ᴍᴜʟᴛɪғᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇ | ᴏʟᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴇᴡ ғɪᴄs ғʀᴏᴍ ᴍʏ ɴᴏᴛᴇs

Morgan and Marston (Arthur Morgan x deaf wife! reader)

Summary: You and Arthur are hosting a private Family Day gathering

Warning: IT'S ARTHUR MORGAN BYOYVDYJBF, fluff, family day, Marston family, chaotic, wholesome, love, no angst, Arthur has a tatto? Copper! This is just random fic, you know how to lip reading but not very expert.

As usual, I'm sorry if there are any wrong sentences or typos or grammatical mistakes, please forgive me and again English is not my first language, so I try to improve my language and writing in this way.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The sun was warm that afternoon, casting a golden light across the Morgan property — a quiet little slice of land on the outskirts of town, surrounded by open fields, wildflowers, and the soft hum of cicadas. The smell of grilled meat and sweet corn drifted lazily from the backyard, mingling with laughter and the occasional bark from the Morgans' aging shepherd dog, Copper.

Arthur Morgan, still in his worn black jeans and department-issued boots, stood near the grill flipping burgers with the focus of a man who took pride in doing things right — whether it was fieldwork or a backyard cookout. A cold bottle of beer rested at his side, untouched for now. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing the faded tattoo of the precinct's emblem on his forearm, just above the wedding ring he rarely took off.

You were a few yards away, setting the picnic table beneath the big oak tree you both loved. The dishes were simple but made with care — macaroni salad, deviled eggs, fruit skewers you'd prepared that morning, and the banana bread Jack had insisted on baking. You moved with ease, glancing every so often towards Arthur and the grill, exchanging a brief smile or a quick signed phrase. Even without spoken words, the two of you moved in harmony — a kind of dance that didn't need sound.

The Marstons arrived right on time, driving up in John's old black SUV with Jack hanging halfway out the back window before it had even come to a stop.

Abigail climbed out with a warm grin, brushing back her hair from the breeze, and waved when she spotted you.

You waved back with both hands, signing an enthusiastic "Hello!" before walking over to embrace her.

Jack bolted towards Arthur, yelling something about how hungry he was, and Arthur caught him mid-run, spinning the boy in a lazy circle before setting him down.

"Burgers are almost ready," Arthur said, ruffling Jack's hair. "But you gotta earn it — go help your Auntie set the cups."

Jack grinned and ran over to you without hesitation. He'd been learning sign language ever since he found out you were deaf — clumsy at first, but determined. Today, he greeted you with a shaky but confident "Good to see you!" in ASL.

You laughed, signed back "You too, Jack," and handed him a stack of paper cups.

John wandered over to Arthur at the grill, sunglasses on. "This is nice," he muttered, glancing at the peaceful yard, the kids' toys scattered on the grass, Copper sunbathing like a retired old man near the porch.

Arthur nodded, poking at the sizzling burgers with his spatula. "That was the idea," he said. "Get everyone to breathe for once."

"Yeah, well," John said, eyeing the grill, "you sure you didn't throw some damn steak on there too? These burgers smell like they came off a five-star menu."

Arthur side-eyed him. "You ain't slick, Marston."

"What?" John asked, raising both hands in mock innocence. "I'm just saying they look real good."

Before Arthur could respond, John made a quick reach — fork in hand like a thief in broad daylight — aiming to spear one of the finished burgers resting on the side tray.