a hand on your shoulder, “Hope nothin’ happens.” 

You could hope all you want, but there was that sinking feeling in your gut that left you feeling all sorts of conflicted. It was hard to shake, and would be until they returned. You didn’t want to blame it on a pre-existing dislike of Micah, but with the memory of the purposeful gunshot he placed toward your horse that caused your fall…

Well, who could really blame you for being anxious about this? 

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

[the-awkward-outlaw]

“ I read your diary. ” or rather journal, when he was sleeping or while he was taking a bath in a secluded area and left his satchel wide open for grabs.

This one’s so damn fluffy, I’m gonna die! It’s also one of those ones that easily could lead to a really smutty scene, but maybe I’ll leave that for another time 👀

Read all my works on AO3

(Maybe if I’m bored enough and actually have some damn time, I’ll make a masterlist on Tumblr) 

Flat Iron Lake gleams orange and blue in the midday sun, flies collecting in swarms hover above the water, begging to be eaten by a hungry fish. You stand on the pier, pole in your hand, hoping to fool one of those fish to take your lure instead of a real insect. So far, you’re having good luck, despite the hot sun above. You know from experience that fishing at any time other than dawn and dusk is spotty, but the fish around this area of the lake seem to always be biting, which is lucky. It saves everyone from having to go far to get meat. 

You love fishing, always have. You’re not the biggest fan of the taste of fish, though you will eat it. You enjoy the act of catching them, though. Fishing forces time to slow down, allows you to just sit and enjoy the peace and quiet, and then there’s the chance that something exciting will happen. Not only that, but the scenery is beautiful. 

As you stand, waiting for something to grab your lure, you hear footsteps on the shore. You turn and see Arthur, his hands on his hips. He smiles at you a bit, but doesn’t say anything. You return it and then go back to watching your bait, feeling a bit self conscious. Although you’re the newest member of the gang, having only been with them a couple of months, you’ve quickly grown fond of Arthur. You like most people in camp (aside from Micah), but Arthur was the one you took to. He’s handsome, smart (though he denies it), funny, loyal and sweet. He thinks he’s nothing more than a big dumb brute capable of nothing but violence, but you’ve seen the side of him that proves him wrong. You saw him give Tilly a necklace a few days ago, he got a book for Jack, and you’ve seen him playing fetch with the newest member, a dog named Cain. You’ve also seen him many times sitting on his cot or at the base of a tree, scribbling away in his journal. 

You’ve wondered many times if Arthur feels anything for you too, but you’re too nervous to ask. You won’t ask the others if he’s mentioned you at all, afraid it’ll clue them in to your crush. You wish, more than anything, that you could get a glimpse in his journal. 

You glance behind you again and spot Arthur sitting at the base of a tree not too far from the pier. His journal’s in his lap and he seems to be writing, or maybe he’s drawing. You wonder if he’s any good. You’ve tried your own hand at drawing with little success. You can barely draw a stick figure. 

You go back to fishing, wishing you could at least gather the courage to go and talk to him. You’ve wanted nothing more than to do that. He helped teach you how to shoot a gun after you first joined, and how to shoot a bow. It was through him that you learned how to hunt and fish, and you overheard him a few days ago talking to Dutch about teaching you how to rob people. You just wish you could talk to him about anything that didn’t involve you learning how to pull your weight in the gang. It’s doubtful that he has any interest in you though, even in an innocent, friendly manner. You sigh, wishing things were different. 

An hour passes and you decide you’re done fishing. You have a decent collection of fish to give to Pearson, he’ll be happy at least. You collapse your pole and begin walking down the pier when you see Arthur, still sat at the foot of the tree, his hat tipped over his eyes. He seems to be sleeping, but next to him is his journal, lying open and just begging to be read. 

You approach him quietly. You really shouldn’t be trying to read his journal, it’d be an invasion of his privacy. Still, you can’t help but be curious. You get a bit closer, waiting for him to stir, but he doesn’t. You quietly set down your bucket of fish and kneel down, picking up his journal. You check on him again, but he still hasn’t moved. You can tell by his slow, heavy breathing that he’s out. 

The first thing you see when looking at the open page of his journal is a sketch. Undeniably, it’s you, fishing on the pier. The sketch extends across both pages. The drawing is beautiful, simple yet detailed. You had no idea he could draw this well. You flip to the previous page and see sketches of a horse (undeniably his own), a husky and a duck. The duck is really no more than an outline, but it’s endearing. The husky is incredibly detailed, its tongue dangling from its panting mouth. You love the detail of the fur, you can tell exactly what color it is based purely on how he’s shaded it. You flip to the next previous page and are startled by an extremely detailed drawing of your face. On the page next to it is a passage he’s written. You study the beautiful, looping words. His writing is gorgeous. You begin to read it. 

“Took Y/N out hunting today. She’s got a natural talent for it, considering she’s only been doing it a few months. If only things were simpler, life wasn’t such a mess, I might ask her to be my girl. Yet damn you, Mary! Y/N ain’t nothing like Mary. She’s sweet, she don’t hold people’s past over their heads or play games with ‘em. When I’m alone with her, I feel like the luckiest man and the biggest fool. If she’s smart, she’ll stay away from me.” 

Your stomach does a backflip. Has he really thought about asking you to be his girlfriend? No way, no way could Arthur, the Arthur Morgan, be interested in you! You’re just a simple girl who grew up on a farm until a few months back when it was burned to the ground, killing everyone inside. You were in the barn when it got destroyed by a group of drunk O’Driscolls. It was only a couple weeks after that you were brought in by Arthur, who found you begging on the trail in the middle of nowhere. 

You flip through more of his journal, reading about how he hopes never to get on Sadie Adler’s bad side (you agree with him), how he detests doing jobs for Strauss. You’re glad he never went to collect that debt from that Downes fellow a few weeks ago. You’d heard rumors he was incredibly sick and you passed that information onto Arthur, who decided it wasn’t worth the risk and just absolved the debt. Still though, he’s doing a few other collections. 

You go on to read about some of the people he’s met, including a blind man who seemed almost like a prophet, a photographer who seemed to be trying to get himself eaten by some wild animal, and a crazy woman touting about dinosaurs. So many of these entries are accompanied with drawing, each one detailed to the point you feel you could touch them. 

Every few pages, he seems to mention you, whether it’s just taking you out somewhere to teach you a new skill, or about how you’ve surprised him with one of your own visions of the world. One in particular stands out to you. It’s accompanied by a sketch of you just standing there, drinking a mug of coffee. The passage itself started off with him talking about one of his debt collections from a woman named Lily Millet. 

“This world is an ugly one, I see it everyday. I see it in the things I do to people, the way they look at me. But Y/N seems to see the beauty of it. Whenever I’m with her, she sees light and color where I would see only violence and horror. The more I’m with her, the more I see the beauty too. If I were smarter, I’d spare her the misfortune of my own company, yet I find hers euphoric. If I weren’t such a coward, I’d ask her on a proper outing. John keeps saying she’s sweet on me, but Marston wouldn’t know the first thing about women. How the hell he ended up having a kid with Abigail is beyond me.” 

You giggle at the last line and then your heart drops when you hear Arthur begin to stir. You quickly flip to the page it was on and throw it on the ground. Unfortunately, it lands a solid foot from where you picked it up and in a different position. You just hope he doesn’t remember those details as you stand up and take several feet back. 

He tilts his hat up, notices you trying to walk away in such a manner that screams you’re guilty of something. He looks down at his journal and notices right away that it’s been moved. He connects your guilty smile and knows instantly that you at least looked at the sketch. Before he can say anything to you, you dart off into the middle of camp to give your fish to Pearson and where he won’t confront you. 

During the rest of the day, you find any excuse you can to stay away from Arthur, positive he’s furious that you invaded his privacy like that. You’d be mad had it been you, and you’re sure he’d like nothing more than to tell you off. However, you often catch him staring at you, but not in anger or disappointment. His eyes say he’s curious, and he doesn’t seem to be pursuing you to get you alone, though he does try to approach you often. You always come up with an excuse or pick up a conversation with the closest person so he can’t confront you. 

After the sun’s set, your luck runs out. Arthur left a few hours ago and you figured he’d be gone the rest of the night. You decided it was safe to go stand at the shores of the lake and look at the stars. You didn’t even hear him approach until he was standing right next to you, a beer bottle in each hand. 

“So,” he said, making you jump. You flushed when you saw him standing so close to you, but then he handed you one of the bottles. You thanked him quietly and looked away. You didn’t see the soft smile he wore. “Enjoy readin’ my journal?” he asks, sipping his beer as he stares off across the lake. 

You sigh. “I’m sorry, Mr. Morgan. It was wrong of me. I understand why you’re upset.” 

He chuckles softly. “Ah, it’s a’right. I ain’t exactly innocent in that myself. Guess I earned it, to be honest.” 

“What do you mean?” 

He rubs his neck nervously. “I, uh, I read your diary too once. It was on your bedroll and I guess Grimshaw snatched you up while you was writin’. I was just passin’ by and saw it, couldn’t help myself.” 

You blush even more. Shit, shit shit! You wrote in there shortly after getting the damn thing that you have a massive crush on Arthur, it’s pretty much a guarantee that he saw it. 

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Morgan,” you say, closing your eyes. 

“For what?” he says, shocked. 

“That you had to read that. I’m… I’m such an idiot and I’m sure it’s the last thing you wanted to know about me. I completely understand if you don’t want to teach me anything else.” 

He turns to face you. He nervously reaches up a hand to tilt your head up to look at him. “Y/N, I know you read my journal. Pretty far back too, I’d guess. If you actually read it, you’d know I’ve… well, I’ve held somethin’ for you too.” 

You smile and take his hand into yours. “I don’t know why you would. I’m nothin’ special.” 

“Maybe you don’t see yourself the way I do.” 

You look up at him again. His face is inches from yours and his eyes dart down to your lips before going back to your eyes again. Is he thinking the same as you? Right now, you’d like nothing more than to kiss him. You start leaning up, you can feel the heat radiating from him. He moves closer, his free hand sliding over your back. Your lips are centimeters from touching. 

“Mr. Morgan, we are in the shit again. Deep in the shit!” the gravelly voice of Reverend Swanson washes over you again. He stumbles over, his eyes bloodshot. Arthur leans away and lets you go, making you let out a soft groan. 

“You got quite a way with words there, Mr. Swanson,” Arthur replies. 

“Words are the least of my problems, Mr. Morgan.” He stammers for a moment, almost as though he’s seeing something you can’t. His eyes refocus on you both standing inches apart, looking irritated. “But I wanted you both to know that you are children of God! Children of God.” He starts mumbling to himself, almost singing.

You chuckle. “That’s sweet, Reverend, but I stopped believing in God a long time ago.” 

“But he has never stopped believing in you,” Swanson says, then he stumbles off. 

Arthur lets out a long sigh and hangs his head so his hat covers his eyes. His cheeks are slightly pink. “Sorry for that interruption, Y/N.” 

“That’s okay, ain’t like we could stop him,” you say. You want to ask him to try that kiss again, but you just can’t manage to get the words out. He’s thinking the same thing, but like you, he’s too embarrassed to ask. Instead, his hand slowly wraps around yours. You look down at your entwined hands and then back up to him and smile. Encouraged by this, he lets your hand go and both of his slide over your back, pulling you close to him. Yours go up to settle on his shoulders. 

Before anyone else has the chance to ruin the moment again, Arthur dips down and presses his lips to yours. His are slightly chapped, but they’re warm. You’ve only imagined kissing him a hundred times, but you didn’t ever do him justice in those daydreams. You move your lips with his, your hand winding behind his neck to pull him even closer. His arms grip you tight, pressing your body against his. Your heart’s pounding in your chest. Something in your chest purrs as he deepens the kiss. Oh, how you’ve wanted this, wanted him. All those moments you spent alone with him, you wanted to kiss him exactly like this. 

After several moments of you studying his lips, he breaks it, his breath leaving in quick bursts. He smiles at you and cups your cheek, his thumb tracing your cheek bone. 

“I hope that was okay,” he says softly. 

“More than okay,” you say and you kiss him again. This one is short and brief, but just as sweet as the previous. You lay your head on his shoulder, your forehead pressed against his neck. His arms embrace you protectively and his heart hammers into your ear. You stare off across the silvery waters of the lake, content in this moment. You want it never to end. 

There’s no way you could know that Arthur, for the first time in a long time, finally thinks he may actually be a somewhat decent man if someone as sweet and good as you chooses to nestle in his arms like this. He kisses the top of your head, wishing he could tell you how grateful and how in awe he is. Perhaps he’ll have to write it in his journal and leave it somewhere that you’ll find it again.

#rdr2 fanfic #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #awkward asks

[cowboisadness]

Hang ‘Em High {Arthur Morgan x FemOC} Chapter 10

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x FemOC Summery: Belle Hawthorne is high society looking to escape her mean husband. A robbery by the Van Der Linde gang could be her chance. Can she escape his cluches and possibly discover what love should feel like?

Warnings: None

.....

The next morning was blissfully quiet, everyone going about their business and doing camp chores as per usual. Sitting with Mary-Beth, hand deep in laundry buckets overflowing with soapy water I couldn't help but wonder why there wasn't a sense of urgency after the meeting with those Pinkertons yesterday. With how worried Arthur seemed I was under the impression it was a serious matter that would need to be dealt with in some way. Maybe they were used to this happening, maybe it wasn’t as big of a deal as I perceived it to be.

“Do you read, Miss Bella?” Mary-Beth asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. 

“Sure. Used to always read as a kid.”

“Any of those being romance and love stories? Those are my favourite to read.”

“A few. Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, Madame Bovary, although that one is tragic in the end.” I wring out a shirt covered in dirt and even blood from a recent stagecoach job a few of the men went on. I didn't even want to ask whose blood it was. Scrunching my nose in slight disgust and plunging the shirt back into the water to work at it some more.

“I’ve written a few little stories of my own, hoping to write a novel someday.” She smiled sheepishly to me then looking back down to the bucket. Violently scrubbing at something that must also look in the same state as the shirt currently in my hands.

“Haven’t you ever thought of leaving and making a true love story of your own?” I shift my legs from below me to sit more comfortably. The knife I hadn’t yet given back to Arthur after being at the lake slightly stabbing into my ankle from its position in my boot.

“I have once or twice. It’s too dangerous for us ladies being out in the world alone. I don’t know where I would be if Dutch and Hosea didn’t find me a few years ago.”

“What happened?” I look at her now. I had a genuine curiosity when it came to knowing these peoples stories and how they all came together. They all had lives I would only ever hear about in story books or newspapers so being a part of their lives and this merry band of fools was still rather surreal to me. Like one of those dreams that feel so real until you woke up, only I hoped I wouldn’t wake from this due to the fear of waking up back in that house, Frank at my side

“I was getting chased by a few men I had stolen from. I’m a damn good pickpocket but I must have got a bit too confident. Dutch and Hosea saw and helped me get away with them.”

I shot her a smile, both of us continuing with our tasks before Miss Grimshaw made her rounds and scolds us for slacking.

By mid-afternoon when some sense of quiet had fallen within the camp, I made my way to the edge of the camp, sitting upon a rock and looking out over the overlook, coffee in hand. My fingers still shriveled up, resembling raisins from the seeminly never-ending laundry this morning.

“Not thinking of jumping again are you?” Arthur pulls me from my thoughts as he approaches. 

“Not funny. Besides, why would I jump when I have a gun in my possession now?”

He huffs at that, coming over to stand beside me and pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his satchel. Lighting one with a match strike to the rock I was sat on. “You okay after yesterday?”

“Yeah, just,” I bite my lip, thinking of the right words to say “Is nothing going to be done about it? Seems like a serious issue.”

“Dutch says he’s dealing with it.”

I hum at this, trusting his word on the matter.

“Busy today?” I ask, taking a brief sip of my coffee, feeling it flow down my throat and burn slightly.

“Well, had to collect some debt not far from here on behalf of Strauss. Fella was dead already.”

“Have you told Strauss that you didn’t get the money?”

“Nah not yet. Should have forced it from the widow but I couldn’t. Might be legal work but it don’t sit right with me,”

“How so?” 

“Robbing banks and stealing from rich folk is one thing, they have all the money they need while others starve. Strauss picks out those that are starving, those with nothing.”

“Don’t do it then.” I shrug, seemingly pointing out the obvious.

“We need the money.” He shrugs too, taking a drag and blowing out the plume of smoke.

“So do they. Help people as need helping. That’s what you said to me.”

“Ain’t that simple.” he huffs again, this time in frustration.

“I’m still not accustomed to your way of life yet. But, I do have a few questions.”

“Shoot.”

“Five thousand dollars. How on earth did you get a bounty that high?”

“Numerous things. Robberies, killings, hostages.”

“Oh, I’m familiar with that one.” I nod before turning to face him. Arthur swaying slightly with a hand resting on his gun belt before continuing.

“Being Dutchs’ main gun, so they call me, is probably a reason too. I wasn’t involved with the job in Blackwater but my name was mentioned regardless.” He takes another drag before flicking the stub out over the edge.

“What happened in Blackwater?” I ask, my coffee now cooling and long-forgotten, still in the clutches on my hands and perched on my lap. 

And so he told me of what happened. That he had a job with Hosea that seemed like it would work out fine without needing to rob a ferry full of bank money. That the robbery turned into a massacre, swarmed by Pinkertons with no way but to shoot their way out and everyone fleeing for the hills. The hushed words of Dutch killing an innocent woman. Having to escape from Blackwater and the Great Plains and up into the deadly icy mountains, losing most of their possessions, all their money and a few members along the way. Then they ended up here, trying to lay low until they had enough money to leave again. That’s why they planned to rob Frank. Strike up a false business deal and then take what he had at the party all those weeks ago. It was risky but with being so far from Saint Denis they thought it would be worth a shot. They are desperate. “I know plenty of rotten rich folk. If any opportunity comes up for you to rob them. I’m more than happy to give over whatever information I have.”

“Really? You would help us to rob your fancy friends?”

“They ain’t my friends. Like I said, some of them are rotten and deserve it.”

“Sure.”

There were a few moments of silence as he shifted on his feet again. I turned back to the view ahead and then down to the cold cup in my hands, huffing as I flung the liquid out onto the grass at my feet. Might as well get another cup.

“I best go see what John wants in town.”

I nodded with a smile and with that he left and made his way to the horses. Giving his horse a few gentle pats on the neck before mounting up and leaving camp towards Valentine.  

Sitting with Abigail and Tilly at the fire a few hours later, laughing amongst ourselves and sharing a bottle of whiskey, enjoying the easy day it had been. That was until rumbling hoof beats came thundering down the eastern path. Dutch, John and an injured Strauss shouting for everyone to get started on packing up the camp now. Dutch made his way to his tent, Hosea following in quickly behind him. 

With the sudden sense of urgency, everyone stood and started gathering whatever they could around the camp, preparing wagons and disassembling tents. I didn’t really know what to do, so I sought out Grimshaw for orders as she was swiftly moving about the camp, making sure everyone was doing something. She soon presented me with one, helping Pearson pack up the food wagon and to make sure nothing is left behind. I turned on my heels and made a beeline towards the wagon in question wondering what the hell had happened for us to be moving so quickly. Questions for later I told myself as I helped Pearson empty water barrels and pack up all food wares.

It wasn’t long until everything was packed up, evidence that this had been done probably a few times in the past. Dutch had us all follow him in the front wagon, telling us all of a place that has been cleared out for us thanks to Charles and Arthur. I mounted Orion instead of sitting in a wagon with the other girls, staying close behind everyone as we made our way. The new camp sat right by Flat Iron Lake and it didn’t take long to reassemble everything again. Everything back up and running by nightfall.

The next morning everyone seemed to be woken by the brightness dawn brought upon us but the heat that Lemoyne was known for. Everyone was already sweating and agitated, although that agitation could also be down to having to run once again. Getting themselves into more trouble and some worried that it was going to be simply impossible to get themselves out of this hole they are digging for themselves. They believed Dutch would get them all to brighter pastures. A blind loyalty that hasn't failed them before. We were all filled in on the goings-on the day before by word of mouth. A shootout with Cornwalls men, John and Strauss lucky to get out with their lives if it wasn't for Dutchs’ way with words and Arthurs’ way with guns.

A few others planned on heading into the town nearby, Rhodes. To get a feel of the place and scope out any potential jobs or leads. Karen and I sat in the wagon, Arthur and Charles upfront as we made our way to the new town with new possibilities. I had mentioned a previous visit to Rhodes to sell a few horses to the Braithwait family that live nearby. Once at the dusty town of Rhodes, a thankful change from a soiled and shit foul town of Valentine, we all decided to split. Arthur and Charles made their way to the station, Karen towards the parlour house and I made my way to the general store. We were under strict orders not to ask too many questions to prevent bringing any unwanted attention to ourselves. Strangers turning up to this small town asking strange questions would spread quickly here. Three men sat on the stairs of the store, making my way past them without a second thought and entering the small store. A chime above the door alerting the owner as I made my way inside. The place didn't have much but it had the basic necessities. Sauntering around I took in what they had. Coffee, salted meat, tinned fruit, fresh produce, a few tonics and...chocolate bars. The corners of my mouth lifted in a bright smile at the sight of something sweet, oh it had been a good while since I had chocolate and I'm sure $2 for one bar would be worth it. 

I picked up a bar and a box of oatcakes for Orion, swiftly making my way to the counter to ring up my purchases. 

I exchanged pleasantries with the owner, a thin man with sparse hair on his head but an impressively large moustache. He asked if I was staying in town long when the door charm rang out behind me. I paid no mind to the various footsteps I could hear instead y attention was caught when one cleared their throat, prompting me to turn to face them. It was the three men previously sat outside, their attention solely on me.

“You look awfully familiar, Miss” One man said with a slight Irish accent from what I could tell.

“I’m new to town. Just passing through.” I smile slightly 

“A lady shouldn’t be passing through town on her own.” Another man said, stood by the door.

“Oh, I’m not…”

“Why don't you come with us?” The first man drawled, taking slow but confident steps towards me. Instinctively I moved back each time he made a step forwards, quickly being stopped by the serving counter digging into my back. “I...I assure you gentlemen I am... not alone” I stuttered, my eyes swiftly looking towards the windows in the hopes someone, anyone, would make their way over.

“I don't see anyone else here. You're coming with us, missy.” With that, he lurched forward to grab my arms. His grip digging into my flesh as I tried helplessly to push him off. Mentally scolding myself for not bringing my gun with me.

“Get off me!” I squealed, my thrashing no use as one of the other men appeared beside me, tying a cloth around my head and pushing the fabric into my mouth to quell my protests. A black sack following soon after to cover my full head. 

I trashed as hard as I could, kicking the man still gripping my arms so hard I'll for sure be left with bruises. 

“You're making this worse for yourself, missy. And you... say a word of this to anyone and this place will be burned to the ground with you in it!” With that, they began to drag me away through what must have been through the back door, away from the main street. 

My hand got tied together swiftly, the rope burning into my flesh and tears burning down my face. Trying to pull back was useless, digging my heels into the dry dirt a weak attempt to escape their relentless grasps. Hauling me up and onto the back of a horse, the three men laughed as they mounted. Taking me away to god knows where to do god knows what to me.

“Any funny business and I’ll punch seven shades of shit outta you. Give you something to cry about.” The man whose horse I was upon shouted back towards me, thundering hoofbeats ringing out in my ears.

@kashasenpai​

#hang em high #hang em high fic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgan fic #rdr #rdr2 fic #red dead redemtion 2 #fanfiction #fanfic #arthur morgan x original female character

[womanfromblackwater]

Coronavirus Special- The Gang in Quarantine Modern Hcs

Dutch wants to be in charge of managing everyone’s health, but is not super informed about symptoms or prevention. Hosea is doing all of that research and guiding Dutch in instructing the gang.

Arthur and Charles are concerned enough to always wear masks in public, but not so afraid that they won’t leave the house. They typically go on supply runs. Sadie comes with them and aggressively yells at anyone not wearing a mask. 

Javier has become everybody’s favorite, since he and his guitar keep them entertained and happy even when everything else is boring.

Abigail is terrified of Jack getting sick, so they’re in their room quarantining from the rest of the gang. John feels bad for Jack and makes sure he’s stocked up on snacks, books, and movies.

Mary-Beth and Tilly learned how to sew masks and made one for each gang member in their favorite color. Now they’re making tons to donate.

Lenny is interested in the science side of things and is keeping up on the vaccine development progress, as well as tracking spikes and plateaus.

Sean and Karen are treating the whole thing as a staycation, complete with cocktails. So many cocktails.

Micah refuses to wear a mask. He’s not sick, but he thinks its funny to cough on people just to scare them.

Grimshaw is enforcing mandatory daily temperature checks. Anyone who tries to avoid it brings down the full force of her wrath.

Pearson is still the cook. He’s watching a ton of YouTube tutorials, but his cooking does not seem to be getting better. 

Trelawny is quarantined with his family and not the gang. He is very lucky.

Kieran is self-quaratining in the stables, and just texts the group to leave food for him and the horses outside the door. 

Molly has actually written some really beautiful poems about the emotions everyone is feeling in the pandemic. She hasn’t shown them to anybody, but Arthur found them and likes them.

Swanson is absolutely terrified and wears a scarf wrapped around his neck and face at all times. 

Strauss is excited because the impact on jobs has made it much easier for him to find borrowers. Arthur won’t go collect debts, though, so he sends Bill, who thinks the whole thing is a hoax.

Uncle insists he’s incapable of getting sick. He’s so confident that the others kind of believe him.

#rdr2 #modern au #hcs #headcanons #covid-19

[sunshinexlollipops]

This is a random little headcannon/ ask but what do you think Arthur’s favorite thing about Wolf is and vice versa?

Anon I have tried to type this post several times so 183)28;72838&2&3&.$.!1@,’ is the charm, right???

Wolf

Loyalty

Wolf appreciates how ride or die Arthur is. His loyalties to the gang and its members was one of the first things that Wolf saw and encountered when they crossed paths before the Blackwater ferry job. She knows now that Arthur has her back and that little to nothing will make him leave her.

Respect for her/women

Wolf faces a lot of doubt and sexism because she is a woman. Arthur’s initial objections to her becoming what she is in the gang was more so for her safety than Arthur discrediting her. Wolf also hasn’t forgotten how Arthur spoke highly of Penelope/the women’s suffrage movement after voicing his support.

Kindness

Unlike most men in the gang, Arthur has a heart and he’s still learning how to use it some ways. Not only with Wolf, but the world around him. Arthur wasn’t shown kindness until he was 15 and with Dutch and Hosea, so he has struggled to understand the concepts of it ever since. However, he has a natural urge to do and be good, and it shines through him like sunlight creeping through a mask of clouds. And Wolf? She wants to bask in it.

Skilled

Arthur is one of the most skilled and experienced men of the Van Der Linde gang. Wolf knows just how capable Arthur is with what he does, and that his skill set puts most to shame. She can’t help but admire how good Arthur is at shooting, planning, leading, and holding his own. She trusts him with any job they are to handle together.

Mentoring

One thing Wolf is grateful for is how Arthur took her under his wing. Even now she still occasionally seeks his approval or guidance with the gang and what they do, and Arthur is always there to offer kind words and praises. Ever since Wolf joined, he has wanted to help her breathe, not suffocate. He has trained her in what ways he can and supported her as she built off the foundations he laid.

Romantic/Heartful

Arthur’s loving side makes Wolf feel things. Hard not to. But she is surprised just how much of a hopeless romantic Arthur really is. The man wears his heart on his sleeve with her now that she pulled his layers back, and to see how much depth and warmth is in the man is astounding.

Grounding

Arthur has always been Wolf’s rock. ALWAYS. Even as their time as Fleur/Joseph. Arthur was the calm to her chaos, the gain to her loss. While she has helped Arthur in her own ways, Wolf always knows that Arthur will be with her no matter what happens. After losing her father and having her life completely change, Arthur is her constant.

Merciful

The only reason Wolf is still alive is because Arthur spared her when he came to collect her debt to Strauss. The outlaw easily could’ve done anything he wanted to her and gotten away with it before leaving her to waste, but he didn’t. He gave her a second chance at life when he had no reason or motive to, and Wolf has never and will never forget that.

Humble

While plagued with confidence issues and some trauma, Arthur is not an egotistical man. Sure, he can play up sometimes, but one thing Wolf loves about Arthur is that he doesn’t try to oversell himself. He knows what he is, what he can do— nothing else to it. Arthur has nothing to prove when it comes to himself, and he doesn’t make any attempts at playing himself up no matter what. Even with Wolf, Arthur remains real and clear from any muddling.

Grateful

Apart from not making himself seem like the best man alive or in the gang, Arthur is extremely appreciative of Wolf and her efforts. Taking care of him and caring about him, especially. It’s taken Arthur a minute to realize how things were for him in the gang, but now that he sees things more for what they really are, Arthur knows just who is in his corner and who isn’t. And Wolf? She founded it, after Blackwater.

Tough

Arthur could be hit by a bus and two minutes later would walk it off. He’s a brute, and while Wolf has feared for him, she takes notice of how Arthur always picks himself back up no matter how hard a hit he’s given. There are things Arthur has pushed out of that Wolf knows she wouldn’t have dealt well with, so she places kudos where they lie.

Arthur

Loyalty

Just like Wolf, Arthur appreciates a sense of loyalty. As mentioned in the fic and in the game, Arthur’s only true belief is the loyalty that people can have in one another. God, the devil, heaven and hell— all can exist or be a myth. But to Arthur, the only thing that can’t be dismissed is the people you actually have in your life who can have your back throughout any of it. Wolf has solidified herself time and time again as Arthur’s closest ally when she had every reason not to do so in the beginning, and she has gone through so much for him since. He isn’t soon to forget that. He also has not forgotten that she signed her life away and was committed to a horrible fate in an attempt to save her father. He knows her love is selfless and that she would give up anything and everything if he needed her to.

Strong-willed

Wolf is an extremely determined person. She has never let what has happened to her in her life quite stop her. Arthur has always admired how Wolf can go through so much, and has gone through so much since they met, and she has not once been diminished with who she is as a person. While she has changed, she has not been broken, and she refuses to let what has happened to her stop her. She also does not let anyone sway her in one direction, no matter how vulnerable she can be. Dutch’s influence never took with her, and she has remained untouchable with anyone’s attempts at getting into her head and fiddling with what she feels or thinks. With how delusional some of those people are, Arthur is grateful Wolf has not given them the chance to alter her perceptions from her own.

Independency

While she has had Arthur help her in the past, Wolf is an extremely independent person. She had to be once her father got sick. One of Arthur’s biggest respects for Wolf is that she will not lessen herself for somebody else’s benefit or expectation. She can stand on her own, and she does not need anyone to hold her hand when she needs to run. She is Arthur’s equal.

Stubborn

Wolf is extremely deadset in what she wants to do. Wolf’s independency and her strong sense of will leads for Wolf to be very hard headed and unrelenting with things that she thinks or feels. She isn’t easily swayed by others, nor does she want to change her mind or opinions for someone else. She is her own person, and she does not ever intend to live in someone else’s role for her. She is not known to compromise or back down either, and she literally will go up against anyone and need no one at her back to make her feel like she can do so.

Supportive/Tendful

Despite some issues being caused by this trait, Wolf tries to help Arthur become a better man, or at least, to commit to being one. She has tried to be very supportive of Arthur, combating his doubts and fears and giving him reassurances. Despite being a little too harsh even by her own words, Wolf has only ever been critical of Arthur when he starts to try and go back to old habits. She truly only wants the best for him so that he can be the best. And Arthur appreciates just how much time and love she puts into him to try and get him to truly flourish.

Moralistic

Wolf has a strong sense of morality. Almost to an extent that it is black and white, but since her time in the gang has started, she is truly learning how many shades of gray there can be. Still, she yearns for and tries to do what she believes is the right thing. She will not compromise if she believes that she is being forced or pushed into something she believes is wrong decision. Even if it is a cost or a loss to her, even if it is one of the hardest things that she has ever done, Wolf will always do what she believes is right no matter what.

Smart

Wolf is very intelligent. Arthur appreciates how she likes to read, how she is very knowledgeable about animals and hunting, and that she has a lot of wits about her. She initially struggles to understand things that she doesn’t have experience with, most of which pertaining to the gang and how it operates, and then certain aspects of every day life, but Arthur understands that this was due to her extremely sheltered childhood and that she isn’t used to the life of an outlaw. Still, Arthur can see that Wolf can work out things quickly and can be very clever in her own right. He trusts her ideas and knows that she isn’t fooled easily.

Intimidating

To most people, Wolf is unapproachable in the sense that she is not your average woman, nor would she be receptive to certain things. Despite being flirted with throughout the fic multiple times, Wolf has never garnered a shine to anyone other than Arthur, and has made that clear. Otherwise they feel as though they’re walking into something they weren’t ready for. A lot of people see Wolf more as a mountain to climb, and a lot are daunted by that. Meanwhile Arthur is at the top waiting for someone to realize that the trip is entirely worth it.

Smartass

While Wolf isn’t as openly scathing as some people, including Arthur himself, when Wolf really wants to lay a barb she can do so very easily. The rarity that is when Wolf gets in a pokey mood is one of his favorites, as she usually tends to be mostly serious. So when Wolf gets a bit of sarcastic mirth about her, Arthur loves quick she is at ripping him where it hurts. Anyone who can scald him like that is respectful in his book.

Resilient

Despite all that’s happened to her, Wolf has powered through and survived. She’s adapated. She’s changed. Even now, after Arthur’s kidnapping with Colm, Arthur can see how Wolf sheds through changes like a second skin. She is so open to change and getting adjusted that Arthur can’t help but admire all she has gone through and became because of it. It’s so different to how he has clinched onto what he’s gone through for decades— his whole life— and Wolf is finally getting him to come out of his shell in so many ways. A strength like that is something that Arthur is going to praise till his end days, because he’s never known anyone else capable.

There you go!

Hope you enjoyed, anon! :)

Thanks for the ask!

#luffy asks #acw #amidst a clash of worlds #acw wolf #acw arthur

[pedropascalforpresident]

Where Changes Might Take Us

Summary: Flo Roberts joins the gang in their ventures, raising confusion and some change of heart with her righteousness.

Tags: spoilers, high honor online character, Arthur/online character, no TB, forced prostitution, slow burn

Tumblr tag: rdr2wcmtu

Chapter notes: Flo (Florence Roberts) is based on the protagonist of RDR2 online story and therefore her past of escaping prison and working with Mistress is mostly canon. This fanfic starts in chapter 2 of the story mode so the gang's camp is set at Horseshoe Overlook.

Chapter One

"I see right through you, mister Morgan, through your manly temperament and rude attitude." She laughs tightening the saddle. „I'd have to be blind and deaf otherwise!"

„What's that supposed to mean?" Arthur is right next to her, struggling to relax his arms so he shifts between crossing them over chest or resting against hips.

Florence lifts herself up on the horse. „You can't keep control of everything just 'cause you think your way is best way of handlin' business. I thought gangs have more than one outlaw, but here is you, doing everyone's dirty work for them."

He shakes his head at the ground aware he's to forget about a whole damn day of peace and quiet only to have her along on the road. The two leave the camp and he takes the lead through the forest, not exchanging a single word with the gang's newcomer who should've stayed at the camp.

Mid-morning they're halfway through the mist and Flo's persistent humming starts to infuriate Arthur. He sighs his faint voice cracking, but she only hums louder and clearly on purpose. He slows the horse down and takes his hat off once riding next to her, trying to look polite.

„How'd you end up with us, uh-" he snaps his fingers and looks away pretending he can't remember her name.

„You sayin' Hosea didn't tell you?" She chuckles feeling important. „That definitely explains your behavior. Ol' bastard really does know how to keep a secret."

„Secret?"

„It's a strange feeling, not knowing stuff, ain't it?" She teases; being excluded from something makes him tick and she knows it now.

„Miss Florence," he obstructs the narrow, gravel path upsetting her horse. „you don't need to know how much this gang means to me, but you should know that I'll do anything to protect them."

„I figured that much."

„There you go again! Again with the irony! Like you know something I don't!"

„Well I do-"

„Will it hurt to tell me then?!"

„It seemed like Hosea trusts you and I thought you'd know by now." She gently scratches her nose. „But if he ain't done it yet, you best not think I'll do it for him. 'Cause I won't. It ain't my place."

„Well maybe he forgot!" He urges, spreading his arms physically wanting the information, afraid of what she might know.

„I don't think so, not this." She glances behind them to make sure no one's coming. „You seem a good man but you outta have someone to look out for ya." Florence sighs and takes the lead through slippery pathway.

Arthur brainstorms before they reach a vast field and temperature rises along with the Sun. What information did she give Hosea that's of such delicate importance not even he's allowed to know?

„Hosea is like a father to me." he stubbornly admits. „Whatever he knows and refuses to share with me is probably dangerous for all of us."

„Exactly what I was sayin' earlier! You need to know and you need to deal with it because you know best how to, isn't it?"

„I get you ain't sayin' shit to me but if somethin' happens to him, I'll blame you."

„Of course you will." She frowns looking at her pocket watch. „So the Bell guy, the Blondie. How'd he end up with you?"

Arthur can't help but grin at the nickname he's definitely implementing in his vocabulary but it's not good enough to get her off the hook. „Oh so we're just gonna continue like nothin' happened huh?"

Florence ignores him and gallops with the horse off the path and towards a low hill with a view on the valley they are about to go through, making sure they don't stumble upon any trouble. Arthur shouts after her twice before seriously considering to leave on his own. Once she gets off her horse, he decides to approach.

„I met him once before, back while I was workin' with Sean." She frustratingly runs hand through her hair, reminiscing of the first time she met Micah. „He, uhm, assaulted this girl we saved from wrongful hanging. He's only alive 'cause Sean stopped me from shootin' his goddamn face off."

„So why are you coming along to his rescue?"

""Hosea told me to. He has his reasons and if he ain't sharing 'em with you, then I ain't either."

Arthur tilts his head at her. „Woman, I feel like you're only gonna get us in trouble."

„I won't. It'll all make sense to you and hopefully I won't be a bother after that." Flo smiles climbing back on the horse after a stretch, pulling out a cigarette.

„Hopefully." He responds, rubbing his chin as he follows her back to the path.

Ride to Strawberry takes a while but Flo shortens the trip by refusing to collect debt from a man mister Strauss mentioned, she'd rather give her own money before collecting or beating it out of a poor man. Arthur argues for a while but ultimately gives in, money is still money no matter where it comes from and somehow he ends up defining Florence as the biggest fool in the situation. She couldn't care less.

They arrive in the evening and leave their horses by the shop across the sheriff's. Arthur notices how folk at the front of the store look at Flo's jeans and pulls her back towards the hitching post between their horses, clutching two badges Hosea stole for them in his other hand. He's becoming paranoid.

„Maybe you should go and change." He recommends quickly looking away when she raises her eyebrows, surprised. „Last thing we need is attention."

„Don't tell me what to wear." Flo shakes her head at his wandering eyes.

She grabs a sheriff's badge from his hand and walks to the building, ignoring Arthur's persistent whispers to return. Grunting along, he picks up the pace after her. A sudden yawn overwhelms him but he contains his focus and pins the deputy badge on his leather jacket.

„Look out, they're taking over our jobs too!" deputy laughs at Flo who doesn't look at him as she approaches the sheriff.

Two men, younger one trying to impress his boss with sexist humor, and town sheriff share a common feeling but each handle and show it differently.

„Playin' dress up is fun, but I'd leave this one for the bedroom if I was you." Deputy gets serious as Arthur steps on the wooden stairs making the whole porch squeal under his weight. „Why are you here?"

„I believe you have imprisoned an outlaw here." Flo begins confidently pretending to have a deeper voice which makes Arthur chuckle.

„I might have one or two, yes." Sheriff squirms in his chair thoroughly observing both.

„My colleague and I are from, uh, Lemoyne. Been lookin' for Micah Bell all over the state. You wouldn't believe the bounty on his head!"

Arthur slowly blinks, regretting for what she said, painfully aware of what follows.

Sheriff's eyes widen and he leans forward with intrigue, fingers interlocked. "How much?"

„Why is that important?" Arthur interrupts before Flo gets them in deeper.

„Eight hundred dollars." Flo nods her head while sheriff and deputy exchange looks. „He's done some nasty things."

„It would seem so." sheriff gets up takong two steps closer to her." As much as I'd like to see him hang tomorrow for what he's done here... From one lawman to the other," he rests hands on his gun belt. „you know how stressful our line of duty is. Fools like him are ganging up on poor townsfolk of ours every other day."

Flo persistently nods, pressing her lips to keep a straight face but she desires to see him hang as well. They can only imagine what else he's done but hanging is probably not the worst punishment Micah deserves.

„Tell you what, law-woman, you give us that bounty and we give you the prisoner."

Flo definitely doesn't expect that kind of proposal. Glancing quickly at Arthur she sees him clutching his satchel, unaware of thirteen pathetic dollars hiding inside.

„We didn't bring the money with us but we can send it your way with a stagecoach once we're back."

„Listen missy, we ain't no idiots! I'm sure you won't send us a single dollar once you get back. In this land every county is for themselves, us included."

„How's you give us 'til tomorrow evening and we get you that bounty." Arthur interrupts the deputy standing shoulder to shoulder next to Flo, crossing arms on his chest to warm up palms between upper arms and his torso.

Men exchange looks and nod with acceptance of his offer. „We'll see you then."

Arthur jerks Flo's shoulder while turning and they walk away from men in silence. They reach their horses and while Flo processes what happened, Arthur grabs his bedroll and gives Salem two carrots to nibble.

„Where are we gonna get that money?" nervous lip biting is a nasty habbit she posesses.

„Unless you got eight hundred dollars on ya, we're gonna have to earn it." He snorts. „You had to say it! It had to be eight hundred! Why didn't you just round it up at thousand?!"

„I didn't think they'd ask for the money, they're lawmen!"

"There's a lotta things you don't know either but what's done is done. We need a place to rest." Arthur sees a welcoming center with vacant rooms sign displayed. „How much do you have?"

„About fiffty."

„We should get one room only. Gonna need all the cash we can get, thanks to your generosity."

„Don't forget some of that is for debt money you wanted to collect."

„I might have second thoughts on that."

#arthur morgan #arthur x online character #arthur x oc #rdr2 #rdr2 online #rdr2 spoilers #rdr2 fanfic #rdr #red dead redemption #red dead redemption online #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption spoilers #hosea matthews #slow burn #forced prostitution #no tb #micah bell #rdr2wcmtu

[blustersquall]

So I was replaying RDR2, and I was in Chapter 2 with no intention of moving past it and I Definitely wasn't going to do "that" quest, but then Strauss came up to me and the game forced me to do it right then and there??? I'm so mad. I thought I at least couldn't progress further in the game without it but then they had to hold that quest over my head and now I'm upset all over again about Arthur. ._. I'm still not releasing Micah from Jail though.

I’m kind of in the same situation as you, Nonny.

I started my second playthrough a few months back. I’m still on chapter 2, and avoiding doing the Money Lending and Other SIns quests because I don’t want to get to that inevitable downward spiral. 

But, like you, as I’m about camp doing my own thing, I get Strauss or Dutch coming up to me telling me to go and get the money. Or if I sit and play poker Strauss talks about how “Downes is a slippery one”.

Makes me want to punch him.

I... honestly it annoys me so much that Arthur has to be the one to collect the debts. Reading the comments he makes in his journal when he’s told to go and collect them, he obviously has some strong opinions about Strauss’s money lending and finds that business more distasteful that killing and robbing people. I think it’s because the money lending is taking advantage of people just trying to get by, y’know? They’re just trying to live their life, and Strauss takes advantage of that. Says the right thing, makes out like its a good deal and like he has their best interests at heart. And I think Arthur finds that a very bitter pill to swallow because it goes against everything Dutch preaches.

Robbing and killing lawmen or something, okay it’s not good, it’s not nice but they’re in a line of work where they know the risks of being a lawman, or being a guard for a bank. They know there’s a possibility they’ll get attacked by outlaws and possibly lose their lives.

Whereas the people Strauss cons out of money are just trying to make ends meet. And he doesn’t care if they have nothing, if taking money from a crook is the only option open to them.

I know Arthur collecting the money is necessary for story progression and character development, I do. But it still leaves a nasty taste in my mouth. Arthur is so against the money lending... I think that makes it even worse that his going to collect is what spells the end for him, ultimately. 

idk. This turned into a ramble. I apologize. >__

(I would never let Micah out of jail if I had the option).

#asks #replies #anon #nonny #bluster speaks #blu talks #Anonymous

[miss-oscurita]

A warning about Strauss/second play-throughs

A friendly warning to everyone going in on a second replay....avoid Strauss like the Goddamn plague for as long as possible. I assume most of you are, but fair warning...my girlfriend just got forced to go see Downes!!! She found out that if you take up debt collecting and catch up to the two people near Emerald Ranch...as soon as you read the letter that arrives from Mary you are literally FORCED to go and see Thomas Downes. It doesn’t matter if you haven’t visited the Polish guy either, Strauss comes up to Arthur as soon as he finishes the letter and instructs him to go to the farm right then and there! It’s a yellow X marker on your map and you can’t do anything else until you go there. WTF??

She is absolutely livid as she still has a lot of chapter two left to go! I don’t know how this has happened to her, because I’ve got two missions left on chapter two and Downes Farm is still just showing on my map as a normal initialed marker, so I’ve managed to avoid being forced into it somehow. Be careful guys, if you’re planning on roaming with Arthur before he gets infected and/or want to delay it for as long as possible, manually save at various points before working for Strauss, so you can avoid being forced into getting Arthur sick. Damn you, Rockstar!!!

#Arthur Morgan #Red Dead Redemption 2 #RDR2

[sky-daybreak]

Arthur hates collecting debts for Strauss, he makes no secret of it and he always feels harder and darker afterwards, like he buried a piece of whatever bits of light he has left in him. Sometimes, it's not entirely shitty. Some people get back on their feet or manage to pay off the dept anyway, handing him the money before asking him to leave.

It's still not pleasant and he secretly hates the way innocents cower away from him, no matter how subtly. Hates that he's the reason they look like the devil just knocked on their door. He doesn't want to scare folks who never did anything to him or others. He doesn't, in all truth, want to be that kind of man.

This time though, something about the debt Strauss asked him to collect leaves him with a foul taste in his mouth, his chest feeling too tight and dark. He got the money, alright, but as he rides away, he knows that the sick widow with the baby won't make it another two weeks.

At the same time, he doesn't know what else to do. She borrowed money she can't pay back and he understands it, gets that after the death of her husband, there was no money left and she has a child to raise after a tough winter. He understands and feels helpless to do anything else about it. Debts have to be paid and if he doesn't collect it, Strauss has every right to tell the government to get it for him. The woman would end up in prison and then what? This isn't right.

Arthur feels the guilt burrow into him, mixing with anger and something dark and heavy, as he rides back, so quiet his horse keeps flicking its ears back at him. It even feels as though his horse is moving gentler in this moment.

Halfway home, Arthur unexpectedly sees Charles on the road, the man riding in the opposite direction of the camp. Most likely to go out hunting or looking for a way to make money.

"Arthur." Charles calls out to him once he notices him, slowing down and nudging Taima over.

Something about seeing his friend makes Arthur feel even worse. Charles is good, somehow manages to do the right thing in a life like theirs.

His tongue feels heavy and the sense of growing wrong that burrowed into his chest seems to deepen, weighting on his heart and mind further. Arthur can see the moment Charles catches on that something is up, his friend's gaze quickly darting past him to see if he's followed, before focusing back on him.

"What's wrong?" Charles asks, voice lowered as he stops beside him, their horses briefly tilting their heads towards each other in a quiet greeting. "Did something happen?"

For a long second, Arthur feels like the unspoken words drag sharply at his chest, a mixture of wanting to get out and not letting anyone know how much this affects him. But Charles looks at him without judgment, only steady support in the way he angles himself and his gaze is filled with the unspoken promise to help if he can. It makes something in Arthur loosen just enough for him to open his mouth.

"There is a woman, widow with a baby." Arthur mumbles, tilting his head for a second to hide behind the brim of his hat, forcing a tense hand to gesture back to the path he came from. "She owes Strauss."

Understanding blooms on Charles' face, followed by a brief tug of a thoughtful frown. "She can't pay?"

"Took the last bit of money and valuables she has." Arthur answers and feels his shoulders grow even tighter with tension. "This is...they have nothing now it ain't..."

"Right. It ain't right." Charles finishes softly, kind even in the fact that he doesn't expect or force Arthur to say it all out loud.

"Dutch preaches about helping folks." Arthur continues, quieter and a little less rough tension filling his voice. It helps that Charles still looks steadily at him, no judgment appearing. Hell, if anything, he looks understanding. Arthur thinks it's far more than he deserves. "And then this. She has a baby, Charles. A baby and no food."

A torn look appears on Charles' face, the same kind of torn that Arthur feels. Then his friend's face smoothes over and Arthur recognizes that expression. It's the look of someone who has an idea and thinks that Arthur might not approve.

"We could pay it for her." Charles offers, voice slightly soft around the edges, as though he knows how much everyone else would be against that idea. "Just this once."

Arthur feels protest bubbling up, before it dies an ashen death. He remembers the woman, face gaunt and too thin, her clothes fixed up and the hem of her dress tattered. Remembers the baby wrapped in clothes that look stitched together from the father's old shirts. He remembers stepping into the house as the woman got everything and seeing the watery stew on the stove, a small, meager meal, the dry, small piece of bread. He doesn't want to be the reason either of them dies.

At the same time, a part of Arthur warns him against it. Warns that he can't allow himself to be soft in the face of desperate, unlucky people like that widow. Strauss will ask him for help again and he has an uncanny ability to pick out people who barely scrape by, people who need help but get it from nowhere and end up turning to folks like Strauss.

"It doesn't make you weak." Charles suddenly speaks up, his voice firm in a way that feels steadying to Arthur. "Caring, doing something right. It doesn't make you weak."

"Just this once." Arthur answers and the second he says it, a strangely freeing breath flows into his lungs, mixing with an unexpected flaring of nerves. He's never done this. Never brought back something he took.

There is a small smile lightly touching Charles' lips and Arthur gets the strange sensation that despite this nervous tinged mix of feelings in his chest, he did something right.

"Should we ride together?" Charles suggests, nodding down the path. "You can accompany me hunting afterwards."

"Sounds good." Arthur agrees, turning his horse around. His shoulders stay tense all the way back to the small house, though.

His friend wordlessly dismounts along with him and Arthur can't help but feel thankful he's there. Steady and calming and so much kinder than so many other people. At a knock, the door opens and Arthur feels an inward wince at the red-rimmed eyes of the widow. She looks surprised and then startled, clutching her baby a bit closer to herself as though it might get taken away too.

"A mistake was made." Arthur says, pulling out the money and the small bag with the necklace and two wedding bands before she can say anything. "Your dept isn't, it got resolved."

"Resolved?" Her voice is as thin as she looks and Arthur holds out the collected amount to her, her trembling fingers slowly accepting it back, disbelief and slowly blooming hope on her face.

"Resolved." Arthur repeats, unsure how to explain it and takes a step back. "Don't worry about it."

With a last, curt nod, he turns around. Charles politely dips his head as well, following Arthur back to the horses.

"Thank you!" The woman calls out and Arthur can hear the tears in her voice, the waver and yet, also a relieved gasp. He doesn't say anything or turns around, as he gets back in the saddle.

Only when they're away from the house again, does he stop rigidly staring ahead, his posture easing. Charles reaches over to grip his shoulder. The warmth of his hand seeps through Arthur's clothes and his shoulders fall as he exhales heavily, most of his tension draining away.

"Ready to hunt?" Charles asks, voice just as warm as his touch and Arthur is thankful he doesn't ask how he's doing or if he's alright. He couldn't quite say himself. It's the first time Arthur has done anything like this. It almost feels like going against an order from Dutch, as strange as it sounds.

"Yeah." He says, taking a quiet, deep breath and lightly rolls his shoulders to shake some of the lingering, leftover tension. Charles gives him a small smile and waves him along, leading them towards the woods.

After the hunt, Charles and Arthur both put money into the camp's cash box and Arthur later tells Strauss that the dept is dealt with. For the first time, he doesn't feel like a truly bad man after going out on Strauss' request.

While the man looks satisfied, smiling to himself and putting a mark down in his book, Arthur's gaze falls to the side where Charles sits by the fire, listening to Javier play. His friend waves him over and Arthur could swear there is a brief, knowing smile on his face.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #charles smith #my writing #don't mind me #just my loser ass with an idea i liked #so here have a bit of writing no one asked for #will i ever write charles not being a complete sweetheart #no absolutely not #have some bits of fluff as well

[tiredcowpoke]

TITLE: Blank Spots [9] PAIRING: (Somewhat pre-established) Arthur Morgan/Fem!Reader, could be seen as an OC. REQUEST: Unprompted. BLURB: After waking up at the base of a steep incline and nearly freezing to death, you stumble upon a group of strangers who swear up and down that they know you. WARNINGS: Some creative license for amnesia. Angst. NOTE: Here we are! I really struggled with the ending of this chapter but hopefully it’s alright. Thank you all for the patience and support on this work!  TAG LIST: @on-my-way-to-erebor / @otherthingstoreid@ireallyhonestlydontcare @elanisha @darlingsdevil@cirillamylove@bunnyreese12 @rollyjogerjones @callmemythicalminx

You were starting to realize how much you hadn’t been thinking about how to handle this.

Even more so, you knew there was no way this would go over well. Really, you felt like you had just met the Downes and now you were going to turn up as the debt collector for some poor family. There was no nice way to spin it, it would probably hurt more to hear it from family, but you knew you were willing to take that over standing by while someone like Arthur did so. There was still that damn touch of guilt you felt when you thought about him, the way he looked when you talked to him back at camp before you left.

Yet...well, you couldn’t exactly deny how he usually handled these debts. Arthur hadn’t told you outright the details, but you had been able to gather enough to understand what was involved. Strauss was smart, slimy (as Arthur had spat one evening), and could wave money in front of people who had no hopes of paying off his loans, and when he (inevitably) didn’t get the money owed, it was Arthur who went in his place as Strauss’ force and muscle. It seemed like that had been how it was for quite some time, given how familiar Arthur was, and how Dutch kept talking him into it for the sake of funds.

This time, though?

Well, you looked rough, and Edith and Thomas knew you were injured and had issues with your memory. You weren’t some intimidating stranger, and perhaps the leverage you had as family would…

You could feel your stomach twist somewhat as you thought about it in that way. You were an outlaw, running with a group of outlaws, yet in the moment you felt like you were far from it. The anger that had boiled up in your gut over the situation had simmered down into heavy dread and guilt for something you were about to do.

It was a shame that the ride from camp to the Downes Ranch was such a short one.

Steering your horse up the steep incline, you managed to get up onto the cliff side and rode down toward the trail leading out toward the ranch. Really, you felt like turning back, demanding to find some other way to settle this, but you knew where Strauss stood. What you had agreed to do, had told Dutch you would do so to his face. So, you let out a slow breath as you steered your horse down the path at the top of the cliff before turning off toward the ranch. It was upon seeing the familiar figure of your uncle working in their meager garden that you had no idea how you were to approach this.

Should you lie? You knew you would have to spin a really good one to explain how you knew about the loan he took. They had only known you for a couple days.

Still, you knew you were approaching the point of no return when your uncle lifted his head, leaning against the handle of his rake as you rode up.

“I didn’t know you were comin’ by today,” he commented after you had dismounted, approaching the gate with your heart in your throat.

“Yeah...it’s good I caught you, I have something real important to talk about.”

You rested your hands against the gate in front of you, watching as Thomas set aside his tool and wandered over, your fingers tightening against the wood under your hands. This was all becoming so much, but you knew it would be best that you dealt with this issue instead of...whatever outcome it would have gotten with Arthur.

“Are you alright?”

“Sure, I…” you started, letting out a sigh as you dropped your hands back against your side. “I don’t know how to start saying this, so I just will. I know that you took out a loan, that the pay’s come due…”

“How…?”

“I don’t really know how to explain it fully, but...I know. I just...I need you to give me some sort of payment or--”

“Well...you think I would be in debt still if I had the means to pay it off?” Thomas asked, causing you to clench your jaw somewhat.

It wasn’t over frustration aimed at him, or what he had been trying to do. You had no idea what he was doing with that money, but judging from his state and the state of his family, you figured it wasn’t just for extra. Still, you weren’t sure how badly things would go if you left there empty handed, especially after what happened at camp that got you on their property. It was just a question on what they could give in the meantime and getting them to see your logic, yet…

Well, it wasn’t going to go over well in the long run.

“I know, but--”

“What’s happening out here?”

Edith’s voice broke you from the thought leaving your mouth, your eyebrows raising somewhat as she came walking up toward the two of you. Lifting your gaze a moment, you could see Archie back at the house. Guess this was going to be a family affair. Despite the moment, Edith didn’t seem too upset, more curious about your arrival, though her expression seemed to fall somewhat as she took in the moment as Thomas coughed lightly into his arm.

It was a retched sound, wet and alarming, which put a terrible twist to your gut.

“I…” you let out a small exhale as you turned toward her, “I know about the loan Thomas took, and I’m...well, I’m hoping to help.”

“I don’t know how you even know about that, or how you’re going to help with that,” Edith said, pausing a few steps from you as she crossed her arms, casting her husband a somewhat concerned look. “We don’t have the means to pay that back. We’d been hoping that we would with how we invested the loan, but…”

“I know the person you got the money from, the people he works for,” you stated, deciding to just approach it as directly as you could. You could already feel the conversation circling. “I just...I need something from you for that loan and I will take on the rest myself.”

“You know them?” she asked, her tone tight, “You’re...you’re here to collect? Did you even try to get them to let it go?”

“I did,” you insisted, “Believe me, I tried, but that situation is complicated too.”

“More complicated than ours?” she challenged, causing you to fight back the retort that wasn’t being helped with the pre-existing stress of the day.

“If I come back empty handed, I don’t know how this will play out. Though, if you just give me something, I will pay off the rest of it myself and there won’t be anybody turning up here that you don’t know.”

“You promise that?” Thomas asked, the question putting a weight in your gut. You had no idea if you could, nor did you think you had enough influence to make that a certainty.

“I can’t,” you replied, biting at the inside of your lip somewhat, “That’s my hope and I’ll do what I can to make it happen, but…”

“I can’t believe this…” Edith muttered, shaking her head.

There was a pause as you awaited an answer, your throat tight as you clenched your jaw somewhat. You still weren’t too sure why you weren’t allowed to take on the full debt. Perhaps there was the idea that they did have the money for it and were holding out on repaying it for one reason or another, but standing before them you knew that likely wasn’t the case. There was a good pit of anger that sat in your gut--though, you weren’t too sure who it was aimed at. Arthur? Strauss? Dutch? Who knew, but in the moment you just wanted to resolve the moment so badly so you could leave.

Perhaps that was selfish, but...well, you were telling the truth about leaving empty handed. If they had nothing, then they had nothing, but you had no idea where to take that. How that news would be handled back in camp.

“...We have some money,” Thomas stated, meeting Edith’s gaze.

“It’s barely anything,” she replied, you could almost feel the anger that she was barely holding back, “Not enough to really make sure we can survive here.”

“I don’t need all of it,” you stated, meeting her gaze. Believe me, I wouldn’t be taking any of it if I had my way.

“When you had turned up here…” Edith said, lowering her gaze as she dug around in her apron for a moment, “I had been thinking you had managed to get away from what your father had been setting you up for, but I should have known…”

You stood there a moment, mouth parted somewhat as you tried to gather words. However, most of them died on your tongue. Really, you had no idea if you really had strayed from that life, though the company you kept seemed to say that you hadn’t. You watched as Edith pulled out a couple bills, tossing them onto the dirt between you.

“Make true on what you’re saying and don’t come back here,” she stated, breaking you from your thoughts before you bent down to gather the money.

You didn’t need to be told twice, not able to cast either of them a parting look before you mounted back up on your horse and rode out of there. You could feel some of the shaking in your hands as you tried to steer the horse off toward camp, your heart beating hard in your chest.

There really was only one place you had left, now.

                                                               ***

You didn’t make it back to camp.

Going back was inevitable, you knew that, but you couldn’t bring yourself to head back there just yet. You knew it was foolish, considering the Pinkertons so close by, but your mind was moving a mile a minute. It felt like you were going over the events of that evening again and again, wondering if you had said the right thing, yet there was no way you could have done so unless it was to tell them they didn’t have to worry about it. Yet, returning back to camp with the pocket change you had been given, despite telling them they had nothing, it wasn’t something you wanted to deal with.

So, you found yourself stopping to sit against a rock, pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes. It produced a small, familiar, ache for a few moments, but it subsided once you lowered them again. You felt something slip down the side of your face, your hand moving up to grip the fabric of the bandage that had come loose. With a huff, you ripped it off and tossed it off to the side.

Damn injury was mostly healed anyway.

Didn’t do a damn thing for your memories, however. Really, you had no idea who you were supposed to be. An outlaw, a lover, a daughter, a niece. You had no damn clue anymore. Though, you might as well scratch off niece and the idea of having familiar faces should you decide this life wasn’t for you. Though, considering everything, maybe it was. It’s all you had, anyway. The gang knew you, too, but...well, if you had your memories, would this whole thing have gone differently? Dutch wanted your loyalty to his gang, much as he didn’t outright state it. You knew that was the case, but…

“Damn it…” you muttered, pressing a hand to your mouth in thought as you watched the trees and the trail ahead of you.

The sound of approaching hoof beats and the sound of another horse had you lifting your head, turning to glance behind yourself to see the rider approach. It took only a moment for you to see who it was, making you shut your eyes and let out a slow breath as you turned to face forward again. You knew you could feel some of the anger ebbing out as you tried to look ahead to what you were supposed to do, now, but it wasn’t completely gone.

“You following me?” you asked, failing to keep some of the tension from your tone.

“Hosea saw you ride off after everythin’, said I should follow after,” Arthur replied as you heard him get off his horse and approach where you were sitting. “Considerin’ what you was off to do, figured I should.”

“I don’t think I’m going to get much comfort from that,” you replied, pressing your hands against your mouth a moment.

Much as you knew there was some anger there, you couldn’t find a solid reason to pin it completely on Arthur that wasn’t rebutteled in your mind. He had tried to get Strauss and Dutch to drop the debt, much as he didn’t bend over backwards for it. He’d tried to talk to you before he went ahead and collected on it. Yet...well, there wouldn’t be that whole mess if there had been an attempt to step up against the business as a whole.

For all Dutch preached, what you had been told about his morals for the gang…

Maybe that wasn’t wholly Arthur’s fault, but he still took part.

He had also told you about it, and you had stood aside until it directly affected you.

Damn it.

“Take it you did what you took off to do,” he said after a few moments, coming to stand beside you but you couldn’t bring yourself to look up at him just yet.

“Yeah, I have a little to give to prove I did so,” you replied, letting out a sigh, “Though Strauss' little business has removed all options for a good relationship with what remains of my family.”

“I...I’m sorry. Wish I could’ve...I don’t know. Never liked the debtin’, it’s opposite to what Dutch’s got us standin’ for, but it’s good money for camp.”

“What you all lost in Blackwater, is this really worth it?” you asked, glancing up to meet Arthur’s gaze. His expression was tight, though it was hard not to notice the concern there.

“I don’t know,” he muttered, glancing away, “Feel like...we’ve been tryin’ to find the money to get out of this whole thing. Dutch thought it was some land out west, but that didn’t turn out right. With that ferry job goin’ sideways, we’re out here with little money, so things like that...well, I’m not surprised Dutch’s still leanin’ on Strauss’ lendin’.”

“You’re all really trying to get out?” you asked, furrowing your brow.

“I don’t know,” Arthur admitted after a moment, “With how big we are right now? It’ll be hard without bein’ sittin’ ducks for whoever’s got ideas ‘bout the price on our heads.”

“I’m starting to see that,” you muttered, thinking back to those agents at the river. “I don’t know who I should be angry at about all of this.”

“Might as well be me,” Arthur said around a small sigh, moving around to sit himself down beside you, “We’re all close in camp, we take care of our own, but I can’t lie and say I’m a good man. If Dutch wants somethin’ done, I’m usually the one to do it.”

“I...I guess I can see that,” you said, “I barely see you as it is.”

Arthur let out a small sound in agreement, your gaze dropping to take in the detail of the toe of one of his boots next to your own. You weren’t too sure how to feel about everything. There was a part of you that still had to process everything he had told you about Mary, something you had barely turned over in your head since he had told you about that. Now, there was all of this. Yet, you couldn’t link things together with any sort of experience you had previously with him. There was the kiss, how he interacted with people in camp, with Jack when he had invited you along for fishing.

There was also the outlaw. You couldn’t remember a time you had ran with him before, if you had seen that in action. If you had formed some opinion there, but…

Well, would that even matter in the moment?

“I don’t know who I am, Arthur,” you admitted, your voice almost sounding unfamiliar in your ears.

There had been a weight pressing down since you had woken up in those mountains, and an endless amount of questions. What happened to you on the mountain specifically, what happened to the family you remembered, what you were supposed to do about the relationships you had with Arthur and the gang. It mixed terribly with the guilt in your gut, the anger toward your situation and this new outcome.

“You’re...you’re still you,” he replied, pulling you from your spiral for a moment. “You’re different, too, but guess what happened in camp reminded me of how I know you.”

“Wish I knew who that was,” you said, shaking your head, “I’m so damn confused all the time, but...well, I guess that’s a little comforting to hear.”

“I-I really am sorry for everythin’ that’s happened,” Arthur said after he seemed to let your words hang in the air for a few moments, “I know what happened today might not be forgivable, but I am.”

“...I appreciate you telling me about all of that,” you replied after a moment, “I don’t know how to feel about everything, but...I appreciate that.”

“Sure…”

You could feel that tightness in your gut, your chest. The emotion sitting there, painful and frustrating. Yet, you weren’t too sure why, but you found yourself leaning sideways to slip an arm around his torso, resting your head against the leather of his jacket against his chest. The way Arthur seemed to tense up at you doing so wasn’t hard to miss, almost making you pull back but the action was stopped as you felt him slip an arm behind your shoulders, pressing you to him lightly.

Much as a part of you knew you were angry, confused, but there was a comfort there that lingered from somewhere deep. In the moment, with everything happening, you couldn’t help but want to seek that comfort, as small as it was. It pushed a light stinging behind your nose and eyes forward, but the tears didn’t come as you sat in his embrace.

It wasn’t a long one, but it was enough to slow your mind for a moment. You knew everything felt off, strange, but a part of you had been seeking that out with the things you had been recalling. Still, you parted from him easily enough when you felt his arms loosen around you, Arthur gathering himself to a stand.

“C’mon, we need to get back to camp. Ain’t safe to be sittin’ around here.”

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

[tiredcowpoke]

TITLE: Blank Spots [6] PAIRING: (Somewhat pre-established) Arthur Morgan/Fem!Reader, could be seen as an OC. REQUEST: Unprompted. BLURB: After waking up at the base of a steep incline and nearly freezing to death, you stumble upon a group of strangers who swear up and down that they know you. WARNINGS: Some creative license for amnesia. Head injury, drinking. NOTE: I feel like this is shorter than usual? Though, maybe not. I was expecting it to be, but here’s the next part of this! Thank you all for keeping up with this so far.  TAG LIST: @on-my-way-to-erebor / @otherthingstoreid@ireallyhonestlydontcare​ @elanisha @darlingsdevil@cirillamylove@bunnyreese12 @rollyjogerjones

He really had missed the little loud-mouthed bastard.

It wasn’t something he really wanted to admit, as Sean likely wouldn’t let him live it down. Though, he was a little more observant than he wanted to give him credit for, so Sean may have picked up on that already. However, Arthur had put up that sarcastic, prickly front, once they had managed to rescue him from the bounty hunters. Considering the chaos it brought, it wasn’t as much of a front as it usually was. Getting that close to Blackwater, seeing the Pinkerton patrol strolling along the cliff edge near the river separating his past, his longing to head out west, and the present where they were all stuck out east. It put him on edge, along with trying to plan how they were going to get Sean back.

There was no way they were going to be able to get back into Blackwater to get the money that had been left behind, it was a realization that sat in the back of his mind. Dutch seemed to avoid all talk about it, assured him that they would get back out west. Back where they would be free. Yet, things seemed rather focused on what they were currently doing out east. Maybe he would have to get used to that.

He was forcing himself to get used to a lot of things.

Charles, Javier, and Sean had separated after they had pulled off their rescue, Arthur riding back in toward camp at a quick but somewhat relaxed pace. He was away from the border out to New Austin, away from Blackwater, and away from the commotion they had caused in the bounty hunter camp. He allowed himself to relax a bit, knowing once he got back to camp, there would be something going on.

When wasn’t there?

He didn’t fully dread going back to camp, no, but there was a bit of a tension there. Arthur had no idea what they were doing, what was coming next, but getting Sean back was at least a step in the right direction. Davey and Jenny hadn’t made it, Sean had been up in the air, now there was just Mac but...well, it was hard to tell what happened to him. Wherever he was, he just hoped he was alive. Still, most of the focus lately was on how they were going to cope with where they found themselves currently.

It was a new land, something was always happening. You had certainly found something.

Honestly, Arthur had to admit that he found it hard to believe the damn chances of just...running into your family out east. You rarely talked about your family, where you came from. ‘Out west,’ you had often said.

Out west and not worth remembering.

How ironic that was, now.

Still, much as he struggled with disbelief about your uncle living just outside Valentine, there was a touch of hope about what you had talked about with it as well. Admittedly, when you had asked to talk to him in private a night or so ago, he had started to guard himself. That the whole thing was done, that you wanted to drop what you had with him. It hadn’t been as crushing as it had been with Mary, but...well, maybe it wasn’t right to compare, considering how young his relationship was with you before all of this. Yet, he felt something, and the idea that you were going to leave him because...

Well, he couldn’t blame you for doing so because you couldn’t remember him. There was still some frustration swirling in his gut over that situation. Not toward you, you had no control over what happened on that mountain, but there was a fair amount of it toward himself and Micah. He still had yet to really know how Micah felt about his involvement in the whole thing, but it wasn’t hard to guess where he stood about it. Yet, he couldn’t exactly ask, seeing as Micah and Lenny had left to scout ahead and hadn’t returned yet. Still, Arthur...well, he had felt some sort of way when Dutch had told you, John, Micah and himself to head out into the storm to see if there was anything to be found.

A part of him had wanted to protest at having you go with Micah, but at the time...well, they needed all they could get. You had just shook your head but agreed to what Dutch had told you to do.

Now, he wished you hadn’t.

He let out a slow exhale, bringing himself back to the moment as he trotted along on his horse, bringing himself back to the moment. Arthur knew he would have to return to camp, to see about Sean, but that didn’t have to be at the very moment.

Strauss was back with his debt collecting, and Arthur was usually the one sent to collect. He had given him a list, a couple names. Lily was up in Emerald Ranch, near camp.

He could collect her debt and be back before the day was out.

                                                         ***

Camp seemed to come alive with activity, much to your confusion.

There had been a couple shouts and cheers, someone named Sean had returned. You knew the gang had lost a couple people while they were heading up into the mountain, but you hadn’t been keeping track on just who those people were. So, you had lingered back from the commotion, noticing Charles and Javier returning looking a little less thrilled, pulling some light amusement into your expression. Considering the way Sean’s voice carried as you would pass him in camp, you could start to understand why.

Sean was energetic in the face of escaping death, apparently, which made you wish you had the same outlook a couple days back when you had survived your own.

Then again, you hadn’t exactly returned the surprise and relief to be seeing these people again as they did you, and it didn’t seem like anybody was celebrating the situation they were in. Horseshoe Overlook wasn’t an abandoned, frozen, town left in the snow for time and nature to take it back again. It had certainly felt like it was being reclaimed, you didn’t miss the frigid air that leaked in from the holes in the walls and floors. Really, it made you enjoy the feeling of the sun at Horseshoe, much as the air did have a bit of a bite to it some days.

“Miss?”

The sound of a voice pulled you out of your head, making you jump slightly from where you had been lingering near a wagon, lost in thought. You hadn’t noticed someone approaching, Dutch’s voice recognized after a moment as you turned to look toward him. He stood a couple steps off from you, meeting your gaze with his eyebrows raised slightly--questioning.

“I’m sorry, Dutch,” you replied after a moment, shaking your head slightly, “I didn’t hear you approach.”

“I’d say,” he returned around a short huff, “I was hopin’ we could talk, you and I. About your situation.”

“There’s...not much to say,” you returned carefully, “I still don’t fully remember a lot, just some familiarity at certain things.”

“No reason to be wanderin’ off on your own, then?”

The question was pointed, making your eyebrows furrow slightly. Dutch met your gaze with a somewhat unreadable expression, hands on his hips as you picked up on the suspicion in his tone. A frown touched your face, a part of you wondering who had told him that you had rode out on your own--Abigail didn’t seem like she would have, but...well, the camp had guards, a number of people who could have seen you outside of her.

“I...found some family,” you replied, letting out a small sigh through your nose, “In Valentine. I had a hard time sitting around at camp knowing that, and knowing that I could run out of chances to really see if they were who I thought they were. I...I didn’t believe that was a bad thing?”

“It’s hard to say, considerin’ you know where we are but with you not rememberin’ us…”

You could pick up at what he was hinting at, your expression tightening slightly.

“I’m not leaving.” At the moment. “I used the story you told us to use when we first got here.”

“I understand…” he started, shifting in his stance somewhat, more open but there was still something there that put you a little on edge. “This is a hard situation for you, and runnin’ into familiar faces outside of us...I understand it can be complicated. You’d always told me that you had no family, or anybody to be worried ‘bout. We’ve been takin’ care of you, all of us, even before all this. We’re a family here, too. Hope you will remember that.”

There was a tension that flooded into you at his words--did he trust you? It seemed he was willing to give you some room, but...well, his words suggested that it wasn’t complete trust. Perhaps...well, perhaps you could understand a little bit. You had wondered yourself where that odd sense of loyalty came from when it came to the idea of leaving the gang behind, considering you felt you should have been regarding them as strangers. You had to wonder, too, if they would have cut you out if you hadn’t been connected with them as much as you apparently were. The question sat on the edge of your tongue, waiting to be let out, yet you managed to hold it back.

“I understand, Dutch.”

“This ain’t a lecture,” he stated, placing a hand on your shoulder, “We’re in a situation here, and it has a lot of opportunity, but I need you to understand that.”

“I understand, I do. I haven’t given any of you away.”

He gave you a small pat before releasing his hold with a nod, leaving the conversation at that before returning to the fanfare about their returned member. You let out a slow exhale, pressing a hand against your forehead somewhat, careful not to press too heavily, much as the wound was almost healed. Dutch seemed like he tried to understand you, something you...admittedly weren’t sure on if it was just charm or actual understanding, but it made it sound like there would be issues aside from hurt feelings if you decided to leave.

Still, he hadn’t forbade you from leaving, but he made it clear that there was an expectation on which side he wanted you on.

                                                             ***

Evening rolled in as Sean got settled, the start of a party happening around camp as you had slipped off toward the back of a wagon with a rag and one of the tonics the doctor had given you. You had removed the bandage from around your head, the fabric at least not bloody anymore as you had noticed the gash healing up. Still, you soaked a bit of the rag in the tonic, placing it against the wound with a small inhale through your nose. The headaches were stepping off a bit, much as sunlight made your head throb from time to time still, but the wound itself was still a little painful to the touch.

The whole thing was supposed to help, but you had to wonder sometimes.

Though, the sound of approaching footfalls made you lift your gaze from your boots toward where the figure of someone rounded the side of the wagon you were behind. You had seen her around, and had noted her to be one of the people the gang had picked up in the mountains, though it looked like she had been put in some clean clothes. She still looked rough, you saw her around camp but you didn’t feel like she was looking for conversation. Though, the mild surprise upon seeing you had you returning the look.

“I didn’t know anybody was back here,” she commented, causing you to lower the rag a moment with a shrug.

“I wasn’t staying long, just didn’t want an audience to treating this thing…” you returned. Though, the woman, despite her words, did not really leave after that as she shifted to sit herself down on a rock across from you. Even in the gathering darkness of the evening, you could tell she looked exhausted. “You’re the woman they picked up in the mountains.”

“So are you,” she returned, her tone a little tight but you saw her focus to your forehead for a moment, “That’s a hell of a bruise.”

“Still?” you asked around a soft chuckle, “Looks worse than it feels sometimes, then.”

“I...overheard ‘round camp that you’re sufferin’ from memory problems,” she commented, making your expression drop slightly as you pressed your lips together. It wasn’t great that that was the topic of conversation when it came to you, but it wasn’t like it was a false assumption.

“...Yes. It’s been a process.”

“Might not be as much of a curse as you make it sound…” she replied, dropping her head slightly, “Would give anythin’ to forget some things.”

“I...I’m sorry,” you offered up, watching as she raised her head in a half-hearted dismissal before you started to secure the bandage back on your head. If it was still that bad, maybe you should keep it on for the time being. Though, you paused as you stood to your feet, looking her over a moment before you held your hand out with an introduction, the blonde woman glancing up toward you before she shook your hand lightly.

“Sadie Adler,” she introduced in return, letting go of your hand. You were tempted for a moment to ask if she wanted to go back out toward the main part of camp, but it didn’t seem like she was up for whatever was waiting. 

Really, you weren’t too sure how to feel about a celebration yourself with everything that was happening. However, with you noticing Abigail approaching the two of you, you found yourself just giving a nod and leaving it at that as you picked up the medicine and placed it back down near your bedroll.

The camp really was alive with this little party for Sean’s return, people talking around a fire, some singing at a table near Pearson’s wagon, and there was some cheerful tune from Dutch’s gramophone in his tent. You could see the man himself swaying to the tune with a red-haired woman in his arms--Molly, if you remembered correctly. There was also a familiar figure and shirt just across from where they were dancing, Arthur and Mary-Beth swaying along to the music as well, though a little more stiffly than Dutch and Molly beside them. The sight pulled a small huff out of your nose, an amused grin touching your features before you continued on your way toward your bedroll.

You would need to figure out where you were going to plant yourself for the night, if you weren’t just going to curl up for the night. Which sounded...fun. Though, your mind seemed to linger on the image of Arthur dancing in the back of your mind, your mind recalling the movements and even that shirt as you got the image in your mind of your hands on his shoulders. You could remember the way the touch of alcohol had made your movements a little less controlled as they usually were, no music in your ears but you could recall how the air that clung to your skin was much hotter and dry than what was at Horseshoe.

There had been some conversation, though you couldn’t recall exactly what had been said, feeling yourself laughing lightly at something that had been said. You had reached a bold hand up, cupping the side of his face in your palm, recalling the feeling of his stubble against your skin there before you had leaned up toward his face--

“There she is!”

The call pulled you out of the thought--memory?--almost as instantly as the feeling of an arm getting wrapped heavily around your shoulders did, the smell of whiskey hanging heavy against the red-haired Irishman who had settled himself against your side for a moment. Between the startle and the feeling that had hit you from the memory, you couldn’t help the small gasp as your heart hammered away in your chest, heat rushing lightly to your face.

“Avoidin’ me all day, I’m thinkin’ you didn’t miss me much,” Sean continued, releasing his hold as he moved back somewhat, stumbling enough to push aside the thought that he was saying so while sober.

“I…”

“Oh, c’mon, what’s the long faces ‘round here for, huh?” he asked, placing a heavy hand on your shoulder, “But, don’t worry. With me back in your lives, I’ll surely be able t’ bring back some joy into it.”

“It certainly looks like you’ve found plenty of that joy tonight…” you commented, deciding to play along. With how he was acting, you could suspect he may not remember it come morning.

“I am!” he exclaimed rather proudly, “You should, too! What happened? I leave for some time and you’ve forgotten how t’ have fun?”

“I haven’t,” you said around a somewhat awkward chuckle, “Don’t worry about me, just go enjoy your party.”

“I just missed you, is all,” he stated, sounding a touch sentimental, “So, go have some fun, or I might have t’ force ya.”

“Sure…” you returned, watching as he turned to return back into camp, heavy with drink. You let out a quick breath, shutting your eyes for a moment.

“Christ’s sake…” you muttered--just one thing after another today.

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

[the-awkward-outlaw]

Second Chances - Ch. 26

Seeking Forgiveness

Warnings: swearing

Word count: ~6800

Masterlist 

Read on AO3

You stir awake in the morning, the sunlight streaming through the leaves amidst the song of birds. If you weren’t stuck in this horrible clearing of Beaver Hollow, you’d enjoy this moment. You reach for Arthur, but your hand falls onto the cot. Opening your eyes, you see he’s not there, nor is he in the tent. Upon further inspection of the camp, you find he’s left camp entirely, but he had neglected to tell anyone where he was going or what he was doing. 

Not wanting to be trapped here alone again, you head over to Rannoch with the intention to leave. An obstacle appears in the form of Grimshaw. Turns out Pearson’s too drunk to cook again and everyone liked whatever you had done to the stew a few days ago, so she wants you to make it again. You almost tell her no and that you’re going out to do a job, but the thought of bringing in at least one good thing to camp stops you. Sighing, you nod and go to the table.

The day passes slowly as you prepare the stew, using what ingredients you can. Sadie marches passed with a repeater in hand, prepared to take guard duty. She gives you a brief greeting, which you return. Javier walks by, staring at you coldly. It surprises you.

“Hello, Javier,” you say lightly, trying to sound neutral. 

“Y/N. There are rumors that you and Arthur have been going behind Dutch’s back. This is the time we need to stick with him.” 

“Who’s saying these rumors?” you demand. “And where’s the proof?” 

“You two have hardly been in camp, and after that thing with John. All Dutch asks is for us to be loyal.” 

“And where’s his loyalty to us?” you snap. “We are the ones risking our necks to get us out there, all Dutch does is sit in his tent and talk about a plan he hasn’t bothered to share with any of us. So where’s the loyalty to the ones doing the real work?” 

Javier glares at you. “That isn’t the way it works, Y/N. Maybe if you had been more often or been with us longer, you’d understand.” 

He stalks away, leaving you shaken. You’ve always been on good terms with Javier, yet here he is acting like you’re the one causing all the trouble. Turning back to cutting up the rabbit on the table in front of you, you wonder if he’s just frustrated and taking it out on you. 

Charles wanders over to the table an hour after your interaction with Javier. He stops for a moment, not saying anything until you greet him. 

“Hello, Y/N. I’ve asked Arthur to help out Rains Fall. Think he mentioned you met him.” 

“Yes, of course. Did he agree?”

“He did. Just thought you might like to know.” 

You thank him and he sits down next to the table, offering you his company which you heartily agree to, glad for some of it. 

“I’m sorry that all these horrible things have been happening. I’m sure you’d rather be planning on a wedding with Arthur, not an escape plan to Tahiti or Australia or wherever.” 

“Well, one thing at a time,” you say, reaching for a carrot. “Yes, I’d love it if Arthur and I could sit down for five minutes without feeling like we need to be worried about everyone else. Set a date, at least. But it can wait, Arthur and I aren’t going anywhere so we can deal with the wedding later.” 

He nods and rubs his chin. You notice his hair, the sides of his head shaven away. You want to ask him why but decide not to, figuring it has something to do with the recent losses everyone has suffered. For the next little while, Charles helps to lift your spirits as you talk. 

Dutch and Micah end up leaving by midday, claiming they need to go and investigate something to do with a bridge near Cotorra Springs. You sigh, feeling like a part of the heavy cloud that has been looming over everyone’s heads has gone with them. 

Early afternoon and Arthur returns to camp, looking angry. Charles nods to you and then gets up to leave, figuring Arthur will probably come talk to you. You wait patiently as Arthur dismounts, but he doesn’t head over. Instead, he goes to the opposite side of the clearing where Strauss sits on a boulder. He looks up at Arthur and even from where you stand, you can see his lizardish grin. He says something to Arthur, but his back is to you so you can’t see his face. 

Suddenly Arthur grabs Strauss by the shoulder and yanks him to his feet. He marches Strauss across the clearing and towards Strauss’s tent. You aren’t the only one to stop and watch as most of the others have done the same. 

“Vhat are you doing?” Strauss demands as they reach his tent.

“Something I should have done a long time ago,” Arthur growls. “Get your bag.” He grabs it and starts throwing some of Strauss’s possessions into it. Strauss watches him, clutching his ledger.  

“I don’t understand,” he says in a surprisingly calm voice.

“I ain’t gonna kill ya, though I probably should.” Arthur stands up, still holding the bag. He glares at the other. “You disgust me, and you shame us, if we could be more ashamed than we already are.”

He tears Strauss’s ledger away from him and throws it to the ground, shoving the bag into Strauss’s arms. “That should do. Now go.” 

Strauss is forced to walk backwards as Arthur marches towards him, his eyes boring into Strauss with intense anger. 

“I don’t understand you,” Strauss begs. “Vhat are you doing?” 

Arthur grabs his shoulders again and takes him towards the horses, finally pushing him to the path. “Go and get a job!”

Strauss turns and stares at him, taking a few steps forward. “I vas your friend, Herr Morgan.”

“You and me, we ain’t decent, but those folk. They was.” Arthur reaches into his satchel and pulls out a bundle of bills. He quickly counts them and then tosses them to Strauss’s feet. “Take that and get lost.” 

Strauss hesitates, but then he bends down and picks up the money. When he straightens up, he points to Arthur. “I’m-”

“Leaving,” Arthur cuts him off. 

Strauss gives him a sad look but then turns away and walks down the path, his head hung low. Arthur watches him leave, breathing hard. You wipe your hands off and quickly join his side as the others begin going back to their chores. “Arthur. What was that?” 

He sighs and finally looks at you. “It was time, Y/N. We don’t need filth like him makin’ things worse for us.” 

You grab his hand. “Come on, come sit down and talk to me while I finish making dinner.” 

Arthur lets you take him to where Charles had been sitting. He sits down, watching you go back to slicing up vegetales. 

“Come on, Arthur,” you say. “Tell me what happened. You’ve been tolerant about Strauss and his bullshit until now. What changed your mind?”

He sighs and explains how he went to collect the last debt. Turns out the man died from an illness, a likely result of being overworked in the mines. Arthur had gone to retrieve the debt from his widow, but he found her with her young son, claiming men were coming to take their house and what little they had left. 

“She looked at me like I was the devil,” he says, his voice somber. “All I could think of was how Eliza and Isaac must have looked when those men… I couldn’t do it. I told ‘em the debt was cancelled and gave ‘em some money. But I’m tired, Y/N. I’m tired of chasin’ these poor people Strauss sets himself on, takin’ what they don’t even have. I can’t sit here and watch him ruin people’s lives like that, we ruin enough already. He ain’t contributin’ to camp, he ain’t helpin’ feed us. It was time.” 

You grab his hand, your heart breaking for him. “You did the right thing, Arthur. Strauss has never done anything to help us and we’re in enough trouble already. But you did one thing I don’t know if I agree with.” 

“What?”

You smile softly at him. “I wouldn’t have given him any money. If he has enough money to lend to these poor bastards, he has enough to take care of himself.” 

“Oh,” he says, hiding his eyes beneath his hat. “Well, Strauss and I were friends at one point, I at least owed him a chance out there on his own.” 

“I’m sorry, Arthur. I wish I could take some of this weight from your shoulders. You keep going on like this, it’s gonna kill ya.” 

He squeezes your hand again. “I ain’t gonna die. I got you by my side.”

You smile at him and scoop the last ingredients into the pot. “Well come on, cowboy. Help me get this onto the fire.” 

He stands up with a sigh and lifts the pot onto the fire. Once it’s down, he grabs your hand and starts heading over to the tent. 

“You’re not even gonna try my cooking?” you say, coming to a stop. 

He looks at you and then over to the pot. “Well, I suppose.” 

“Come on, I didn’t cook it like Pearson does.” 

He smiles and grabs a plate, tasting it. “Hmm, actually pretty good, considerin’ your limitations.” 

You eat as you head on to the tent, several gang members lining up to get dinner. Once he’s done eating, Arthur looks over at you. 

“You wanna come with me tomorrow? Promised Charles I’d help out Rains Fall, you remember him.” 

“Of course. Any idea what he needs help with?” 

“Sounds like this Colonel Favours feller is givin’ ‘em a real hard time, can’t figure why. Anyways, I figured we’d stop by tomorrow, see how they’re faring.” 

The sun dips behind the trees, casting Beaver Hollow into the cool shadows. The mood of the gang does little to bring warmth to the clearing. You sit on the ground, your head leaning on Arthur’s thigh as he sits on the chair. John, Charles and Javier sit on the log, but no one says a word. You wish you could think of something to say, but nothing comes to mind. 

After a while, you get up and walk towards the horses, unable to stand being stuck in the middle of the awkward silence. Rannoch rumbles affectionately as you approach him, pulling out a treat. It’s been hard, being so close to the site where Rain died and having a new horse, although Rannoch has been a blessing. 

“You make the stew tonight?” Bill’s harsh voice comes out from behind you. He takes you slightly by surprise.

“Oh, um yeah.” 

“Well, I’m… I’m just surprised, is all.” He takes a few steps closer to you and Rannoch. Your horse suddenly snorts in irritation. He’s never like anyone much with the exception of you, Arthur and Kieran before he’d been killed. Bill ignores the warning signals and takes another step forward, causing Rannoch to stomp angrily.

“Watch yourself, Bill,” you say immediately, patting Rannoch’s neck to try and calm him. He lifts his nose, snorting again and Bill steps back.

“Figures,” he spits. “I knew he’d be a turncoat, too.” 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” you demand, turning to face Bill properly.

“You know what I mean, Y/N. People been sayin’ you and Arthur have been doin’ a lot lately since you ain’t been in camp much.” 

“Oh, and who said that? Micah?”

“Micah’s the one sayin’ there’s a rat in camp. Seems like ever since you and Arthur got engaged, we been dealin’ with nothin’ but trouble.” 

“So this is my fault?” 

“You tell me, Y/N,” Bill hisses. “You’re the one runnin’ around everywhere. Who can say where the two of you go?” 

“Hey, take it easy there, Williamson,” Arthur says from behind him. “What’s going on?” 

Bill whips around to glare at Arthur. “Nothin’, Morgan. I just think you need to keep a tighter leash on your woman.” 

Arthur slowly walks up to Bill and they size each other up, the air between them seems to crackle. “I suggest you stay away from my woman, Williamson. She ain’t done nothin’ wrong, and if she ends up killin’ ya for antagonizin’ her, I don’t think anyone can stop her.” 

Bill grumbles something and marches off after throwing you a sharp glare. Arthur walks up to you, putting a hand on your elbow. “Bill was out of line, darlin’. Don’t listen to him.” 

“I’m not, Arthur. Bill’s a fool.” You pause as Arthur pats Rannoch’s neck. The horse rumbles happily again, settling down. Artemis walks over, almost as though she’s jealous that Arthur is giving your horse attention and not her. As he rubs her head, your mind wanders back to how bad things have gotten. 

“I can hear you thinkin’, sweetheart. What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”

“It’s just… why is everyone acting like it’s only a matter of time before we start ripping each other’s throats out?”

He sighs heavily. “Like you said, Bill’s a fool. He’s been angry a long time, I ain’t surprised by this.” 

“It’s not just him, Arthur. Earlier I heard Javier going after Charles. Charles, of all people! Saying he ain’t being loyal to Dutch. All Charles has done is help out the Wapiti a little. And it’s not just that. Tilly was ranting to me about you and all the other boys, saying you all been causing too much trouble and you’re gonna get us all killed.” 

Arthur sighs again, finally lowering his hands from Artemis’s face. “I know, sweetheart. Things are bad. But we at least owe it to all of ‘em to try and get us someplace better. Y’know, that whole ‘night is darkest before the dawn’ bit.” 

“I hope so,” you sigh. “I just hope that all this fighting doesn’t come between us.” 

Arthur smiles and looks down, his eyes finding your left hand resting near your side, the ring on your finger glinting from the distant firelight. He grabs it, rubbing his thumb across the back of your hand. “Me too, darlin’. I wish things were better right now, that we could sit down and plan on our weddin’ instead of plannin’ on how to get outta this mess.” 

“Me too, Arthur. I just hope that things calm down enough eventually that we can.” 

“We will. All things come to an end, even the bad things.”  

He suddenly pulls you close so your head is resting against his chest, his hand planted on your head. You sigh, closing your eyes as you enjoy the sensation of his other hand rubbing up and down your back. You fold your arms around his waist, pulling yourself closer as you hear his heart thumping. 

In the morning, after having coffee, Arthur and you head out towards the Wapiti reservation, as per Charles’s instructions on how to find it. The reservation lies north west of Beaver Hollow at the northern tip of the Cumberland Forest. You both pass a long railroad bridge near a large station which seems to have been abandoned. Across the gorge that the tracks cross over is a military fort. Arthur leads you up north on the trail and you look to the right, your eyes going up the steep mountainside and resting on a boulder sitting at the edge of a small peninsula. An eagle sits upon it and takes flight, his wings glinting gold momentarily in the sun. 

The scenery begins to change as you head farther away from the railroad bridge. A swift river runs to your left, the banks going from gray and green to a brilliant orange. You come upon a bridge which hovers above the end of a wide section of the river, which dazzles a clear, enticing blue amongst the orange rocks. An elk somewhere hidden in the trees calls out, his cry echoing through the forest. Across the river and tucked amongst the pines, several columns of smoke from campfires swirl lazily into the sky. 

Arthur leads you across the river and up the trail until the village appears. You’ve always known about teepees so you’re surprised to find a few buildings nestled among them, along with wagons. Men and women mill about, throwing you and Arthur suspicious stares. After hitching the horses, you feel incredibly self conscious, knowing exactly how unwelcome you are. Arthur seems tense as well, his hand folds around yours. He approaches an older man sitting cross-legged outside of the nearest teepee. 

“Uh, excuse me, sir,” Arthur says calmly.

“You two should not be here,” the man says bluntly, looking from you to Arthur. 

“I know, but I have some business with Rains Fall. Said I could meet him here.” 

The man narrows his eyes before he finally points to a teepee near a large shack. Arthur thanks him and you both go to it. He hesitates, clearly wanting to knock but not knowing where. Eventually, he settles for hunching over to try and look into the flap of the teepee and say a gruff and unsure “hello?”. 

“Come in,” a voice answers from inside. 

Arthur glances at you before going in, you following. Inside, the teepee is more spacious than you had imagined, a fire in the center, making the teepee swelteringly hot. Crates, pots and other items line the walls, including finely woven blankets and a large bull’s skull with feathers attached to the horns sits high. Rains Fall nods in greeting to you both, another member of his tribe sitting close to him. 

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Morgan, Ms. Y/L/N,” Rains Fall says gently, staring at the fire. “Tell me, how is your friend, Mr. Van der Linde, fairing? My son has spoken much about him.”

“He’s uh,” Arthur begins awkwardly. “Well, I don’t know. He’s angry, I suppose. Throwin’ us all into a lot of chaos.” 

“Then I hope, amidst all the chaos, you both may find peace.” Rains Fall begins poking at the fire.

“I don’t know too much about peace,” Arthur says.

“Apparently not. Did you have fun with my son, the impetuous Prince? I believe you went on a raid with him.” Rains Fall and stares hard at Arthur, clearly pointing to how Arthur helped Eagle Flies retrieve their horses. Arthur had told you about that, how Dutch had gotten Eagle Flies ruffled up, how they had attempted to sneak onto the boat and steal the horses quietly but it had gone badly, ending with Dutch crashing the boat. 

Arthur sighs, clearly embarrassed and ashamed. You squeeze his hand. “I’m sorry,” he says.

Rains Fall reaches into a pot with hot water, pulling out a cloth. He approaches another man you’ve just noticed, his face shining in sweat. He dabs at the man’s forehead with the cloth. You suddenly realize why he keeps it so hot in the teepee. He must hope the heat will break the mens’ fevers.

“I suppose I lack the grandeur of a conventional king,” Rains Fall says gently. 

“I don’t know too many kings,” Arthur says. He pats your back softly, urging you to speak. 

“Um, I don’t either.” 

“Colonel Favours,” Rains Fall straightens up, looking at Arthur. “He has already exacted some measure of revenge for the raid. Two women were assaulted by his men.” 

Your heart sinks upon hearing this. While your ex husband, James, had raped you many times, you can’t imagine the horror of being attacked not only by a stranger, but a known accomplice of your enemy. You and Arthur both hang your head in remorse. 

“I’m very sorry about all of this,” you say as Arthur rubs his nose. “Arthur would never have done it had he known it’d end that way.” 

Arthur nods in agreement. “No, I wouldn’t. A few horses ain’t worth it.” 

“Yes, sometimes the correct path, the bravest path is the least obvious, and also the gentlest.” Rains Fall straightens up, his eyes show a certain depth and intelligence you’ve rarely seen. “I’m a great disappointment to my son.” 

“Your son seems to want a war,” Arthur says. 

“My son thinks there is glory in death. I saw death being handed out so freely by the most foolish of men, I never could equate it with victory.”

“I’ve killed a lot of people,” Arthur admits. “For a whole lot of dumb reasons, I ain’t never seen much glory in it.” 

“Perhaps we could go for a ride. Discuss a few things. Your friend is more than welcome to come.” 

Arthur nods, squeezing your hand as Rains Fall leads you out of the teepee. 

“I’m an old man,” Rains Fall continues. “All my life, I have tried to bring peace. Perhaps you both can take pity on my plight. It won’t take long.” 

Arthur pauses and looks at you, as though questioning whether you should both do this. You nod, doubting that a simple ride with this man could do any damage. He sighs and goes with you to the horses. Just as you’re about to mount up, a voice rings out from behind you.

“Sir!” 

Turning, you see a military man on a huge red roan draft horse approaching. Rains Fall nods in recognition and welcomes the man. 

“Captain Monroe. Do you know my friends, Mr. Morgan and Ms. Y/L/N?” 

“No sir, I haven’t had the pleasure.” 

Arthur introduces himself and you to the captain. You nod in greeting when he says your name. 

The captain turns back to Rains Fall. “Sir. I was just in Saint Denis, spoke with the mayor. It’s not good news, I’m afraid.”

Rains Fall sighs as though he were expecting this. He offers for Monroe to ride with your group a short ways, to which the captain agrees. You and Arthur mount up as Rains Fall climbs onto his horse. 

“Mr. Morgan, Ms. Y/L/N, come with me. I want to take you to a sight in the mountains, a place that’s long been sacred to me. A place for reflection.” Rains Fall begins trotting down the trail, you and the others following in a line. 

Rains Fall asks Monroe to tell him the news from Saint Denis. Monroe reports that an oil company has already been approved to drill upon the Wapiti’s land, but that nothing would be likely to happen for a few months. 

“I promise I will continue to do as much as I can,” Monroe finishes. He then glances back at Arthur. “Mr. Morgan, would you have time to help me? It would be better if certain actions were taken by friends outside the tribe.”  

“Of course,” he replies.

“I will too.” You say.

Monroe thanks you but then warns that some of the work may be potentially dangerous. You just chuckle. “You clearly don’t know nothin’ about me, captain.” 

“I suppose not, but I appreciate your eagerness. Come meet me on the reservation when you can. Anyway, I won’t take up any more of your time, sir.” Monroe kicks his horse into a canter and runs down the path which leads to the long railroad bridge. Rains Fall lifts his hand in farewell. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” he says after a moment, “but I am going to look for some herbs that might help some of my people. The army has been making things difficult for us, but I’ll go more into that later.” 

The group heads on a little further up the path and up ahead on the foot of a mountain, something large and gray is moving. As you approach it, Rains Fall says, “You see those wolves up ahead?” 

As you get closer, you can see the wolves feasting on a horse. 

“Brutality and beauty are both all around us,” Rains Fall continues in his calm manner as he leads you both up the fork in the road. “So often, though, we’re unable to see past our own grievances. I try to teach this to my son.” 

As the group approaches the wolves, they stop eating and growl, lowering their ears.

“Don’t shoot them,” Rains Fall warns. “They may not be a threat.” 

As he predicted, the wolves snarl once and then run off into the forest, abandoning their kill. 

Rains Fall leads you both further up the path until there is another fork in the road, traveling up the side of the mountain. “We can talk if either of you want, but please don’t feel like you have to. It’s a beautiful ride ahead if you need time to think.” 

“Well,” Arthur begins, “we don’t know you too well, but I wanted to speak to you about your son. I figure you know something about Dutch.” 

“A little, your friend Charles told me about him.” Rains Fall leads you off the path towards a rather steep area of the mountain. He heads over to a copse of bushes and stops to gather herbs. Looking around, you once again see the large boulder on the lip of the peninsula. The view is breathtaking as it sweeps across the Grizzlies and the Cumberland Forest. You feel an immense sense of peace, something you’ve seldom felt since the bank job that ended in Hosea and Lenny’s deaths. 

Rains Fall slides the herbs into his satchel and gets back onto his horse. Arthur, who had been admiring the view as well, turns back to Rains Fall. 

“I don’t know why Dutch is gettin’ involved in your situation,” he says. “This ain’t easy to say, but I don’t trust that he’s got your son’s best interests at heart.” 

“So what can we do?” Rains Fall asks. 

“I don’t rightly know. I just thought you should be aware.” 

“Ah, I understand. What do you think, Y/N?” 

You’re caught by surprise that Rains Fall would ask your opinion as he leads you both up the path again. “Well, I only been runnin’ with Dutch a few months. Before, he always seemed like he genuinely cared for everyone, but now he just seems to want a fight. Much like your son but for different reasons, I think. He’s changed a lot since I first met him, but I agree with Arthur. Just be aware of him and try to steer your son away from him, if you can. I don’t think Dutch has any good intentions in mind.” 

“Well, thank you. Both of you. I appreciate the warning.” 

The three of you continue traveling along the path once more as the path winds east along the mountain. It rounds to the left, opening up to a spectacular view. You’re sure you can see Lemoyne from this vantage point. The sun beats down pleasantly as you admire the view. 

Arthur suddenly brings you out of your own head. “I had a son once. Years ago. Don’t talk about him much.”

“What was his name?” Rains Fall asks.

“Isaac.” Arthur tells the story he had told you, of how he had met a waitress named Eliza and she had gotten pregnant. He also explains how he promised to do right by them, despite her knowing what kind of life he led. You can’t help your heart tugging painfully when he describes finding their graves after they were murdered for nothing more than ten dollars. 

Rains Fall pulls off the path again as Arthur finishes telling his story. He dismounts and picks some ginseng, putting it into his satchel. “I appreciate you both coming with me to pick these herbs,” he says gently. “And I’m sorry about your son, Mr. Morgan.”

“It hardened me,” Arthur says. “Feelin’ that kind of pain. But I know now you don’t get to live a bad life and have good things happen to you. That’s why I’m tryin’ harder this time.” He looks pointedly at you when he says this. It does not go unnoticed by Rains Fall as he mounts up again. 

“I think you’re being hard on yourself, Mr. Morgan.”

“Maybe,” Arthur says as he follows Rains Fall down the path again. “All I can do now is try to make some things right. Try to earn the good things I got and the ones I want.”

“Arthur,” you say with a soft smile. “I’m hardly a desirable prize.”

He grunts something you can’t hear as Rains Fall calls back to you from up ahead on the path, which is rounding to the right. “I think you underestimate yourself, Ms. Y/L/N. The way Arthur here looks at you makes me think he believes otherwise.” 

You feel your cheeks burn at this comment and Arthur looks at you over his shoulder, winking. You can see his cheek is pink. 

“Well, I done bad things too.” You kick Rannoch to walk side by side with Artemis so you can better talk with Rains Fall. Something about this man makes you want to trust him, to open up about your past. You tell him about your father and his abusive ways to try and raise you, your passive mother who let him, your cousin and then about James, who your father bribed with money to marry you and how he constantly attacked you. 

“I couldn’t take it anymore,” you say, shaking a little from your story. “So I finally shot my husband and was still so enraged that I went to my parents’ house. Shot my father and… tied my mother up before setting the house on fire. That was the thing I regret doing the most. At least my father’s and James’s deaths were quick. Hers wasn’t. I wish I had just shot her too.” 

“Hmm, anger is a powerful emotion, especially when it’s grown from that sort of pain,” Rains Fall says. 

“Sure. I’m just surprised Arthur still wants to marry me when he knows exactly how I killed my last husband.” 

“Yeah, well I ain’t foolish or cruel enough to treat you like that, darlin’.” 

You smile at him as the path winds into a switchback, going down the mountain. A few more moments pass in silence, allowing you to admire the sweeping landscape, marking the Heartlands.

“That feller Monroe,” Arthur says. “How do you know him?” 

“Captain Monroe was reassigned here from a regiment in the north. The news of our conflict has spread all the way to Washington. He’s a good man and he wants to help. The army aren’t all bad men, just as my people aren’t all good. But this Colonel Favours, he walks an old line. He’s obstinate, and he hates Monroe. I just hope we can work things out between us.”

Rains Fall goes silent as the path evens out and goes west. You can see that it travels up between two peaks of the mountain, where a copse of pines grow. The group goes up it and smoke rises from the trees. You’re expecting to see a campfire as a source of the smoke. Instead you see some of the pines have been burned and among them sits a Wapiti hut, charred to the point that only the branched structure still stands with tatters of the coverings on it. 

Upon seeing it, Rains Fall dismounts. “No. It can’t be. What’s happened?” He approaches the burnt hut, a long, low tune coming from his mouth. Although you don’t understand why he’s making the sound, you realize it means something horrible has happened that has shaken him. He kneels beside the burnt ground, looking devastated. 

“No! They destroyed everything!” 

You and Arthur dismount, walking up behind him. 

“ Who would do this?” 

“Someone who wanted to enrage you,” Arthur says. 

“Help me look around please. I need to find the Chanupa.” Rains Fall stands up and looks at you, his eyes begging. He describes the Chanupa to you, a kind of smoking pipe. You and Arthur begin looking around. You see a few bottles of whiskey and a bundle of rum-soaked logs. Just as you’re bending down to inspect the logs, Arthur hollers out.

“Over here!” 

You and the Chief go to where he’s standing on the west side of the burnt hut. At the edge of the path, the mountainside looks out across the valley once more, and at the foot of the mountain lies a large camp, a smoke trail rising from it. Pulling out your binoculars, you look on the camp. Without a doubt, it’s the army. You can see their blue uniforms. You hand the binoculars to Rains Fall and he takes them, looking. 

“These… brave men,” he says gruffly. “They are Colonel Favours’s men. They must have been the ones who did this.” 

“Are you surprised this happened?” Arthur asks. He lowers his binoculars. 

“Not at all, but I hoped we were past this.” 

“Well you got land they want, land with oil.” 

“But they were the ones who moved us here,” Rains Fall says, clearly confused. “They’ve taken everything we had. I signed three treaties myself and they’ve broken each one. Now they’ve taken the last hope, and my people will want a war.” 

“This Chanupa,” Arthur says. “If we get it back, will it makes things better?”

“Some. It will at least deter my people from demanding we fight.”

“Then I’ll go,” Arthur says. “I’ll go in the camp and look.” 

“Me too,” you say. 

“Thank you, both of you. But please, try not to hurt anyone. Their dead will not help my people.” 

You nod and head down the path with Arthur on foot. The path leads into another switchback until it slopes out to a less steep decline. You and Arthur hide in the cover of the boulders and sparse bushes that dot the land, sneaking your way closer to the camp. 

When you’re close, you both stop and observe the men. There’s only about eight or nine, three of them sitting by the campfire while most of the others patrol the camp. Arthur takes out his binoculars again and sweeps the camp.

“There’s somethin’ by their fire. Looks like a long rod of some kind. I think it’s the Chanupa.” 

“I’ll go get it,” you say. “Cover me.” 

“No, I’ll go.” 

“Arthur, I’m smaller than you and you’re a better shot. If anything happens, you can take them down quicker. I’ll try to be quiet though.”

He sighs but lets you go. You scurry from your boulder to a bush and wait for the nearest patrol to you walk a little further away. Dashing into the camp, you sidle between a tent and a wagon. As you’re tip toeing on the side of the tent, you hear someone inside of it snort as though waking up. You hear the sounds of him getting up and walking towards the front, causing you to flit to the back again in case he comes to your side. He does, and you watch, peaking around the corner, until he’s gone. 

You sneak up to the front of the tent again, which isn’t far from the campfire. The three men sitting around it talk unconcerned. 

“I heard old Favours was trying to get him transferred. Don’t like him much,” one says. You creep up to the front of the tent and peak around to see the men. Two of them have their backs to you but one could easily see you from the corner of his eye if you move too quickly. You take a few seconds and look around the area, spotting a long pipe in a colorful leather sheath. It must be the Chanupa. 

“He always seemed like a decent fellow,” another man responds. 

“That’s exactly the problem.” 

The man whose side is facing you turns his head away to scratch his neck. You take the chance and dart forward quickly, grabbing the Chanupa and retreating back to the cover of the tent. Standing to the side of it again, you pause again to make sure you weren’t spotted. 

“Monroe went to west point, Favours never made it.” 

You sigh in relief, they didn’t see you. Although your heart beats hard in your chest, feeling like it’s about to leap into your throat, you calmly back away towards the back of the tent the way you’d come. Checking that the patrol hasn’t come around to your side again, you hunch over and sneak from the bushes to the boulders until you finally meet up with Arthur again. 

“You got it?” he asks. You show him the Chanupa in your hand. “Good. Fellers don’t seem to have seen you. Let’s get back.” 

You follow him up the side of the mountain, still using whatever cover you can find until you reach the switchback. After climbing it, you breathing heavily and Arthur wiping his brow, you find Rains Fall sitting cross-legged next to the burnt hut where the opening surely would have been. He looks up at your approach. 

“Please tell me you found it,” he begs. 

As you both walk up to him, you hold up the Chanupa and set it in his outstretched hands. 

“I think that’s it,” you say, a little uncertain.

“Yes, thank you.”

“I’m very sorry about all this,” Arthur says. 

“Even sacred things are only things,” Rains Fall says. “People, the heart, matter more. Was anyone hurt?” 

“Don’t think those bastards even knew we were there,” you say simply. 

“Good, good. I wish my son knew such restraint. My people owe you both a great debt and I’m giving you very little.” 

“You don’t owe us anything,” you say.

Rains Fall reaches into his satchel. “Please, take this,” he says as he holds out what looks like a bracelet with a carnivore’s teeth and an owl feather. Arthur takes it from him gently. “We believe it is sacred,” Rains Fall explains.

“Thank you,” Arthur says, handing it to you. You hold it just as gently, though you run your hand over the owl feather. It slips easily between your fingers without making a sound like other feathers would have. 

“I must get back to my village,” Rains Fall says. He begins to stand but seems to struggle slightly so Arthur helps him up. “I hope you both can find peace within yourselves.” He heads off to his horse and trots away. You raise your hand in farewell as Arthur inspects the hut. 

“Come on,” he says when Rains Fall has vanished around the curb of the trail. You both hop onto your horses and make your slow way back towards the direction of Beaver Hollow.

“He’s different than I thought he would be,” you admit on your way down the mountain. 

“Who? Rains Fall?” 

“Yes. I thought, being in the situation he’s in, he’d be more like his son. Angry. Even when we found that place, he wasn’t. I don’t know if I’ve ever met anyone quite like him.” 

“Hmm, well, to be honest, he’s a man who, not so long ago, I would have found weak and pathetic,” Arthur admits. “But now I see him as wise, thoughtful and sensible.” 

“I know what you mean. Maybe we’re both changing.” 

“No, I think just our perception of the world is. I would love to help him, or at least stop Dutch pushing his son to do something real stupid.”

“Why do you think Dutch is doing it? He killed Cornwall, but you said all that’s happened is Pinkertons have swarmed into Van Horn and Annesburg.” 

“They have. Dutch said he killed him because Cornwall had his hands dipped in the Pinkerton’s pockets, shoveling money into them. Said he was hoping with Cornwall dead, they’d ease off. But to be honest, I think Dutch is… just startin’ to like killin’ folk. Exactly the opposite of what he told me and John not to be when we was growin’ up.”

“He’s not who I remember first meeting,” you admit as the horses walk into a thick covering of oaks dotting the path. “I remember he was suspicious of me, but it was because he feared I might be a threat to you. If I had been in the same situation and you’d brought me into the gang with Dutch the way he is now, I’m not sure he wouldn’t kill me on the spot.” 

“Nor am I, though I think even now you’d have to give him a reason. Mind you, he don’t seem to need much at the moment. I just hope we can help him see reason, make him see that our situation ain’t good for any of us. We at least owe him the chance, sweetheart.” 

“I know, I know. We’ll try, Arthur.”

#Red Dead Redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur x reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur x female reader #van der linde gang #R* Games #rockstar games #second chances #I'm awkward

[sunshinexlollipops]

i was wondering if you have any tips for writing for dutch and arthur? i’m more confident for writing arthur but not so much dutch. any help would be great!

Edit: sorry, was writing this on my computer and pressed enter to start a new paragraph. So tumblr took that as “let’s post this!”

Love this hellsite. :,)

—————

Hey there, @putainsoif2!

I can give you a healthy supply for writing tips when it comes to Dutch, and even a little extra for our beloved boy Arthur! (:

For today’s lesson, I ask that we use this particular tune to enhance our learning experience. . .

So, let’s start of with Dutch! I’m gonna make a bullet list here of tips/tricks I do when I write the man in my stories!

Watch scenes from the game (be mindful of spoilers, in case you are wanting to avoid them).

These will help you learn specific dialogue of certain scenes, but it also helps you learn Dutch’ s facial expressions, his way of talking, and his mannerisms. I use clips all the time to help nail a scene I have in my mind or plot down!

Dutch is very confident, arrogant, and prideful.

He carries an air about him that’s almost like a bubble. Not only doesn’t it make him daunting to other people in certain ways, it’s also his biggest flaw, and this bubble shields Dutch from perceiving reality for what it is.

The man could convince himself that it’s sunny outside when it’s raining, and there’s almost no chance of changing his mind once its made.

Dutch is not above playing dirty, being threatening, or making things personal.

One of the main reasons the gang gets into much trouble and hot water as it does are the actions they take on Dutch’s insistence.

So many things in the game could’ve been avoided had Dutch’s nepotism or greed didn’t get in the way of common sense.

Dutch will drop and risk everything if he thinks a score is his, or if his pride and name are on the line. Doesn’t matter if what’s on the other side is too good to be true or an obvious lure for them man to bite on— he will go after it every time.

Dutch’s value of loyalty means unwavering and unquestioning worship.

For Dutch, he’s big on manipulation and working those around him till they are under his thumb and like it that way.

Maybe things didn’t start off this way, but they sure as hell ended like it.

Dutch is all about having people in his pockets and making them feel or think that they earned being in there, or that they want to be.

By taking in orphans off the streets and raising them, calling them son and reminding them “you’re only alive because I saved you” — to trying to convince them that they can’t have opinions of their own and discrediting anyone who argues with his “plans.”

Dutch may not be like Colm with hundreds of men at his back that were forced there, but he’s got a few men he’s crafted into monsters and convinced them that they want to die for him, and that’s far more terrifying tbh.

If someone isn’t “loyal” or has a slight against him, they might be better off dead.

If you aren’t 100% with Dutch, you better watch out. Any disagreement or doubt he faces is met with extreme scrutiny and offense by the man.

So if a character doesn’t agree with him, they stand against him. And a lot of bad things can happen to you if you’re not on Dutch’s side, he will make sure of that.

—————

Now, as for Arthur!!!

Can be like two sides of one coin, and which face you see depends on the person he is with.

Arthur is so black and white that the man is in a gray area all around.

He can be a bastard or a sweetheart. A killer or a Saint. Helpful or a problem. Etc.

Mostly, Arthur gets an air of cockiness about him around most of the men in the gang. It’s almost like a competition for being the biggest dick without a ruler being involved.

He makes his worst decisions when others are watching and expecting him to be callous, and he commits the worst crimes when he is asked to or made to by other people— and he pretends to enjoy it or accept it.

But when no one is watching, or the person who is happens to be someone he trusts deeply and knows better than to fuel his facade, Arthur changes.

He’s kinder, softer, caring, compassionate.

With Charles, Arthur expects better of himself and feels regret if he doesn’t act up to par. With Hosea, Arthur wonders how he could change his life and be someone else.

Arthur chooses who he wants to be himself with, and who he dons a mask on for.

Wars with himself on a lot of things, and is very introverted at heart.

Because of his nature to only be truthful and himself with certain people, Arthur keeps a lot of things to himself.

His journal is his biggest confidant, and Arthur mostly tries to keep things internalized instead of letting them out into the world.

One of the biggest things that Arthur tries to keep to himself, is the fact that he doesn’t want to live the life of an outlaw like he used to.

A lot of people in the gang are still wanting to run this thing till it stops, especially Dutch and the few people who are at his back like a shadow.

For Arthur, he’s beginning to hate how he is living and who he has become because of it, and the hardest thing is avoiding that sort of honesty, and trying to accept it on his own.

Tries to hide his softer and compassionate side, as he’s often hurt or scrutinized for it.

One of the biggest reasons Arthur has two ways about him is that his truer self is not as easily accepted or welcomed as his harder persona.

Most people expect Arthur to be cold-blooded and a bastard, from Dutch, to people who cross him. And while Arthur can have an icy angle about him, the man doesn’t enjoy being a bastard who lives up to the hype.

During his younger years, the man nearly left the gang for a woman he fell in love with. And I’m pretty sure this was around the time Hosea wanted to leave too, or maybe even before that. Love was in the air and Arthur was suffocated with it.

But of course, he couldn’t leave his family, and so he lost Mary. And of course, he lost Eliza and Isaac too for the same decision.

Arthur’s identity as an outlaw kept him from the things, and more importantly, the people he has loved. And this is why Arthur views himself so poorly.

What kind of man values killing people and stealing over the love of his life? His son?

And for what— to maintain appearances?

Arthur figured out what he wanted to choose when it was too late, and this is why he only allows himself small moments to let that side out again, lest it hitch itself onto something he only expects to fail once more.

Has a conscience that speaks louder than loyalties or guilt, and believes that he is doomed rather than having a chance at saving himself.

Arthur may not exactly be religious, but he believes Hell exists because that’s where he’s going to go once he dies.

One reason Arthur doesn’t change himself is because he believes he’s a lost cause. He’s in his mid-thirties, and he believes that the life he’s lead so far will follow him till its end.

He’s haunted, and as he described himself “more so of a ghost than a person.”

Because of this, Arthur doesn’t try to change until he’s damned.

And by this, I mean that Arthur didn’t try to change until he knew he was already dying.

Gamer influence aside, the choices you were given in chapter 6 were far more different than earlier in the game.

For example, when you confront Jimmy Brooks outside of Valentine, your choices are to save or kill him.

But to compare, a change is evident when you go to collect the last debt Strauss sends you after.

The only choices you have with the widow standing before you are to absolve her debt, or to absolve it and offer her money to get by.

Arthur didn’t give the player a choice to show compassion or heart. That was purely Arthur saying “this time, we’re going to do good.”

But Arthur truly only tries to save others when he knows he can’t save himself.

Money, the law, Colm, Dutch— none of it matters like it used to. A day is gonna come when he isn’t gonna be around anymore, and you want to know what’s scarier than that?

Leaving this world knowing that he did nothing to help those who were still going to be living in it once he was gone.

Arthur is selfless at times. And this can only be emphasized more than ever when he knows he’s dying, and he chooses to fight for those he cares about to survive.

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So there you have it! Some writing tips and tricks!

If you need anymore, let me know! :)

#luffy asks