･ ｡ﾟ☆: *. FOOD FOR ANIMALS .* :☆ﾟ.

Arthur Morgan x Reader (fluff)

A Sip of Mayhem

Description: Arthur captures a bounty who'd drug his customers by offering them “juice” just to rob them blind. He confiscated a bottle to show the sheriff, but forgot it in his satchel, deciding to deal with it the next day. That night, when he witnesses your stumbling figure practically catcall him from across camp and found the bottle on his desk, empty, he faces a lot of trouble getting you to settle down. ⚠️Warnings: reader is basically drunk, tries to jump into a stream, mentions of religious upbringing, being orphaned. this aint dark, just stupid and funny `(*>﹏<*)′

The small jeweled bottle of strange liquid sat on Arthurs desk, glowing softly under the moonlight. He’d meant to take it to the sheriff first thing in the morning after catching a bounty–a man who’d drug his customers and rob them blind, but after the long ride back to camp, his legs had screamed at him to sit down for a while, and he’d forgotten all about it.

Now, with the party in full swing celebrating Sean’s return to Horseshoe overlook, the bottle was the last thing on his mind. Laughter and the sound of a badly played fiddle filled the air as Sean drunkenly exaggerated some story during his time as a captive, waving a bottle of whiskey around like it was a prop in a stage play.

Arthur wasn’t much for parties, so he sat back in his chair, rolling a cigarette and letting the chaos unfold. He was half expecting you to join him, usually not one to enjoy loud gatherings or drinking yourself. He remembered you told him that your folks were real religious-like prior to their passing, before you had stumbled upon the gang of outlaws as a child. He enjoyed those quiet talks with you. He chuckled a little, outlawing was one thing, but drinking was where you crossed the line. That was until he heard your voice cut through the camp, slurred and way too loud.

“Well! aren’tchu a fiiine cowboy,” you practically purred from across camp.

Arthur’s head snapped up.

You stood there, dressed in your casual attire, a comfortable blouse and a long skirt. But you were unusually swaying like the wind was about to knock you over, a loopy grin plastered on your face. Your normally calm nature was nowhere to be found, gone, vanished, replaced by whatever nonsense had taken hold of you. 

You pointed at him dramatically, eyes nearly crossing,

“Arthur Morgannn,” you drawled, dragging out his name like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. “You got nice-“ you hiccuped, clutching your chest for a moment, “nice hands, made for holdin’ a lady, you know that?” You slurred as you stumbled toward him. 

Arthur’s cigarette nearly fell out of his mouth as his face reddened under the brim of his hat. “What the hell-”

Dutch, who had been dancing nearby with Molly, chuckled, “Now that ain’t normal.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes. It was then he noticed you hiccup again, looking oddly glassy-eyed. It didn’t take a genius to realize something was wrong. Then, like a switch flipping in his brain, he remembered.

The bottle.

It was on his desk, but opened, empty.

“Aw, hell,” Arthur groaned. He shot up from his chair and started toward you. “You didn’t—tell me you didn’t drink somethin’ off my desk.”

You hiccuped again and winced like he’d just accused you of murder, “Well..I did!” 

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose and you spoke again, “it was a pretty lookin juice, Arthur! You’ gonna tell me juice is a crime now?-“

“Oh it weren’t no juice, woman!” Arthur snapped. 

“Well, what was in it?” Hosea, who had heard the ordeal nearby, appeared at his side, eyeing you with a suspicious yet concerned look. 

“It was a drug from a bounty! One I meant to turn into the sheriffs…” he trailed off, feeling foolish for the slip up.  

Hosea let out a long-suffering sigh beside him. “Great. She can’t even handle a cup of coffee without buzzing, what the hell’s a spiked drink gonna do to her?” 

“I don’t know,” Arthur muttered, reaching for you, but you took a dramatic step back, swaying. 

“Noooo, no, no,” you wagged your finger at him, “I don’t need your help.”

Arthur groaned before holding you by the shoulders and looking into your dilated pupils “Now, darlin’,” 

“Yeah?” Your gaze drifts here and there, seeing the world bend him in a funny way, before his finger snaps in front of you,

“You’re drunk off your ass, so you gotta let me and Hosea sit you down and-”

“Drunk?!” You gasped again, stumbling back from his hold. “I am not!”

You absolutely were.

“I do not-I don’t drink!”  You shout.

Then, before they could grab you, you turned tail and bolted.

Your brain was working at half-speed. Or maybe it was working at double speed. Who knew? Who cared?

All you knew was that Arthur was chasing you, and that was hilarious.

“You ain’t gonna catch me!” you whooped, dodging around the campfire, startling Uncle so bad he nearly fell off his log, 

“The hell’s wrong with you?” you heard the old man yelp, “knockin me round knowin’ i got lumbago-”

Arthur swore behind you. “Damn it— get back here girl!”

You tire out eventually, surrendering for a bit, “Fine! Fine I’ll sit down” you gasp catching your breath. 

“You better,” Arthur warned.

You plop down near Sean and Karen, looking back at Arthur who stands there half expecting you to bolt off again. 

Sean was running his mouth about something-something dramatic, no doubt. His accent was thick, his hands flying everywhere, and for some reason, that was hilarious too!

You scoot closer beside him,

“Ah, yes,” you said in a mock Irish accent, your voice dropping to a ridiculous brogue, “and then I took on ten men at once with only me fists and me Macguire bullocks!”

Sean blinked at you. “What the-”

“And I won the day for you lady!” you continued, grinning, wagging a finger in Karen’s face.

Sean’s face scrunched up. “Are you mockin’ me, lass?”

You gasped, “Mocking? I’d never!”

Sean turned to Karen, who was already laughing so hard she had to clutch her stomach. “Is that what I sound like?” He asked, genuinely curious.

“Exactly,” she wheezed.

Arthur called out for you, but you were already on the move again, stumbling toward where Abigail, Tilly, and Mary-beth sat at a bed roll a few feet away.

You plopped yourself down between Mary-Beth and Tilly, sighing deeply, 

“Ladies,” you slurred, looking utterly exhausted.

They turned to you, amused.

Abigail chuckled seeing the obvious drunken flush in your face. “Well, if it ain’t our resident good girl. Thought you didn’t drink?”

“I don’t,” you huffed. “I was tricked. Hoodwinked.” You sighed dramatically, placing a hand on Mary-Beth’s knee before laying down entirely and resting your buzzing head in her lap.

“And now there’s some…admittedly, handsome fella, chasin’ me!” You whine with furrowed brows, stuffing your face into Mary-Beth’s torso.

Mary-Beth gasped, playing along. “Handsome fella? Who?”

You picked your head up a little too quickly, feeling the world spin a little. 

You looked around wildly, seeing Arthur linger a few feet away before whispering “Arthur.” 

The women exchanged a look before breaking into exaggerated gasps.

“No!” Tilly gasped, “that ruthless outlaw out to get you?” 

You nodded solemnly, “Yes ma'am.”

Abigail shot a look over your shoulder, and you turned, following her gaze, right to Arthur, who still stood with his arms crossed, rolling his eyes but, notably, fighting back a blush.

You pointed at him. “See? There he is.”

Mary Beth leaned in conspiratorially. “What’s he gonna do when he catches you?”

You considered it for a moment before your gaze caught the pistol tucked into Arthurs holster. Gasping, you felt a wave of fear overcome you, “Probably shoot me!”

“I wish,” Arthur scoffed, before leaning down to your level “Alright, time to go.”

He grabbed your arm gently, but you yelped and recoiled, flinging yourself back into Mary-Beth’s arms, hiding your face as if the boogie man was right there in front of you

 “See? He’s grabbin’ me!”

Arthur sighed, ripping you away from the girls and holding you up, “Pardon me ladies, just-gotta get this one to rest.”

But you were already wriggling out of his grasp. 

Nope. No way. You weren’t about to let him take you away like some unruly sack of potatoes. 

You were free. You were fast. You were-

“Gonna jump in a river!” you declared proudly, running full speed away from the camp and toward the small stream near camp.

“The hell you are!” Arthur hollered running after you, grabbing the attention of John who was keeping watch of camp. 

“The hell's wrong with her?” He asked Arthur, gesturing to you running off. 

“Long story,” Arthur groaned, before motioning John to help him out. 

You giggled maniacally as you turned back to see two fuzzy figures chase after you, “Try ‘n’ stop me you demons!”

“How the hell is she faster drunk?” John yelled through a strained breath.  

“I don’t know,” Arthur replied, darting through the foliage leading up to the river.  

Finally you reached it, a stream but it wasn’t just any stream, it was a darker blue with speckled stars and clouds stirring and swirling below it.

A perfect portal to jump through and explore, maybe it was the gates to heaven itself! 

You giggled, 

Who would’ve thought paradise was out here in the middle of nowhere? Were your parents there? 

You wondered if they were looking at a similar stream from the other side, waiting for you. 

Maybe they’d lecture you for accidentally drinking…and robbing…and killing…and stealing.

Well, there’s only one way to find out-

Right before you could fling yourself into the water, a pair of firm arms caught you from behind. The world really did turn upside down as Arthur lifted you right off your feet and tossed you over a shoulder.

“Agh! Put me down!” You flail wildly.

“This is for your own good” Arthur drawled, adjusting you like you weighed nothing.

John scoffed, flicking your forehead as he trailed behind, “Now who gave you a drink?” he asked incredulously. 

“Arthur.” 

The two escorted you back toward camp, your limbs flailing the whole way, mouth conjuring up the most unique insults directed at the two as you could. 

When you tried to grab John’s rifle, he leaned away quickly, “You better watch your drunk self.” 

“I ain’t drunk,” you insisted. “I’m just—” 

A hiccup cut you off and Arthur finally set you down. You staggered violently, grasping onto Arthur’s vest as John held out his hands in case you fell. 

Hosea met the three of you, arms crossed, looking more amused than anything. 

“Well?” he asked.

Arthur scoffed, motioning to you, “Crazy girl was about to drown herself.”

Hosea smirked. “So, what’s the plan? Tie her up like a runaway calf?”

“I ain’t a calf!” 

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Nah. Just gotta wait it out, get her to bed I guess.”

Hosea nodded and John huffed,

 “Good luck with that.” 

“Now,” Arthur turned to you and shook his head with a smirk, “don’t go drinking any more of my…” 

He paused, not wanting you to go off on a rampage about not having drunk alcohol, “Juice no’ more, you hear me woman?” 

You sulk a little and mutter, “Fine.” 

“Good, you don’t need any more of that,” John rolled his eyes as he walked off, “already a damn smart mouth when you’re sober.” 

“Come on now y/n, let’s get some rest, alright?” Hosea said, gently guiding you. 

“So, the ‘handsome cowboy’ did save her?” Dutch chuckled from where he stood outside his tent, smoking a cigar as he watched Hosea coax you into your tent. 

Arthur rolled his eyes, but as he turned away, he flushed a little as he recalled your drunk flirting. 

As much as he hated to admit it, he was amused by your flirtatious slip ups. 

But then his mind went back to you almost lunging into the stream.  

He is never going bounty hunting again.

May i ask for Married Mud headcanons ?

hi kinda short sorry i have no idea how married people act my parents hate eachother LOL :3 adding everything new I've written to the masterlist <3

MUD X READER | MARRIED HEADCANONS

He proposed by coughing up an old, slightly cracked ring from his throat and holding it out to you with a grin. It might be made of bone, some metal, who knows. So romantic. The little thing wasn’t expensive or GREAT looking by any means, but he found something he thought you would like. It's pretty nice by GD standards

He never wants to sleep in the freezer ever again. I mentioned before that ever since you got together, he started staying over at your place if you have one, or at least sleeping near you. He’d make any excuse to not sleep back there ever again. But now that you’re married? Absolutely not. He’ll want to share a place of your own together.

Also! Your wedding isn’t anything formal (or normal). He’ll try to arrange some small family event that ends up in chaos. He insists on wearing your best outfit (matching btw) from now on he’s introducing you as his spouse and THEN your name.

The wedding was supposed to be a little get together at the shop. Ken was cooking up something begrudgingly, Mel and Breadhead putting up small decorations. Ken is glad old Mud was able to find someone, maybe finally he’ll calm down a little and work a little harder at the shop. If you got to the point where you’re marrying his brother, it means he likes you enough too.

Anyways in the middle of the party it gets raided by some other rivals. The whole place gets stained with purple. Gun shots, explosions, brains out everywhere. Mud seems to fall harder if you fight by his side. Your outfits are ruined but oh well! He likes the purple on you. He’d do a maniac little laugh at the end of it then scoop you up and kiss you. It’s in the most uncomfortable position for you since he’s so slippery and probably bent all weird, but its special in its own way.

Matching rings! He definitely has your name or initials carved on the inside of the ring, never takes it off. He didn’t tell you but his name is carved in yours too :3 if you forget to wear it or take it off for a second he’s immediately interrogating you.

“Hey… so uh, where’s your ring?” As he pulls up your hand to REALLY inspect your fingers. He’ll get all grumbly about it too.

He’s sleazy but he’s committed to you. Lowkey he never thought he’d get close to something like marriage <3

Hello🤗❤️

I hope you are well🌹

Can you help me get my voice heard

and share my family's story?🙏🏻

Can you Reblog my pinned post from my blog or donate 5$?

By helping to reblog my story, you could

save a family from death and war.🌹

Thank you very much🌸

🕊️❤️🌹🙏🏻

❤❤❤ sorry this took me a bit to get to, life has been hectic. Wishing you and your family the best of luck, love and safety

reblog if you have skilled writer friends and you're damn proud of them

i just noticed something..

look at Vander's shirt

and now at Mylo's shirt

and Vi's top

Vander must have had to remake his old sweaters to dress his kids, I'm crying

I SAW KURTIS AND JACOB!!!!

just got home from one of his shows and like dude holy shit. It's so surreal seeing these two guys who have made me laugh and helped me when I was super depressed in person. Like I'm just actually so excited still (the show ended like two hours ago) my back hurts, my ass hurts from the seats, my hands hurt from clapping and my face hurts from smiling- and alos wiping my make-up off but whatever. Jacobs part was so fucking good HDNHDMDBSKSBISNWOWMBEKENS

and here's me and my dad, the photos shaky because my hands were shaking (again, I was and am very excited) and it was dark so it couldn't focus. Our expressions probably don't help LMAO

It was fucking awesome, but now I'm a little bummed that it's over.

D̵e̵a̷r̵ ̵E̵s̴t̴e̸e̷m̶e̷d̷ ̷M̴o̶r̴t̶a̴l̸,̷

̶I̶t̷ ̴i̷s̷ ̸w̸i̸t̸h̶ ̶g̴r̴e̸a̵t̴ ̷p̶l̵e̵a̴s̷u̸r̷e̴ ̷t̵h̷a̸t̴ ̵I̶ ̵p̴e̸n̶ ̵t̵h̴i̸s̶ ̸l̷e̶t̶t̵e̴r̴ ̶t̵o̶ ̶y̷o̵u̶,̸ ̴d̸e̸t̸a̴i̴l̴i̷n̴g̷ ̸t̴h̶e̴ ̵m̵o̵s̷t̶ ̷e̷x̸q̵u̷i̵s̷i̶t̶e̷ ̷a̷n̴d̷ ̸d̶e̵l̸e̵c̴t̴a̵b̵l̴e̴ ̴e̸x̵p̴e̵r̴i̷e̷n̷c̸e̶ ̵o̶f̶ ̴m̵y̷ ̶r̶e̵c̶e̶n̷t̶ ̵e̵n̵d̶e̵a̵v̵o̴r̸s̴.̷ ̶I̸ ̸w̵r̷i̵t̷e̴ ̶t̶o̷ ̸y̴o̸u̶ ̸w̵i̴t̸h̸ ̸a̶n̴ ̶u̵n̶d̵e̶a̴d̶ ̶h̶e̷a̶r̶t̷ ̶f̵u̴l̵l̵ ̵o̷f̶ ̵p̶u̴r̷e̵ ̶e̸c̶s̷t̷a̴s̵y̵.̴ ̶A̷l̵l̶o̵w̶ ̴m̴e̴ ̶t̶o̶ ̸r̸e̸g̵a̷l̷e̵ ̸y̷o̶u̶ ̷w̶i̸t̵h̵ ̶t̶h̵e̸ ̵t̸a̶l̴e̴ ̸o̷f̸ ̷h̶o̵w̸ ̵I̸,̸ ̵C̵o̷l̷m̴ ̶O̶'̶D̶r̸i̷s̷c̸o̷l̴l̸,̷ ̶t̴h̶e̶ ̵f̷e̸a̵r̵e̶d̷ ̶l̸e̴a̵d̸e̸r̸ ̵o̶f̶ ̷t̴h̷e̶ ̶O̸'̷D̷r̴i̴s̴c̵o̷l̴l̴ ̴B̷o̸y̸s̴,̵ ̷c̸a̴p̴t̶u̶r̵e̶d̷ ̸a̷n̷d̵ ̵s̴a̸v̴o̴r̸e̷d̵ ̴t̶h̵e̵ ̶f̴l̶e̵s̷h̷ ̶o̷f̴ ̴t̷h̵e̵ ̶i̴n̶f̶a̶m̷o̶u̵s̵ ̸V̵a̸n̸d̷e̷r̷.̴ ̴O̶u̸r̷ ̵p̴a̷t̶h̵s̷ ̶c̷r̸o̶s̸s̶e̷d̸ ̴i̴n̶ ̸a̸ ̴m̷o̷s̶t̸ ̸u̸n̸e̵x̵p̶e̷c̷t̶e̵d̸ ̷m̶a̵n̸n̷e̶r̸,̷ ̵a̸s̷ ̷V̵a̸n̴d̶e̸r̶ ̶f̵o̸u̵n̸d̴ ̵h̵i̵m̶s̶e̵l̸f̶ ̴a̴t̸ ̵t̶h̶e̸ ̷m̸e̷r̸c̸y̵ ̸o̶f̷ ̷m̵y̷ ̶m̵e̶n̶.̸ ̷O̷h̵,̴ ̴t̵h̸e̴ ̵l̷o̵o̸k̶ ̷o̸f̶ ̶f̵e̷a̶r̵ ̷a̴n̶d̸ ̵d̵e̶f̴i̷a̶n̴c̸e̵ ̸i̴n̴ ̷h̵i̶s̴ ̵e̷y̶e̷s̷ ̴o̵n̵l̵y̴ ̵s̵e̴r̶v̵e̷d̶ ̷t̶o̸ ̷f̴u̶e̴l̸ ̶m̸y̵ ̴a̵p̴p̸e̷t̸i̷t̷e̴ ̴f̶o̸r̵ ̵w̴h̸a̴t̶ ̴w̷a̸s̵ ̵t̶o̷ ̸c̶o̶m̶e̷.̶ ̵T̸h̷e̶ ̶p̴o̸o̴r̸ ̵f̴o̴o̶l̶ ̴t̴h̵o̷u̷g̷h̸t̶ ̸h̴e̵ ̸c̴o̵u̶l̵d̵ ̶o̶u̷t̷w̶i̵t̸ ̴u̵s̸,̴ ̸b̷u̵t̸ ̸l̸i̶t̵t̵l̸e̴ ̵d̸i̷d̵ ̵h̶e̴ ̶k̷n̶o̶w̴ ̷t̸h̶e̵ ̶t̷r̴u̶e̸ ̴e̷x̵t̴e̴n̸t̸ ̴o̵f̵ ̵m̸y̸ ̴p̸r̴o̸w̸e̸s̶s̶ ̷i̸n̴ ̴t̸h̸e̸ ̶a̷r̸t̶ ̴o̸f̴ ̶t̵o̶r̵t̵u̷r̶e̶ ̷a̴n̴d̴ ̵c̷o̵n̴s̷u̵m̶p̸t̴i̴o̵n̸.̷

̴W̸e̵ ̷b̸r̴o̴u̸g̵h̷t̴ ̴V̵a̸n̶d̸e̷r̸ ̴t̵o̵ ̶a̸ ̵s̷e̷c̴l̷u̸d̸e̵d̷ ̸c̴a̸b̷i̵n̶ ̷d̵e̵e̸p̶ ̵i̶n̵ ̵t̴h̷e̵ ̴h̷e̸a̸r̴t̵ ̵o̸f̷ ̷t̷h̴e̵ ̵f̷o̷r̷e̷s̴t̸,̴ ̸w̵h̶e̴r̴e̶ ̷I̴ ̶h̶a̸d̶ ̷p̸r̶e̵p̵a̶r̸e̶d̴ ̷a̶ ̵f̸e̴a̵s̴t̶ ̴f̸i̶t̸ ̴f̸o̷r̶ ̸a̵ ̴k̷i̸n̸g̷.̴ ̷T̸h̴e̶ ̵f̷l̵i̸c̶k̸e̸r̸i̶n̶g̶ ̸l̶i̴g̸h̷t̴ ̸o̴f̶ ̷t̷h̶e̶ ̷g̷a̴s̵ ̵l̶a̵m̸p̶s̸ ̸c̶a̷s̸t̷e̷d̴ ̶e̷e̶r̶i̸e̸ ̸s̶h̵a̸d̴o̷w̸s̵ ̴u̵p̶o̴n̸ ̶t̸h̵e̴ ̷w̶a̵l̵l̴s̷,̷ ̸s̵e̷t̶t̷i̸n̶g̶ ̷t̶h̸e̷ ̴p̴e̵r̶f̷e̷c̷t̶ ̵a̸m̵b̵i̵a̶n̴c̴e̶ ̶f̸o̴r̷ ̸t̷h̴e̷ ̶f̸e̷s̸t̴i̶v̴i̸t̵i̸e̷s̶ ̶t̴h̵a̴t̷ ̵w̶e̶r̷e̷ ̶a̴b̷o̶u̸t̵ ̴t̷o̸ ̶u̸n̴f̶o̵l̶d̵.̸ ̷V̷a̴n̸d̴e̸r̴ ̴w̴a̸s̸ ̵b̵o̴u̸n̴d̴,̵ ̸h̸a̷p̸l̸e̵s̵s̵ ̶a̸n̷d̵ ̵h̵e̸l̵p̷l̶e̷s̶s̴,̴ ̷h̴i̶s̵ ̷s̴t̵r̸u̷g̵g̸l̵e̴s̸ ̵f̴u̷t̴i̴l̶e̶ ̶a̷g̷a̸i̶n̸s̶t̷ ̶t̶h̸e̷ ̷m̷i̵g̴h̴t̴ ̴o̶f̸ ̶m̴y̵ ̶b̷o̸y̴s̸.̸ ̸W̶i̵t̶h̶ ̸a̷ ̷w̵i̵c̷k̶e̴d̸ ̴g̵r̶i̸n̴ ̵u̴p̵o̷n̸ ̸m̶y̵ ̶f̸a̷c̸e̵,̴ ̸I̸ ̴a̵p̶p̸r̴o̴a̶c̵h̴e̶d̵ ̴V̴a̴n̸d̷e̷r̷,̴ ̴r̵u̸n̶n̵i̶n̷g̵ ̵a̴ ̷f̸i̸n̸g̵e̶r̵ ̵a̴l̵o̵n̴g̷ ̷h̶i̴s̶ ̴j̶a̴w̵l̵i̴n̴e̸ ̷a̴s̶ ̸I̷ ̴a̶d̴m̴i̸r̴e̸d̵ ̶t̴h̵e̵ ̸f̴i̶n̷e̶ ̵s̴p̶e̷c̷i̸m̸e̴n̶ ̸b̷e̶f̸o̶r̶e̸ ̷m̶e̶.̴ ̵H̷i̸s̶ ̸s̷c̶r̴e̶a̵m̸s̵ ̷o̷f̵ ̴a̶g̶o̸n̸y̷ ̵o̴n̵l̷y̶ ̸s̵e̷r̷v̴e̷d̵ ̷t̴o̵ ̷f̵u̵r̴t̶h̶e̶r̸ ̷m̸y̶ ̸h̴u̵n̵g̶e̶r̵,̸ ̸a̵n̸d̵ ̵I̷ ̶w̷a̵s̶t̴e̵d̴ ̴n̵o̶ ̷t̸i̷m̷e̶ ̷i̸n̸ ̷b̵e̶g̸i̸n̷n̵i̷n̸g̶ ̴t̷h̴e̴ ̶f̵e̴a̸s̴t̶.̸ ̷I̷ ̸s̸t̵a̶r̵t̶e̶d̵ ̸w̴i̸t̵h̸ ̸h̸i̶s̸ ̸f̷i̷n̵g̴e̴r̴s̶,̸ ̷o̴n̸e̵ ̷b̸y̵ ̴o̶n̵e̶,̵ ̸r̵e̴l̷i̶s̶h̷i̶n̶g̷ ̷t̵h̵e̸ ̴c̸r̵u̷n̶c̸h̵ ̴o̷f̸ ̶b̶o̵n̴e̷ ̸a̸n̸d̸ ̴s̸i̸n̶e̸w̴ ̵b̵e̸t̷w̶e̶e̷n̷ ̵m̶y̶ ̸t̶e̷e̷t̵h̶.̵ ̴T̶h̶e̵ ̴t̷a̶s̷t̷e̷ ̷o̷f̸ ̶h̷i̸s̴ ̴f̵l̴e̶s̸h̸ ̶w̷a̸s̴ ̸l̵i̴k̸e̵ ̷n̷o̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̷ ̸I̵ ̸h̴a̴d̸ ̵e̷x̵p̷e̵r̵i̷e̸n̴c̶e̶d̵ ̶b̴e̴f̴o̷r̷e̵,̷ ̵a̶ ̴t̷a̵n̷t̸a̷l̷i̵z̵i̷n̵g̸ ̷b̷l̸e̵n̸d̴ ̵o̶f̷ ̵f̶e̵a̵r̵ ̸a̷n̶d̷ ̴d̵e̴s̸p̷e̸r̷a̴t̵i̶o̸n̷ ̴t̵h̶a̴t̶ ̴o̵n̶l̷y̴ ̴h̷e̸i̶g̵h̵t̸e̸n̴e̷d̶ ̶m̶y̴ ̷p̸l̴e̶a̵s̸u̶r̴e̶.̷

̷A̷s̷ ̴t̶h̷e̶ ̷n̶i̵g̴h̶t̴ ̵w̷o̴r̸e̵ ̸o̸n̸,̴ ̶I̸ ̷c̸o̶n̸t̸i̴n̶u̶e̸d̵ ̶m̶y̴ ̷g̶r̶u̶e̷s̷o̸m̸e̷ ̴f̴e̸a̸s̵t̴,̷ ̵s̷a̶v̶o̸r̸i̴n̷g̷ ̴e̴v̴e̷r̴y̵ ̸m̶o̶r̷s̵e̴l̷ ̸o̸f̶ ̴V̷a̷n̴d̵e̴r̸'̴s̷ ̷b̸e̷i̵n̶g̵.̷ ̵H̵i̸s̵ ̵c̵r̸i̸e̸s̶ ̵o̴f̸ ̸a̴n̶g̶u̴i̷s̵h̸ ̸e̴c̶h̸o̶e̷d̷ ̴t̷h̵r̷o̵u̴g̶h̸ ̸t̵h̴e̴ ̴c̵a̶b̵i̸n̸,̸ ̷a̵ ̸s̴y̷m̶p̴h̴o̷n̸y̶ ̸o̴f̷ ̷s̸u̷f̴f̷e̵r̶i̵n̵g̴ ̸t̷h̸a̵t̶ ̶s̶e̶r̷v̵e̶d̵ ̸a̶s̸ ̸t̶h̷e̷ ̸p̸e̵r̶f̶e̵c̵t̷ ̴a̵c̵c̴o̴m̴p̶a̵n̶i̴m̴e̷n̷t̵ ̵t̷o̵ ̷m̶y̸ ̵m̶e̵a̵l̷.̸ ̸I̶ ̴f̴e̸a̴s̸t̶e̷d̵ ̸u̸p̷o̵n̶ ̴h̶i̴s̵ ̷f̷l̷e̶s̵h̸ ̴w̶i̶t̸h̵ ̵a̸ ̸v̴o̶r̴a̴c̴i̸o̵u̸s̴ ̸a̵p̴p̵e̸t̶i̸t̷e̷,̷ ̷e̴a̶c̸h̵ ̵b̴i̸t̴e̶ ̴b̶r̶i̷n̷g̵i̸n̸g̸ ̵m̴e̷ ̴c̴l̸o̵s̷e̸r̸ ̶t̴o̸ ̵a̸ ̴s̷t̸a̸t̵e̴ ̸o̶f̸ ̵e̵u̷p̷h̸o̸r̴i̸a̵ ̶t̶h̴a̶t̵ ̶I̶ ̵h̴a̴d̶ ̴n̶e̸v̶e̴r̵ ̴b̴e̶f̴o̶r̵e̸ ̷e̸x̸p̷e̶r̶i̸e̸n̷c̵e̵d̶.̴ ̶B̴u̴t̶ ̵i̴t̸ ̴w̷a̵s̷ ̴n̸o̶t̷ ̵j̵u̶s̴t̷ ̷t̴h̴e̴ ̶p̵h̷y̶s̷i̷c̸a̶l̶ ̸a̵c̸t̴ ̵o̷f̵ ̸c̸o̵n̵s̵u̵m̶i̷n̷g̵ ̸V̶a̸n̵d̵e̵r̸ ̸t̸h̴a̷t̶ ̴b̶r̴o̵u̵g̴h̸t̸ ̶m̶e̷ ̴s̶u̸c̶h̵ ̸p̴l̴e̴a̵s̶u̴r̸e̸.̶ ̶I̷t̴ ̵w̶a̵s̶ ̶t̴h̵e̷ ̸k̸n̵o̸w̶l̵e̵d̵g̷e̴ ̴t̴h̷a̶t̵ ̴I̶ ̴h̴e̶l̴d̴ ̸h̶i̸s̸ ̵f̷a̸t̷e̸ ̸i̶n̷ ̴m̶y̶ ̵h̴a̸n̷d̵s̷,̶ ̴t̶h̵a̴t̶ ̵I̵ ̴a̸l̷o̴n̷e̴ ̸h̴a̸d̵ ̷t̵h̵e̸ ̵p̵o̷w̴e̴r̵ ̷t̴o̵ ̷d̸e̶c̴i̵d̵e̶ ̸h̸i̷s̷ ̷u̴l̵t̶i̴m̴a̴t̴e̸ ̴d̷e̵m̷i̷s̶e̷.̴ ̴T̵h̴e̴ ̴l̴o̴o̴k̷ ̴o̴f̷ ̶r̶e̴a̸l̴i̶z̸a̷t̶i̷o̴n̷ ̴i̵n̷ ̶h̷i̶s̶ ̶e̸y̵e̷s̸ ̶a̴s̴ ̶h̶e̴ ̵u̶n̴d̷e̸r̶s̷t̷o̴o̸d̷ ̶t̴h̴e̴ ̷d̷e̴p̴t̸h̸ ̴o̴f̷ ̶h̵i̸s̶ ̴p̸r̴e̶d̵i̶c̸a̴m̵e̷n̵t̶ ̶o̸n̸l̷y̸ ̶s̶e̵r̴v̸e̴d̶ ̵t̷o̸ ̸f̶u̴e̶l̴ ̸m̴y̷ ̴s̸a̵d̴i̴s̸t̶i̶c̵ ̵d̴e̷s̷i̶r̵e̷s̵.̶ ̶A̴n̶d̶ ̸s̵o̴,̶ ̷e̷s̶t̴e̴e̵m̵e̸d̸ ̵m̵o̶r̷t̷a̶l̵,̷ ̶I̶ ̸w̸r̸i̷t̸e̴ ̶t̴o̸ ̸y̶o̷u̴ ̷n̸o̴w̵ ̴w̴i̷t̸h̶ ̵a̷ ̵h̵e̵a̷r̶t̵ ̸f̶u̶l̶l̵ ̶o̷f̸ ̴s̸a̴t̸i̵s̵f̸a̶c̴t̷i̴o̵n̸ ̷a̵n̵d̵ ̷c̴o̷n̴t̴e̵n̶t̶m̶e̶n̸t̷.̶ ̴T̶h̸e̶ ̷t̴a̷s̴t̵e̸ ̷o̸f̶ ̸V̷a̵n̵d̵e̸r̵'̴s̶ ̶f̵l̶e̵s̴h̷ ̵s̶t̷i̵l̵l̵ ̸l̵i̷n̷g̶e̸r̶s̷ ̴u̴p̴o̷n̴ ̵m̸y̸ ̷l̸i̴p̵s̴,̶ ̴a̷ ̸r̴e̸m̷i̴n̴d̵e̷r̵ ̸o̸f̸ ̶t̴h̵e̸ ̵p̵o̷w̴e̸r̶ ̵a̸n̷d̴ ̴c̴o̴n̵t̷r̵o̷l̵ ̸t̵h̷a̶t̷ ̷I̵ ̴w̵i̶e̷l̶d̸ ̷o̵v̷e̷r̸ ̷t̸h̵o̸s̴e̷ ̴w̴h̸o̷ ̶d̵a̵r̶e̶ ̷t̸o̷ ̴c̴r̵o̸s̶s̷ ̵m̵e̸.̸ ̵I̶ ̷s̶h̷a̵l̴l̸ ̵n̶e̴v̸e̵r̸ ̴f̷o̴r̷g̶e̸t̸ ̶t̶h̷e̷ ̷n̶i̵g̶h̴t̵ ̸t̴h̵a̸t̸ ̸I̷ ̸f̸e̶a̸s̴t̸e̴d̴ ̵u̶p̸o̶n̶ ̸t̴h̵e̵ ̶f̵l̴e̸s̵h̵ ̸o̸f̶ ̷t̸h̶e̶ ̷i̸n̸f̴a̸m̴o̷u̴s̴ ̷V̵a̷n̶d̶e̴r̸ ̶f̴r̶o̸m̴ ̴A̷r̶c̵a̷n̵e̶,̵ ̵a̵ ̷m̸e̵a̵l̴ ̵t̷h̷a̶t̵ ̶w̴i̸l̸l̸ ̶f̶o̴r̴e̴v̵e̷r̴ ̴b̷e̸ ̸e̸t̵c̴h̴e̸d̵ ̸i̶n̸t̶o̵ ̴t̴h̸e̶ ̴a̷n̷n̶a̵l̶s̴ ̵o̸f̵ ̸m̶y̸ ̷d̷a̴r̸k̷ ̸a̴n̶d̸ ̷t̵w̶i̵s̴t̷e̵d̶ ̶l̶e̶g̴a̵c̴y̵.̶

̸Y̴o̵u̷r̶s̵ ̵i̸n̸ ̸m̷u̵r̵d̵e̷r̸,̴

̶C̶o̸l̵m̵ ̸O̶'̵D̶r̵i̷s̶c̴o̷l̸l̸

The shock value of these kind of runs out after the first time, sorry buddy better luck next time LMAO.

It was high key nice to have someone in my inbox just trolling then the seven million bots begging for money (that I don't have💔)

Jealous HCS for most of the Van der Linde Gang

➤ Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Micah Bell, Dutch Van der Linde, Hosea Matthews, Josiah Trelawny, Kieran Duffy, Charles Smith, Sean MacGuire, Lenny Summers, Sadie Adler, Karen Jones, Mary-Beth Gaskill, Molly O’Shea x F!Reader

Note: you ever just pull something out of your ass and it… works?

ARTHUR MORGAN

He can’t help it sometimes. The way he handles his jealousy varies, but most of the time, he would want to bottle it up - thinking it’s a silly thing. You weren’t making him jealous, he knows that. He’s making himself, due to the severe lack of self-esteem he has.

At first, the man would watch silently, observing how happy you looked. Sure, he could use some attention, too — he thinks, but there isn’t any harm with you having fun. Although the man can’t help but frown at the sight.

He doesn’t want to confront you. If he ever decides to stop watching you like a hawk — he would stand beside you and flash a raised eyebrow. “Hey, honey.”

“Who… ya talkin’ to?”

It’s pretty obvious, even though he likes to believe it isn’t.

JOHN MARSTON

He notices your prolonged attention and time spent with someone, and he doesn’t mind — at first. He convinces himself you’ll stop soon, and you’ll be left alone. But it doesn’t.

He spends the whole day sulking, trying to do other things, but his thoughts still linger. He wishes it was him, why couldn’t it just be him? He was right there.

The man, who tries to talk, is kind of stubborn. “Think that’s enough, talkin’ to my wife.” He states simply. But there’s something deeper within his words.

He has a stupid-looking scowl on his face, whispering to himself and crossing his arms. “I don’t like how he’s lookin’ at ya.”

MICAH BELL

He won’t admit it — but under that façade of not caring, there’s a sliver of it under his thick skin. But he wouldn’t act on it, no, you could do whatever the hell you wanted.

He’s quiet, like always, but a little bit more this time, looking at you with simple glances occasionally as he sharpens his knife. The man lets out a groan of pain when he accidentally cuts himself. “Great.” And he realizes, he won’t stop thinking about it, will he?

“Who were ya talking to?” He asks. When you ask him why, he avoids the question. “No reason.”

He’ll never admit he gets jealous, however, his tense mood looms over wherever he goes.

DUTCH VAN DER LINDE

When Dutch is jealous, he’s jealous. A marathon of thoughts run in his mind like a train. Why would she be smiling and laughing with another man’s presence, rather than his? No, it’s unacceptable.

The man approaches you immediately. No time for dilly-dallying, and he just can’t take in the sight. “Wat’cha doin’, sweetheart?” There’s something amusing about the way he’s placed a hand on your hip, trying his best to be able to smile, at least.

Dutch who doesn’t really explain why he’s acting this way, but it’s obvious with his actions alone, taking you away for himself and his attention all on you.

HOSEA MATTHEWS

He knows and trusts you enough not to get jealous. He knows you love him as much as he does. Although, maybe, in his most vulnerable times, he does — just once.

He looks at you from afar, with an uncertain look in his face. He’s gotten a little uneasy, sipping a cup of coffee that doesn’t even taste like anything. He tries to read newspaper, but the words just look like gibberish. The man shakes his head, how silly of him. He hasn’t felt this in a while.

He waits until the end of the day, trying his best to shake the feeling off. But it doesn’t, and you notice. “Can you believe it? I actually got jealous.”

Just kiss him, and he’ll be alright.

CHARLES SMITH

He isn’t jealous, he convinces himself. But there’s something about it. He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like feeling this way — after all, he knows you were merely talking withs someone else.

Someone else who isn’t him.

He shakes the thought off. You’ll later find Charles oddly pushing himself with hunting and chores, glistening in sweat and heat.

He’ll be quiet, at first, when asked — appearing calm. But his thoughts are the complete opposite. It doesn’t take a genius to realize his inner turmoil.

He’ll tell you the truth, though. He always does. He just needs a little reassurance.

JAVIER ESCUELLA

It’s hard to mask his jealousy when his face uncontrollably grimaces. He’s upset, walking around, in a bad mood. He’ll tie his hair messily. He’ll strum the strings of his guitar with irritation. He’ll twist the pegs, completely absent-minded, trying to tune it, as the string snaps directly on his nose bridge.

He curses under his breath. He gets up, holds your hand tightly, and leads you away, without explanation.

“I’m jealous.” He says, blood running down his nose. “And I’ve made it obvious, you know.” Javier looks like a wet cat.

“What was so important with him, anyway?” He asks, with a scoff. He’s trying to act tough, but he’s currently got himself buried in your arms, with a bandage on his nose.

SEAN MACGUIRE

There’s no one more dramatic than him. A day without interaction would, and does drive him crazy — if he already isn’t. A jealous Sean jokes around, teases you, tries to get your attention. This trick usually works.

But it doesn’t, today. He’s walking, following you around, watching you talk to everyone except him. Times are busy, he’s afraid, you’ll find someone else who’s better than him.

For once, he’s a little serious. Nervous, on his toes. He’s murmuring, and laughing awkwardly as he stands there. “Me? Jealous? No, no. I don’t get jealous, hah.”

“I am…”

LENNY SUMMERS

He’s had his hands tucked in his pockets for a while now, trying to understand what he was feeling, exactly. He waited around, kicking some rocks. He didn’t want to seem upset, but he was. No doubt.

Poor boy. Lenny doesn’t want to say anything, he doesn’t want to talk to you about it. He didn’t want to seem selfish, or come off in that way. But he couldn’t stop stealing glances at your figure, his thoughts may as well eating him up alive.

His actions are off — uncoordinated, distracted, thinking endlessly. He can’t help it. “Are you busy?”

His jealousy is silent, but not towards you, specifically. He’ll open up, when he’s holding your hands tenderly, but won’t reveal the thoughts of uncertainty that once skipped in his mind.

KIERAN DUFFY

It’d be hard for him to accept the fact that he’s jealous. He’ll deny himself most of the time. But he was, and he knew it. He’d been brushing Branwen’s mane for about fifteen minutes now, unable to tear his eyes away.

He’s not sure what he’s doing, exactly, when he coughs behind you and looks at whoever you were with. “Hey, ah… Who’s this?”

For now, he’ll have to push away his own needs, and he understands that. But he’ll be beside you, curling his fingers between yours, interlocking it tightly.

JOSIAH TRELAWNY

There’s enough confidence in him to reassure himself and let you be, most of the time. Although that doesn’t mean he’s not needy. That, he will be.

There’s a loneliness that creeps up his chest when he isn’t with you, when he’s away. He’ll think about you. Trelawny squints his eyes at the person in front of you, taking a bit too much of your time for his liking. As he says, it ‘pains him not being near you.’

“My dear, why don’t we go ahead now?” He coos sweetly. He’s trying his hard, and his best, to be cute. He grins when he wins, celebrating like a child and taking your hand in his.

SADIE ADLER

It’s not often she’ll get envious, while it is easy to provoke her. She’ll say a word, or two, or a few sentences — when it’s needed.

She’ll cock a brow, place a hand on her hip as she watches for a moment. Maybe she’ll wait a staggering one minute before she goes and joins the conversation. The woman smiles at you, and asks. “Hey, honey. Who’re you talking to?” And look at the man in front of you with a now neutral expression. She has no interest, whatsoever, only to you.

“Well, we really have to go now, sir. Surely ya won’t mind if I take her back, right? I know ya won’t. ‘Cause she ain’t yours.” It’s hard to prevent whatever spews out of her mouth.

KAREN JONES

“So yer gonna talk to her the whole night, that it?” You hear from behind you, Karen says to who you’re talking to. It’s not common for her to get jealous, but she’ll let you know. It’s a little scary, really, the way she can be so blunt.

Expect her to be, initially, in a not so bright mood.

Maybe she’ll even drink a bottle or two, in nights without you beside her. Jealousy’s a nasty thing, and she tries to keep in check. Her tongue is loose, though, she can’t do much about it.

MARYBETH GASKILL

She’s been peeking, looking around who you were with the past hour. The book in her hands, suddenly becomes a little harder to read. She wants to talk to you, be with you — but that apparently can’t be done.

She’ll come to you, a little shy, smiling a little. “Who’re you talking to, [Reader]?” Pretty please will you go and talk to me instead? It’s written all over her face. She doesn’t really understand why not, you see.

It’s not along before you’re eventually dragged away. Sometimes you don’t even notice. She’s sneaky like that, has a penchant for averting your attention to her. Although with good intention.

MOLLY O’SHEA

She understands, you’re a busy person. And that means you lend a lot of time to other people, and talk to them, and go with them. Your attention, love, and care has always been enough for her. But she always thinks, and thinks.

Molly notices the little things. The way your body is close, the way your elbows and hands slightly brush against some people. It upsets her to an extent where you’ll find her huddled away, just waiting for you to visit her.

“It’s nothing.” But she’ll crack the next moment and tell you all about how she’s been lonely, and how she missed you. “Do you still love me? I do.”

Tell her you do. All she needs is a little reassurance.

I HAVE ANOTHER IDEA!!!

(WARNING!!! BADLY WRITTEN AND MAKES NO SENSE BUT I WANTED TO SHARE IT WITH YOU!!!)

Imagine taking Powder out for a walk around the undercity to pick up some supplies for your husband Vander.

You have your back to Powder while you talk to the shop keep, unbeknownst to you, Powder had been tinkering with one of her gadgets and pocketing old parts off the street and shops.

You finally turn back to Powder after hearing her panicking and a faint ticking sound when you realise that she accidentally activated it.

You immediately grab the home made bomb off of her- looking around to see if theres anywhere to throw it but you're surrounded by people and before you know it you curl in on yourself- confining the small explosion to yourself.

You fall to the ground, feeling your stomach burning- shards of metal from the bomb lodged into the raw muscle that was now exposed and colorful smoke surrounds you.

Powder stands above you, sobbing and panicking trying to help you get up- but you tell her to go get Vander and she nods before running as fast as she could away from you- you can barley hear anything around you and the crowd that was once around you had vanished.

The last thing you remember is the blurry figure of Vander running towards you in the distance, followed by four smaller figures.

My writing is absolutely ASS, so anyone who knows how to write and is willing to- pretty please do! Literally my posts are just to give other people ideas. (totally not because im desperate and suffering from Arcane)

If someone does write this, PLEASE write Vander and the kids taking care of Reader until they recover and Reader reassuring Powder that they aren't angry.

(The explosion was small by the way- but Reader didn't want anyone else to get hurt and thats why they locked in idk dude its 12:42 AM and im tweaking)

Hes so fucking hot dude

HELLO!!!

it's almost my 19th birthday!!! Yay!

Okay so I'm lowkey struggling with my mental health atm, and I am tweaking pretty hard rn. It will probably be awhile until I start posting things again, but I will be online!... mostly because I go through x reader tags like a maniac but you get the point.

I WILL RETURN! TRUST