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summary: a glimpse into the intimate moments of your relationship with arthur morgan.
word count: 2.2k.
rating: nsfw, some explicit themes.
pairing: arthur morgan / female reader.
aftercare - noun â the act of comforting after sex.
The gesture was simple, and yet it makes your heart stutter dangerously within your chest. You exhale quietly, allowing yourself to enjoy the sensation of his lips pressed against the warm skin of your stomach. He places a second kiss there, and in the back of your mind you wonder if thatâs a part of your body heâs particularly fond of. You donât let yourself to dwell on the thought for too long, and instead choose to focus your attention on the way his muscles move as he pulls himself up to be closer to you. He was strong, and yet he somehow managed to handle your body with a certain kind of tenderness that you knew you could only get from him. He doesnât bother to reach for the thin sheets that had gotten tangled during your cherished moments of lovemaking; he knows you well enough to understand that you felt more content with his arms around you instead. And so, thereâs no hesitation in his movements when he pulls you into his arms, absentmindedly brushing away the mess of stray hairs that had fallen into your line of sight. He murmurs something about how good you did, but you donât catch it in your drowsy state as your breathing finally begins to even out and your eyelids begin to close on their own accord. The last thing you remember before falling into your peaceful slumber was the feeling of his hands weaving through your hair, his lips pressed against your forehead, and a few words along the lines of, I love you.
dirty secret â noun â something kept from the world by two people.
Your fingers move with ease, working the buttons of your blouse slowly but purposefully. You knew he liked it that way, and you knew he was watching; you always knew. This little game of yours grew more risky every time you both playedâwhat started with Arthur simply having a small glimpse of your half-dressed form through a small slit in your tent turned into you putting yourself on full display in the dead of night, free for any of the gang members to see if they happened to wake up and make a small journey past your tent. You drop the long-sleeved shirt onto the dirty ground without much thought, and when Arthur realizes that youâd been wearing absolutely nothing underneath, a muffled moan filters through the quiet air. The sound is almost inaudible, mixing in with the other noises of the nature surrounding you; but it reaches your ears and for a moment, all you can think about is the way he might be stroking himself. The image of him hopelessly pumping his cock and making an absolute mess of himself while cumming was enough make you want to reach a climax of your own. And so, you lay back on your makeshift bed, one hand resting on your breast and the other snaking its way down as you spread your legs, preparing to give him a real show.
forever -Â noun -Â until the end of time.
âWill you let me see this one, then?â Arthur looks up when your tired voice disrupts the quiet space between you two, and for a moment all he can do is grin. Seeing your bare form sprawled in a manner that was somehow both careless and graceful had struck a yearning within him. And yet, he knew that capturing the moment was far more important; he had the next two days to make love to you, after all. It could wait. âNah,â His head shakes fondly as he absentmindedly scratches at the growing stubble on his face, his posture straightening as he takes a moment to glance down at the worn journal within his lap. âGo back to sleep, thatâs how you were when I started drawinâ ya.â Itâs really more of a plea than a demand, and you seem to realize this as you flop down lazily onto the fancy mattress inside of the Saint Denis hotel room, your hair falling in a mess around you in a similar fashion to the sheets. âAlright, Mr. Morgan.â You claim your defeat as you prop a pillow beneath your head, your eyes closing as you prepare to get a few more hours of sleep. âThank you, Mrs. Morgan.â He chuckles quietly, and notices the small smile that tugs at the corner of your lips. It was a joke, of courseâyou and Arthur werenât married. But as he listened to the tranquil sound of your soft breathing, and as he sketched your sleeping form in that journal that he planned to keep until his dying days, he couldnât help but feel like now would be a better time than any to ask you to be his, forever.
unfair â adjective â something that is not just.
To anyone else, the scene looked natural; a woman cozying up to her lover, his lap her seat for the time beingâand it looked particularly normal considering the lack of chairs around the saloon. But Arthur knew you better than that, and from the moment you plopped yourself down onto his lap, he knew you were up to something. It wasnât until you balanced yourself on his thigh that he felt the heat between your legs. He settled a hand on your hip, gripping tightly while his right hand stayed settled on the whiskey bottle placed on the table. He could feel the subtle movement of your hips, and as he tried to focus his attention on the poker game heâd been waiting to join in, he couldnât help but wonder if anyone else had any idea what you were doing to him. If they did, they were certainly too drunk to care. A quiet hum leaves your throat, the sound causing Arthurâs pants to tighten a bit more as he feels himself growing hard beneath you. âYouâre a real dirty girl, ya know that?â He speaks quietly in your ear, his foot tapping impatiently as you continue to grind against his thigh. âIâm afraid I donât know what youâre talking about, Mr. Morgan.â You bite down on your lip gently, Arthur recognizing it as a sign that youâre close. With one last stroke of your clit against his leg, you tremble lightly, Arthur holding you securely as you have your orgasm right there in the center of the saloon. You sigh when a few moments pass, reaching for the whiskey bottle heâd been drinking from before pushing yourself up and standing. His eyes follow you, lust hidden beneath his gaze as he tilts his head. âWhat about me?â A small frown tugs down at the corner of his lips, and he pushes his chair forward in an attempt to hide the large bulge growing in his pants. You turn around to face him, the sweetest smile on your face as you shrug. âYou can wait. Thereâs a party going on, after all.â With that, you leave the miserable man behind, taking the whiskey with you as you leave to join Lenny over at the bar.
wet â adjective â covered or saturated with liquid.
When he finds you standing over the grave, he ignored every initial instinct in his body. He wanted to tell you that he was worried, that heâd been searching for you since before sunrise, and that you shouldnât just take off without telling anyone back at camp. While it was all true, Arthur was smart enough to know now was not the time for scolding; not while you were mourning the loss of your fellow gang member. He dismounts his horse, his footsteps discernible as his boots sink into the thick mud with every step he takes. His eyes fall onto the named etched into the wooden plank, and for a moment all he can think about is how he tried to shelter you from this. When heâs close enough, you crane your head enough to see him. Distress is written all over your face, youâre shivering from the heavy rain that pours down on the two of you, and your eyes look swollen as you stare at him hopelessly. He wishes he could take your pain away; someone else should be standing in your place and grieving, he tells himself, someone who could have prevented thisâDutch, maybe. Hearing your sniffle, Arthur shushes you as you sputter out nonsense. âI know, darlinâ.â He removes his hat from his head, placing it on yours instead as he ignores the droplets of rain that land on his scalp. âI know, come on. Letâs go.â He promises you that he understands your grief as he removes his coat next, slinging it over your shoulders before sliding a hand around your lower back and guiding you back to his horse. You go without fuss thankfully, and all Arthur can think about as he rides back with you tucked underneath him is who you would be mourning next. Probably himself. Nobody said the outlaw life was easy.
x â verb â to cross something out.
The way he looks up at you has your heart thudding harshly within your chest. Itâs frightening and exciting altogether, and every time you think you canât take anymore, he finds a way to push you to yet another orgasm. Youâve lost count tonight, and just when you wonder if youâre about to pass out, the sensation of his tongue against your opening has you on high alert, your sensitive buds sending waves of pleasure over your body. âArthur.â Tears build up in the corner of your eyes, his name rolling off your tongue was a praise and a plea wrapped in one. You want to reach down and grab onto something in order to give yourself the illusion that you had even a little control of your bodyâthe sheets, his hair, any of them would do, but he doesnât allow it. âKeep them there.â The words come out strained, the animalistic sound drawing out a moan from you. You obey, your hands balling into a fists as your wrists remain crossed above your head. The moment his tongue pressed against your clit, Arthur can feel you coming undone around him. He doesnât stop, and has no intention of doing so until he has you seeing stars.
yearning â noun - a feeling of intense longing.
You didnât have a chance to ask him how everything went, or if everyone was safe. You nearly had the air knocked out of your lungs before you had the chance to part your lips and say anything at all. He had dragged you away from prying eyes and ears, and while your current location was not entirely private it was good enough to satisfy Arthur and his growing impatience. You donât remember exactly how you had ended up under himâeverything had moved so fast, he had moved too fast. Your mind was stuck trying to catch up, and the feeling of his lips against your neck did nothing to clear your conscience. His breathing is heavy as he moves down to your chest, tearing any fabric in the way of his intentions. He places a kiss upon your left breast and then the right, only pausing to murmur three little words. I missed you. Your own breath hitches in your throat, and that familiar heat grows between your legs as you bring a hand up to rest at the back of his neck. The action makes him lock eyes with you, and within that beautiful blue color, all you see is longing. âDo you want me?â His hands wait patiently at your hips, gripping gently as he awaited your permission to proceed. You swallow silently, your head nodding with no hesitation as you pull him a little closer. âYes. Inside of me.â
zzz â noun â the sound associated with sleeping.
âAnd then, Hosea taught me how to play dominoes. I think he cheated, âcause thereâs no way he can win that many times. Right?â Your eyebrows come together as you frown, the memory of his countless victories provoked a feeling of resentment within your heart, but you were quick to disregard it. âOh, I went fishinâ with Kieran. He talks about horses an awful lot. I think thatâs all we talked about actually.â You pause, your fingers stopping their journey through your loverâs hair as you try to recall the small events of last few days. âOh! I got something for you.â Excitement bubbles within your stomach and youâre prepared to move his head from within your lap in order to stand. However, the soft sound of snoring has your movements coming to a complete stop, and it doesnât dawn on you until then that Arthur had fallen asleep while listening to you talk about everything that had happened during his absence from camp. You exhale quietly, shaking your head with a small smile as you brush his hair away from his face. The gentle action doesnât seem to disturb him, and you allow his head to rest within your lap while getting into a more comfortable position of your own. Your soft fingers continue to run through his brown locks, and you place a small kiss to his temple while deciding that his present can wait until later.
â(if you love me) wonât you say something?â | arthur morgan x female reader
Word Count: 3.2k
Summary:Â After a fight, you and Arthur have settled for actively avoiding each other. A late night talk with Hosea puts things into perspective, eventually encouraging you to fix things with your beloved cowboy.
AO3 Link: Click
âI donât want to hear it, Hosea.â
The words leave your mouth before the older gentleman has a chance to even fully seat himself, and besides the brief pause in his movements when he hears your statement, Hosea makes no further indication that he really cares about whether or not you wanted to have this conversation.
It was going to happen, and you knew it the moment you caught sight of him approaching your isolated figure seated next to the dying fireâhowever the irrational side of your brain had urged you to keep resisting.
âIt ainât really your business,â You try again, arms coming up to cross over your chest in a defiant manner as you take in the sight of him settling down within the wooden chair on the opposite side of the fire.
Unbothered, Hosea turns his thoughtful gaze upward towards the moon looming over the two of youâand the rest of the sleeping campâthough only for a few seconds. You know heâs contemplating the best way to respond, the best way to approach you without riling you up and waking up the others; and in the back of your mind you know heâll be successful. The moment he directs his attention back to your tensed form, your shoulders slump in defeat, a quiet exhale slipping past your lips as the irrational side of your brain finally gives in.
âWell, child,â Hosea starts, and you shoot him a somber glance at the chosen term of endearment, mostly because you were a grown woman, but you know Hosea meant well, so you spare him your half-hearted complaints.
âI reckon that it is very much my business, especially if itâs affecting your work with the gang.â His proclamation is an accusation and an expression of his concern both wrapped in one, and it instantly provokes you to move to the edge of your seat, a rebuttal forming on your tongue as you prepare to disagree.
âIt ainâtâ!â Hosea holds up a hand to both calm you and silence you, and your weak attempt at defending yourself is suddenly forgotten as you scoot back in your seat while subconsciously trying to control the increasing rate of your heart.
âAlthough Iâm sure itâs been much of a help to Miss Grimshaw, itâs very unlike you to stay cooped up around camp doing chores. That never fit you, and it doesnât now. You do your best work out there,â He states, extending an arm and pointing nowhere in particular to emphasize his words, and all you can do is watch and listen as a small frown tugs at your lips. âYou work better with Arthur.â The mention of your loverâs name has your hands balling into small fists, and you donât notice it until you feel your nails gently poking against your slightly chilled palms.
Hosea takes notice as well, and gives you a moment to relax before persisting. âI suspected that within a week the two of you would have fixed any issues by now, but it seems I was wrong. I see youâre still avoiding each other. Arthurâs been gone for a few days, when he came back this morning I expected to see you two making up for the time spent apart, yet that wasnât the case. And Iâm not one to pry, my dear, but..â Whatever he intended to say next died on his lips as his concerned eyes searched your face for any answer or reaction.
The fresh tears glossing over your eyes was all he needed to see before he sprung into action.
Grunting as he did so, Hosea pushed himself out of his chair, only to scoot it a bit closer to you in an attempt to give your conversation as much privacy as it could have considering you both currently sat right in the center of the camp.
His movements seem to pull you out of your own head, and you blink rapidly with the intention to hold back the tears that threaten to decorate your face; it works, this time at least. Gracefully, Hosea takes his seat for the second time within those few minutes, his hand instantly coming to your shoulder to provide you with comfort you didnât know you needed until now.
âItâs alright,â he assures once, a small smile stretching across his face as he rubs your shoulder in a way that seems to be encouraging you to speak up, and so finally, you do.
âI donât know, Hosea. It might be me,â Truthfully, you donât think it is, but you say this anyway to downplay some of your anger as you softly bite down on the inside of your cheek. âI donât know if he went and mouthed off to Dutch about what I said last week..â Hesitance is detectable in your voice when it falters as you say your leaderâs name. It doesnât go unnoticed by Hosea, nothing ever does, but he remains quiet; a silent indicator that forces you to keep going.
With a shake of your head, your fists unclench and you flatten your palms to rest against your thighs, a gesture that soothes your nerves a tiny bit. âUsually they tell me whatâs goinâ on, sometimes they let me come along, but lately I just been left out and playing catch up, trying to figure out whatâs happening and what I can do. Why should I reward him for that? Last week he came back from some robbery that I had no clue about,âcause he didnât tell me. He just took off with Dutch, Micah, and Bill for days. He did the same thing the week before with Javier and Charles.â
This time it is your eyes that trail towards the dark sky, seeking some sort of solace in the beautiful glow the moon provided as you vaguely recalled the events of the week before. âI sort of snapped at him, told him he shouldnât be takinâ off like that without letting me know, âcause I worry about him so much, Hosea. He apologized, and it shouldâve stopped there..â Youâre immediately overcome with guilt, the feeling making you shrink into yourself as you absentmindedly pluck a small piece of lint from your pants.
âBut then I made a comment about him being too irresponsible to realize Dutch was workinâ him like a damn dog, and since then everything has just been..â Your eyebrows knit together and you frown, head shaking as you fumble to find some sort of word to describe your predicament. You never do truly finish your train of thought.
âThatâs the day Iâm sure you heard us fightinâ with each other.â Sheepishly you cast a glance over at Hosea, and the amusement floating around in his dark orbs confirms your suspicion. For a moment you wonder if anyone else had overheard your bitter argument with Arthur but the thought doesnât linger for long. âHe told me heâs just goinâ out to make money for the camp so that we can keep movinâ, the same old nonsense that I already know.â You huff out, cheeks growing red with frustration as you direct your focus towards the small fire, your eyes boring into the dying embers.
âArthur says the two of you spoke about this before, sometime when we were stuck up in the mountains.â Hosea mentions, and when you realize that Arthur has been venting to Hosea without your knowledge, a tinge of unease and guilt settles within your stomach though you donât pay the feeling too much attention. âHe said he spoke to you about his role in the gang, and you two had a mutual understanding that he would be needed a lot more.â
Hearing the words come from Hosea had pushed a button, as they had been the same words Arthur tried to throw at you during your fight. âI know that I agreed at first, I was trying to be an understandinâ girlfriend,â Your posture straightens, your tone defensive as your frown deepens. âBut experiencinâ it is something else entirely, I didnât know it would this hard.. and I know that we depend on him a lot, I know. But the other boys in this camp are just as capable! They canât even get a chance, cause Dutch is always hollerinâ for Arthur! Canât he ever get a break?â Youâre scowling, and although Hosea believes it doesnât fit your kind features, he lets you continue. âThere has to be some middle ground between him being ran around as Dutchâs personal servant boy and being hereââ
âWith you.â
Hosea finishes your increasingly heated rant, and once the words leave his mouth youâre stuck, feeling conflicted about how selfish they sounded coming from someone else. Arthur pointed it out when you had said them to him, and it wasnât until now that you could imagine why he thought so. You mentally scramble to prepare yourself for Hoseaâs scolding, waiting for him to tell you how it was inconsiderate of you to think of such a thing.
âFor you.â
He corrects himself, and you feel your breath catching in your throat as you turn to look at him. A warm smile is stretched across his face, and you have to blink twice to make youâre seeing him correctly in your state of physical and mental exhaustion.
Did he understand?
The thought of someone understanding you made your heart stutter, and the sense of hope building in your chest was strong enough to force tears to the corner of your eyes once again.
Hosea sighs, however it is not one of frustration or annoyance, but rather one of fondness and pure apprehension of your dilemma. âCan I be honest with you, my dear?â He perks up, not speaking further until you signal him to press on with a slight nod of the head as you bring your arm up to wipe your eyes against the soft fabric of your sleeve. âI know what it feels like to be in love with someone and have this type of life get in the way of that.â
His words catch you off guard, and you donât miss sadness that swims around in his eyes despite the fact it only stayed there for a few seconds. âYou and Arthur have more of a chance than I ever did. I have seen my fair share of things worth quarreling over in a relationship, but I donât think this is one of âem. This is childish. You and Arthur are entitled to feel however you feel, but your silences are doing you more harm than help. If you both say the things that you have been saying to me, to each other, well..â Hosea gently pats you on the back once more, before suddenly using his hands to help push himself up to stand. âI think youâll find that middle ground that youâre fighting so hard for. Perhaps something even better.â
Silence dominates the atmosphere around you two, yet it isnât uncomfortable. It happens to be the opposite, Hoseaâs words oddly providing both clearance and consolation that you havenât felt for the past week and a half. Mimicking the silver haired man, you take a stand yourself, a humble smile pulling at the corner of your lips as you suddenly move forward and capture Hosea in a hug. An airy chuckle escapes him, and he offers you a few gentle pats on the back while returning your hug.
âThank you, Hosea.â You murmur quietly to him, only letting him go when you hear his response. â Go , child. Talk to him.â He presses with a sense of urgency, returning your smile as he bids you a good night.
You donât look back when you turn away from Hosea, hesitation overcoming your being with every step you take towards your shared tent with Arthur. Youâre well aware that heâd be asleep at this hour, however the thought of waking up in the morning and bringing up the topic of your past fight had unnerved you. The sound of leaves crunching under your wary footsteps is deafening in your ears, though it doesnât seem to stir the others within the tents surrounding you. Exhaling quietly upon arriving at your tent, you relax your shoulders, deciding you would leave all your worrying for the morning hours which were soon to come.
However, the rustling of your tent flap has you freezing in your spot, your footsteps coming to a halt. You stare as the thin cloth is lifted, a fully dressed Arthur emerging and stopping once his eyes settle on your smaller figure. Your eyes lock with his blue ones, and the silence engulfing the two of you is disrupted by the small breeze blowing through air. You knew he could read the confusion on your face, and that he could tell there were questions building up on your tongue, yet you hadnât had a chance to throw them in his direction as he had been the first to speak up.
âThat idiot Sean gave me some information about a cabin he spotted yesterday. Said a couple of fellers got their hands on a lot of valuables they stole. Itâs only about three of them.â He murmurs, peeking from beneath the brown hat that sat atop of his head. âTheyâre on the run too, so. Itâs better to catch âem at sunrise before they go takinâ off.â
You swallow the small lump forming in your throat, finding it hard to do so as you listened carefully to the details. You almost worry that you canât speak, your throat burning as you try to contain the conflicting emotions building within you.
He was leaving. Again.
âAre you going alone?â The questions seems strained and forced as it leaves you, and the sound makes Arthur frown as he sighs out. âYeah, but I wonât be gone for long. Itâll be an easy job.â His attempt to reassure you fails to loosen the tightening of your chest, and all you can do is give a subtle nod of your head.
âOkay. Iâll walk you to your horse.â
You offer him a tight smile, and as you turn to head towards the side of camp, Arthurâs footsteps fall in sync with yours. The walk is silent, your eyes locked onto the dirt beneath your feet as you two walk along. You donât know whether or not he senses your disappointmentâArthur was a lot smarter than he let onâbut if he did, there was nothing he could do to ease it at this point besides staying.
And as you neared the bunch of horses lingering around, including your own, you felt the pressure of Hoseaâs words enveloping your being as they swiveled around in your thoughts, engulfing them completely.
Talk to him.
Your footsteps come to a stop as you stand in front of Arthurâs horse, the large mount giving both of you an acknowledging shake of the head upon spotting you. Arthur moves to itâs side to saddle up, his attention completely caught on making sure he had all of the items and weapons he needed.
Talk to him.
This time itâs your own voice in your head pleading you to speak up and say something, and youâre not sure if itâs the fear of another argument or the fear or his rejection that has you feeling paralyzed. In one fluid motion, heâs lifting himself onto the horse. Before any further actions are made by either of you, your voice cuts through the quiet space between you.
âArthur.â
In your ears, your voice sounds horrid; the timidness laced in your tone, the cracking of it as you struggle to get the two syllables out is an unpleasant sound that catches Arthurâs attention almost immediately. His features soften as he turns toward you, and it takes you a moment to realize that your tears had gotten the better of you and were marking their trail as they fell down your cheeks.
âI know you think itâs selfish of me, and I donât know what else to do, or how to go about this..â Your voice betrays you as it wavers, reflecting every emotion you felt over the past week. Despite the vulnerability, you stand your ground. âBut I donât think you should take that job, tonight. I think you should stay here. And I think we should just talk, even if means weâll fight. And even if it takes all night, I think we should fight if it means that weâll be okay at the end of everything.â Your hands fiddle with each other anxiously, and although the short moment of silence frightens you, you find that Arthur is slipping off of his horse and closing the distance between the two of you in the blink of an eye.
With no hesitation in his movements, his hands come to either side of your face, rough fingers wiping away at the tears that decorated your cheeks. Your body reacts on its own and you donât give much thought while leaning into the warm touch that you had missed so dearly. With a quiet sniffle, you bury yourself into Arthurâs chest, curling up against him as you feel his strong arms come around you in order to hold you securely.
âWe ainât been talking, and thatâs been killinâ me Arthur. I want us to just..â Your blabbering is shushed quietly by Arthur before he places a gentle kiss to your head, effectively silencing your attempt to make sense of your incoherent thoughts.
âStop crying darlinâ, itâs okay. Weâre okay.â His chest rumbles as his deep voice soothes the feeling of anxiousness that had been forming in the pit of your stomach, and you exhale quietly as you allow yourself to relax against him. Attentively, his hand rubs small circles across your back, and the motion is enough to calm the two of you. After a short period of time of simply standing with his arms around you, you break the tranquil silence with a quiet exhale, lifting your head and allowing your gaze to meet his own. âIâm sorry,â your shoulders lift a bit only to drop down in a small, subtle motion; and you figure if thereâs one thing you should get off your chest tonight, itâs that.
And for the first time in what felt like too long, Arthur smiles at you as he gives a small shake of his head. The simple gesture is enough to ignite a small smile of your own, your heart overfilled with relief as you finally feel that you and Arthur were one step closer to being alright. âI know we might not be seeinâ eye to eye on some things, sweetheart, but itâs okay. This talk will do us some good.â His gloved hand finds yours, and you release a breath you hadnât realized you were holding. It dawns on you that heâs accepting your offer to talk things out, yell them outâwhatever you both needed to put this issue to rest once and for all; and you fail to find the words to tell him how grateful you are. And yet, your actions speak volumes for you, your fingers intertwining with his as you give his much larger hand a tight squeeze, a motion that says thank you a thousand times without the use of words.
Leaning up, you press a kiss against your cowboyâs lips which he wholeheartedly returns, bliss overcoming both you and Arthur as you share your kisses beneath the comforting glow of the moon.