Call me Tori! (she/her) I am 21 years of age, and I am your local ADHD extraordinaire! Welcome to my little trash corner of the internet! This blog will be a collection of what I enjoy both current and past. As well as my random musings and thoughts. I am normally more active on the weekends as I am a full-time college student working towards my B.S. in Psychology. DM's are open! Feel free to say hi!
Current Obsessions in no particular order:
RDR2
Writing (or attempting too)
Reading
Crochet
Monster Hunter Wilds
Monster High Doll Collecting
Dungeons and Dragons
My pet children (Sable my cat and Zesty my leopard gecko)
Cats in General
and many more things!
If you know me in real life, NO YOU DONâT!
DO NOT INTERACT IF:
You are a minor. Iâm not even opening that can of worms.
Homophobic/Transphobic. WE RESPECT EVERYONE HERE!
Ableist. Just don't. Everyone has their struggles, be respectful.
Just generally an asshole. If you ainât gonna be kind donât even interact. Thereâs a difference between constructive criticism and being rude.
This place will eventually be organized when I have the time/more posts but until then. Welcome to the garbage pile!
Holy shit. Um hi? Iâm sorry for being MIA for so long. Life decided to do its life thing and keep me busy. From surgeries, to finally graduating in May with my Bachelors, to changing my career path, life has been weird. But to cut to the chase, it is time to overhaul the blog! New writings and musings will be back hopefully soon and everything is getting a rewrite! I look at my old work and whew, did I have some pacing issues. I do hope everyone is well!
Howdy friends! It has been far too long! Life has been busy! College took all my time so, I couldn't write. I will never take 18 credit hours again. However, with the season comes holiday break! My writing shall finally be dusted off and gosh do I have ideas! See you soon!
I like stories where a normal human child is being raised by a sinister supernatural being who is totally malevolent except when it comes to their kid. Those are so much better than the âkids are scaryâ changeling type horror movies.
Like a perfectly well-adjusted well-mannered friendly child that is like âThis is my dad, Surazal. He comes out of the mirrors in dark rooms. He makes really good blood pudding but heâs bad at playing catch. Most people canât see his corporal form but I can because he says I have special eyes.â
âMom says that you can stay over but you have to promise not to leave my room between midnight and 1 am. You can play Mario Cart with me! But you have to knock on every closed door in the house before entering just because dad might be in there and if you look upon his visage without drinking the holy fruit juice, you might go crazy or something. Also dad is really excited I have a new friend and heâs going to to make hardtack and mystery stew for us! Youâll love it!â
In high school the kid gets a friend that is an amateur demonologist who initially befriends them in hopes of exorcizing their house but ends up becoming buddies with Surazal too because they crave parental affection.
Surazal stands at the end of the vast dark hallway and says âYou Too Have Special Eyes, Little One. You Can See Me Without Being Taken By The Madness. Within You, I Sense Great Turmoil And Sadness. In My Younger Years, I Would Have Exploited The Sadness As Weakness In Your Very Soul. I Would Have Worn Your Skin Like A Mask And Run Through The Village Streets, Supping Blood From Every Man I Encountered. But Now I Have No Use For Woe. Perhaps You Would Like To Watch Beetlejuice In The Family Room With My Daughter While I Prepare Cupcakes. I Am Sensing You Have A Fondness for Red Velvet.â
If ANY of yall EVER do this shit to me, im deleting every single fic out of spite.
If I ever catch one of yall doing this to another author and I know youre a follower of my work I will block you personally on every platform
None of yall are the fic police. I DESPISE genai. I think its an insult to art, humanity, and the planet itself. But aint not a single fucking person here qualified to pick apart a strangers fic looking for a gotcha moment to make yourselves feel superior. If you think something is ai you can ask the author (most are proud of the ai use and will just tell you straight up) if they say yes you have your answer and can warn people. If they say no and you dont believe them you block and quietly keep it between you and maybe a close group of friends. Spreading misinformation is DANGEROUS. And NONE of you doing this shit are anywhere near qualified to do it.
Posting this here from my main too bc I feel that strongly about it
You dont get to witch hunt and scour peoples work just frothing at the mouth hoping someone messes up so you can publicly humiliate and gang up on them. Fuck genai and every single poser and lover that uses it but if you are not 1000000000% certain that something is made with it you shut. the. fuck. up.
I'm about to get mean because this shit? this pisses me all the way off.
"hurr durr these very common writing practices are SUPER OBVIOUS AI TELLS!!!!!!!!!! obviously this is an AI invention and not the result of AI being trained on THOUSANDS OF REAL FUCKING STORIES!!!!!!! we're all very intelligent!!!!!!!"
I hate yall. I hate yall for fucking ruining fanfic with your goddamn motherfucking AI obsession. "ooh there's em dashes!" YEAH REAL WRITERS USE THOSE. "there's long paragraphs!" YEAH BECAUSE THATS HOW PEOPLE WRITE STORIES.
we're not "writing like AI" - AI is writing like us, because it fucking stole from us in the first fucking place.
I've never used AI in my work, not ever, but guess what, my fics are ALL written like that. long paragraphs, long sentences, em dashes and hyphens and other grammatical tools, because I fucking know HOW TO WRITE.
quite frankly, if you think these things are "genAI inventions" you're just telling the world that YOU DON'T READ ENOUGH.
Howdy! I don't really have much to say other than this was really fun to write! If anyone has an idea for a better title PLEASE let me know. As always comments and criticisms are welcome! No beta reader we expire. Enjoy!
Pairing: High Honor Arthur x Female Reader! Use of (Y/N).
CW: Brief mentions of death/dying, Micah Bell.
AO3 Link if thats more your style!
Chapter 1: You can't threaten me! I can't see!
Falling. You are falling throughout space and time. You feel weightless as wind rushes past your ears blocking out all sound. A blanket of darkness covers your sight You have been falling for approximately 10 minutes. You suppose this is how you die. Alone and in the dark. How fitting.
All you wanted was a nice birthday. Just once in your life you felt like you deserved something nice. But after a grueling day at work in which your boss made your life miserable in more ways than one, you just wanted to relax. He always had a vendetta against you ever since you took leave for your fatherâs funeral two or so years ago. He claimed you âleft them high and dry.â Turns out he had lost the file of the PowerPoint you had sent earlier that week and was floundering in front of corporate. Now he bogs you down with all his work as some form of cruel punishment.
Clocking out late you close the building behind you. Last one out as always.
On your way home from work you bought yourself a small gift to commemorate the day of your birth. A cheap cupcake. It sits upon your desk with a yellow candle haphazardly stuck within it.
Sitting at your computer with a sigh you finally drop your shoulders in defeat from the day.
God was it lonely here. You had no friends to celebrate with, no family, not even a pet.
Tears sting at your eyes about to fall. All you wanted was companionship. Thatâs what you craved the most. Lighting the candle atop the cupcake you make your birthday wish. Quietly just above a whisper you beg to whomever was listening (if there even was anyone listening),
âIf thereâs anyone out there, please, let me find my people.â
With one final breath you close your eyes and blow out the candle.
Nothing happens. Of course nothing happens.
You had hoped some cosmic force out there would finally help you but that was silly. There was no such thing as magic or a happy ending. You shake your head in disappointment. What were you thinking?
You get up from your computer chair to stretch. You check the time, itâs 11:50 pm, shoving  your phone in your pocket with a bored and defeated huff.
Arching your back with your arms above your head in a nice big stretch, you hear a small ripping sound below your feet.
Looking down, you see what you can best describe as a black hole with orange swirling on the edges.
Without even a second to process what is going on, you start falling.
Immediately you start panicking. âWHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?â you yell into the void. You start hyperventilating. This was crazy. Itâs just a dream you think trying to rationalize what has just transpired.
You fell asleep at your desk. Yes! That is what happened.
Closing your eyes tight you try forcing them open.
Much to your dismay itâs still pitch black, and you are still falling.
After a few more tries of this you give up. Whatever dream this was it wasnât going to give you up so easily.
You started calming down at the five-minute mark. Five minutes is a long time to fall, to be absolutely weightless, to be in the pitch black.
You close your eyes and just exist within the weightlessness of the void accepting your fate.
Silence. Complete and utter silence surrounds you until a small ding rings throughout the void from your back pocket.
It takes you a second to register.
The ding was your phone.
You had your phone! Holy shit! You had your phone! With a triumphant laugh you pull it out of your pocket and check the time. It had been almost 10 minutes since you started falling into this abyss. You look at the notification as well hoping it was just maybe a birthday wish from someone you knew.
âHappy birthday Y/N!â it reads.
 It was a birthday wish!
You grin from ear to ear maybe someone did remember! You scan the notification and your disappointment slowly grows.
It was a birthday wish yes, but not from a person. It was from the app you use to remind you to drink water.
The universe was cruel.
With a sad sigh, you try turning on the flashlight of your phone to get a better look around you. But itâs no use. The darkness stretches as far as the eye can see. There is no up or down. No rhyme or reason. Just dark.
That is until you see the darkness letting up. You look at what you think is below you. A small light at the end of the tunnel. You realize quickly that it is getting larger and larger. Closer and closer to you. You scrunch your eyes and brace for impact.
You hit the ground with a large oof. Your glasses knocked askew.
The first thing you notice is the cold and the fact miraculously, you werenât dead.
Slowly opening your eyes, you realize you are within a small wooden cabin trapped in a snowstorm. You adjust your glasses on your face properly and let out a relieved sigh.
Your phone sits heavy in your pocket, and you wince as you pull it out. While you may have survived the fall your phone had not.
A cracked phone screen sputters to life in your hands to give you one last message.
Happy birthday Y/N. Welcome to 1899.
The phone goes dark and unresponsive as you try every button in fear and confusion. You see your reflection in the darkness of the screen. Your hair was now tied back in a braid, and you were wearing a button-up shirt. Pocketing your phone, you look down at your clothing and realize it is not the sweatpants and old T-shirt you fell in with. Rather it was a period accurate pair of brown pants, a maroon button up, a brown overcoat, with lace up cowboy boots to match. Your telltale large round glasses were truly the only thing left unchanged in your appearance.
âAt least God has a sense of humor and didnât put me in a skirt.â You mutter sarcastically.
Puffs of your breath are visible now from the cold and you shiver.
If you didnât die via the fall, then it was going to be hypothermia.
Looking around, you take in the rotting cabin. It was old, musty and cold
However, there was a small wood burning stove tucked against the corner. Based on all the cobwebs around it, you deduced it hadnât been used in a long time.
You figure even with everything that just happened you might as well try and survive. This was a second chance wherever you were, and you were not going to blow it.
With a new determination filling your heart, you stand up and walk out the door to try and find something to burn.
The floor creaking beneath every step, you meet the outside storm. Snow is blowing all around and the wind is making the cold bite more.
There are, however, several other buildings scattered around the snow. All within walking distance.
âProbably an old town.â You chatter to yourself.
Scanning the terrain, you see an old woodshed at the end of this menagerie of moldy buildings.
Trudging through the snow to the woodshed you spy an axe buried within a large wooden stump.
Huffing in frustration due to the wind and cold, you grab the axe and make your trek into the small, wooded area on the outskirts of the buildings.
You cut down a few small trees as the snow slows down in its intensity quickly. Itâs almost serine in the quiet as you drag the trees one by one to chop up.
Finally, with all the trees dragged over to the woodshed you begin working to make them smaller to burn.
Youâre so tired and lost in your log splitting you fail to notice the people arriving on the other side of the town.
A branch snaps behind you and before you can even react to the sound a pair of arms snatches the axe out of your hands and restrains you to his chest.
Panic fills your brain. You scream obscenities at the unknown man and squirm with all the might in your tired body.
The man who honestly smells like something died around him teases you as you struggle.
âWell, looky here! Is somebody lost? Youâre awful small to be running around by yourself! Awful loud too.â The man talks in your ear and covers your screaming mouth.
In one last attempt to flee you bite down on his gloved hand as hard as you physically can.
He screams, loudly, right in your ear. He still hasnât let you go and now youâve gone and pissed him off.
Before he can do anything in retaliation another man rounds the corner and looks surprised at the altercation.
âMicah, why do you have a woman held hostage?â The large man in the black hat questions.
âI found an OâDriscoll hanging around and I had to make sure she wouldnât hurt anyone, Arthur. You know me, always looking out for the gang.â He says this in an almost sarcastic tone.
All while this conversation is going, youâre still squirming to be released.
âGive her to Dutch then.â The black hat man says.
âI canât have no fun.â The blonde man huffs.
Whatever âfunâ is you do not want to know.
Now youâre slung over the gross manâs shoulder in an attempt to transport you more easily. You gag from the putrid smell coming off him.
The other man laughs at this. Â
âYou need a bath, Micah. Even the OâDriscoll is gagging.â
Before he retorts back at the other man, you are slung from his shoulder into the snow at a new manâs feet. The impact of the fall made your glasses fall off your face.
You groan into the air as your glasses are pocketed by the newest man.
âWhatâs this Micah?â
âAn OâDriscoll! Found her plotting by the woodshed!â Micah, you deduce, says this with pride.
The man with the black coat starts to threaten you. Speaking about how an OâDriscoll will pay for the sins of the past or whatever.
Youâre not really paying attention as you canât really see whatâs 3 feet in front of you without your glasses.
Youâre kind of just squinting really hard at the three men as their leader talks. Soon a crowd gathers around the group of you.
Their leader isnât exactly quiet.
âAre you even paying attention OâDriscoll?â The black hatted man questions angerly. He grabs your collar and gets in your face to intimidate you.
You hold up your hand to pause the group and lean back onto your hands in a more relaxed pose. Putting distance between the man and you. You are screaming inside but you try to keep it cool and give off a confidence.
âFirst off, I donât know what an âOâDriscollâ is, nor am I a part of it. Secondly, the whole threatening thing doesnât really work if I canât see what youâre trying to threaten me with.â You accentuate your point by gesturing to the leaderâs pocket where your glasses reside.
âIâm as blind as a bat. If I could have those back, we can run this whole thing again if youâd like.â
The nonchalantness of your answer angers the original group of men even more. You and your big mouth fucked up big time.
âLook sirâs, with all due respect.â You pipe up to attempt to save some face. âI am not armed, and I hit my head real damn hard before I was dragged over here. I donât even know what year it is.â
âI apologize for my rudeness too, I was scared. You kinda just threw me on the ground and started yelling at me. I figured if I showed some confidence maybe, you would decide I was more trouble than it was worth.â
It wasnât entirely untrue, you were scared and blind, but maybe your journey to 1899 gave you more guts than it should have.
You let your words be mulled over by the group as they turn and walk to discuss. You sit there in the snow and await your fate. You may very well die here blind, unarmed, and alone but hey, at least you got to tell off someone important. You never had the guts to do that in 2025.
The group returns and your glasses are handed back to you by the leader. You help yourself up off the snow-covered ground before the leader pulls you aside.
âTook some nerve to stand up to me like that, Iâll admit it.â A fake smile is plastered on his face. He pulls you in and it darkens. âDo not ever do that again.â
You nod hastily in understanding.
He points to an older man within the dispersing crowd and tells you to follow him to get yourself settled.
Howdy Hey! Here's a WIP for the newest fic I have been working on! Don't worry, I am NOT abandoning "Ashes to Ashes" just jumping around a few works as I please! This is another Y/N insert for reader as well as our reader being from the year of 2025! The way reader gets to 1899 does have a touch of author said magic portal go brrr, but other than that there will be no supernatural elements. The full first chapter will be posted either later tonight or tomorrow! As always enjoy!
Pairing: High Honor Arthur x Female Reader! Use of (Y/N).
CW: Very brief mentions of dying
Chapter 1: Magic portals and cowboys
Falling. You are falling throughout space and time. You feel weightless as wind rushes past your ears blocking out all sound. A blanket of darkness covers your sight You have been falling for approximately 10 minutes. You suppose this is how you die. Alone and in the dark. How fitting.
All you wanted was a nice birthday. Just once in your life you felt like you deserved something nice. But after a grueling day at work in which your boss made your life miserable in more ways than one, you just wanted to relax. He always had a vendetta against you ever since you took leave for your fatherâs funeral two or so years ago. He claimed you âleft them high and dry.â Turns out he had lost the file of the PowerPoint you had sent earlier that week and was floundering in front of corporate. Now he bogs you down with all his work as some form of cruel punishment.
Clocking out late you close the building behind you. Last one out as always.
On your way home from work you bought yourself a small gift to commemorate the day of your birth. A cheap cupcake. It sits upon your desk with a yellow candle haphazardly stuck within it.
Sitting at your computer with a sigh you finally drop your shoulders in defeat from the day.
God was it lonely here. You had no friends to celebrate with, no family, not even a pet.
Tears sting at your eyes about to fall. All you wanted was companionship. Thatâs what you craved the most. Lighting the candle atop the cupcake you make your birthday wish. Quietly just above a whisper you beg to whomever was listening (if there even was anyone listening),
âIf thereâs anyone out there, please, let me find my people.â
With one final breath you close your eyes and blow out the candle.
Nothing happens. Of course nothing happens.
You had hoped some cosmic force out there would finally help you but that was silly. There was no such thing as magic or a happy ending. You shake your head in disappointment. What were you thinking?
You get up from your computer chair to stretch. You check the time, itâs 11:50 pm, shoving  your phone in your pocket with a bored and defeated huff.
Arching your back with your arms above your head in a nice big stretch, you hear a small ripping sound below your feet.
Looking down, you see what you can best describe as a black hole with orange swirling on the edges.
Without even a second to process what is going on, you start falling.
Immediately you start panicking. âWHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?â you yell into the void. You start hyperventilating. This was crazy. Itâs just a dream you think trying to rationalize what has just transpired.
You fell asleep at your desk. Yes! That is what happened.
Closing your eyes tight you try forcing them open.
Much to your dismay itâs still pitch black, and you are still falling.
After a few more tries of this you give up. Whatever dream this was it wasnât going to give you up so easily.
You started calming down at the five-minute mark. Five minutes is a long time to fall, to be absolutely weightless, to be in the pitch black.
You close your eyes and just exist within the weightlessness of the void accepting your fate.
Silence. Complete and utter silence surrounds you until a small ding rings throughout the void from your back pocket.
It takes you a second to register.
The ding was your phone.
You had your phone! Holy shit! You had your phone! With a triumphant laugh you pull it out of your pocket and check the time. It had been almost 10 minutes since you started falling into this abyss. You look at the notification as well hoping it was just maybe a birthday wish from someone you knew.
âHappy birthday Y/N!â it reads.
 It was a birthday wish!
You grin from ear to ear maybe someone did remember! You scan the notification and your disappointment slowly grows.
It was a birthday wish yes, but not from a person. It was from the app you use to remind you to drink water.
The universe was cruel.
With a sad sigh, you try turning on the flashlight of your phone to get a better look around you. But itâs no use. The darkness stretches as far as the eye can see. There is no up or down. No rhyme or reason. Just dark.
That is until you see the darkness letting up. You look at what you think is below you. A small light at the end of the tunnel. You realize quickly that it is getting larger and larger. Closer and closer to you. You scrunch your eyes and brace for impact.
Howdy hey! I know it has been a hot minute! I have been working at a summer camp over the break and holy fuck are kids exhausting! I do adore each and every one of them though! However, I am officially done and ready to write as I now have the time! I've even started cooking up a new RDR2 fic hehehehe >:3. I will post a WIP of it soon! Sorry for my absence but we're back baby!
I will post chapter 5 of ashes to ashes dust to dust soon! Iâve been writing it I promise! Just gotta fix my closet first. This happened with no warning lmao
Howdy hey again! It feels like it has been far too long since I have posted! Last week was finals week (college) so, I was swamped! But good news! I passed all my finals and classes with flying colors! Summer is now upon us so hopefully I will be able to write more! As always comments and criticisms are welcome! No beta reader we pass away. Enjoy!
Quick authors note: I DO NOT use Ai when writing. I will never use Ai when writing. My work is mine and mine alone. I do not condone my pieces being used to train Ai either.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
AO3 link:
Pairing: High Honor Arthur x Female Reader! Use of (Y/N).
CW: period typical violence, sexism, implied racism, and reader gets beat up.
The heart aches when it does not have a home, it aches it is alone, and it aches when it has no family to call its own. For all these reasons your heart aches.
Stepping down the stairs of the McCain office for the last time, that prickle starts behind your eyes. A floodgate threatening to open. You had been here for a better part of 9 years living as their assistant. They were the closest thing to a family you had. Being as they weâre the only people you really talked to. But they werenât truly family. The relationship was still built upon transactions and business. Business came first. It always did.
Reaching the door to the office, you let out a long, drawn-out sigh. You werenât coming back here. The best you can hope for is to find Arthur and stay with the VanderLinde gang for a little while. You can make yourself useful with your medical skills and perhaps a few others.
You pack everything you have into Hermes saddle bag. You never had much as you were always travelling for the McCainâs. But the fact that it fits into the horses saddle bag with no issue sits in your mind like an old wound that just wonât heal.
You grab Hermesâ reins and walk around Valentine like a lost puppy looking for Arthur or anyone from the VanderLinde gang.
You hear the commotion before you see it. Panicked yelling spills throughout the small town of Valentine. Your newfound âfriendâ (can you call him that?) seems to be at the center of it all.
 You cautiously approach the situation as it looks like a bomb is about to go off.
Youâre about to ask âwhat the actual fuckâ is going on.
Before you can even manage the first word, the man asking about Arthurâs whereabouts takes off like a bat out of hell.
Arthur turns around, surprised to see you again. He canât ask why due to the pressing situation. He just gives a questioning glance up to Hermes and you nod, handing him the reins. Giving Hermes a pat and âGo boy!â Arthur mounts up and chases after the man who couldnât keep his questions to himself.
You yell after Arthur, âBring Hermes back in one piece! Heâs got all my shit!â.
Soon you find yourself napping on a bench outside of the saloon. You havenât slept great the last few days, so a quick afternoon nap was something you desperately needed.
Your peace however, is soon interrupted by Arthur and Hermes.
You feel your hat being slowly taken off your head and your hands shoot up instinctively to try and grab it. You miss miserably. Youâre still half asleep trying to process whatâs happening as you hear Arthur laugh at you. Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes you see him holding your hat out in front of you.
âYouâre one hell of a deep sleeper (Y/N)!â
You canât help but groan as you stand up to face Arthur. You allow yourself one big stretch before recoiling. Everything hurts. Whether it was your age or the fact you slept on a bench you canât tell.
âGimme my hat Morgan.â You yawn, reaching for your hat with no luck as Arthur is keeping it just out of reach.
âOr what (Y/N)?â Athur drawls playfully.
You rack your brain on how to get your hat back. There was no way you could grab it as you were far too short and tripping Arthur was out of the question.
âHow âbout a truce? You give me my hat and I buy you a drink?â
Arthur mulls over the proposed truce for a second before agreeing as he âCanât say no to a free beer.â He shoves your worn hat on your head in a playful manner.
However, your teasing and sunny demeanor soon fades. As the thoughts of needing to call in that favor begin to stir.
Arthur notices immediately.
âWhatâs on your mind (Y/N)?â Arthur asks. He canât help but be concerned at your attitude switch.
âI need to call in a favor Arthur.â Your voice is quiet.
âWhich favor (Y/N)?â Arthur chuckles trying to keep it light.
You stare at him blankly trying to figure out what he means.
Arthur continues. âThe favor for saving me, Jack, or the fact you wouldnât take money, favor?â
You sheepishly look up from under your hat at him and just say âYesâ
Arthurâs face darkens as his hand hovers over his gun belt. âWho needs shooting?â
He was ready to kill a man under your accord.
Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise and you immediately go to speak. âJesus Arthur! No one needs shooting! I just need a place to stay!â
Arthurâs posture softens and he canât help but laugh as he pinches the bridge of his nose.
âThatâs it (Y/N)? I thought I was gonna have to shoot some son of a bitch! Iâll have to ask Dutch of course but having a doctor with us wouldnât be too bad.â He shoots you a wink.
You feel your cheeks heat up immediately. You duck your head and laugh as to save some face in front of the outlaw.
He offers you a hand. You take it pulling yourself off the bench.
âSo, how about that drink?â
You both head inside of the saloon.
It is a whirlwind of activity. Thereâs music, both drunken and professional, talking, and far too many people milling about.
Then it hits you. The smell. It is a god-awful mixture of vomit, sweat, and animal shit. You canât help but gag.
Arthur nudges you with a smile. âNot a saloon person (Y/N)?â
You shake your head. In truth you didnât like saloons very much. Too many damn people with too much booze. If you had a nickel for every patron who got into a fight that ended up at the clinic, well, you could buy a damn mansion in New York.
Two men stumble their way through the crowd of people to meet you and Arthur. And boy are they drunk.
The louder one introduces himself first as Javier. Taking your hand in his and kissing your knuckles with a flourish.
You are caught off guard by this grandeur gesture and awkwardly laugh and thank Javier for his politeness.
You canât see the venomous look Arthur shoots Javier over your hat. But Javier sure does. He immediately lets your hand go and straightens up. Mumbling a sorry.
Charles introduces himself next. Heâs far quieter and far less stupidly bold than Javier opting to offer a small wave.
Arthur then turns to introduce you. âCharles, Javier, this is (Y/N). Sheâs the doctor that helped Jack. She might be staying with us for a while. So, donât do anything stupid.âÂ
You canât help but think the âdonât do anything stupid.â is directed more towards Javier than Charles.
The group soon finds a corner booth in the saloon where you can all hear each other without having to shout. Javier and Charles on one side, You and Arthur on the other. The boys all order beer as Javier and Charles start to grill you. Asking all manners of questions. ,.lllIt seems fair as you are hopefully going to be staying with the gang.
Arthur finishes his one drink before standing up to go. âGonna talk to Dutch. Iâll be back.â
You offer Hermes again to be polite before you are immediately shut down.
âNo way (Y/N). That horse is mean as shit. Asshole kept trying to bite me.â
You knew Hermes well. Heâs only mean if you donât baby him.
âDid you tell Hermes what was going on?â You tilt your head and giggle at the thought of Hermes chasing Arthur around trying to bite him.
âI ainât talking to a damn horse!â He drawls in teasing anger.
You give him a shrug. âSuit yourself.â
Javier and Charles watch the interaction dumbfounded. Never had they seen Arthur be so playful with someone. Let alone a woman. The interaction makes Javier think back to your introduction. The look Arthur gave him earlier clicks in his head immediately. A wide smile breaks on the manâs face.
âWell take good care of your new amiga Arthur!â Javier says with a smile and wave. Charles nods towards Arthur in an unsaid âIâll make sure nothing happens.â
The men turn toward you and start asking questions again. Trying to feel out what kind of demeanor and skills you bring to the table.
It isnât long before theyâre even more drunk and wander over to the poker table in the saloon. You sit outside the table just to watch.
That is until you see both men get cleaned out by a slimy man across the way. He takes the boys for all theyâre worth. Not before making some remarks about them.
You pull up a chair in between the two men and asked to be dealt in. The man from across the table shakes his head stating, âNo women at the table.â
With a quirked eyebrow you canât help but rebuttal. âAfraid to lose to a woman?â
The man sputters as the rest of the table laughs at his expense. Heâs pissed but, you have won. With more venom than a rattlesnake, you are dealt in.
Charles and Javier lean back in their chairs and talk around you, not paying attention. That is until you start winning. Â
Arthur has now arrived back accompanied by someone else. Before he can say anything to you, Javier shushes him and points to your ever-growing money pile.
The table groans as you win the money back and then some.
You lean back in your chair with a shit eating grin.
âAnd that is why you donât underestimate a lady!â
You know itâs time to stop after your quip. As much fun as it is, you donât need to start a fight. You scoot back your chair and thank the table collecting your winnings. You hand Javier and Charles their original money back and pocket the rest.
This pisses off the man who cleaned them out in the first place.
âYou canât give them their money back!â He drunkenly shouts over the table.
You put your palms on the table and lean in meeting his gaze.
âItâs my money now I can do what I want. Or do I need to sit back down and take more of your money.â
This shuts up the whole table. This sleazy, greasy man was the one in charge. And of course you had the gall to actually challenge him.
Before it can escalate you flash the revolver on your hip.
The slimy man huffs and sits back down mumbling something under his breath.
The boys follow you back to the booth as you sit down and count your newfound cash with a toothy grin. Your attention is taken away from your money counting as a chair scrapes across the floor. A huge man sits down at the end of the table.
The individual Arthur brought with him is Bill. Heâs a big burly man in personality and looks but nice enough. He makes sure to compliment your poker skills at least. Â
You continue the conversation with everyone. Arthur confirms Dutch is okay with you being the newest addition to camp âas long as you pulled your weight.â
Bill goes to grab a beer from the bar. Itâs not even five seconds after his departure that you hear yelling from across the saloon. Bill arguing with another patron.
âDoes he want to punch him or kiss him?â Javier jests.
This gets the whole table laughing. However, it is cut short by Bill throwing the first punch.
You sigh as you know where this was going. âIt seems we got our answer boys.â
The bar erupts into a fight. Like a coiled rattlesnake finally going to attack.
Javier, Arthur, and Charles all shoot up from the booth to help an outnumbered Bill.
You, however, stay in the booth. There was no way you would win in a fist fight against anyone. That was never your strong suit. All you could do was look for an opening to leave.
You see it. The bar patrons are all occupied with either fighting someone or hiding like you were. With a sprint you scramble towards the saloon doors.
The doors are just within reach.
Then you feel the back of your collar being yanked. With a yelp you are thrown against the wall. In your daze you make out that the man from earlier has you pinned. Panic floods your mind as you try to squirm out of his iron grasp. Before you can escape you are punched. Again, and again and again. Stars cloud your eyes as your vision swirls.
Your body thuds against the ground suddenly, and a groan escapes your mouth. You canât tell which way is up or down. Everything is spinning in confusion and panic.
You feel yourself being lifted what you think is up and fuck does it hurt.
Charles is supporting your small figure and leading you out the saloon doors.
The doors creak open to an overstimulating amount of light and noise. Itâs blinding to all your senses, and it takes you a second to adjust.
When you do you wish you had stayed in your ignorance.
Arthur is beating a man bloody in the street as a crowd watches and cheers. Rage clouds his eyes and judgement.Â
You manage is a squawk resembling Arthurâs name and stop.
He looks up at you leaning onto Charles worse for wear. Your nose is bleeding, and a black eye is beginning to form. The man below him, held by his bloody shirt is suddenly let go.
In an instant Arthur is grabbing you from Charles and putting you on his horse. He unleads Hermes and tells him to follow.
The men follow his lead, and all climb up on their respective horses.
You canât feel anything aside from Arthurâs presence holding onto you from behind. Itâs soothing.
You start to feel yourself slip into unconsciousness slowly slipping off the side of Arthurâs horse.
Before you fall, you are jerked to the other side to sit on the horse properly.
With every bit of will power you have you manage to stay awake during the ride to camp.
Everyone dismounts their horses. Before Arthur can help you down, you fall off. The feeling of being weightless makes you giggle before you are caught by Arthur.
The camp is a whirlwind of activity trying to get everyone patched up and examined.
Youâre carried into a tent and laid out on a cot.
The tables are turned as instead of you doing the examination, you are being examined by Miss Grimshaw.
Miss Grimshaw is pissed.
âHow did you heathens, let our doctor get beat up?â
Sheâs chastising the men outside of the tent. Craning your neck to get a better look, they all have their heads hung like guilty school children.
Miss Grimshaw turns back to you and pushes your head back down.
âNothingâs broken (Y/N). Just a bloody nose and a black eye. Take a dayâs rest. But after that youâre pulling your weight!â
Even when youâre injured, sheâs still strict.
Miss Grimshaw finished with her examination huffs and pushes past the people huddled outside the tent.
She demands they âfind something useful to do before she does.â
All you hear is the shuffling of footsteps in what you believe the crowd dispersing.
After a few minutes, Dutch and Hosea make their way into the tent. Dutch welcomeâs you to the camp with a loud cheerful attitude despite the beating you just endured.
You recoil at the sheer noise of Dutchâs voice.
Hosea offers him a soft look as he puts his hand on his shoulder. He whispers something you canât hear.
Dutchâs demeanor changes as his voice softer now. He gives you a brief explanation of how things work at the camp. As well as what your role will be.
You give a weak thumbs up in understanding.
Satisfied both men leave.
You canât help but wonder if there is something more going on between those two.
You finally let yourself get some rest, closing your eyes.
Arthur pulls you out of your sleep as he gently shakes you awake.
You are groggy at the sudden awakening but manage to fight through it.
Arthur makes sure you are awake before he starts talking.
âI wanted to check on ya earlier but, Miss Grimshaw was making sure you were alright.â
Heâs trying to keep the tone light as he continues.
âI brought you some stew. Figured you were hungry.â
You hadnât thought about it, but you definitely were now that food was mentioned.
You attempt to sit up groaning and cussing up a storm all the while. Arthur is about to help you but you shoo his hand away. It takes a moment, but you get there.
You turn, swinging your legs off the side of the cot. A bowl of stew is gingerly put into your hands. It warms your fingers through the bowl.
Shoving some food into your mouth you canât help but sigh as it warms you up.
A question pops into your mind mid bite.
âHave you eaten Arthur?â You ask through a mouthful of stew.
He shakes his head in response.
This upsets you greatly. How was he going to take care of you but not himself?
You stop eating and give him a stern look.
âGo get some stew.â
Heâs about to protest but even with a black eye your look is stern and stubborn. He just sighs, deciding this isnât a battle worth fighting.
He leaves the tent and comes back a few minutes later with his own bowl of stew.
You pat the other side of the empty cot beside you and Arthur sits down. There isnât a lot of room on the cot so, your shoulders are touching as you both eat.
You finish your stew and table the bowl. Looking to Arthur who has also finished you table his bowl as well.
âBetter?â you ask.
Arthur nods. He didnât realize how hungry he was.
You begin to fidget with your fingers as a query comes out. It had been bothering you all day.
âArthur are we friends?â
He is surprised by the sudden question. You look at him with your head tilted in curiosity and trepidation.
âI would think so (Y/N). Why? Do you not want to be associated with me?â He says this figuring you wouldnât want to given the fact you got the shit beat out of you because of the gang.
Your look turns into something sorrowful as Arthur beats himself up.
âArthur, I do want to be friends.â You say quietly. âIâve never really had any before.â
You look down in shame at this admission. You were 29 years old worried about friendship.
âSorry itâs silly forget I asked.â You say with a wave of your hand.
Arthur is more focused on the fact you didnât have friends. Why wouldnât anyone want to be friends with you?
âWhaddya mean you ainât had friends before?â Arthur questions.
You continue to look down and sigh, âPa was a doctor, and I wanted to be one too. So, I would watch him treat people and take notes. Sometimes when I was little, heâd let me treat people if it was simple like a cold.â You chuckle dryly at the fond memories and continue, âTurns out people donât like being friends with the weird girl who yaps about blood and organs.â
Arthur gives you a sympathetic look. âI wasnât popular either (Y/N). Being a rambunctious little shit with a stealing habit donât help.â
You look at him squinting trying to imagine a younger version, âIâm sure you werenât that bad.â
Arthur just chuckles and shakes his head. âBefore Dutch and âSeaâ? I was bad. Real bad. Angry too.â
You knew that feeling. Being angry at the world for how it has wronged you.
âI was an angry kid for a few years too.â You say quietly.
âI try to make it up to her by being kind now. You know? Like somehow it might heal that little 18-year-old girl.â
You both bask in silence. In the quiet understanding of how the world was not fair.
Okay, you're the person who talks the most about RDR2 in general and the one I follow the most, so I ask you: do we all agree that Jack's paternity is disputed? Because I heard that people say it's not because "Jack was born in X year and Javier arrived later." BUT IT IS SOMETHING THAT EVEN THE ACTORS MAKE FUN OF.
(Sorry if you've talked about this before).
Jack was born the same year Javier joined so it is a bit unlikely that he is the rather, that said, it might theoretically be someone elses. As you said some of the actors make fun of it and Roger has said he does believe it is possible he might be Dutch's. That said, Rob hates the theory that he isn't John's and battles it with everything he has, Roger said it is Rob's least favourite theory.
So yes, theoretically it is possible Jack is someone elses, and some actors also think it is possible, but Rob hates it and it does also kinda ruin John's whole arc.
Nope, Iâm gonna side with Rob on this. I gotta believe in my heart of hearts that Jack is his. Thatâs why Abigail is so all over him to be a better father. Sure anything is possible, but nope.
Howdy again! Here's chapter 3! This is a long one so sit down, grab a snack, and enjoy! We're finally free from setup chapters! As always comments and criticism is appreciated! No beta reader, we perish.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
AO3 link:
Pairing: High Honor Arthur x Female Reader! Use of (Y/N).
The slam of the gavel startles you out of your trance. The judge of Little Hope yells across the now quiet courthouse. âIn the case of the murder of George Clark, the court finds the defendants guilty.â. You are stunned. You cannot speak. Your parents have just been found guilty of a murder they did not commit. You scream in protest standing tears streaming down your face. The sheriff looks at you with a smirk, walking over with an arrogance in his step. He was a tall lanky man that took after his father, who founded Little Hope.
Grabbing your shoulders the sheriff sits you back down and whispers in your ear. âSee what happens when you say no to me?â His breath reeks of cigars and rot.
You knew what was coming as soon as Sheriff Lester Hope busted down the door to your home, you had tried everything in your power for a different outcome. You begged and pleaded your parents case with tears in your eyes. You were met with indifference at best.
However, now that the verdict was made the Sheriff wasted no time to get the hanging started, almost gleeful in his hurry.
Most hangings took place a day after the trial to allow for goodbyes and for the writing of wills. Your parentsâ hanging took place a mere 30 minutes after the trial had concluded.
You were dragged out of the courthouse kicking and screaming. You knew what was coming next as you were held against your will in front of the gallows. Your head was held up by Sheriff Hope in a grasp that resembled being choked.
Forced to watch your parents hang. All because you had rejected Lester Hopeâs advances. You hear the drop of the platform your parents are standing on and Lesterâs arrogant laughter.
âNo one can keep you from me now (Y/N).â
You sit up sharply in a cold sweat, breath shaking. Face feeling sticky with half dried tears. God you were a mess. You pray you didnât scream and wake everyone up. You check the time on your pocket watch. You can barely make out that itâs 4:30 am in the darkness that cloaks you. You needed a walk. There was no way in hell you could go back to sleep. As tired as you were from waking up to administer Jackâs medicine throughout the night. The thought of potentially seeing Lester Hope again keeps you from sleeping once more.
With a tired sigh you put on your clothes for the day. Not the same ones you wore yesterday as tackling Arthur down drenched them mud. Instead, you opted for the pair you kept on Hermes as extra. Adorning an emerald green button-up shirt and black pants you made your way out of that stifling tent.
Walking as quietly as you can you pass in front of Arthurâs tent. Peeking your head in you see heâs still dead asleep and feel relief wash over you. Popping your head back out of the tent you take a glance across the camp, you see no movement. Thank God you didnât wake anyone up. The last thing you wanted was to explain that you had silly night terrors to a bunch of hardened outlaws.
Softly you slowly made your way across the VanderLinde camp. Making sure not to wake anyone. You start walking just outside the camp. A little ways away you find a clearing. Far enough from the camp to have peace and catch your breath, but close enough you could hear if someone yelled for your help.
You lay back into the soft grass below you and watch the stars. Something you always found truly remarkable. The way they were scattered across the sky randomly with unforeseen purpose. The vastness and potential of what could be, always brought some form of bittersweet comfort.
You trace the constellations you know with your finger repeating the stories your mother told you about the sky. Attempting to forget the image of your parentsâ lifeless bodies.
Youâre so involved in telling yourself stories trying to forget you almost donât hear the slight jangle of spurs behind you. Almost.
You sit up and glance behind you to see Arthur Morgan making his way over to you as if youâre some skittish animal that might dart away at any moment.
Arthur immediately halts seeing as you caught him red handed. He puts his hands up in almost a surrendering gesture.
You canât help but smile at the gentleness the large cowboy is displaying towards you. Giving a small chuckle you offer a small greeting and a wave.
âHey Arthur.â
Knowing heâs been caught he closes the distance between the two of you and stands in front of you. He saw you tossing and turning in your bedroll earlier. Heâs more than familiar with what a sleepless night looks like. But he decides not to push.
âYou always wake up to go star gazin?â he says with a dry chuckle trying to lighten the mood.Â
âOnly when I canât sleep.â You respond. You pat the ground next to you. âCare to join me Mr. Morgan?â You ask letting the invitation hang in the air. Arthur debates internally for a moment before sitting beside you with a groan. You both bask in the gentle silence blanketing your both, before you break it with a question.
 âHow many constellations do you know?â
Arthur gives your question some thought. Hosea tried to teach him the constellations and their myths when he was a kid, but Arthur didnât really listen that closely, opting instead to sleep.
ââSeaâ tried to teach me but, I didnât really pay attention.â He admits sheepishly.
âYou want to learn some?â You question excitedly. Your eyes light up at the prospect to share your knowledge.
âSure.â He drawls with a small smile.
You immediately launch into your favorite constellations and their stories, arm outstretched pointing towards the stars. Arthur follows your finger and listens intently to you rattling off all you know.
To his surprise heâs quite interested in the stories you tell. Whether itâs the way you tell them with embellishments and erratic hand gestures or because of the sound of your voice he doesnât really know.
He canât help but find your genuine enthusiasm somewhat endearing. He hasnât come across anyone who is as excitable as you in a long time.
He isnât staring at the stars anymore he hasnât been for a minute now. Heâs looking at you with almost a fondness in his eyes. You, however, remain ignorant as ever too deep in your story. Waving your hand in a last final flourish bringing the story to a close, you turn towards him with a large toothy grin.
âThanks for listening to me being weird.â
Thereâs a small pause as you look at each other. You still have that big goofy smile on your face and Arthur hopes itâs too dark to see the dusting of pink on his cheeks. Looking back up at the stars quickly, Arthur asks a new question.
âWho taught you all of them?â
Heâs genuinely curious as you showed you have quite a bit of knowledge about the stars above.
You look back up to the sky and respond a little quieter than you have been. âMy mother. She was obsessed with the constellations and their myths.â
âSounds like a smart lady.â Arthur responds softly matching your tone.
You nod with a smile. âShe was a spitfire too. Only person who could calm her down was my dad.â
The moment becomes bittersweet as you reminisce on your parents.
âIs Dr. McCain not your father?â Arthur questions confused. In his brief exchange with McCain Arthur could see a definite fondness for you. Even if he wasnât your biological father, you can still see him in that light. He of all people knew what that was like.
You canât help but have a small chuckle. This isnât the first time that comparison has been made. âNo. Heâs not my dad. Heâs just an employer. But he does give dad advice even when it annoys me.â
The night is filled with laughter and talking as you and Arthur converse about all manners of things. From your horses to the simpleness of Valentine.
You thought upon first meeting him he was a man of few words. Turns out you were completely wrong. Youâre so engaged in conversation with Arthur, it feels so unbelievably easy to talk to him.
Arthur feels the same way about you. You were quiet at first probably because you were nervous around a band of outlaws. But once you got out of your shell you were pretty good company. Heâd never say it to your face though.
Hosea is the first to awake in the camp noticing the absence of both you and Arthur he begins to look around until he hears it. You and Arthur talking and laughing. He spies your figures just outside the camp in the clearing laying in the grass. He hasnât seen Arthur be so talkative to anyone in so long. Hosea canât help but have that small knowing smile on his face.
The sun has just begun to rise from its nightly slumber. Painting the sky once again in watercolors. You sit up and watch the sunrise with a smile. Itâs one of your favorite things to see as it signifies a new day and new possibilities.
Arthur sits up and watches the sunrise with you in silence until he looks behind him seeing Hosea making coffee on the percolator. He figures he owes you one for saving his life so with a groan Arthur gets up making his way to the fire.
You make your way over to Abigailâs tent to check on Jack. The boy looks far better than he did yesterday. He looks up at you with wide bright eyes and chirps a hello. You canât help but feel those warm fuzzies as you look down at Jack. Despite living in an⊠Odd situation, he remained happy and cared for.
Abigail stirs at your presence in the tent, and you canât help but offer an apology for waking her.
She stops you with a hand and tells you she had to get up anyway. Making a polite conversation to Abigail as she wakes up you go to administer Jackâs Medicine. It takes some coaxing to get him to swallow it all as it tastes like crap. He lets you know his feelings immediately.
âThat tastes bad!â He proceeds to blow a raspberry at you in frustration. You canât help but laugh at the childish display of Jack. You look to Abigail and Jack with a softness in your eyes.
âHeâs a good kid maâam. And youâre a good ma.â You say sincerely.
Poor Abigail looks like sheâs about to cry as she pulls you into a hug. Youâre surprised but reciprocate immediately.
âI needed that (Y/N). And sorry about the threat when you first came.â Abigail says with a shaky voice. You respond with an understanding smile, âitâs okay! Iâd do the same thing if it was my kid.â
Abigail stands back to look at you one more time before tending to Jack. However, she seems to look over your shoulder and gives a coy smile.
âYour coffee is here.â
You turn around and see Arthur ducking in with a cup of coffee. You take it gratefully because you really need a pick me up after waking up so early. The coffee warms your bones as you drink it. You lean into the warmth letting your posture drop and give a small sigh of contentment.
You give a small smile to Arthur and excuse yourself from Abigailâs tent to pack up your things. Arthur watches you go before turning back to Abigail who sports a knowing smirk eyebrow raised.
Arthur just waves her off and leaves with a huff.
Walking back to Hosea and Dutch, Dutch discusses the need for supplies with Arthur with the intent to send him into town today. The girls overhear and beg to come with. Arthur eventually relents because hell he might as well let them complete their errands too. And get a much-needed break from Grimshaw.
 You walk over to Dutchâs tent with a sadness in your step as you had to leave the group of outlaws. They were probably the best group of people youâve ever stayed with in your time practicing in Valentine. For people who were supposedly âcold and killed without mercy.â They were warm, tight knit, and inviting.
You knock upon the wood post to make your presence known. Dutch, Hosea, Arthur, and the redhead from earlier turn to face you. You stand taller to try and make yourself appear more confident than you feel.
 âExcuse me Mr. VanderLinde, I believe my service here is done. I fulfilled my end of the deal sir so; I would appreciate my motherâs necklace backâ
Dutch looks confused before recognition of what youâre talking about flashes across his face. Stepping to a nearby table he digs in a keepsake box before pulling out the necklace and a wad of cash and handing it to you with a smile.
Taking the necklace in your hand looking it over for any scuffs, you clip the necklace back on satisfied nothing has happened to it. You then shake your head refusing the money.
âConsider it a favor among friends. Your rag tag band have been more kind to me than any other group Iâve had the pleasure of treating. You donât have to pay me.â
Dutch takes back the money seemingly confused at your non transactional motivated kindness.
You turn to pack up Hermes before Hosea stops you with a call of your name. You turn facing the man confused.
âArthur and the girls are leaving for supplies if you want to ride with them.â Hosea suggests. âIt would be safer if you went with the group back. âHe tacks on.
The fact they care enough for you to make sure you make it back safe warms your heart. âLet me know when yâall leave!â You say trying to put up a positive front.
You walk over to the horses the bounce in your step a little more muted. It was a bittersweet goodbye to the VanderLinde gang. You just hoped they would stop by the office on occasion to say hello.
Nervous shuffling behind you makes you turn. You see all the girls making their way towards the wagons and horses. They seem curious but weary of you, which was fair considering you barged into what was essentially their home.
You werenât very intimidating to begin with considering your short stature. Most of the girls were taller than you are anyway. But you try and look as non-imposing as possible regardless, offering a warm smile.
The brown-haired woman speaks first for the group offering introductions. You shake everyoneâs hands and offer to help them on the wagon. They are in skirts after all.
âShame you wonât be staying.â Mary-Beth sighs, âItâs just itâs the happiest weâve seen Arthur in a long while.â
You tilt your head in confusion. Eyes panning between the girls. âIs he not always like that?â
The girls all look at each other and cackle. Sure, Arthur was always cordial to the girls even on his bad days but these last three days? Heâs been more talkative, smiling more, and generally just more upbeat.
Karen wipes her laughter gained tears away. âHeâs normally the camp grump!â
Youâre flabbergasted at this information. Before you can ask any more questions, Tilly puts a finger up to her lips indicating that the boys are coming to the horses.
You saddle Hermes quickly, still utterly dumbfounded at this new information. Sure, Arthur was a tough nut to crack but you thought he acted like that with everyone.
You canât help but take off your hat and run your fingers through your hair trying to gain some semblance of composure. You don your hat once again as Arthur and someone you havenât been introduced to yet walk to the wagons front to drive.
With a snap of the reigns in the front of the wagon the small caravan gets going. You ride beside the girls who are leaning against one another sharing hushed whispers and giggles.
Their secret sharing session is cut short by âUncleâ who requests a song from the girls. They all light up at the prospect to sing. Karen chooses the song and boy, is it raunchy.
Still, you know the lyrics from the drunken patrons in the bar and join the girls.
The singing is loud and crass with even the boys joining you now. You canât help but have a wide smile at this interaction. It felt like home.
Good things never last as your singing is cut short by a man who lost his horse that was pulling his wagon. He looks desperate asking the group for help.
Uncle says something about âLumbagoâ before settling back down in his seat. You roll you eyes. What a load of horse shit.
Arthur sighs and gets off the wagon to help this man find his horse. In the meantime, you offer to check the man for any injuries. He looks at you incredulously. After years of being a woman doctor, you know exactly what heâs thinking. With a deep breath and the frustration of having rehearsed this time and time again you speak.
âFor the love of Christ, yes, I am a doctor! I work with McCain in Valentine.â âNo, I wonât charge you but if you keep questioning my credentials I just might.â
This shuts him up as you direct him to sit on the back of his wagon. You give him a quick look over and nothing seems to be wrong.
Arthur comes back with the horse in tow.
The man looks relieved before complimenting you and Arthur.
Arthur just shrugs. âJust wanted to impress a woman thatâs all.âÂ
Everyone gets settled again and before you know it the smell of animals hits your nose. You have made it to Valentine.
Offering a final goodbye to the VanderLinde gang, you make your way back to the doctorâs office.
However, before you are even able to knock, Dr. McCain opens the door for someone carrying boxes to a wagon.
Dr. McCain lights up when he sees you pulling you into a uncharacteristic hug.
âWe need to talk (Y/N).â
A chill runs down your spine as you walk into the office. Leading you up the stairs McCain sits at the kitchen table with his wife. This was bad news.
â(Y/N). Dr. McCain and I are leaving Valentine. Thereâs been a tuberculosis outbreak up North. We are going up there to help McCainâs brother Andrew.â Mrs. McCain says softly.
She clears her throat before continuing. âYou canât come with us. Itâs too close to Little Hope. We donât know if weâll be back.â
You knew this was coming. The McCainâs hated Valentine in all your years of knowing them. But if they had an out from this dead-end town, they should take it. Lord knows if theyâll ever get this opportunity again.
You just stand up and hug the pair. Before offering a soft thank you and a smile. Theyâve done more for you than theyâll ever know.
âDo you have anywhere to go (Y/N)?â
You thought to yourself, answering the McCainâs with a nod.
You were gonna have to call in that favor with the VanderLinde gang early.
Howdy friends! Hereâs chapter 2! This chapter is quite a bit longer than chapter 1 just as a heads up! Iâm getting more comfortable writing, and I feel like I hit my stride with chapter length. Chapters from here on out will likely be longer like this one. Any comments or criticism is always appreciated! Also, I donât know a lot about herbs and/or medicine especially herbs and/or medicine from 1899. I tried my best with the power of google and a healthy amount of bullshitting. If there are any inaccuracies, please let me know! No beta reader, we die like cowboys! (I donât have a beta reader lmao.)
Chapter 1 link:
AO3 link: (Will be updated. Still setting up.)
Pairing: High Honor Arthur x Female Reader! Use of (Y/N).
CW: Violence, firearm, firearm use, death of OâDriscolls, medical content, Micah Bell.
Chapter 2: Damn OâDriscolls.
The ride out of camp was easy enough. Going through your rolodex of places where you can find the herbs you need you decide to head out by the Dakota river as it was closest. Might as well let Hermes graze and drink while you look you think to yourself.
You shout at Arthur over your shoulder where you are leading him and start Hermes into a canter.
Finally, hearing the rush of water of the Dakota river, and you decide to hop off Hermes and start looking.
âWhatchu lookin for? Weâre more likely to find it with two of us.â Arthur says as he dismounts his horse. Honestly, youâre a tad surprised he even cares. You figured heâd just watch you look from atop his horse.
âYarrow.â You say scanning the terrain.
You both walk together in the open field scanning the terrain for the herb. While walking a question sears in your mind. Itâs rude to ask but when have outlaws been known for pleasantries? You donât even look at Arthur as the question comes tumbling out of your mouth.
âThe kid yours? Jack, I mean.â
Arthurs head snaps over to you in surprise. As this is the most you have spoken in the last hour.
âNo. Jack ainât mine. Heâs a good kid though. Canât say the same thing about his dad.â
A soft âmmmâ escapes your lips in understanding. Youâre almost relieved at the news that the kid isnât his. Youâre not quite sure why though. Your mind instead turns to who his father is.
You decide to pry. âWhatâs wrong with his father?"
Arthur just sighs deciding against his better judgment to humor your question. Itâs not like heâll be seeing you again. âJohn ainât there for the kid like he should be. Or for Abigail for that matter. On good days heâll give a half assed attempt on bad days well-.â He stops and shakes his head deciding not to continue.
Abigail, you assume, is Jackâs mother. The woman who threatened you about Jackâs health. It saddens you to think that John, whoever that is, doesnât treat her or their son with the respect they deserve. From your limited interaction she seemed worried over her son which was more credit than you could give half of the other parents who showed up at the clinic/ But it isnât your problem.
That awkward silence blankets you and Arthur as you continue your search for Yarrow. Finally, you see it a little across the field. Not wanting to be in this suffocating quiet any longer you break off into a sprint towards the herb. Shouting over your shoulder that you found it.
Arthur, surprised at your sudden movement, jogs over to where you sprinted off to mumbling something about âbeing too damn old for this.â Under his breath. He sees you crouch picking the herb with a triumphant âGot it!â holding the herb over your head with a big smile. As you stand, both Arthur and your ears perk up at the sound of a stick breaking behind you.
You whip around as fast as you can, drawing your revolver on your hip pointing in the direction of the sound. Thatâs when you see it. Three men slowly trying to make their way toward you in an effort to ambush you.
âLook what we got here boys!â shouts what you can only assume is the de facto leader. A tall lanky redhead steps toward you.
âArthur Morgan and a pretty little lady! Colmâs going to be real happy with this take!â
âOâDriscollsâ growls Arthur.
You canât help but mirror his anger. This group of assholes always gave you a hard time at the clinic. Coming in with the worst wounds imaginable expecting you to work a miracle. All while they make inappropriate passes towards you.
You draw your gun as quickly as possible to dispatch your unwelcome company. However, you notice a common theme among the OâDriscollâs, theyâre not aiming at you with their guns. Theyâre all aiming at Arthur.
Immediately you spring into action without much thought. You slam into Arthur with your shoulder. You hear him yell in surprise as Arthur tumbles onto the ground. He lands with an unceremonious thud as bullets whiz past your heads. Blood is pounding in your ears, and you can feel the adrenaline coursing through you as you lay on top of Arthur in a protective manner.
You aim your gun emptying your revolver into your would-be killers. They are slow to fire again as they are surprised you were the one who moved and tackled their target. They were counting on Arthur to move not you.
Still protecting Arthur, your aim is true as they all drop to the ground the leader groaning on their way down clutching their chest.
You let a breath you didnât know you were holding out. You notice the position you found yourself in and scramble off of Arthur in a hurry. Dusting yourself off you offer a hand to the cowboy hoping he doesnât see the slight blush under your hat. Wide-eyed he takes your hand and lifts himself up to stand beside you. If he saw the slight dusting of red on your face, he doesnât mention it.
 âWhere did you learn to shoot like that?â  He questions, still stunned at how fast you moved to save someone you barely knew.
You figure you should humor his question seeing as you tackled him into the dirt. âMy Dad taught me how to shoot. If you think my aim was good you shouldâve seen him.â
 âHe could shoot a rabbit from across the state.â you chuckle dryly.
Arthur turns grabbing his fallen gamblerâs hat off the ground and starts looting OâDriscollâs body as you call over the horses.
âAnything useful?â you say.
Arthur sighs finding no more than a pack of cigarettes and a few bullets. âNope. Not unless you need bullets or a smoke.â
You donât smoke or need rounds so you shake your head turning away from Arthur towards the horses.
Youâre glad the horses werenât here. You wouldnât want Hermes to get caught in the crossfire and get hurt. Or worse. You donât know where youâd be without that horse.
Putting the Yarrow you collected into Hermes saddle bag you mount up. Talking to Hermes all the while.
âWe ran into some nasty stuff boy. Youâre lucky you werenât hereâ You coo at your horse patting his side.
 Arthur follows suit with a slight smile on his face watching you baby your horse. Oblivious to it as youâre too busy fussing over Hermes.
 After youâre done babying Hermes you realize you have no idea how to get back to the VanderLinde camp. Too focused on finding the Yarrow you are lost.
With a huff, frustrated at the fact you didnât pay attention, you ask Arthur to take the lead. The ride back is quiet until Arthur breaks the silence.
âThank you. For saving me.â He speaks.
Honestly you didnât expect a âthank youâ. You just listened to the adrenaline and moved without thinking.
âItâs no big deal.â You reply. âFelt like the right thing to do.â
Arthur just shakes his head and rebuttals âYou couldâve stood and watched me get shot Miss ( L/N) but you didnât. So, thank you.â
â(Y/N)â you correct.
Soon you arrive at camp your watch indicates its around 4pm in the afternoon. Â
Arthur shouts at someone as you ride in. You presume a guard of the camp.
Dismounting Hermes quicky and reach into your saddle bag for the Yarrow and other herbs. As well as your mortar and pestle.
You were a woman on a mission. With a determined fiery look in your eyes, you cross over to the camp dining table and start on your herb concoction.
Youâre so lost in the determination to help Jack and proving yourself as a capable doctor you fail to register Dutchâs presence behind you until he puts a hand on your shoulder.
Immediately with a small shriek you jump and spin around facing the man. Your hand automatically shoots towards your gun in reflex.
Dutch noticing this puts his hands up in mock surrender. âI didnât mean to scare you Miss (L/N).â
âJust wanted to let you know Jack isnât looking too good.â He seems worried as he states this. You canât help but take note of how everyone cares for the little boy despite their⊠Occupation. If the little boy wasnât so sick the acts of caring from everyone would warm your heart.
After mashing the herbs and getting them into a fine paste you hurry into the tent where Jack last was. Dutch was right. He looks worse from when you left this morning.
Abigail hovers over Jack and doesnât notice you come in until you utter a soft âHelloâ.
Looking up with red puffy eyes at you, Abigail wordlessly nods in a greeting.
You crouch down beside Jack opposite of where Abigail is sat and speak softly to the boy. He looks up at you barely conscious.
âHey kiddo. Iâve got some medicine for you. Iâm going to need you to sit up so I can give it to ya.â
Jack, with the help of his mother, sits up slowly as he peers out from under the pile of blankets.
Slowly, you spoon the medicine into Jacks mouth. He cringes in disgust at the taste. You canât help but apologize quickly to the poor kid. âSorry kiddo. I know it tastes bad, but itâll make you all better.â Jack nods in understanding forcing the last spoonful down his throat.
Looking at poor Jack you decide right then and there to stay the night at this outlaw camp to care for Jack and administer medicine. Despite your better judgement you listen to your âdamn bleeding heartâ as Mr. McCain would say. You always had a soft spot for children.
With a groan you stand up slowly hearing and feeling the popping of your joints. Arthurâs comment of âbeing too old for this.â sticks in your mind.
Looking to Abigail you offer a small smile. âIâll administer medicine every four hours and check on him every two. If anything, and I mean anything happens, come find me.â
âYouâre staying in camp?â she says confused with a tilt of her head.
âIf I am allowed to. Yes. I canât have leaving a sick child on my conscience. And I am not traveling to Valentine at night.â
With that declaration you walk over to ask Dutch for forgiveness rather than that permission. You were staying. Your mind was made up.
 Dutchâs tent wasnât hard to find in camp seeing as it was the nicest one and in the middle. You walk up seeing him and the older man from earlier leaning over a table discussing something. As well as a beautiful redheaded woman in the corner doing her makeup. Not wanting to be rude you knock on the wooden post holding the makeshift tent up.
Trying to ease your nerves you take a deep breath of the crisp air.
âIâm staying the night to make sure Jack makes it through.â It comes out far more confident than you feel.
You see Dutch and the older man look to each other as if silently discussing something the older man nods before Dutch turns to look at you.
His look of thought is quickly replaced with that same smile he gave you in the tent earlier that day when you first met him.
âWonderful Miss (L/N)! Iâm glad heâs in good hands. You can put your things by Arthurâs tent.â he says pointing towards a tent backed into a wagon by the edge of camp.
You nod and make your way over to Hermes getting our camping gear out. It wasnât your first time having to stay at someoneâs place of living. Just your first time staying in an outlaw camp. Swallowing the lump in your throat you come to terms with the fact that you werenât sleeping tonight.
With your camping gear on your shoulder, you make your way past Arthurâs tent and set your camp up. Close enough in case something happens but far enough away to run.
Youâre not even halfway done before you hear the thundering of hooves coming into the camp. Followed by yelling.
You drop what youâre doing and run to the source of the noise as does everyone else.
You see Arthur dismounting his horse holding his shoulder. Blood is seeping through his fingers and quickly. Despite being what is essentially an intruder in this camp you hear your name cut through the crowd shrilly. The source is a woman with her grey hair tied back. You nod toward her in understanding as you both lead Arthur into his tent.
âSusan Grimshawâ she states. You nod registering her name in your head and help Arthur sit in his cot. You run to grab your medical bag as Miss Grimshaw unbuttons Arthurâs blue shirt now stained with his own blood. As you run in with your supplies, she walks out with his bloodied shirt to clean it.
You stand in front of him. Placing yourself in between his knees.
Examining the wound, you see the bullet ran clean through. At least you donât have to dig it out.
You grab the alcohol you have on hand and a rag and apologize to Arthur. âThis is gonna hurt like a bitch.â
As you press the alcohol rag into his wound to disinfect it, he hisses in pain.
âSorry!â You exclaim. It wonât help with the pain, but you canât help it. You feel bad.
âmmm fine.â Arthur hisses.
You look up and see that heâs staring at you from under his hat. Heâs got the bluest eyes youâve ever seen. You stare just a second longer than necessary before ducking your head back down.
You quickly return to working on the wound in embarrassment and start suturing the wound. With apologies coming out of your mouth every time he hisses in pain.
Finally, the wound is clean, sutured, and wrapped. Satisfied with your work, you stand back hands on your hips with a proud smile.
âAll done!â you declare.
Arthur mumbles a small âthanksâ before standing up. Before he can cross the tent however, you grab him by his wrist on his good arm stopping him. He turns to look at you almost surprised before he hides it under a neutral expression.
âDonât do anything too strenuous youâll tear your stitches. And I do not think you want me to redo them.â You say with a lighthearted tone. Finally letting go of his wrist.
He nods his head, and you leave the tent.
Arthur watches you leave. Watching the way you bound around camp with a spring in your step. He was going to miss the presence you brought ever so slightly.
You make your way to your half set up tent and your things strewn about. Setting up what is left you feel a presence behind you. It isnât Arthurâs so you turn around seeing a dirty, blonde man looking down at you with a menacing smile. Like the way a predator would look at prey.
âAnd who might you be little miss?â He says leaning down into your face. He smells as grimey as he looks.
You slightly recoil as he continues. âAre you our doctor little missy?â He says with a tilt of his head. âCause I got some things I need taken care of.â He winks at you. His presence still predatory in manner.
Immediately catching on to what he is insinuating, you stand tall. As much as you want to recoil into yourself and leave, you refuse to give him the satisfaction.
âPiss off.â You growl. âI wouldnât tease the girl who knows her way around a knife. Iâll gut you and play jump rope with your intestines while you watch.â You poke him in the stomach to punctuate your point.
âListen here girl.â He stands up straight, looming over you. But before he can get any more threats out Arthur steps between the two of you.
âLeave her alone. Sheâs here for Jack, Micah.â Arthur growls standing taller than Micah.
Micah looks like heâs about to try and get another word in but before he can the older man from earlier in Dutchâs tent comes into view, standing next to Arthur.
âDo we have a problem Mr. Bell?â the man questions.
Micah knowing heâs been beat walks off fuming. Mumbling under his breath. Shooting one last dirty look at you before he disappears.
âYou okay Miss (L/N)?â asks the older man. You nod.
âHeâs not the worst I have dealt with. Youâd be surprised what some men say at the clinic. Especially the drunks.â You say with a chuckle and a shake of your head.
The older man extends his hand out for you to shake. Shaking his hand he says his name Hosea Matthews.
âYou hungry Miss (L/N)? I know youâve been on the road all day and taking care of Jack.â
You think for a moment. You are hungry. Starving actually. You had been so focused on Jack and Arthur you hadnât noticed your hunger. Before you can say anything your stomach growls on its own accord.
âIâll take that as a yes!â Hosea says with a laugh.
He leads you to the cooking pot where you get a scoop stew into your bowl. Noticing Arthur behind you, you decide to scoop some stew into his bowl as well. It doesnât hurt to be nice you think as you smile up at him.
Following Hosea, the three of you take your seats on the bench and eat. Arthur next to you and Hosea across. Youâre so hungry you absolutely demolish the stew in front of you. You arenât paying attention to the conversation between Arthur and Hosea until you hear your name.
You look up from your bowl of stew and blink.
âWhat did yâall say? I was hungry.â
Hosea and Arthur look at each other and laugh. âDidnât realize how hungry you were?â Arthur questions smile still on his face.
Hosea gives one more chuckle before returning to the original question. âHow long have you been practicing medicine Miss (L/N)?â
You start tallying the years on your fingers. â(Y/N) is fine Mr. Matthews. Iâve been practicing since I was 15 so, 14 years? Give or take.â
Hosea nods in approval. âThatâs quite a long time (Y/N) and Hosea is fine.â
You both make idle conversation with each other. Arthur adds comments from time to time.
Checking your pocket watch and sigh. It was time to check on Jack.
You excuse yourself from the table and make your way over to Abigailâs tent.
Jack is fast asleep. He still looks worse for wear but not nearly as bad as he did two hours ago. You crouch down putting your hand checking for fever and find nothing.
You look to Abigail with a smile. âHis fever seems to have broken!â
Abigail hearing this lets out a breath of relief and thanks you for helping take care of her boy.
With a âyour welcomeâ you stand and leave her tent. Looking to the fire you see someone playing the guitar and hear a chorus of voices singing drunkenly off key. You canât help but smile at the camaraderie between everyone. A pang of sadness enters your chest after a second. You wish you had that. You wish you had friends that would drink and sing off key with you.
Making your way to your tent with a small frown you lay down. Everything hurts and you have a tiredness that has settled its way into your bones. You close your eyes and roll onto your side in an attempt to sleep. You feel that telltale prickle behind your eyes. Tears of loneliness beyond your control start to flow. You once again silently cry yourself to sleep. How many times this has happened you donât remember.
