i'll ride out from el paso to mexico
i'll ride out, always been an outlaw
i'll ride out, 'til i can't see you anymore
i'll ride out,
ride out
once more
A/N: NSFW, MDNI, 18+ plus only. This is a WIP and has explicit content. By reading this fanfic you are verifying you are over the age of 18. Reader discretion advised. Photos are from Pinterest. I do not own any of the images.
Summary: You have found the right man for you. Arthur Morgan. This tall, handsome, horse-loving, truck-driving cowboy has captured your heart. He isn’t perfect, but his love is all you need. However, he has a dark past that you never thought could touch you. Arthur is an ex-con and former member of the Van Der Linde gang turned bounty hunter for the US Marshalls and has been tasked with catching his former mentor and brothers in arms. He is trying to make a peaceful life with you in the small modern-day town of Valentine. But the sins of is past are catching up to him.
Tags/CW: Arthur Morgan x Fem Reader, smut, p in v sex, oral sex, eventual happy ending, pregnancy, angst, modern AU Arthur Morgan fanfic, Fem OC
AO3 | Chapter 1
Prologue:
The loud chatter of the inmates echoed throughout the cell block, their voices bouncing off the concrete walls. The inmates were scattered about the pod, some outside their cells playing cards or just hanging while others remained in their cells doing their own thing. The noise sometimes made it hard for Arthur to focus on the book he had been trying to read as he lay on the bottom bunk of his cell in Sisika Penitentiary. But after the recent week he spent in isolation, the noise wasn’t too bad.
This was just another day in Sisika for him. For the most part, the other inmates left him alone and respected him, but of course there were always little quarrels that would pop up. It was the only entertainment they had in prison.
Arthur shifted in his bunk as he lay on his back, one hand behind his head as he held a book to read. He groaned to himself as the voices of an argument echoed through the unit. He didn’t pay them any mind, but knew to stay vigilant for anything.
“Morgan, Arthur! Let's go!” the voice of one of the guards rippled through noise in the pod.
He sat up when he heard his name, setting down the book on the bed before he stood up and straightened out his faded blue prison jump suit.
“What for?” Arthur called out as he approached the guard at the door.
“Just move your ass, Morgan,” the guard huffed, opening the door for him.
Arthur knew the protocol but the guard still instructed him to put out his hands, wrapping the cold silver handcuffs around his wrists.
“You got a visitor,” the guard revealed as he took his arm to guide him out of the unit.
“Visitor?” Arthur grumbled to himself wondering who it might be. He didn’t get many visitors except for Sadie and sometimes Charles and it had been months since his public defender had come around.
The prison on the island was heavily guarded as it was considered a maximum security prison. Two guards escorted him through the prison as it was required for dangerous inmates like him. They stepped out into the courtyard, the bright sun shining down on them and the humid, salty air grazed Arthur's nose. A seagull cawed as it flew above them as they walked through the courtyard of Sisika, taunting him, reminding him of where he was. Arthur kept his eyes ahead, focused, brow low, a serious expression on his face as they passed the rec yard where some inmates and guards were. Above them, he could see the guards in their towers, with rifles in hands watching the prisoners below.
A cold gust of air from AC until vents hit his face as they re-entered the building, the guards guiding him to one of the private visitation rooms.
“Have a seat,” the guard ordered, gesturing for him to sit in the metal chair. Arthur obeyed and put his cuffed hands flat on the table before he glanced at the one-way mirror to his left. He knew they were looking, examining him. After two years in this hell hole, he was used to being watched like this, monitored, guards breathing down his neck.
Frankly, he didn’t give a shit.
He sat back in the chair, kept his gaze ahead at the concrete wall. He didn't have any other option but to wait. It seemed like ages until the door behind clicked open, breaking the deafening silence.
“‘Morning,” said a woman's chipper voice, her boots thudding lightly on the concrete floor. “How are you today, Mr. Morgan?”
Arthur eyed her carefully, sizing her up. Law enforcement. It was clear by the way she carried herself. The badge clipped at the hip of her dark wash jeans under the blazer were also a tell-tale sign.
She wasn't very tall, maybe 5’2” or 5’3”, with a petite frame. Her hair fell down her back, wavy and brown and had a natural light bronze complexion. In her hand she held a few manila folders, her nails neutral but manicured.
She was cute, he had to admit, but he knew better than to be fooled by a pretty face. Her red lips curved into a calculating smirk that didn't reach her honey colored eyes. They reminded him of a mountain lion's eyes hunting their prey.
“Peachy,” Arthur muttered gruffly.
“Hmm. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?” She asked as if they were sitting in her living room.
“I'm good.”
“Great,” She took a seat before him and smiled, crossing her leg as she opened the folder before her.
“So you’re Arthur Morgan. I've heard so much about you. You have quite the history,” she said, glancing up at him before reading from the folder in her hand.
“Thirty-four years old. Former member and enforcer of the Van Der Linde gang. Bank robbery, gun trafficking, racketeering, accessory to at least three murders. That we know of,” she baited, locking eyes with him. “A recent stint in isolation and…. serving thirty years. Wow. You must have a guardian angel.”
“You can read. Impressive,” Arthur mocked.
“Hmm. Cute.”
“Who are you?”
She smirked because she knew she got to him then set down the folder.
“Paloma Santos, Deputy U.S. Marshall,” She grabbed another folder and opened it up, pulling out two photographs.
Arthur's hardened gaze fell to the photographs, clenching his jaw.
“Agent Milton and Agent Ross. I'm sure you recognize them. The two FBI agents that arrested you and your cellmate, John Marston.”
Arthur remained neutral, his expression stoic and unmoved. Where the hell was she going with this?
“I'm not sure if you've seen the news, but..” she pulled out two mugshots, “... they have been arrested for corruption. Taking bribes, tampering with evidence... I won’t go down the rabbit hole with you but their tactics to close cases have been shown to be a little less than ethical,” she explained, her eyes locked on him to gauge his reaction.
“Because of this, every single one of their cases have been reopened and are under review. Including yours.”
This piqued Arthur's interest but he remained neutral. Paloma, however, was great at her job and read him like a book.
“By your reaction, I assume you weren’t aware of this. Guess you ain't a priority for your public defender,” she taunted.
“Why are you tellin’ me all this?”
“I'm glad you asked,” she responded leaning forward as she opened up another folder, pulling out more photographs.
Arthur closed his fists in front of him. He knew these faces well. A heat of anger simmered in his gut, but he kept his composure.
Javier Escuella. Bill Williamson. Micah Bell. Dutch Van Der Linde.
Paloma laid them out neatly in front of him as she leaned back in her chair. “I'm sure you remember these men well. Your former associates. As you know they are still at large,” she spoke, leaning back in her chair. “If I remember correctly, your former mentor and brothers in arms let you and Marston take the fall for that bank job and other crimes. They didn’t even wait for you. Not much loyalty if you ask me.”
Arthur stared at her, maintaining his mask of weary patience. She was beginning to really tick him off. “Are we done here?” He growled.
“Not quite,” she bit back, her smile disappearing, her eyes cold and calculating. She meant business.
“I want Van Der Linde. Him and the rest of these bastards.”
“What're you doin’ wastin’ your time here then?”
“I don't think you're getting it yet. A federal judge is looking into your case but given your rap sheet, the possibility of being released is unlikely. I, however, have the power to make that happen. Under certain conditions.”
Arthur didn't move but was now listening intently to her.
“I can get this judge to release you into my custody. To work for me. To hunt these bastards down and others like them,” she explained, digging a fingernail into the metal table.
“So you want me to do your dirty work?”
“If that's how you want to see it, sure. But on my terms. You don't go rogue. You don't settle scores. You will be under my supervision and follow every order I give you and help me get Van Der Linde. If things go well, you may just have a shot at having a real life.”
Arthur stayed silent and examined the photos carefully before him. He shifted slightly, the metal cuffs clinking.
“And if I tell you to go to hell?”
“Then you serve out the rest of your sentence. You’ve already served two of the thirty. You may get out in 25 for good behavior. And if the parole board is generous. Although…” her eyes raked him over before meeting his own again “... judging by the state of your knuckles, and the recent stint in ‘isol’, you’ll catch a few more years here and rot,” she added pointing to his file.
Arthur looked at the photographs over once again, studying them. He saw these faces often in his dreams along with the people he hurt along the way. He gave Dutch almost twenty years of his life only to be left behind like that. But the words of Hosea rang in his head. Revenge is a fool’s game…
“Why the hesitation?” Paloma interrupted his thoughts.
Arthur looked up from the table. “I’m supposed to just trust you? Just like that? Forgive me if I ain’t jumpin’ at the opportunity, but that badge says otherwise.”
Paloma nodded, giving him an amused smirk. He was a smart man. She had to give him that.
“Fair enough, but right now…” she stood up, picking up his file “... I am the only friend you have.” She walked over to him and sat on the edge of the table near him, crossing her arms. “Look, you weren’t my first choice, but, uh, it seems like I don’t get either of you unless you agree.”
Arthur narrowed his eyes on her. What the hell was she talking about?
“Don’t be a fool, Morgan. Take the deal. Be smart. Like your friend.”
Paloma stood up and walked over to the door.
“You can keep the family album,” she said pointing to the photos of the wanted men. “You have twenty-fours to give me a response, Mr. Morgan. Once you give me the okay, I’ll draw something up and send it to your lawyer to review with you. Then, you sign and you’ll be released; I can set you up in any place of your choice.”
“How generous,” Arthur drawled sarcastically.
“I aim to please,” she shot back, equally sarcastic. “I look forward to hearing from you.”
With that, the door buzzed open and she stepped out, leaving Arthur with his thoughts.
And he had so many thoughts. His mind was reeling with different things.
What the hell did she mean? What did she mean by not getting either of them unless he agreed? Did she mean Marston? Did Marston negotiate with this woman? Did he make some kind of deal? Two for one kind of thing?
He understood why she picked Marston first. He had more to lose. A woman who loved him. A child that needed him. A family. Marston would be easier to convince and control.
But him? He had nothing to lose and was more likely to go rogue and ruin her career. However, Arthur was disposable. Useful but expendable. Paloma could do whatever she wanted with him to get what she wanted and put him right back in here.
Arthur had accepted this fate years ago. He knew he’d eventually die here. There was nothing left for him out there. And yet…
Arthur set his eyes once again on the photographs in front of him. The metal cuffs clinked against the table as he picked one of them up in his hands.
A/N: NSFW, MDNI, 18+ plus only. This is a WIP and has explicit content. By reading this fanfic you are verifying you are over the age of 18. Reader discretion advised. Photos are from Pinterest. I do not own any of the images.
Summary: You have found the right man for you. Arthur Morgan. This tall, handsome, horse-loving, truck-driving cowboy has captured your heart. He isn’t perfect, but his love is all you need. However, he has a dark past that you never thought could touch you. Arthur is an ex-con and former member of the Van Der Linde gang turned bounty hunter for the US Marshalls and has been tasked with catching his former mentor and brothers in arms. He is trying to make a peaceful life with you in the small modern-day town of Valentine. But the sins of is past are catching up to him.
Tags/CW: Arthur Morgan x Fem Reader, smut, p in v sex, oral sex, eventual happy ending, pregnancy, angst, modern AU Arthur Morgan fanfic, Fem OC
@photo1030
AO3 | Prologue
Two years later, modern day Valentine, New Hanover
Chapter 1:
The pitter patter of raindrops fell on the windshield of the pick up as you watched the semis roll by from the passenger seat. Arthur had stopped at the gas station on the outskirts of Valentine and was inside the convenience store getting you some snacks after filling up the pick up with gas.
“It's really coming down now,” he drawled as he opened up the driver's side, handing you the plastic bag.
“Ooh, yes!” You exclaimed pulling out the bag of pork rinds and a can of Dr. Pepper. Your man knew you well. “Ya'll picked a hell of a time to go camping,” you said, popping a pork rind into your mouth.
“Yeah… Marston was never good with planning things,” Arthur grumbled as he started up the truck. “And he insisted it had to be this weekend.”
Arthur took off his weathered cowboy hat, drops of water falling from the brim and placed it on the dashboard.
“You sure about this? I mean, this seems like y'alls thing. A boys trip,” you said.
“You havin’ second thoughts? They insisted on bringing you. They really want to meet you, but we won't go if you don't want to.”
You and Arthur had been dating for about six months now and he was finally introducing you to his friends who he considered the closest thing to family. Every couple of months, he and his friends would come together to go on a camping trip in Strawberry to catch up and unwind. The truth was, Arthur really wanted you to go.
“No, no, I want to. I'm just nervous, I guess. About meeting your friends. You’ve told me so much about them that now I’m worried.”
“Why? It's just Marston. Ain't nothing special,” he said as he pulled the truck out of the gas station.
“He seems special to you,” You teased with a soft laugh. “Is it just guys? Who else will be there?”
“No, John is bringing his wife, Abigail and their kid. Charles and Uncle will be there. Sadie couldn't make it this time. That woman works to no end.”
“Well, ain’t that the pot calling the kettle black,” you teased.
You'd met Sadie before and knew she was somewhat of a business partner of Arthur's. “Would've been nice to know someone there.”
“You know me. I’ll be there,” he teased, reaching over and interlacing his fingers through yours, reassuring you. “You'll be fine,” he drawled, bringing the back of your hand to his lips. Arthur actually seemed excited about introducing you to his friends and you didn't want to disappoint him.
The drive to Strawberry was comfortable while Johnny Cash crooned in the background about Folsom. The rain eventually stopped as they drove past the state line of West Elizabeth and New Hanover. It was funny how it was pretty much dry on this side of the border. It was dark by the time Arthur drove into Strawberry and towards the hills where the campsite was, but Arthur knew the way well.
“I'm nervous,” you mumbled as the campsite slowly came into view.
“Don't be.”
“I thought you said we'd be roughin’ it.”
“Nah, we decided to get a cabin this time.”
“You think I can't hack sleeping in a tent?” You asked him with feigned offense.
“Wouldn’t you prefer a bed?” he smirked suggestively.
“A lack of a bed hasn't stopped you before,” you smirked back.
He parked the truck and turned the engine off. He got out and came around to open the door for you, taking your hand in his and a case of beer in the other.
“Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
He pinched your chin and kissed you tenderly for good luck
“Hurry up, Morgan! You’re late,” a young man yelled out from the campfire.
Arthur pulled away with a groan and grumbled. “Already, no peace.”
He took your hand in his and led you to the campfire as two men met you halfway, a beer bottle in their hands.
“Took your sweet time getting here, Morgan,” an older man with a thick white beard and beer belly approached, taunting Arthur then glancing at you with a friendly smile. Arthur rolled his eyes which only made you chuckle.
“How'd you weasel your way into this trip, old man?” Arthur grumbled with a smirk, already lighting a cigarette.
“It's good to see you, too, Arthur. Lovely, to meet you, Miss,” said the older man. “Y'know, she's too pretty for your sour face.”
“Don't mind Uncle here. You must be Y/N. It’s good to finally meet you. Where you been hidin’ her, Morgan?” the young man said in a raspy voice as you noticed the scars on his cheek.
“You must be John,” you said with a wide grin, greeting him with a hug and kiss on the cheek.
“I’m Charles. Good to finally meet you,” said the other young man, shaking your hand politely. He seemed a little more reserved than John and Uncle, but you could tell he could hold his own.
Arthur greeted them both, a pleased smirk on his lips seeing how they welcomed you. You made your way to the campfire as John immediately shoved a beer into Arthur’s hand.
“Hey, you two. You made it,” a young woman said with a friendly smile. Arthur introduced her to you as Abigail and her little boy Jack.
You all sat around the campfire and immediately fell into conversation, getting to know each other. You helped Abigail set up some snacks before joining the men again. Arthur pulled you immediately to his side where he sat by the fire, wrapping a blanket around your legs and his.
“What’ll you have, Y/N?” John asked.
“A beers’ fine.”
Music played in the background as the campfire crackled, the air cool and crisp as you sipped your beer. Judging by the banter and their dynamic, you could tell they all went way back.
“So how long have you been dating?” Abigail asked.
“Um, six months or so,” you responded, glancing at Arthur. Arthur squeezed your hand under the blanket, silently apologizing for his friends.
“Six months? You've been keeping her a secret, Morgan.”
“John!” Abigail scolded.
Arthur rolled his eyes at John’s remark, giving a small exasperated huff. He took a swig of his beer, trying to ignore the fact that his friends were going to ask all they could about his relationship with you, then tease him for it later.
“How’d ya’ll meet?”
“Actually, he came into the salon one day in need of a haircut and just… went from there.”
“A salon? Oh, that’s golden,” John grinned. Arthur groaned gruffly, although he knew this was going to happen.
“Shut it, Marston,” Arthur snapped, his tone playful yet slightly annoyed.
“Alright, Alright!” John shrugged with a smirk. “So, we going hunting tomorrow?”
“Bright and early. What do you say, Charles?” Arthur responded, taking another sip of his beer.
The conversation went from how you and Arthur met to what you did for a living to hunting then reminiscing about the old days. You enjoyed hearing about their history, giving you an insight of what Arthur can be like. You could tell Arthur was in good spirits and was enjoying himself, especially by the way his hand kept running up and down your thigh under the blanket.
“Aw! Dance with me, Arthur,” you said as your favorite song came on. It was the same song that played on your first unofficial date.
Arthur turned to you with a crooked smirk that made you melt. “You wanna dance?” He drawled, standing up from his chair to pull you up from yours. He led you just a ways away from the group, giving John a warning glare. He pulled you into his arms, his hands on your hips as you began swaying you to the music. He smiled down at you, knowing that you two were probably well on your way to being tipsy.
“I'm glad I came,” you said. “I'm having fun.”
“Me too,” he mumbled, his fingers digging into the fabric of your jeans.
You could feel his friend's eyes on you two and you wondered if he'd ever brought a girl to these trips before. He, on the other hand, was far too focused on you to care what his friends thought. Arthur whispered sweet nothings in your ear that made you giggle and gush like a schoolgirl. Behind your back, though, you could feel him flipping John off.
“They're staring at us. We can stop if you want,” you whispered.
“Nah, pay them no mind. They're just being idiots.”
The song came to end and he kissed you lightly before leading you back to his seat, pulling you down onto his lap. This earned yourselves a collective “aw” from John and Charles. “Shut up,” Arthur quipped with no real bite in his tone.
The night wore on as you all drank and talked, all while Arthur held you close to him, his arm wrapped around your waist, lightly squeezing your hip every now and then.
“It's late. I'm gonna get this kid to bed,” Abigail spoke up, taking Jack by the hand to head into the cabin.
“I'll come with you,” you said, taking the opportunity to get to know her better and settle into your room for the night.
“See you inside?”
“Yeah, I won't be long,” he purred, his fingers drumming against your hip. He was a tad disappointed you were heading in a little early. He was having a good time and was enjoying having you on his lap, but he also wanted to catch up with John and Charles.
“Take your time,” you murmured. Taking the last sip of your beer, you stood up and followed Abigail inside. Arthur’s eyes lingered after you, appreciating the way your jeans hugged your hips.
“Didn't know you had moves like that, Arthur,” John poked fun at him as he lit a cigarette.
Arthur rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. He knew the teasing was going to continue. “Alright, Marston. Shut it or I'll shut it for you,” Arthur warned, but wasn't serious.
“What?” John said defensively, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Look at you. You're happy,” he said with a grin. “She's a nice girl. We think she's good for you.”
Arthur smirked to himself glancing towards the cabin, then hung his head low. His cheeks reddened a little and he grumbled under his breath at John's remark. He knew what John was saying and he couldn’t agree more. He hadn't been this happy in quite a while and he appreciated John and Charles' approval.
“Yeah… she's a good girl.”
“She know about the old life? Dutch and… the other stuff?” Charles chimed in.
Arthur was silent for a second and rubbed his chin inquisitively, taking a swig of his beer. How could he even begin to explain to you his complicated past with Dutch and the Van Der Linde gang?
“Yeah… she knows. Not every detail, but she knows I did time in prison. She knows why.”
“And you didn't scare her away,” John stated, his tone serious now.
“Not yet,” Arthur mumbled.
“I'll think she'll stick around. I don't think she scares easily,” Charles said.
Their words reassured Arthur. Charles seemed to be intuitive about such things, but there was always a little worry in the back of his mind he couldn't shake.
“Yeah… we'll see.”
*****
Meanwhile, inside the cabin, Abigail and you chatted for a bit and made plans for the next day while the men went hunting. Afterwards, you set up the room you and Arthur would be staying in.
The room was silent as you unpacked what you needed and slipped out of your clothes to put on something comfortable when the door suddenly burst open. Arthur stepped in, locking the door behind him before sauntering over to you. His eyes were already dark as they trailed down your form, appreciating your black lace bra and panties.
“Christ, darlin’...” He murmured as his hands found their way to your hips. Biting your lower lip, you flirtatiously smirked back.
“I was just getting changed. I thought for sure you'd be drinking with the boys longer.”
“Nah, those two might stay up all night drinkin’. I'd rather be in here.”
His hand trailed its way up to brush your hair away from your neck. You could feel the heat radiating off of him as the air grew thicker in the room.
“Had I known we'd be sleeping in a cabin and not a tent, I would've brought lingerie,” you murmured, your voice dropping to a sultry tone.
“I think I like this more,” he purred.
Without another word, his hands slipped to the back of your thighs, hoisting you up and urging you to wrap your legs around him. He sat on the edge of the bed so you straddled him, his calloused hands roamed your form, gently squeezing his favorite parts. His lips found your neck, kissing gently down to your shoulder
“Thanks for bringing me,” you breathed out, tilting your head slightly to give him better access.
“Mhmm,” he hummed as his fingers went to the back of your bra to undo it.
“It unhooks from the front,” you smirked.
“Is that right?” He murmured, pulling back to meet your eyes. His hands snaked to the front of your torso, his nimble fingers unclasping the hook and gingerly pulled the straps down your shoulders, baring your skin to his hungry gaze.
“Darlin’... You’re so perfect…”
One calloused hand cupped the swell of your breast, gently rolling a terse nipple between his fingers, earning himself a soft moan from you. His lips trailed down the column of your neck, sucking gently. Heat quickly spreads throughout your body, pooling in your core.
“Arthur…” you cooed as your hips inadvertently began to grind against him. You felt the unmistakable bulge in his jeans, exciting you further.
“Fuck, darlin…” he groaned with need. He loved the way you moaned his name and moved like that, completely unashamed. “I’m addicted to you,” he murmured against your mouth before capturing yours in a deep kiss.
With little effort, he stood up with you in his arms and laid you flat on your back. You crawled up the bed watching Arthur urgently undress, dropping his boxers next to your bra on the floor, freeing his hardened member. You never got tired of seeing him like this, wanting you, hard for you.
He crawled up the bed over you, his breathing growing heavier and heavier along with yours. The sight of you in nothing but black lace panties was driving him insane. His fingers hooked in its waistband and slid them down your legs gently, exposing your pussy glistening with arousal. The look in his eyes was almost primal, like a predator stalking its prey.
“You gonna be good for me, darlin’?”
“I’m always good.”
He smirked darkly, settling his weight on you and pinning your wrists down into the mattress with one hand, bringing the other down between you to align himself at your entrance.
“My sweet girl…” he murmured as he ran his length along your wet folds, gathering your arousal and teasing you. He then pushed his hips forward causing you to moan a little louder than intended. The friction between you sent a jolt of molten heat through your bodies, and he groaned against your mouth as he fucked you slowly, drawing back in long and languid strokes, savoring the soft sounds you let out.
“Damn, sweetheart’... I can do this all night long…”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah… you sound so sweet…”
He rolled onto his back, bringing you with him and you cried out his name in surprise, biting your lips with a mischievous smirk.
“Ride me, darlin’…” he growled, his hands gripping your hips, guiding you.
You began to rock your hips steadily against him, your hands flat on his chest watching his expressions. He felt amazing with you wrapped around his cock. You found your rhythm, increasing your pace, tilting your head back.
“Like that?” you moaned, enjoying the little power you had in that moment.
“Just like that…” he groaned
You felt Arthur’s gaze on you, your body on full display just for him. Your sounds filled the room, the mattress creaking as you rocked your hips. You both were aware the cabin was not that big, but your mind was too fogged with lust to care.
That familiar heat began to build in your lower belly and you rocked your hips faster, chasing your high as you gasped and moaned for him.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Come for me..” he groaned, his voice strained.
His words of praise were your undoing as you tipped over edge, your orgasm crashing over you dragging his own release with you.
You came to a stop above him, both breathing heavy, but his eyes were glued to you, watching you ride out your high. Your eyes met his and you leaned down to kiss him softly, his hand tangling in your hair.
“I’m never gonna get tired of that,” you whispered against his lips.
He smirked against your mouth and suddenly flipped you back onto your back with him still inside you. He angled your hips upward, trapping you there as he leaned down to kiss you again.
“You trying to get me pregnant?” you giggled, still breathing heavily.
“Maybe,” he murmured playfully in that deep voice of his. “Would you care if I did?”
You were too blissed out to even care about the consequences, plus you were on the pill so it didn’t matter.
“As long as you take care of me.”
“Of course, princess. I’d take care of you. Besides, I think you’d look good swollen with my kid.”
It was something you had never discussed and the thought scared you a little. You had only been dating six months, after all. But perhaps it was the heat of the moment or the alcohol talking that you truly didn’t care if you did get pregnant. It almost excited you to think his seed could take root in your womb.
He then rolled off of you, laying down next to you with a heavy sigh, beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He took a few moments to catch his breath before he got up to get a washcloth to clean himself and you. You loved how gently he took care of you, wiping his spend from your inner thighs. He settled back down on the bed, pulling you to him to sleep for the night.
“What time you gettin’ up to go huntin’?”
“Early. If I can before sun up. Although… you tired me out, girl.” He murmured, burying his face in your hair, already half asleep.
You chuckled, curling into him as you began to fall asleep. How did you get so lucky finding a guy like Arthur? He was kind and protective of you and incredibly handsome in that rugged, rough way you liked your men.
He was seven years older than you. You liked that he was grounded and mature. You knew about his old life and the history he came with, but it didn’t bother you. What guy didn’t come with baggage? However, it was what he made of it that drew you to him.
You were happy. You finally found your man. Everything was perfect.
A/N: NSFW, MDNI, 18+ plus only. This is a WIP and has explicit content. By reading this fanfic you are verifying you are over the age of 18. Reader discretion advised. Photos are from Pinterest. I do not own any of the images.
Summary: You have found the right man for you. Arthur Morgan. This tall, handsome, horse-loving, truck-driving cowboy has captured your heart. He isn’t perfect, but his love is all you need. However, he has a dark past that you never thought could touch you. Arthur is an ex-con and former member of the Van Der Linde gang turned bounty hunter for the US Marshalls and has been tasked with catching his former mentor and brothers in arms. He is trying to make a peaceful life with you in the small modern-day town of Valentine. But the sins of is past are catching up to him.
Tags/CW: Arthur Morgan x Fem Reader, smut, p in v sex, oral sex, eventual happy ending, pregnancy, angst, modern AU Arthur Morgan fanfic, Fem OC
AO3 | Chapter 1
Prologue:
The loud chatter of the inmates echoed throughout the cell block, their voices bouncing off the concrete walls. The inmates were scattered about the pod, some outside their cells playing cards or just hanging while others remained in their cells doing their own thing. The noise sometimes made it hard for Arthur to focus on the book he had been trying to read as he lay on the bottom bunk of his cell in Sisika Penitentiary. But after the recent week he spent in isolation, the noise wasn’t too bad.
This was just another day in Sisika for him. For the most part, the other inmates left him alone and respected him, but of course there were always little quarrels that would pop up. It was the only entertainment they had in prison.
Arthur shifted in his bunk as he lay on his back, one hand behind his head as he held a book to read. He groaned to himself as the voices of an argument echoed through the unit. He didn’t pay them any mind, but knew to stay vigilant for anything.
“Morgan, Arthur! Let's go!” the voice of one of the guards rippled through noise in the pod.
He sat up when he heard his name, setting down the book on the bed before he stood up and straightened out his faded blue prison jump suit.
“What for?” Arthur called out as he approached the guard at the door.
“Just move your ass, Morgan,” the guard huffed, opening the door for him.
Arthur knew the protocol but the guard still instructed him to put out his hands, wrapping the cold silver handcuffs around his wrists.
“You got a visitor,” the guard revealed as he took his arm to guide him out of the unit.
“Visitor?” Arthur grumbled to himself wondering who it might be. He didn’t get many visitors except for Sadie and sometimes Charles and it had been months since his public defender had come around.
The prison on the island was heavily guarded as it was considered a maximum security prison. Two guards escorted him through the prison as it was required for dangerous inmates like him. They stepped out into the courtyard, the bright sun shining down on them and the humid, salty air grazed Arthur's nose. A seagull cawed as it flew above them as they walked through the courtyard of Sisika, taunting him, reminding him of where he was. Arthur kept his eyes ahead, focused, brow low, a serious expression on his face as they passed the rec yard where some inmates and guards were. Above them, he could see the guards in their towers, with rifles in hands watching the prisoners below.
A cold gust of air from AC until vents hit his face as they re-entered the building, the guards guiding him to one of the private visitation rooms.
“Have a seat,” the guard ordered, gesturing for him to sit in the metal chair. Arthur obeyed and put his cuffed hands flat on the table before he glanced at the one-way mirror to his left. He knew they were looking, examining him. After two years in this hell hole, he was used to being watched like this, monitored, guards breathing down his neck.
Frankly, he didn’t give a shit.
He sat back in the chair, kept his gaze ahead at the concrete wall. He didn't have any other option but to wait. It seemed like ages until the door behind clicked open, breaking the deafening silence.
“‘Morning,” said a woman's chipper voice, her boots thudding lightly on the concrete floor. “How are you today, Mr. Morgan?”
Arthur eyed her carefully, sizing her up. Law enforcement. It was clear by the way she carried herself. The badge clipped at the hip of her dark wash jeans under the blazer were also a tell-tale sign.
She wasn't very tall, maybe 5’2” or 5’3”, with a petite frame. Her hair fell down her back, wavy and brown and had a natural light bronze complexion. In her hand she held a few manila folders, her nails neutral but manicured.
She was cute, he had to admit, but he knew better than to be fooled by a pretty face. Her red lips curved into a calculating smirk that didn't reach her honey colored eyes. They reminded him of a mountain lion's eyes hunting their prey.
“Peachy,” Arthur muttered gruffly.
“Hmm. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?” She asked as if they were sitting in her living room.
“I'm good.”
“Great,” She took a seat before him and smiled, crossing her leg as she opened the folder before her.
“So you’re Arthur Morgan. I've heard so much about you. You have quite the history,” she said, glancing up at him before reading from the folder in her hand.
“Thirty-four years old. Former member and enforcer of the Van Der Linde gang. Bank robbery, gun trafficking, racketeering, accessory to at least three murders. That we know of,” she baited, locking eyes with him. “A recent stint in isolation and…. serving thirty years. Wow. You must have a guardian angel.”
“You can read. Impressive,” Arthur mocked.
“Hmm. Cute.”
“Who are you?”
She smirked because she knew she got to him then set down the folder.
“Paloma Santos, Deputy U.S. Marshall,” She grabbed another folder and opened it up, pulling out two photographs.
Arthur's hardened gaze fell to the photographs, clenching his jaw.
“Agent Milton and Agent Ross. I'm sure you recognize them. The two FBI agents that arrested you and your cellmate, John Marston.”
Arthur remained neutral, his expression stoic and unmoved. Where the hell was she going with this?
“I'm not sure if you've seen the news, but..” she pulled out two mugshots, “... they have been arrested for corruption. Taking bribes, tampering with evidence... I won’t go down the rabbit hole with you but their tactics to close cases have been shown to be a little less than ethical,” she explained, her eyes locked on him to gauge his reaction.
“Because of this, every single one of their cases have been reopened and are under review. Including yours.”
This piqued Arthur's interest but he remained neutral. Paloma, however, was great at her job and read him like a book.
“By your reaction, I assume you weren’t aware of this. Guess you ain't a priority for your public defender,” she taunted.
“Why are you tellin’ me all this?”
“I'm glad you asked,” she responded leaning forward as she opened up another folder, pulling out more photographs.
Arthur closed his fists in front of him. He knew these faces well. A heat of anger simmered in his gut, but he kept his composure.
Javier Escuella. Bill Williamson. Micah Bell. Dutch Van Der Linde.
Paloma laid them out neatly in front of him as she leaned back in her chair. “I'm sure you remember these men well. Your former associates. As you know they are still at large,” she spoke, leaning back in her chair. “If I remember correctly, your former mentor and brothers in arms let you and Marston take the fall for that bank job and other crimes. They didn’t even wait for you. Not much loyalty if you ask me.”
Arthur stared at her, maintaining his mask of weary patience. She was beginning to really tick him off. “Are we done here?” He growled.
“Not quite,” she bit back, her smile disappearing, her eyes cold and calculating. She meant business.
“I want Van Der Linde. Him and the rest of these bastards.”
“What're you doin’ wastin’ your time here then?”
“I don't think you're getting it yet. A federal judge is looking into your case but given your rap sheet, the possibility of being released is unlikely. I, however, have the power to make that happen. Under certain conditions.”
Arthur didn't move but was now listening intently to her.
“I can get this judge to release you into my custody. To work for me. To hunt these bastards down and others like them,” she explained, digging a fingernail into the metal table.
“So you want me to do your dirty work?”
“If that's how you want to see it, sure. But on my terms. You don't go rogue. You don't settle scores. You will be under my supervision and follow every order I give you and help me get Van Der Linde. If things go well, you may just have a shot at having a real life.”
Arthur stayed silent and examined the photos carefully before him. He shifted slightly, the metal cuffs clinking.
“And if I tell you to go to hell?”
“Then you serve out the rest of your sentence. You’ve already served two of the thirty. You may get out in 25 for good behavior. And if the parole board is generous. Although…” her eyes raked him over before meeting his own again “... judging by the state of your knuckles, and the recent stint in ‘isol’, you’ll catch a few more years here and rot,” she added pointing to his file.
Arthur looked at the photographs over once again, studying them. He saw these faces often in his dreams along with the people he hurt along the way. He gave Dutch almost twenty years of his life only to be left behind like that. But the words of Hosea rang in his head. Revenge is a fool’s game…
“Why the hesitation?” Paloma interrupted his thoughts.
Arthur looked up from the table. “I’m supposed to just trust you? Just like that? Forgive me if I ain’t jumpin’ at the opportunity, but that badge says otherwise.”
Paloma nodded, giving him an amused smirk. He was a smart man. She had to give him that.
“Fair enough, but right now…” she stood up, picking up his file “... I am the only friend you have.” She walked over to him and sat on the edge of the table near him, crossing her arms. “Look, you weren’t my first choice, but, uh, it seems like I don’t get either of you unless you agree.”
Arthur narrowed his eyes on her. What the hell was she talking about?
“Don’t be a fool, Morgan. Take the deal. Be smart. Like your friend.”
Paloma stood up and walked over to the door.
“You can keep the family album,” she said pointing to the photos of the wanted men. “You have twenty-fours to give me a response, Mr. Morgan. Once you give me the okay, I’ll draw something up and send it to your lawyer to review with you. Then, you sign and you’ll be released; I can set you up in any place of your choice.”
“How generous,” Arthur drawled sarcastically.
“I aim to please,” she shot back, equally sarcastic. “I look forward to hearing from you.”
With that, the door buzzed open and she stepped out, leaving Arthur with his thoughts.
And he had so many thoughts. His mind was reeling with different things.
What the hell did she mean? What did she mean by not getting either of them unless he agreed? Did she mean Marston? Did Marston negotiate with this woman? Did he make some kind of deal? Two for one kind of thing?
He understood why she picked Marston first. He had more to lose. A woman who loved him. A child that needed him. A family. Marston would be easier to convince and control.
But him? He had nothing to lose and was more likely to go rogue and ruin her career. However, Arthur was disposable. Useful but expendable. Paloma could do whatever she wanted with him to get what she wanted and put him right back in here.
Arthur had accepted this fate years ago. He knew he’d eventually die here. There was nothing left for him out there. And yet…
Arthur set his eyes once again on the photographs in front of him. The metal cuffs clinked against the table as he picked one of them up in his hands.