ᴍᴜʟᴛɪғᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇ | ᴏʟᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴇᴡ ғɪᴄs ғʀᴏᴍ ᴍʏ ɴᴏᴛᴇs

Dumb Luck and Dumber Brothers (Arthur Morgan x brother!reader)

summary: Sometimes, there are brother who are very helpful.

warning: ARTHUR MORGAN YEEEEHAWWWWWWWWW, brother reader, male reader, jail, siblings bickering, robbery when wrong, reader is a flirt?

based on this request, tq!

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. ───

You were pretty sure the jail cell floor hadn't been mopped since the war.

It stank of piss and stale tobacco, and the mattress on the cot felt like it was stuffed with rocks and regrets. You were flat on your back, hands folded behind your head, staring at the ceiling when you heard it.

Heavy boots. Familiar rhythm. And a low, irritated voice.

"Let me guess," Arthur grumbled from outside the bars, "you meant to get caught."

You turned your head, offering him your most charming, toothy grin. "Well, well, well. Look who decided to visit his favorite brother."

Arthur gave you a look like he was five seconds from braining you with a rock.

"I had to ride twenty damn miles 'cause I heard you tried to rob a freight wagon by yourself, in broad daylight, right next to a saloon full o' witnesses."

"It was supposed to be simple," you muttered. "Get in, grab the box, get out. It wasn't even locked—"

"Oh, good. So you got caught for not even havin' to pick anything."

You sat up on the cot. "The driver came back early! He had a shotgun, Arthur! And he knew my name."

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose like he was praying for divine patience. "That's 'cause you told it to him last time you tried to flirt with his niece."

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Okay, maybe that one was on you.

The sheriff strolled over with a smirk. "Friend of yours?"

Arthur didn't look at him. "Unfortunately."

The keys jingled, and the cell creaked open.

"You boys got some nerve," the sheriff muttered. "Tell your brother to stop comin' to town like he's the hero of some cheap dime novel."

Arthur yanked you up by the collar and practically shoved you out of the cell. "You hear that? Even the law thinks you're an idiot."

You dusted yourself off as the door slammed shut behind you. "Could've left me in there."

"Don't tempt me," Arthur snapped. "You know how much I had to bribe just to keep Dutch from finding out about this?"

Your stomach dropped. "You didn't tell him, right?"

"No. 'Cause if I did, he'd tan your hide, then mine for not lettin' you rot."

"Thanks, brother," you said, clapping him on the back.

Arthur shrugged you off like you had the plague. "You owe me. Big."

"Oh, I'll make it up to you. I'll do camp chores for a week. Two weeks! Hell, I'll even clean Micah's boots."

Arthur stopped in his tracks and turned to you, disgusted. "You do that, and I will leave you in jail next time. That's just sick."

You laughed, following him towards the horses tied out front. "Admit it. You missed me."

Arthur mounted up and glared down at you. "I miss peace and quiet. Get on your damn horse before I start rethinking this."

As you rode side by side into the fading light, you knew he'd chew your ear off the whole way back to camp. He always did when he was worried. When you screwed up. When you reminded him too much of the man neither of you liked to talk about.

But beneath the rough edges and the threats of bodily harm, there was always that unspoken thing:

You were brothers.
And Arthur would always come for you.

Even if he did call you a dumbass the whole way home.