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Leather and Lace - Chapter 17: Feelings Revealed

PART 3 - THE GRAND GESTURE

Summary: Arthur leaves camp in search of something to repair your relationship. But meanwhile, you are getting closer to leaving altogether.

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*I’ve seen this image in a few different places, but not sure who owns it. I downloaded it from wallpaperflare.com. If anyone knows who specifically owns it, let me know so I can give photo credit.

Tag List: @rivetingrosie4 @bimbo-dollz @pine4pple-b0i @redwritr @kuri-chans-blog @queer-sadie-adler @joelmillerswifey @gimmethosedaddymilkers @pcotarelo @delilah-grimes @maemortem @wistfulwisteriawitch @lilacxxdreams @mentallyillfrogs @absolutegeek @spurz @sophiaj650 @uniqueclodzinevoid @lookingformaurice @pawoui @randomidk-123 @yyiikes @eddiemetalheadmunson @twola @kmartkiddieisle @red-dead-simp @regwishesshehadmagic @rhehr241 @earwen-x @akariver75 @djennty @nervousmumbling @xliliths @unbotheredbeeeee @onnetonprinsessa @kittiowolf210 @ezrynn @suhsis @arthurmargon @codnerd1999 @queer-sadie-adler @alice-vanderlinde @sweetandstoned21 @j4llyf7sh @spooky631 @m0r4xr @ilovrxats @i-69-urmom @ddbluesie @ivuravix

*I tagged people who expressed interest in the continued story. If you’d like to be added or removed, please let me know. There are a few that would not let me link, so I apologize if this doesn’t ping some people.

Arthur fidgets slightly in the worn saddle as Buck’s hooves clop in the mud below. The sloppy, wet sound creates a white-noise in the back of Arthur’s mind as he nears the town of Rosewood. He can see the edge of the town with its filthy white-washed buildings quickly approaching on the horizon line. The sun’s rays cause the image of the structures in the distance to waver and blur in the heat waves, causing the town to look even more depressing than it is. He’s never been to Rosewood and all he knows of it is what he’s heard from you. And based on that, Arthur already hates it. An irritable sigh involuntarily escapes his ribcage. He has half a mind to burn it all to the ground out of spite, just for you.

He spurs his horse on as he swallows the hateful bile in his throat and heads into the town. It is a makeshift traveling town for the railroad; a greasy little industrial thing. It’s dirty and smells of iron, oil and other disagreeable things. There seems to be nothing happy or pleasant about this place as he watches the people shuffling about. The people seem to move both with purpose and without motivation at the same time, like shadows that are tethered to a person and pulled against their will. Upon quick examination, it seems to be made up of a lot of cheap labor, probable criminals, and those who just simply want to disappear.

Arthur has a hard time picturing you here in a town like this. You must have been like a flower trying to grow out of the dry and barren earth, desperate for sunlight and refreshing rains to grow and flourish. It’s no wonder you fit in so well with his gang now. It makes Arthur angry to know you had to work in these conditions. His hands clench in and out of fists as his mind goes back to when he found you. The bastards that chased and beat you were from this damn town. They killed your father and were in the middle of assaulting you when Arthur put a bullet into each and every one of them.

His lips curl in disgust at the memory of it. His mind’s eye sees you curled up on the ground, face beaten and terrified, yet still trying to defend yourself like a wounded animal. The thought of it makes his stomach turn now just as much as it did then. It seems like a lifetime ago now. So much has changed since that day, and he hopes for the better for your sake. He’s still not 100% sure what he’s looking for here, but he hopes to find it quickly and get the hell out of here.

Now that he’s here, Arthur figures the best place to start is the hospital where you worked. Since that’s where you and your father spent the majority of your time while here, there’s a good chance he’ll find someone there who knows you. But first, he looks around, surveying the area from where he sits high on his massive horse to get an idea of what’s going on here. He always needs to know his “mark” and his “exit”. It's instinct to know your surroundings.

“This ain’t no damn job, you idiot.” He shakes his head at himself and his ever-paranoid ways. “Although, I suppose it kinda is,” he murmurs, looking about.

Arthur takes a calming breath as he thinks over his plan again. He’s hoping that he can find someone still here that knows you or your father and can offer something to bring home to you. Any token, any object, anything at all that may be a tie to your past or family. He’s broken your heart already, so maybe this would be the thing to mend it, as the memory of your father is your most treasured possession. Arthur is filled with both excitement and trepidation, causing his heart to sputter a bit in a reaction to both. If this works, you and Arthur will be on good terms again, maybe even more. He can’t screw this up.

With determination on his side, Arthur begins to walk Buck down the dirt street that runs the middle of the town. He tries his best to ignore the suspicious stares he’s getting from the townspeople. Like a reflex, his fingers reach up to pull his worn leather gambler's hat down over his tired eyes. His hand drops to his muscular thigh, inches from the revolver on his hip. Just in case.

Getting impatient from wandering aimlessly through the town, Arthur pulls Buck to a stop in front of a woman who is sweeping the front porch of, what appears to be, a feed store. Her hair is pulled back away from the harsh features of her face into a tight bun that makes her appear to be older than she really is. This is in no way helped by the unflattering gray frock that she wears. He nods in her direction, leaning over slightly in his saddle. “Excuse me-”

“Employment office is down the street, third building on the right.” The woman barks the statement at him, only giving him the slightest of glances before returning to her sweeping, her arms moving aggressively to remove the stubborn dirt on the worn floorboards.

“Uh, no. I’m looking for the hospital here.” Arthur’s eyebrow furrow, his frowning lips pressed together slightly at the rebuke.

“End of the corridor, turn left.” The woman’s response is just as quick and dismissive as the first.

“Thank you,” Arthur grumbles with an eyeroll and is quick to nudge Buck on further with no desire to overstay his welcome. But, now that he has a direction to follow, his spirits begin to pick up a bit.

As Arthur gets to the end of the mud-caked street, a largish building comes into view. It’s haphazard at best. It’s more of a barn than anything. It was probably a quick assembly job to get the building erected with the town growing so fast and the traveling citizens constantly pouring in and out. It’s bare wood, no paint anywhere. The windows sorely need to be cleaned, in fact one is broken out and boarded-over.

But, amid all of this depressing atmosphere, Arthur notices a small barrel by the main door. Turned over, it has been made into a planter with some deep violet wildflowers growing in it along with some bright green ivy-like vines cascading down the side. The vibrant pop of color catches his eye in this otherwise dreary place. Arthur smiles a bit at the sight of it, wondering if it was you who put it there. Seems like something you’d do.

After tying Buck to the hitching post out front, Arthur walks through the doors of the hospital. It is one large open room lined with beds, many already filled with patients; a sort of “post-op”, general-care common area. There is a large desk that is cluttered with papers in the immediate corner to his left, flanked by bookshelves, and towards the far back wall, he can see a hallway that probably leads to more private rooms for seeing patients. The room is fairly well lit with sunlight, considering the grime that coats the windows. The air smells of a nauseating mixture of bitter iodine and sweet chloroform, as well as soap and chlorine solutions. Arthur has to resist the need to cover his nose with his hand.

His eyes scan the room and among the patients, Arthur sees a young woman about the same age as you, maybe younger, flitting about. With multiple things in hand, she tends to every person she passes. A nurse of some sorts, she works diligently as she hands a pillow to an older man in one bed, and checks foreheads and fixes blankets as she passes multiple others. She even pulls a small toy out of her apron pocket and gives it to a poor child who is laid up with a broken arm.

She multi-tasks around the occupants with purpose and determination; a seasoned veteran at this hard job. The woman reminds Arthur of a young Susan Grimshaw in that way. She has dark auburn hair, with long curls that are semi-contained with a ribbon behind her neck and vivid jade eyes that dart around, taking in every detail of her patients around her. The young nurse moves about the hospital ward as if she owns it. Intrigued, Arthur feels someone as important-looking as this must know something of you.

“Excuse me!” Arthur’s voice carries across the humming noise of chatter of the room full of patients as he lifts his hand in a slight wave to try to get her attention.

The nurse gives Arthur a quick glance, annoyed at being interrupted. “If you’re not bleeding, wait over there.” She gives a dismissive wave where chairs line the far wall behind him. “If you are bleeding, tell me how bad and then I’ll tell you where to go. Although it can’t be that bad if you’re upright.”

Arthur shuffles his feet slightly. “No, I ain’t hurt or nuthin’-”

“Then what do you want? I’m kinda busy here.” She motions to the beds surrounding her as she makes her way over to him, blowing a strand of hair out of her eye before her hands land impatiently on her round hips.

Seeing the nurse standing still for more than a minute, an older woman in one of the beds off to the side calls over with a faint and brittle voice. “Miss Darcy? Can I get a drink of water, please?”

The nurse turns at the brief distraction and gives the poor woman a kind and sympathetic smile. “Yes, Florence, of course. Just a minute, hon.” She then turns back to Arthur, flipping back to that same air of impatience again. “See? Things to do and people to take care of, probably more in need than you. Now out with it.” She waves her hand to encourage him to speak quickly.

Even though she is quick, Arthur can tell that this woman means no real harm or insult, but rather takes her job very seriously and doesn’t put up with any bullshit - something he can relate to.

“Did you know Dr. (Y/L/N)? Maybe his daughter (Y/N)?” Arthur asks carefully.

Arthur notices how Darcy instantly stiffens to his question, eyes going hard and giving him a distrustful side-eye glance as she sizes him up. “Who wants to know?” She bites back suddenly, almost protectively. “Who the hell are you and what do you want with them?”

“I’m…uh…a friend of (Y/N)’s,” he stammers, taking off his hat, running his fingers through his disheveled hair before fiddling with the brim and replacing it upon his head..

“Yeah, I bet,” Darcy says, scanning him up and down cautiously. “(Y/N)’s not here, don’t know where she is so you best move on.” She turns to walk away, quick to go back about her business.

“No, no, I’m not here for her,” Arthur adds quickly, reaching his gloved fingers to her arm before he loses her to the crowd of sick and infirmed. “I mean, I am here for her, but not to see her.” He’s flustered, panicking that he may lose his one opportunity to make this work. “What I mean is, I already know where (Y/N) is and-”

Darcy stops dead in her tracks, spinning back on him. “What the hell are you babbling on about?” she interrupts, holding her hand up to cut him off. Her expression quickly changes from one of annoyance to concern. “What do you mean you know where (Y/N) is? Where is she?!”

Arthur hesitates at Darcy’s intense scrutiny, not sure how to answer that. His face goes hard as stone, not sure how much he should tell this woman.

Darcy takes a few steps towards Arthur, her jaw clenching slightly and her cheeks flush a deeper shade of red with her impatience. “Look, mister,” her voice is serious and threatening. “She's my friend. Her father was killed by a bunch of assholes and then those same assholes were found dead. I need to know if she’s OK.”

“She’s fine. She’s with friends,” Arthur replies evasively.

“Friends, huh?” Darcy looks him up and down with a skeptic eye again. He’s been riding for two days and sleeping in the woods. He must look like quite the sight. It's no wonder Darcy doesn’t trust him.

“Yeah, friends.” Arthur regains some of his composure, remembering his purpose and locking eyes with the woman. God, she really must be a friend of yours, as she’s just as fiery and obstinate as you.

Darcy crosses her arms over her chest in defiance. “How do I know you even know her? You could be making this whole thing up.” She waves her hand at him. “If (Y/N) is alive and well, how do you know her, then?”

Arthur gives a long-winded sigh bordering on a groan, thinking for a moment.

"She's got a way about her, can't quite describe it,” he begins, his eyebrows crease as he tries to find the words to explain himself. “It's like…she's a mix of both hard and soft; both hellfire and holy water at the same time. Eyes are beautiful, like you can see right into her soul, ya know? And she's got a mouth on her that won't quit, too," he chuckles softly with a shake of his head. “She don’t care who thinks what. And yet, she's still real gentle-like and caring.”

He pauses as he reflects deeper on you, his gaze relaxing and focusing on nothing as he retreats further into his own reverie.

“(Y/N) takes good care of our people, the whole lot of us. She keeps us patched up and looked after. Oh, and she's got the voice of an angel, too,” he adds, pointing his finger at Darcy as he just remembered yet another thing he loves about you. “She’s always singing and humming some tune or another.” Arthur continues to gush on and on like a love-sick teenager as this is really the first time he’s allowed himself to talk fondly about you out loud to anyone.

“We got a kid with us, a young boy. (Y/N) likes to play with him like she’s a little kid herself, don’t care how foolish she looks..." Arthur's voice trails off as images of you continue to jump and scatter about in his mind, flashing so fast that it’s hard for him to focus on one thing at a time.

He misses you so damn much right now. Not just physically being apart from you, but it’s the emotional distance between the two of you lately that’s taking its toll. He hates being at odds with you. This fight, this tension between you, is just too much. And he didn't realize just how bad until now. Arthur has come to rely on you for his very sanity, to help him start to make sense of the tumultuous world around him. Just walking beside you makes him a better man.

Arthur can’t wait to finish this quest of his, as he wants nothing more than to rush back home to talk to you immediately. It's odd how you can meet someone today that makes you forget all about yesterday and also have hope for tomorrow. It’s been a long time since he’s experienced that. His hand slowly comes up to rub along the back of his neck as he gets lost in his own head.

Eventually, he remembers where he is and refocuses, looking over at Darcy. Darcy watches Arthur as he goes on and on, reassessing the gruff-looking man standing in front of her, trying to figure out if she should trust him or not.

"Yeah, that sounds like her alright," she finally concedes as she softens and lets her guard down just a bit.

A blush dusts slightly across Arthur’s cheeks, as he clears his throat, and quickly changes the subject. "Look, you gonna help me or not?" he huffs out.

"Depends.” Darcy crosses her arms. “What are you doing here?"

"I don’t really know," Arthur admits looking about, like he'll find the answer sitting in one of these beds. “I was hoping to find something of (Y/N)’s or even her father's, maybe? Something I could bring back for her." His voice drops to a soft yet hopeful sound, one that Darcy reluctantly finds endearing.

“Bring back to her where, exactly?” Darcy asks, raising an eyebrow at him. “What happened after she left here?”

“That’s another story for another day, I’m afraid,” Arthur sighs rather sheepishly, hoping to God she doesn’t get frustrated and just walk away from him altogether.

Darcy thinks for a moment. "Yeah, I think I have just the thing for you. I have to finish what I’m doing here, though. Meet me at the square in about an hour.”

Arthur can’t believe his luck!

“Alright, then.” He gives her a quick nod of thanks, a huge grin sparkling upon his face, before turning to head back out the door to leave her to her work.

Arthur walks out the hospital doors, and takes a moment as he stands next to his horse, looking about the town. An hour? What the hell is he going to do in this shithole for an hour? An hour seems like an eternity right now. A slow exhale pushes out of his nose as his lips draw inward impatiently. He tries not to be too disappointed, though, as he is one step closer to his goal.

Arthur decides to clean himself up a bit and grabs a bite to eat to kill time, trying not to think about the delay. And eventually, he makes his way to the main square to wait for your friend. Looking about, he figures she’s smart, meeting a stranger in a public place like this. Honestly, he’s surprised that she’s even agreed to help him. But truth be told, Darcy is more interested in helping you than Arthur. He just happens to be in the middle.

Eventually Arthur scans the crowds and sees Darcy walking down the street with something tucked under her arm.

“Still here, eh Mister?” She calls to him as she approaches, giving him a wry smile. Arthur only spreads his arms out wide in an exaggerated gesture.

“I never did catch your name, by the way,” Darcy mentions casually. “Suppose you could at least tell me that much?”

“Arthur”, he replies simply with a raised eyebrow.

“Arthur,” she parrots back with a grin and a nod of acceptance. “Well, nice to meet you, Arthur.”

After a brief moment, Darcy proceeds to pull the item from under her arm to hold it in front of her. It is a wooden box, sanded and varnished, and about the size of a shoe box. She looks down at it, placing one of her hands upon the top, one last hesitation as to whether she should trust this large, intimidating man whom she doesn’t know.

“Here,” says Darcy with another grin as she hands the box over to Arthur. “I think this is what you are looking for.”

Arthur carefully accepts the item from her dry and cracked hands that are weathered from her work. He gingerly holds it, tilting it slightly as he looks it over. There are initials carved into the top, which appear to be your father’s. Arthur looks back to Darcy with a quizzical look.

“If you know (Y/N), and you’re here of all places, then I’m assuming you know what happened here in Rosewood.” Darcy gazes at the box as memories flood back to her. “I knew Dr. (Y/L/N). He was a good man.” She nods with conviction towards the box.

“When all that shit went down, it was chaos around here. The town’s people ransacked their little house, tore through the hospital here…” she shakes her head in disgust at the memory of it.

“Anyway,” she sighs, “I ran to his office and grabbed this from his desk. Kept it safe just in case they ever came back.” Darcy lifts her chin, gesturing towards the box. “Open it.”

Arthur lifts the lid with care and a small huff of a laugh pushes out of his nose, stunned at the contents. He finds several items carefully nestled inside the keepsake box, including a small silver locket on a thin elegant chain, your father's pocket watch, a family photograph, and your father's personal medical journal.

Arthur carefully picks up the locket charm, tiny in his massive fingers, and pops it open. Apparently this had belonged to your mother as an image of her and your father are secreted within.

Arthur replaces the locket in the box and takes the photo out next, gently holding it in his hand as if he is holding the very souls of the people in the image. He recognizes Dr. (Y/L/N) of course, as he helped you bury him after you fled Rosewood. But seeing him alive and young in the photograph makes Arthur wish he had known him.

Your mother is beautiful. Soft curls and large beautiful eyes that sparkle and draw you in, even through a photograph. There’s a delicateness to her that reminds him so much of you today. He doesn't know how, but Arthur can tell that you take after her. A warm feeling spreads across his cheeks, as if he is being introduced to the parents of the girl he's courting.

And of course, there is you in the photograph, very young, about 7 or 8 years old. You look like a sprite or fairy. Bright eyes, mischievous smile, and small for your age.

This is exactly what Arthur had hoped to find. And he is elated that this plan of his is going so well.

“Thank you, Miss Darcy, thank you kindly,” Arthur’s voice pregnant with overwhelming gratitude, as the crow’s feet around his eyes crinkle with his growing smile. “(Y/N) will be right pleased to see these.”

Darcy looks at him with a knowing smirk on her face. "You’re sweet on her, aren’t you?” Arthur’s eyes shoot up from the box to meet her suspecting gaze. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” Arthur opens his mouth to speak but Darcy holds her hand up to shush him. “Of course you are," she declares before he can even deny it. "(Y/N) has that effect on people." She folds her arms over her chest in approval.

Arthur says nothing, only draws his lips inward and nods, as if being caught red-handed.

“Well, I hope she’s OK. And, I hope she’s happy, wherever she is. Lord knows this place wasn’t going to do it.” She waves her hand at the town around them. “I hope that you can make her happy, Arthur,” Darcy emphasizes.

“I will do my damnedest. I promise you that.” Arthur gives her an adamant nod.

“You better. Or I will hunt you down,” Darcy teases as she gives his shoulder a playful punch. “Tell (Y/N) I miss her.”

“I will.”

--------------------------------

“(Y/N), I need to speak with you for a moment.”

You lift your head to see Hosea striding towards you with purpose in his step to where you are working in your med-tent. You give him a small, tired smile as he approaches, brushing a stray lock of hair out of your face. “I have the medical supplies almost completely restocked-”

“Yeah, fine, fine, but I don’t want to talk about that,” he waves at you impatiently as he finally comes to a stop, his hands leaning onto the workbench. “I want to talk to you about Arthur.”

The mention of his name makes you freeze. Your jaw clenches to the point that your teeth ache. Your fingers drop the bundle of dried herbs that you are cutting and they slowly curl into the palm of your hand, causing your nails to cut into the skin there.

“No.”

Your firm response causes Hosea to halt dead in his tracks, not expecting you to flat-out refuse his request. His silver eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Excuse me? No?”

Your eyes suddenly turn dark as the corners of your mouth drop into a hard frown. You pull a long, deep inhale through your nose in an effort to remain calm.

“I don’t want to talk about Arthur, Hosea. Not with the girls, not with Charles, and not with you.”

“Good,” he retorts sharply. “Then I’ll do the talkin’ and you just be quiet and listen.” Hosea’s voice carries that stern fatherly tone that instantly puts you back into your place. Like a child, you pout slightly as you turn your face away to avoid his disapproving gaze.

“Look, I know he’s as hard as a rock and stubborn as a mule, but Arthur cares for you, (Y/N).”

“You think I don’t know that?” you snap, your face turning again to meet Hosea’s.

“Then why in the hell you givin’ him such a hard time?” he shoots back.

Your palm slams onto your table as your patience breaks. “Because he can’t have it both ways, Hosea! I am not a some-time lover. Arthur can’t act like I’m his ‘special sweetheart’ and then go on to ignore me for days on end. He can’t repeatedly act like there’s hope for us to be together and then keep telling me it's never going to happen.”

Your eyes burn intensely, causing Hosea to back-peddle to a gentler countenance now, realizing that he’s just sparked a volatile powder-keg.

“You just need to be patient and give him a chance, (Y/N),” Hosea implores you, holding up his hands in surrender as if trying to calm a spooked horse.

Your chest tightens as if a vice grip is strangling it and you can feel the anger radiating off of your ruby-flushed cheeks. “I’ve given him many, many chances, Hosea, and he’s done nothing. Besides, don’t you think you should’ve had this conversation with someone else awhile ago?”

“Now look, girl, you know what we do here and why this isn’t easy for him,” Hosea points his finger accusingly at you in warning. “How can you be so harsh?”

“Harsh?!” The word huffs out of your mouth as if you’ve just eaten a bitter piece of fruit. The mere suggestion of such a thing is so ludicrous to you. “Ha!” Your eyes roll so hard to the sky, it’s amazing that they don’t fly right out of your head.

You give Hosea a sarcastic smirk. “You know, I’ve been with you all for awhile now, Hosea, and I’ve done my part around here as best I could. So I’m a little offended that you think so little of me. I know what you all are and I know what you all do. But I also know who you are.”

You stand taller now and pull your shoulders back, lifting your chin a bit in defiance, as your arms fold defensively over your chest in agitation.

“Are you and Dutch some evil masterminds or just two men trying to live wild and free in the world? Hmm?” Your eyes flash in challenge at him and Hosea tries to get a word in, but you just ramble right over him and he quickly hushes in submission.

“Is John some feral man, or some sad soul trying to overcome the hand he’s been dealt in his life? And Arthur…” You choke for a brief moment as his name crosses your trembling lips, your eyes wide and flashing. “He’s not the monster everyone makes him to be.”

You shake your head, taking a deep breath to draw the cooler air into your lungs to try to recollect yourself. You pause in your rant and Hosea mercifully does not say a word, waiting for you to finish.

“But it doesn't matter now.”

Hosea shakes his head incredulously. “Do you know where Arthur is right now, (Y/N)? Do you have any idea what he’s doing for y-?”

“I don’t care, Hosea!” you snap sharply again, holding your hand up to keep him from saying another word, as you are dangerously close to the edge of your sanity. “I don’t care where he is, or what he’s doing. Because I’m done with it! You hear me?” Your eyes sting, but at this point you have cried yourself out and have no more tears left to shed over this. “I’m done, Hosea. So just stop. Please.” Your voice becomes dejected and hopeless as your shoulders droop in defeat with that last syllable.

“Now if you excuse me, I have work to do.” Your hand involuntarily comes to cover your mouth as you push past him.

“(Y/N), C’mon now…” Hosea calls after you, disappointment clearly written all over his features.

As you hurry off, Hosea rolls his eyes to the pristine-white clouds floating innocently in the sky above and shakes his head, planting his old, weathered hands on his hips before lowering his gaze back to watch you walk over to Ms. Grimshaw. “Whatever the hell you’re doin’, my boy, your ass had better hurry up.”

You hate being cross with Hosea. You’d rather cut out your own tongue than to speak harshly to him like that. But you just can’t take this anymore. It’s hard enough trying to navigate around Arthur, but now you have to deal with everyone else as well. You had hoped that the old man would be your buffer to this fiasco. But of course, he’s going to take Arthur’s side. And by rights, he should, you suppose. He’s Arthur’s “father”, not yours.

With your face flush and hands flexing at your sides, you stalk over to Ms. Grimshaw, desperately seeking yet another distraction. That is one habit that you have definitely picked up from Arthur while you’ve been here: when frustrated, you relentlessly throw yourself into work.

The matriarch is standing outside of her tent, looking over a recent newspaper in her hands when you call out to her.

“Ms. Grimshaw, do you have anything that you need me to do around here?”

The woman looks up at the sound of her name being called and gives you a scowl of impatience. “Oh, for the love of…Come here, girl. Sit down,” she orders, pointing at the chair outside of her tent.

Surprised by her annoyance, you meekly sit as you’re told to do, looking at her expectantly.

“Now, I appreciate your help as much as anyone,” Ms. Grimshaw says, trying her best to remain calm, briefly bringing her fingers to clasp the bridge of her nose in frustration. “But you’ve been in my face and up my ass for weeks now. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to.”

“What do you mean?” Scoffing, you blink back at her.

“Don’t play innocent with me, Miss (Y/L/N).” With a reproachable glare, she pokes herself in the chest with her thumb. “I invented that game.”

After a moment, Ms. Grimshaw finally caves and gives you a resigned sigh. “Women get a raw deal in this day and age. I get it. You’re supposed to sit pretty and smile, and yet spread your legs and still be an angel.”

Her bluntness makes you blush a bit and avert your gaze. You’ve never had such a personal conversation with the woman.

She pauses before she continues, trying to be more tactful as she stands towering over you. “I know what you went through in Rosewood, what they did to you.”

The mention of your assault makes your cheeks burn red and you avert your gaze down again.

“Well, I suppose I had to toughen up pretty quick after that,” you respond matter-of-factly, not wanting to talk about that subject. Yet your voice carries just a hint of a quiver that is not lost on the woman. “A camp of wanted outlaws is no place for wallowing in self pity.”

“Yes, well, strong women like us don’t do well as the victim, can’t afford that luxury,” she agrees. “We stand up straight and deal with this world, and all its shit, don’t we?”

Her statement takes you aback a bit. ‘Like us?’ Is she actually looking at you as her equal? You had always thought this woman didn’t like you. At best, you always figured she simply tolerated your existence.

“Now, you listen to me.” Grimshaw pulls another chair up to sit directly in front of you, lowering her voice as she continues. “Don’t hang all of your hopes and dreams on a man, my dear. Look at Abigail. Hangin’ on any scrap of attention that John is willing to give her. And she’ll be hard pressed to find a husband elsewhere at this point when she’s already saddled with a child. Not that Jack is bad, mind you. (Grimshaw is quick to stress that point.) That boy is the best thing to come out of that relationship, if you ask me.”

Ms. Grimshaw leans back in her chair and folds her arms over her chest, taking a deep breath before she continues her motherly lecture. “Arthur is a good man and all, and we’d all be lost without him, for sure. But he’s still a man. And a dense one at that when it comes to women.”

Your face twists in painful recognition as you look down at your hands sitting limply in your lap. You wish it were different between you and Arthur, but that’s what is so hard about this whole thing. Neither of you can deny the connection that is so rare to find in another soul, yet still knowing you won’t ever be together. You can’t force that spark with someone where it doesn't exist, just like you can’t deny it when it does.

You love Arthur to the depth of which you’ve never known possible, even though you probably shouldn’t, and for reasons that you can’t quite explain. You understand that Arthur thinks that he doesn’t deserve your affection, either. But that isn’t going to stop it from overtaking your heart, now is it? You can’t change how you feel just like you can’t stop the rain from pouring down, or the sun from shining afterwards.

Ms. Grimshaw takes a moment to look you over, watching as your eyes dart around in spastic thought. She notes how your chest rises and falls raggedly as you quietly try to keep yourself from crying all over again. God, you are so exhausted from crying. And you are at the point now of being sick and tired of being ‘sick and tired’ of everything. Her heart goes out to you as she knows what you’re going through. Because she’s been there herself.

“You know,” Ms. Grimshaw says softly, hesitating slightly before continuing. “I used to have a thing with Dutch.”

Your red-rimmed eyes shoot back up to Ms Grimshaw’s face and widen a bit at her revelation. “Really? I didn’t know that.”

“MmmHmm. Cast me aside for the young and pretty, he did.” She turns a glance towards Dutch’s tent where he sits reading, a cigar sitting confidently between his teeth, while Molly perches upon their cot, fixing her hair in the mirror.

Turning her attention back to you, Ms. Grimshaw quickly refocuses on the purpose of her lecture. “If you want to stay here with us, (Y/N), no one will be happier than me to have you.” This admission rather stuns you as her voice takes on a softer, more nurturing sound. “But don’t you let this gang take you down.” She points her finger sternly at you. “You do what’s right by you. ‘Cause you’re the only one who has to live with your decisions.”

Ms. Grimshaw holds your gaze a moment to make sure you understand what she’s telling you. When you finally give her an appreciative smile and a nod, she places her hand overtop of yours, patting it in reassurance.

From somewhere over in the distance of the camp, there is a ruckus and you both look over at the interruption to see Rev. Swanson drunk and stumbling over people before falling down altogether. Ms. Grimshaw huffs sharply in annoyance, hands on her knees, as she pushes herself up from her chair. “I swear, it’s always something around here.”

And just like that, the camp mother is off to settle yet another issue in her camp. You watch her as she marches over to the man, shooing away the others who have gathered around. She gives Rev. Swanson a few words before bending down to heave him up by the arm. For whatever reason, the woman has a soft spot for the disgraced man of the cloth. And now, apparently, for you as well.

A slight breeze picks up and the cooling air settles your nerves a bit as it dances across your cheeks, lifting the fine wisps of hair along your face. You sit in contemplation, thinking about what Ms. Grimshaw has said to you. She has a point. She may come across as a hardened shrew, but she definitely knows what she’s talking about, as she speaks from personal experience. You’ve been debating about leaving the Van Der Linde gang for awhile, and now, maybe you have the voice of reason to actually do it. Absentmindedly chewing on the back of your thumbnail while in thought, you try to figure out what your next move is going to be.

It's taken you awhile to come to terms with what happened in Rosewood. You had hoped to draw strength from your new family and finally find a place of belonging. You haven't even thought of a future with a man since what happened, finding the closest thing in Arthur’s simple and unassuming company.

Losing your father in such a cruel and abrupt way was devastating. But with the parental guidance of Hosea, and unknowingly of Ms. Grimshaw, you have begun to make your peace with it, despite the frequent melancholy that only comes with the death of family.

But you can’t handle this drama anymore. You had told Karen awhile ago that you couldn’t bear it if Arthur ever hated you. And seeing as every interaction between the two of you seems to be getting more toxic with each encounter, that seems to be the very path your relationship is heading. You really don’t think that you could ever be happy here if you didn’t have Arthur. The thought of it is a boulder dropping in your stomach.

Maybe you’ll go back to Silverton. The doctor there had offered you a job several months ago, and a place to stay at the boarding house, too. But how will you even get there? It’s not safe for a woman to travel on her own in these parts.

The time has come for you to decide: Should you stay with the Van Der Linde gang? Or should you go?

Wrestling with which path you need to take, your thoughts are interrupted when you see Mr. Pearson prepping one of the wagons. His chubby face huffs and turns red as he mills about pulling straps and checking over the wagon.

You nibble your bottom lip as you watch him, anxiously wringing your hands together. “Mr. Pearson? Are you heading into town?” you suddenly blurt out with seemingly no self control.

He looks over his shoulder to give you a quick glance. “That’s right, Miss (Y/L/N).”

You swallow hard before you speak again. “Need some company?”

And before you realize what you are doing, you offer to go along. Your intent is to see who in town may be heading back south towards Silverton and maybe catch a ride. That doctor there seemed quite persistent in getting you to work with him. Maybe the job offer is still good. If not, at least you’ll be out of the Van Der Linde camp and can start to put this whole mess behind you once and for all.

—--------------------------------

It is late afternoon at this point and the copper sky has just begun to unfurl its bewitching colors for all to see. Arthur heads down the back-country path that will bring him back to camp. The familiar white wildflowers still bloom and line the path, offering him a welcoming sight as he gets closer to home. His hand rests protectively on the saddlebag to his left side where your father’s wooden box sits carefully tucked away.

As he gets closer to home, Arthur begins to rethink his plan a bit. Is it too selfish to expect you to just fall into his open arms because he gave you a few remembrances? He isn’t turning his back on his decision, nor the idea that he wants you. But he feels that maybe it isn’t fair to just expect it of you. That may be a little too presumptuous.

Out of respect for you, he resigns himself to hope for the best and prepare for the worst. But at the very least, Arthur wants to just stop fighting and to simply be able to speak civilly with you once more.

When Arthur arrives back at camp, he doesn’t see you anywhere, even though Blue is tethered at the hitching posts. He slips your horse some peppermints upon arrival, which he contently munches.

“Where’s our girl, mister? Hmm?” he wonders out loud to Blue, reaching up to give the horse a good scratch behind his ears while he surveys the open area.

Arthur eagerly scans the camp and immediately seeks out Hosea to find out where you are. He’s already waited several days to get this task done and he’s eager to finish it.

“She went to town with Pearson,” Hosea informs him. “Shouldn’t be too much longer, I reckon.”

Arthur purses his lips and nods, thinking to himself as his gaze, of course, goes to the path heading into the camp, half expecting to find you there.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Hosea asks, eyebrows peaked with interest as he raises his cigarette to his mouth, eyes squinting in anticipation.

A grin slowly crawls across Arthur’s face. His eyes twinkle a bit in mischief when he turns back to Hosea. “Oh yeah. I found it.”

Hosea lets out a quick chuckle as he pats Arthur on the shoulder. “Good. I knew you would.”

Hosea decides not to say anything to Arthur about the conversation he had with you earlier today, fearing that your outburst may deter Arthur from going ahead with his intentions. It’s taken so long and so much to push Arthur to get to this point. Hosea doesn’t want his son to get discouraged now, not when he’s so close to a chance at being happy.

Since you are not here, Arthur decides to leave the box in your tent for you. He’s afraid that if he approaches you directly with it, you’ll end up in an argument before he can even give you the damn thing. He desperately needs for this to go well. He walks over and stands outside of your tent, hesitating before he goes in. But with a nod of reassurance to himself, he enters your personal space.

Arthur looks about for a moment, taking in the surroundings. Everywhere he looks in the modest space, there’s evidence of you. The faint scent of the lavender oil you use in your hair permeates the area. Arthur’s eyes roll back into his head as he deeply inhales the intoxicating flowery aroma.

Along the side, your cot is neatly made up with a knit afghan laid across it. The spread is a beautiful green color, but the pattern and knot work are not quite so perfect. The knots are clumpy and lopsided and unevenly distributed. He chuckles as he remembers when you made it, trying your hand at the domestic task. ‘It’s not perfect, but at least I’ll be warmer at night,’ you said when you proudly showed him the efforts of your work.

There are a few books stacked on an overturned crate-turned-end table by your pillow, a few of which have multiple bookmarks and pieces of paper haphazardly sticking out, indicating that you are in the middle of reading multiple at a time. The small table in the corner has a bowl with women’s baubles such as combs and other simple jewelry, every one of which Arthur has seen on your person, the smallest details of your style committed to his memory.

And pinned to the wooden pole in the center of the tent is the flower crown that Jack had made for you, now delicately dried and preserved. Hanging in the center of the brittle greenery, Arthur notices a small piece of paper. He takes a few steps over to take a closer look at it and realizes it's the sketch he did for you.

It’s a simple drawing of flowers in a meadow, with the sun shining down. He had drawn it while out on one of his jobs and gave it to you. ‘So you'll always have somethin’ pretty to look at, even when things are shit ‘round here’, he had told you. Arthur can’t believe you’ve kept it all this time. The idea that something so trivial and insignificant that he had done was so special to you makes his heart swell to the point of bursting. He lifts his hand, his dust-coated fingers affectionately catching the edge of the paper. He then looks down to the box in his hands.

“God, I hope this works,” he whispers. He steps over to your cot, bending down to gently set the box upon your blanket. He slowly stands and stares at it, taking a last moment to contemplate his decision. “Alright, then.”

And with his habitual saying being muttered into the comfortable silence in finality, Arthur takes his leave of your tent and heads over to his own.

Meanwhile, you have headed over to the small town of Middleton with Mr. Pearson. The cook had needed to head in to the post office to mail a letter, and to see if he had received any in return. You casually excuse yourself from his company as the wagon rolls to a stop, explaining that you need a few things in the local general store. Pearson pays you no mind, but what you really need is to see if the local shopkeep knows of anyone traveling towards Silverton. Since this place of business has the most traffic of varied clientele, you figure if anyone knows the dealings of the town, this is where you’ll find out.

As fortune would have it, after chatting with the store owner, you find out that the local lumberyard is making a delivery to Howardsville in the next few days. It’s about 4 miles east of Silverton. You could walk that if you need to. (At this point, you’re not sure if you’ll be taking Blue with you. The horse was a gift to you from Arthur, so technically he does belong to you. But a horse is a highly-valued possession. It would be rather presumptuous to think that you could just take him with you if you left the gang. And the thought of leaving the beautiful animal behind, your beloved Blue, is yet another twist to the phantom knife in your heart. But you have to prepare yourself for any scenario.)

You quickly make your way over to the lumber office after that, and proceed to convince the owner to let you catch a ride with the next delivery heading out. You have a little money saved up and offer to pay your way, which is the only reason the man is allowing it. He is leaving at sunrise in two day’s time. You’ll have to be there at the office door by then, money in-hand, or he is leaving without you.

And so, you put things into place to make your exit from the Van Der Linde gang.

When you arrive back at the camp, Arthur is sitting by the fire and doesn’t say anything, but carefully watches you out of the corner of his eye as you help Mr. Pearson put away the wagon and secure the horse. Arthur notices that you are mindful to keep your head down and eyes averted from everyone. There is a touch of anxiousness to you that catches his attention, but he figures it's just the tension that has been growing around you for weeks now.

He takes a deep breath and pulls a cigarette out of his pocket and lights it, striking the match on the bottom of his boot, and keeping the brim of his hat discreetly pulled down over his face.

Here it is, this is it. Arthur is not sure how you are going to react to his “grand gesture” as Mary-Beth called it, but he's hoping that this will at least open the door and allow him to speak to you again.

When you’re done securing the wagon, you head straight to your tent, avoiding everyone just as you have been doing of late. You draw back the corners of the canvas and push through the opening, quickly pulling it shut behind you. You still can’t believe that you’re leaving. And you really don’t want to risk talking to anyone about it right now, either, until you can fully wrap your head around the concept. God willing, you just need to avoid Arthur until then, for fear of losing your nerve and any strength you have left to go through with your plan.

You tiredly pull the strap of your small tan satchel off of your shoulder and set it on your little table. A long, exhausted sigh rattles your bones and your eyelids feel like stones as you run your hands over your hair before they link behind your neck, cradling the tense muscles there.

“Well, I guess this is it,” you mutter to yourself. You’ve made your decision and set things into motion. You turn about and survey your belongings, noting that you’ll have to discreetly start to pack to avoid causing a scene. Fortunately, you don’t have much to begin with.

You don’t notice it at first. But then, you catch it out of the corner of your eye. Something sitting on your cot. You do a double-take as you instantly recognize the wooden box. Suddenly, it’s like seeing a ghost and having the wind knocked out of you. Your eyes go wide before arching in confusion. You gingerly walk towards your cot and slowly lower yourself to sit, eyes glued to the item as if afraid to touch it, lest it not be real at all. Eventually, your trembling hands reach out and set the box on your lap, hesitating before you open it. Your fingers hover over the woodgrain, gently tracing along the smooth surface. Slowly lifting the lid, you let out a small gasp, your hand springing up to cover your mouth, as tears begin to gather in the corners of your (y/e/c) eyes.

Fingers that continue to slightly shake trace over the contents inside the box, items that you remember with such fondness. It’s as if a hundred butterflies are swarming inside you right now, their gossamer wings fluttering against your sides to escape.

The pads of your fingertips slowly rub over the polished surface of the pocket watch before you collect it into your fingertips. The silver is cool and comforting to the touch. A vision of your father’s hands with his long, slender fingers holding it instantly pops into your mind, as he used to absentmindedly fidget with it whenever his hands sat idle.

Setting the watch back down, you then move to pick up your mother’s locket and affectionately rub the silver charm between your thumb and fingers. The etching has worn over the years, as she never took the piece off, but the tiny emerald chip that is inset on the front still gleams like a new spring leaf.

But it’s the photo of your parents that puts you over the edge. You smile to yourself as you stifle a slight sob as you look upon the faces of your family, faces that you never thought you’d look upon again. Your heart is overwhelmed with both sadness and joy at the same time.

You simply sit and stare at the print in your hands, soaking in their images as if searing it into your brain once more. You pour over every detail of your parents’ faces, gazing at their features, silently saying hello to long-lost loved ones. You close your eyes as you gently cradle the image to your chest over your heart as a single tear breaks free from your lashes and gently rolls down your freckled cheek.

Suddenly, your eyes fly open as you realize that you have no idea how the box got here. Well, you have a suspicion. Damn him! This is the very shit that drives you insane. What in the hell are you supposed to make of this, now?

Sniffling back your emotions, you quickly put the contents back into the box, carefully setting it back down onto your pillow. With a fire in your stomach, you rush out of the tent and briskly walk to the center of camp where everyone is sitting.

“Where did that box in my tent come from?” Your eyes dart around the circle of gang members, waiting for someone to confess. Your slight frame just vibrates with energy right now, wound up like a hornet.

“What are you talking about, (Y/N)?” asks Abigail, looking up at you from her seat at the fire.

“The wooden box in my tent,” you clarify, tossing a finger back behind you towards your personal area. “Who brought it here?” Your eyes flash like fire as you scan the small crowd gathered around, demanding an answer. “Who?”

“I did,” admits Arthur quietly from where he’s sitting on one of the crates. He finishes his cigarette, tossing the butt to the ground as he stands. “I know you’ve been unhappy, missing your family and all. So I thought I’d see if I could find something of theirs for you.”

You stand silently, your eyes locked onto Arthur, not really sure what to say. What in the actual hell is happening right now?! Damn him. Yet another example of mixed signals and confusing cues. Your head spins and feels like it will explode from trying to figure this out, taking your heart along with it.

“That’s where you’ve been all this time?” asks Mary-Beth, looking at Arthur. “You rode all the way back to Rosewood?”

Arthur nods in confirmation, but when he takes note of your hard and intense gaze on him, he’s not sure what to make of it. Uncomfortable under your stare, he tilts his head down with the brim of his hat covering his face and eyes again.

“I can’t believe you did that,” says Abigail, shocked.

You have been quietly watching Arthur during this exchange, but he won’t look at you now. He can’t get a read on your reaction. You almost seem…angry? But truth be told, you kind of are. You have already made up your mind to go. It was an agonizing decision to make, but you have finally made it and already started the difficult mental process to sever your ties here. You have already put your plans in motion to leave the gang. And now this.

And then suddenly, your whole body relaxes in defeat. Your face twists into something almost akin to exhausted disappointment as you simply give in under a wave of emotion. Like you had said to Hosea earlier, you are done with the fighting.

A measured sigh escapes your lips. You slowly, but deliberately, begin to walk over towards Arthur. You don’t break stride, but silently walk right up to him. He looks up at you, flinching slightly as you get closer, as if he expects you to slap him. (You've been so angry at him lately, it wouldn’t surprise him if you did.)

Without hesitation, you firmly cup Arthur’s face with both of your hands, squeezing just a bit so that he can’t run away from you. And you pull him down to you and kiss him deeply in front of everyone in the camp.

You kiss him without warning or permission, and without premeditation, simply because you can’t fathom doing anything else at this very moment.

Time stops the moment your lips touch his. Everything goes silent and dark like the vast universe filled with its blanket of stars. The only thing that registers to you is the feeling of Arthur in your hands.

In the background, there are hoots and hollers, clapping and cheering. John leans into Uncle exclaiming “Told you!” and elbows the older man in the ribs, who reluctantly hands John $5 out of his pocket.

After several moments of your heated lips pressed against his, you release Arthur’s cheeks and tightly wrap your arms around his neck and shoulders, pulling him to you in a strong embrace, unwilling to let go of him just yet.

Arthur’s hands land softly at your waist as he hides his face into your neck. A tidal wave of relief washes over him, crashing down all in one fell swoop. You are not mad at him anymore. You are not leaving. And he has you in his arms where you belong. Finally.

Arthur slowly pulls back from you, searching for any misgivings. But to his relief, he is only met with the sunshine of your face. There are a million things that he wants to tell you, as the words he hasn’t said all this time are the very ones you need to hear. But it’s not the type of thing he wants an audience for, as he’s suddenly very aware of where the two of you are right now.

His hand lifts from your hip to wrap around your bicep, his thumb drawing over the muscle as he leans in closer to you. His gaze briefly sweeps over the small group of onlookers before coming back to you and whispers “Wanna get out of here and go someplace more private to talk?” His gravelly voice is soft and quiet for only you to hear as the lines around his eyes wrinkle delightfully with a smile.

“More than anything.” Your large doe-eyes shine up at him along with a smile that beams back brightly. Arthur grins, his hand now moving to caress your cheek, reassuring both you and himself that this is really happening.

“C’mon,” he encourages you with a slight head tilt. And with his hand at the small of your back, he gently nudges you away from everyone else.

You both abruptly turn away from the group of gawking eyes and giggling whispers to head towards the horses, walking shoulder to shoulder. You catch each other’s gaze shyly, a few giggles of your own erupting from your lips. When your hands casually brush against each other’s, you reach over and take Arthur’s large hand into yours, wrapping your delicate fingers around his. Arthur looks down at the sight of your hands entwined. He lifts your hands up to his lips and places an ever-so soft kiss along the backs of your fingers, making you catch your breath for just a moment over such a simple, yet affectionate gesture.

Buck is already saddled, and Arthur is too impatient to wait to saddle Blue, so he carefully lifts you up onto the back of his horse before he swings himself up as well. And the two of you head out of camp together.

As Buck quickly sets himself into a brisk canter, you wrap your arms around Arthur’s waist, pressing your torso against the warmth of his back. The bulk of him is just so comforting to you. Sure, you’ve ridden together like this before, but now there is a profound difference in the way your arms settle around him. Your face sets upon his back between his shoulder blades as you close your eyes and smile blissfully. Arthur hums contently in response, laying his own strong hand along yours as they link across his ribs in front of him.

Arthur decides to take you to your favorite hunting spot that the two of you like to use. It is nestled deep in a thicket of dense forest, about twenty minutes outside the camp, and there’s an old trapper-style, lean-to shelter there.

It’s quiet out as the sun starts to set, and the only sounds in the woods are the chattering of the squirrels and squawking of the birds as you reach your destination. Arthur pulls Buck to a halt at the edge of the trees, his watchful eyes quickly scanning the camp to make sure it’s safe before letting you down. He’s waited this long for this moment, he just wants everything to be perfect.

“Stay here a minute while I take a quick look around. Let’s make sure no one else is holed up here,” he says over his shoulder. Arthur dismounts, pulling his revolver from his holster as he walks about the small make-shift camp. You happily watch him move about, your cheeks dusting with color at how protective he is of you. Your bottom lip folds up between your teeth in quiet excitement, hardly able to contain yourself in anticipation of finally being alone together with all that previous nonsense now removed.

After he walks the perimeter and deems it safe for you, he waves you over. You flick your heels to nudge Buck forward a few paces until you are now in the middle of the camp. Arthur walks over, reaching his hands up to you to help you down from the back of the horse. His hands tenderly find your hips and your own hands find his broad shoulders as he lowers you down. Your eyes never leave his face, causing him to blush under your longing gaze.

He gives you an awkward grin and a brief chuckle as he walks Buck over to the side of the small clearing, tying him to a tree for the time being. You stand perfectly still in anticipation, watching his every move, until he walks back to you, rubbing his hands together nervously.

“So…” Arthur stands in front of you, taking off his hat and playing with the brim nervously, not really sure what to say or do now.

“So...” you grin at him with a little shrug. “Here we are. Finally.” You step closer to him, smiling coyly.

You stand there, staring into each other's eyes, knowing that this is the turning point. Whatever happens after this moment, move forward or walk away, it changes the relationship forever. There is no going back to what you were before. That’s not even an option anymore. One way or another, it's going to change for the two of you.

Arthur replaces his hat back upon his head, freeing his fingers which fidget nervously as they find their way to your hips again and slowly pull you in closer to him. Your palms come to rest softly on his chest as you look up adoringly into his crystal-blue eyes.

”Kiss me, Arthur.” Your angelic voice is a yearning whisper that dances in his ears, making his heart skip a beat.

He cups your face with his right hand, drawing his thumb along your check bone. The skin there is oh so smooth, like porcelain. His other hand wraps around your bicep as your own hands still sit upon his chest, resting right over his heart. Your fingers play gracefully with the fabric of his worn shirt, causing goosebumps to ripple across his skin underneath. He slowly dips his head down, his lips hovering close to yours before he presses them together.

The kiss is soft at first. And his lips are just as you imagined. Although slightly chapped, the skin is soft as flower petals, the muscles strong underneath, as his mouth encompasses your own.

The kiss isn't too long, just enough to indicate the romantic intent behind it. He pulls back from you and notices that your eyes are still shut, savoring the moment. Your lids are slow to flutter open and peer up into his vivid eyes, which are staring expectantly back at you and waiting for some sign of doubt or regret. But to his relief, he finds none.

When Arthur sees your smile rise up like a sunrise over the horizon, shining its light and warmth upon everything in its path, he rapidly pulls you in for another kiss. He’s desperate not to hurt or offend you, but when your mouth opens slightly, working over his own, and your tongue pushes across in search of his, sweeping across his plump bottom lip, he reciprocates, suddenly hungry and needy. His hand moves from your cheek to cradle the back of your head while his other arm snakes around your waist to pull you tighter against him.

He should feel ashamed at how he holds your hips to his own, but Arthur is feeling selfish right now, giving in to his own desires for once. Your own hands fist around the soft cotton of his shirt, greedily pulling him down to you. You push your hips into his, desperate to be as close to the man as you can get. The symphony of heaving breaths and the wet sound of lips rolling over each other fills the air. A soft whimper, a barely audible moan, delightfully escapes your chest like a bird freed from its cage.

Your heart leaps at how there is such a fine line created between love and madness with just a simple thing as a kiss. You are a bit of a hungry, hot mess inside, aching impatiently for him, waiting for his hands and lips to begin to roam your skin and curves. But yet, you also adore how focused those same hands and needing lips slowly knead and nip at your tender, soft flesh right now.

Arthur’s fingers clench slightly with restraint at the nape of your neck. When you both reluctantly pull away from each other to fill your lungs with air again, he leans his forehead to yours, eyes closed to regain composure. He exhales slowly, shuddering just slightly with measured breaths.

“I want you.” His voice, low and hungry, yet definitive, cuts through the warm air between you. He needs you to hear it, but more importantly, he needs you to know it.

A soft laugh of relief huffs quietly out of your nose at the statement. You smile slightly, so happy to finally hear him say the words out loud after all of this time.

“I want you too, Arthur,” you breathlessly whisper. You lift your face away from his to look into his alluring eyes again. “So very much.”

He searches your features, digging deep, for any last minute hesitation. When he sees none, Arthur kisses you yet again, this time passionate, but not as desperate. His large hands find their way to your back as he pulls you into him even tighter than before, wrapping you up against him. You can feel his hand splay-out under your shoulders, while the other trails down towards the small of your back.

The feeling of his wide and strong body against yours makes your knees weak, and heat begins to build in your abdomen. Your arms rush to extend past his barrel-chest and over his shoulders to fold around his neck, matching the force Arthur is using to keep you close. Your arm curls up to cradle his head, fingers entwining in his hair, which feels like heaven to him. While your other arm moves to firmly wrap around his shoulders, your lips never part. Arthur notices how your knee bends slightly to scissor between his thighs.

The two of you stay like this for several heated moments, finally taking the time to feel one another, to experience what you have both been sorely longing for all this time.

The connection is massive and electric; it’s almost oppressive, making it hard for you to breathe. This feels different than it did previously. Before, it was a sweet longing, yet held back by the tethers of impropriety and notions of “never-to-be”. But now those ropes of restraint have been cast off, tossed to the wayside, allowing free-reign for you both to push the limits and boundaries. A herd of wild horses couldn’t pull the two of you apart right now. Arthur would sooner lose his hand than release his grasp of you. And you would rather be blinded than gaze at anything other than his handsome face at this moment.

When he pulls away again, you chase his lips with a pout, clearly not wanting the intimacy between you to stop. Arthur smiles down at you, gently moving a piece of your hair out of your eye with his fingertip.

“I’ll get a fire going. Why don’t you get the bedroll from my saddle and get comfortable, hmm?”

*I’ve seen this image posted in multiple places on Pintrest. I tried to track down the owner, but can’t locate him. If anyone knows @bushcraft_jack, let me know!

A/N: Sorry if this one does not have the spark that the previous 2 did. But, I think you all know what’s coming next. Stay tuned for Part 4.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x f!reader #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x reader fluff

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scarfacemarston · 7 months

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J and E for arthur please! and maybe this is cheating but could i have a bonus how he’d get back together too bc i can’t have angst without a happy ending 🥹

For have a second I thought you said Arthur cheating and I would have been like, nooo. This is a longer one because you gave me three prompts.These have also been added to the Charthur tag by request. Please let me know if there is another ship that should be added. Prompt here for everyone! J: Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they're jealous?) - Given that he has low confidence and how humble he is when it comes to love, I feel like it's more of a "Oh, of course she found someone, they are younger/more attractive/more well off/etc than me." However, that doesn't mean he doesn't feel it. He tends to be a bit more weary in camp or saloons. Camp because it's something he's picked up from others and it makes sense that people know that you two are in a relationship. At a saloon, he's thinking of potential "low lives". However, places like the nicer parts of St. Denis can trigger him as well because he feels like he can't give the reader what they deserve. He might say a self deprecating comment, or he may say a sarcastic comment to the person flirting and snake an arm around your waist. It depends on his mood. E - Ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?) I think it would only be if he was feeling insecure and thought they were better off with someone else. Maybe he sees reader having a good time with Sean, Sadie or Lenny and he feels as though he can't provide that for the reader, so it's best to let them go. Arthur is very tolerant so I don't see it as something that is small or a bad habit. He had a very complicated relationship with Mary and regardless of one's opinion of her, she did have a lot of power over him. I think with the reader, it would be the same and the reader would have to be careful not to take advantage of him. He's a people pleaser with more than just Dutch and Hosea and that would include the reader. I think if he started acting low honor-ish or at least engaging in more criminal behavior, he would think that you don't need to be dragged down by him. Then, the talks of "I'm too old. I have a lot of baggage. There are more honest men out there." etc. begins. Unless reader did something horrible, that's the only way I see Arthur ending it. To him, break ups are more likely a "him" problem, not a you problem. Bonus: Getting back together: I really don't see him actually pursuing that on his own. He'd have to get a lot of hints about it first from you. He's not "going to make a fool" of himself again. Hosea, Charles, Lenny or Abigail would have to talk sense into him or the reader would have to make it clear that they want him. It's not the gushy answer you may want, but meta wise, it's the realistic answer. I like to combine the two. It would be awkward at first, quiet conversations that are pretty surface level until he blurts something out about what he feels when the tension becomes too much, or if he says some unexpectedly funny comment. Once that first step is taken, he's still apprehensive, but gains his confidence back from there. Again, reader has to be VERY communicative and clear with him. From there, it would be going out on rides together, just the two of you, or exploring a new place he found. Maybe he'd take you hunting, or to town if you really wanted to. It would be slow, but if you/reader loved Arthur, it would be worth it.

#rdr 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x male reader #arthur morgan x gender neutral reader #van der linde gang #red dead redemption 2 #charles smith x arthur morgan #charthur

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charlessmiths-wife · 3 months

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I’ve realised that my accounts display is highly RDR2 centric, specifically Charles - yet I haven’t made any posts in any way pertaining to either of them! And they’re my greatest loves!

So without ANY FURTHER ADO I present a few of my nearest and dearest headcanons for the gang (most of them are probably incredibly basic… also so biased to my big three of Arthur/charles/sadie)

CW!!!!!! mentions of violence

Under the cut if you’re interested!

-> Arthur has a small barely noticeable scar on his neck, just below where his beard finishes. He tells everyone he simply got it one day when he accidentally nicked himself whilst shaving - only John and Hosea know the truth. He got it when a member of an enemy gang held a knife to his neck too hard once, threatening him. It didn’t go on long enough to cause any lasting damage. Suffice to say Hosea took care of things before it reached that point.

-> Throughout his whole life, Arthur struggled to differentiate the kinds of love he felt. He loved Mary and Eliza, I truly believe it was romantically, in Mary’s case and he was aware of this, though there’s less to go off of with Eliza - but in terms of his relationship with members of the gang, that’s slightly more difficult. He knows he loves John like a brother, Dutch and Hosea like a father, and Sadie like a sister. His love for Charles is… different to all those, very much so less familial. But he died before ever figuring out what it was.

-> Charles and Sadie visit his grave every year. John also does, but not with them, he prefers to go alone.

-> After Arthur dies, Abigail tries so hard to get John to open up. He never really does. The closest he gets to doing so is when he kills Micah.

-> Sadie never EVER forgets Jake, as much as I would love to be a sadigail truther (and I truly believe there’s certainly a lil fruit in Sadie’s punch if you get me) Sadie never finds the connection she had with him anywhere else.

-> I’ve already touched on Charthur, whilst I certainly think the possibility of feelings developing was right there, I don’t think it could ever have materialised within the time frame of RDR2

-> in some hypothetical and beautiful universe in which Arthur lived, it takes years for Arthur to realise his feelings - even more so to actually act on them.

-> that is, if he chose to act on them. Something tells me Arthur would stay silent, and opt to let Charles make the first move if he wished.

-> When Arthur got sick, Sadie actually silently believed he would get better. Somewhere deep down she knew that was likely impossible - but she wanted to believe it wouldn’t happen again, she wanted to believe someone she cared for wouldn’t be taken from her for another time. It was easier for her to believe than accept reality at times.

-> John also believed silently he would get better, the gang had always pulled through, no matter what - it was hard for him to comprehend Arthur might not be around anymore.

-> out of the three of them, Charles was the only one who I believe truly accepted Arthur’s fate before it happened.

-> I think Dutch did care for John and Arthur, and the whole gang at a point. But Dutch, in my opinion, has an innate desire (more than anything) to feel in control and protect himself and his leadership. A combination of the death of Hosea and the manipulation of Micah (as well as Dutch’s own personal desires and characteristics) are what I believe led to his care for the gang dissolving into care for only himself.

-> not rlly a headcannon, more of an opinion - but Javier gets too much hate. He chose to stand against John and Arthur, but in my opinion, this seems understandable if you look at it from his perspective? His loyalty lay with Dutch because Dutch, in his mind, SAVED him. He gave him family, support, food, and, well - life, for want of another word.

-> I firmly believe that, if Shaun was still alive, he would’ve done the exact same thing as Javi.

-> (coming from the most DIEHARD FAN so please recognise this is no hate) but sometimes I think Arthur gets well.. watered down too much as being presented as a good man who was living in unfortunate circumstances. And whilst I’d say this is largely true, at least on a good honour play through - I’d also say it’s largely true for many of the other members of the gang? Sadie, John, Abigail, Javier, Charles, Lenny… I’d say they’re just some of the examples of characters who would also fit such characterisation and deserve the same sympathy as Arthur

-> John was the BEST at playing cards back in camp, Arthur never knew how. It infuriated him.

-> “Goddamn bastard… fool at damn near everything else… but a goddamn wizard at poker…”

That’s all! Feel free to add any you have yourself in the comments :)

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #charles smith #sadie adler #john marston #abigail roberts #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #javier escuella #red dead redemption community #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #periodically I forget how much I love this game #k talks #also if yous want any more PLEASE FEEL FREE TO ASK #cus I’ve got #plenty more where that came from

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sickvictorianangel · 10 months

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✩ Cardigan ✩

Arthur Morgan x Gender Neutral Reader

Just a little drabble inspired by the song Cardigan (Taylor Swift). I had this idea about the reader (any gender you like), reminiscing about their relationship with Arthur, before the tuberculosis.

TW: All my stories are 18+, illness, dealing with loss, grief, typical game violence. Minors DNI!

My other fanfics ♡

Tag list: @margofiore

♡ Dividers by Saradika ♡

♡ Dividers (DNI) by CafeKitsune ♡

“Cause I knew you

Steppin' on the last train

Marked me like a bloodstain,

I knew you

Tried to change the ending

Peter losing Wendy…”

The sun was setting somewhere in the west, leaves were falling, the cold air was nipping at every bit of my exposed skin. There I was, seated on a cold bench, waiting for the next train to come. And all I could think about was You.

The year is 1907 and things are changing abruptly. The modern times you were so afraid of are finally here. People are turning more and more enslaved to their jobs and to a society that only cares about power and money. Same thing that destroyed the life I once knew, and the same thing that took you from me. I still think about you, I still miss you and I still love you, Arthur Morgan.

Every page of your journal is a memory coming to life. John gave it to me after you were gone. And talking about him, You did it, you gave them a safe life. John and Abigail are now finally married, Jack has a safe home and has a chance to become something better than what we once were. Uncle is tagging along (he is the same lazy old man, some things never change, apparently), Charles and Sadie joined them for some time too. Everyone else survived, Pearson owns a general store in Rhodes, Tilly is married and living a beautiful life in Saint Denis. Mary-Beth is a known writer, the Reverend is now in New York living an honest life, and Dutch… Well, we don’t know much about him, Karen,Javier and Bill. And Micah… Micah is gone. John couldn’t live peacefully if he knew Micah was still alive and well. I know you would be against us trying to avenge you, but we had to do it. For you, my love.

And me…? Oh dear, I am still stuck in 1899. The time when everything was easier, when you were here with me. Turning back some pages, I’ve found a drawing of my face, sleeping in the Blackwater hotel’s bed. I can feel everything so vividly, the smell of tobacco and whiskey still lingers on me. Your turquoise eyes staring at the depths of my soul, your warm touch on my skin. Your dry but soft lips, always kissing me with passion. Your lovely words ringing in my ears. Your laughter, your smile, the tears you tried to hide so many times. All I can think about is you. It has been years since you passed, but for me it still feels like yesterday. It is too soon for me to move on. And my love, I would never fully be over you.

You were everything I knew, since I was young, it was always you. I remember joining the gang when you and I were both in our 20s. You were heartbroken from all the pain life threw on you. For me, it was love at the first sight. You were so beautiful, kind and loyal. It always makes me smile when I remember you bringing me a cup of coffee every morning you were at camp. Always telling me about your adventures. The craziest stories someone could ever tell. I could always count on you to cheer me up, to hug my pain and sadness away. But my favorite memory about you is when we both confessed our love for each other… I still dream about this day. Your presence hunts me everywhere, Arthur. All the places you’ve been. All the things we did together. In every corner I can see you. In every person you helped, in all the places you bled… The place where I last saw you, the place you saw your last sunrise and the place your body was laid to rest. It is always gonna be about you. And now, as I wait for my train here in Valentine, I still can feel your presence lingering. It is like the whole town is stuck in the 1800s and nothing changed. What I am about to confess, my darling, will sound so silly. But, as I stare into the nothingness, I still hope to see you. Something inside of me still hopes this is all a bad nightmare and I will wake up and you will be by my side looking healthy, strong and full of life. Because that is how I chose to remember you.

My sweetheart, you drew stars around all my scars and now that you are not here, I was left bleeding. In a place full of people, I still feel lonely. I wish with all these new technologies, someone could build a machine able to bring you back to me. I wish there was a way for me to go back in time. To have everyone safe and happy together. Singing around the fire, drinking, dancing… To wake up with the sounds of everyone chatting. A new day starting, with you always by my side.But that will never happen, and I need to make peace with that. Now, I will just patiently wait for my time to come. So I can finally be with you, my love.

Because I know someday, when everything passes, You will come back to me.

#SoundCloud #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan fanfiction

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gxbbyhoneybadger · 1 year

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Richer than Gold

Pairing: !HH!Arthur Morgan x !F!Reader

Summary: Dutch has done it again, finding the jackpot for more money. He tells his gang about a rich man who spoils and loves his only child, hatching the perfect plan to kidnap the child for ransom. He sent his best men out to catch the victim, but what they got in return was something Arthur did not expect to meet, or better yet, fall for. But no one knew yet, just how dark the truth was behind the perfect dollhouse.

Warnings: adult language, guns, angst, tension, over-controlling parents, deception, abuse if you squint, forced arranged marriage, mutual pining, flirting.

This was just a drabble I thought of after I watched one of my favorite Pixar movies (Brave), I also added a twist to it, this was a winner at the polls!

The picture was edited by me.

Part 2, Part 3

Minors DNI 🔞 18 below the cut

Dutch had called everyone over, Tilly, Susan, Bill, Sean, Micah, Javier, Charles, John, Sadie, Mary-Beth, Molly, Lenny, Karen, Abigail, and the rest. Arthur approached after getting off his horse and listened to what Dutch was saying. "I've got a plan, this'll be our biggest and greatest heist there'll ever be!" Dutch said with a sly grin, "Just over in Saint Denis, a man named Richardson Jones, has just paid a visit to one of his many homes. And what's better than that! He has decided to bring along his greatest possession."

"Money?" Karen suggested. "Nope, his own youth." Dutch said. "A kid?" Bill chuckled. "Now, I know it sounds rather odd, but trust me when I tell you this. His child is his only weak spot, he'd do anything for his young'un to be happy! Spoiled to no end! We get our hands on his child and take it, he'll give us whatever we want! And trust me, Richardson is Richer than Gold itself." Dutch said.

"You want us to kidnap a child for ransom?" John questioned. "You won't even have to force the kid to follow, just use some damn candy." Micah snickered. John rolled his eyes as Jack wandered up to his mom's legs. "Arthur, John, Bill, Javier, Charles, Hosea, and I will leave to find Richardson's heir and bring it here for a day or two, afterwards, we get the money and book it to Tahiti!" Dutch said.

"But a child, Dutch?" Arthur finally said. "Yes, Arthur, a kid. It ain't going to be so terrible, we're not gonna hurt 'em." Hosea rubbed the back of his head as he listened, "It'll be a quick babysitting gig before we return the child, right, Dutch?" Charles questioned. "Yes, my boy." Dutch confirmed.

"He should be arriving pretty soon, we needa go and find out what our target'll look like. C'mon!" Micah yelled as he ran to his horse.

~~~

John, Arthur, Charles, and Javier, were set on catching the child as Dutch, Hosea, and Bill were gonna distract Richardson and his friends. "So he's the one richer than gold?" Javier asked as he looked through the binoculars at a handsome wealthy dressed man with a trimmed beard and silver eyes. The four men were hiding near the building which was close to the docks where the ship had been stationary for a while.

"Guess so." Charles said before looking himself. "You got candy, right?" John whispered to Arthur. "I got the damn candy, now I owe Jack." Arthur muttered. "Look! Look! Someone's coming out!" Javier warned the men. Richardson was speaking to a well dressed Dutch and Hosea.

"Gentleman, please meet my beautiful daughter, Y/n Jones L/n, she has her mother's last name." Richardson introduced as he raised his arm to point to a beautiful lady walking down the plank set on the dock. She had to be in her youthful years, beautiful jewelry, gorgeous dress, her hair done up in a stunning braid.

"Oh shit." Bill muttered, "I don't think he has a child, that has to be his wife."

"Hello, Gentlemen. It's an honor to meet my father's dearest companions." She smiled while bowing her head out of respect. Arthur held his face with on hand as he tried to contemplate a different way to get the girl. "Dammit, what are we gonna do now?" Javier asked. "Y'all keep an eye on her, I'll run to Dutch and Hosea, see what they think and I'll come back to you. Follow her." Bill said before running off.

John and Javier made their way towards an alley in the town while Arthur made his way closer to the docks to listen in on any conversation. "Oh. . . My." Hosea muttered when he and Dutch saw the young girl. "Mr. Matthews." Y/n smiled as she shook his hand, "Pleasure to meet you."

Arthur shook his head as he started to watch the girl, making sure she didn't take off. "Y/N!" A woman screamed as she ran towards her with excitement, holding her dress so she didn't fall and into Y/n's open embrace. "It's been so long!" The woman with red hair said.

"It has indeed, Kimberly! My goodness, look at you!" Y/n gasped as Kimberly spun around to show off her new purple dress. "It's beautiful, ain't it? Just got it yesterday from my daddy!", "Kimberly, my girl, you've grown up!" Richardson greeted as he hugged her. "I have, indeed, Mr!"

The two girls walked towards a small shop and sat down by a table, Arthur had quietly and discreetly made his way towards the corner and hid behind it to listen to the girls. "So! How old are ya, now?" Kimberly asked Y/n. "Can't you guess?", "Twenty-one!", "Nuh uh!", "Twenty-two?", "No.", "I don't know!"

Y/n let out a sigh and shook her head, "I'm twenty-four, Kim. It's only been five years since we last saw each other!" Y/n giggled, "It's strange to be here again, I forgot if it was nice here in Saint Denis?"

"Oh, absolutely! Except for the random robberies and such." Kimberly sighed. ". . . Robberies?" Y/n muttered with am inquisitive tone. Arthur rolled his eyes, already knowing what was going to come. The spoiled daddy's girl was about to complain and whine about the dirty old outlaws who take what they want.

"Where they really outlaws?!" Y/n gasped. Kimberly scoffed and crossed her arms, "I forgot you're a total freak when outlaws come up in a conversation. You don't even act like a lady!" Y/n laughed and pulled off her white gloves, "You know I hate wearing these dumb dresses, wearing this annoyin' heels, having my hair done in this tight and uncomfortable way! I despise it, Kimberly!" She whined.

That's a new one. Thought Arthur as he listened, Kimberly giggled and held Y/n's hands. "Thinking about sneakin' out tonight with me?" Kimberly asked. Y/n gasped and shook her head, "My daddy'll kill me!" Kimberly snickered and slapped Y/n's hand. "Ow-!", "Like you cared if he did. All you gotta do is cry and say that it was a mistake, then he'll just let you go as always. C'mon, I know you wanna. Maybe finally you'll find a man."

Y/n groaned and stood, "C'mon, my daddy already told me where our manor is. Let's go and have some fun before I roll my eyes outta my own skull." Arthur watched where they went and followed along. Soon, he and the two other men found Y/n at the large manor. This time she was wearing an entirely different attire.

She wore jeans with a button up red shirt, a cowgirl hat with some boots and a belt, her hair was down and hung beautifully down her back, and she was riding a large Shire Horse. All black with white cuffs around it's hooves and shins, it's mane was a beautiful raven color that shined off the sun. Y/n looked so small compared to the beast she was on top of. "Oh my goodness! Y/n's he's a big monster!" Kimberly gasped, still wearing her blue dress.

"He ain't no monster. He's big but really he's a big soft boy, ain't you Buckley!" Y/n cooed as she brushed Buckley's mane, his tail swished as he huffed out a thank you. "He likes it when you compliment him! Ugh! I've been waiting to get somewhere big and open for him to run in!" Y/n laughed.

"That a horse or a giant?" Javier asked with wide eyes. "My momma got 'em for me when I was just nine years old! Big boy here was still just a colt!" Y/n smiled as she clicked her tongue, Buckley's ears twitched before he started to walk forward slowly, each step he took, Y/n slightly bounced. "He's beautiful, ain't he?" She asked her friend. "A-Absolutely!", "Mother knows best! I've always wanted a horse and she got me the biggest one, daddy always said I'd never be able to handle one, but look at me now. She'd be proud. . ." Her smile faded as she held onto Buckley's reins.

"What's wrong, Y/n?" Kimberly asked. Y/n covered her eyes with one hand as she started to tear up. "Y/n!", "No, no. . . It's just my mother. . . I miss her. . . Ever since my uncle and my mother's death, daddy has been so different. . . He seems more cold to me, not in front of guests like you of course, but. . . With me, it's like he doesn't care. He sends me to all these classes, fencing, Spanish, French, Dutch, Italian and more but. . . He's never there for me, y'know. He doesn't like it when I take Buckley out, or even wear clothes like this. . . My mother always supported me, and so did Daddy, until she. . ." Y/n let out a stuttering sigh as she relaxed.

"Buckley and my bow are the only things my mother left me before she was taken away. . ." She whispered.

". . . Wait here." Kimberly said before running into the manor and coming out ten minutes later, dressed in a skirt and a shirt before jumping onto her own horse, a brown Thoroughbred with a black mane. "Kimberly!" Y/n said with a small smile. "I wanna see those talents put to work, here!" She said before tossing Y/n her signature bow and a quiver of arrows. She attached the quiver to her saddle and held onto her bow, "You really wanna see?" Y/n giggled while cleaning her tears.

"Course I do, I may be a Lady. But I always wanna see a good time." Kimberly smiled.

The girls laughed before their horses took off running down the large land of grass and towards the trees. "Keep an eye on them both." Javier warned the two before sneaking off to spy on any incoming guests. Arthur and John both found their horses and began to trail after the girls.

That was when the men saw the hidden talent that Y/n was hiding. Buckley ran and jumped over a fallen tree—Y/n had her bowstring pulled back before she released an arrow straight into an apple hanging from a tree. Buckley landed and kept running as Y/n reloaded another shot, she whistled and a flock of birds flew from the trees before she shot two with one arrow.

Buckley was quicker than the men's horses as he continued to pick up his speed. Kimberly was smiling at Y/n's joy as she leapt through the air with Buckley. Her hair flowed as she rode on through the woods, "Throw something!" Y/n shouted to Kimberly. Kim grabbed her old hat and threw it in the air, no longer than two seconds had passed before it was nailed straight into a tree by a sudden arrow.

"You're amazing at this Y/n!" Kimberly laughed. "Thank my momma!" Y/n smiled.

The men remained hidden til the girls rode him. They stayed hiding when a carriage came, carrying Richardson, another man and a woman, Dutch, Hosea, and even Bill who looked more cleaned up. "Gentlemen, let me bring you into our lovely home for a drink!" Y/n and Kimberly saw their parents exit the carriages.

"Oh no." Kimberly muttered before looking at Y/n, "Your dad doesn't like you wearing those clothes, don't he?" Kimberly whispered. ". . . No, no, he doesn't." Y/n hopped off Buckley and tapped his rear, "Go to the barn, boy. Put this back where you found it please, Kim?", "Okay. . ." She whispered.

She approached her father and looked at the men who finally saw her without the beautiful jewelry or the dazzling feminity she once carried in the morning. When Richard laid his eyes on his daughter, he practically gasped. "What do you think you're wearing?" He questioned her. "Daddy, don't get mad. It's just clothing-", "Excuse us, gentlemen, Antonio, please escort these men to the manor. Apparently, I must have a talk with my daughter about mannerisms and proper attire for a young lady." Richardson held her back before leading her to the side of the manor.

Arthur watched and listened nearby as Richard sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "What did I say to you the moment we got on that ship?" Richardson asked her. "Daddy, I-", "Don't you "daddy" me, young lady! You are not to be wearing such demeaning outfits such as this! You look like a street rat or worse, one of them outlaws! I send you to the best of schools, just like you need, I get you your own personal trainer in fencing, a degree, money, everything a woman would want!" He said.

"B-But daddy, I don't want-", "Enough!"

"I am not going to kid around with this. Get those clothes off and put on a proper dress. You look ridiculous. I shouldn't have let you keep that damn horse, he's the reason why you're acting up like this." He snarled to her, she grew tears as she looked down at the ground in shame. Arthur felt sorry for the girl, her fists were clenched as she steadied her breathing.

"I ain't a little girl no more, daddy." She whispered. "What?" Richard scoffed. "You can't control me and tell me what I want or need anymore." Richardson laughed and brushed his hair back. "You ain't gonna leave any time soon. I'm selling Buckley-"

"Daddy!"

"I don't want that damn horse around anymore. Your witch of a mother bought that thing in spite of me." He growled. "Buckley didn't do nothing to deserve this! Mother got him for me as a gift-!" Arthur's eyes grew big when Richard slapped her. His hand slowly snaking down towards his holster as he glared at the rich man

"I am your damn father. If I say I'm going to sell a damn horse, I'm selling it. I'll buy you a pony instead, now, you are going to walk up those steps, change out of your clothes and into a proper outfit. Mr. Jameson is coming over later with his son, Damon, who'll be your fiancee."

Y/n looked straight at her father with wide eyes while she held the side of her face from the pain. "Daddy-", "He has asked for your hand in marriage, and I had agreed. It's about time I find you a husband, we'll receive more money and land afterwards. Don't worry, Damon will treat you well."

Y/n shook her head as she started to back away from her father. "Get up those steps, right now. I'm right behind you." He growled, ". . . You know what." He grabbed her arm and started to pull her into the manor, she didn't fight back but obeyed his directions.

He made her go up the steps and had the maids help her get dressed. She wore a dark teal cotton dress, with white tights then a tight corset underneath it, her hair was braided back into a French braid. She was then sent downstairs, and stood by her father who was laughing with Dutch and Hosea.

"Yes, yes, exactly!" Hosea chuckled, "Your daughter looks lovely, you must adore her." Richardson laughed and covered his mouth. "She's too much to handle, that's why I'm going to marry her off." Hosea was taken by surprise as he looked to Dutch who arched his brow. Y/n simply looked away before breaking out into a run, getting away from the room.

"Y/n!" Richardson shouted.

"Y/n?" Kimberly said when she ran past her. Y/n didn't stop when she ran through the door and towards the barn, unlocking the stall, quickly slipping on the reins, snatching her quiver and bow, before jumping onto Buckley's wide body. She kicked her feet and he took off running. Richardson made it outside only for Buckley to brush past him with such speed—the wind knocked him backwards onto his back. "Y/n!!" He shouted.

Y/n didn't listen, she kept running. Tears falling from her face as she started to cry, holding onto Buckley's mane as he charged forward. Unwilling to stop or rest, even being a horse, he understood her emotions better than any person could. He was indeed a special gift from her mother. He ran and continued to go wherever he intended to go, and he knew just the place.

But what they didn't know was that Arthur was chasing them close behind.

~~~

When Dutch and Hosea ran out after Richard, Y/n had blown by them. Arthur came running with John and Dutch spoke: "Don't worry, Mr. Jones, I'll send my best men to go and fetch your daughter. Callaghan, go and get his daughter! Right now!"

Arthur tipped his head and called his horse before jumping on and chasing after the girl. One hand, after to catch her, and on the other, to comfort the poor thing. He listened to the heavy running from Buckley, he saw her soon enough as the horse zoomed through the trees and branches. For a giant beast, he sure was agile.

~~~

Buckley whined when he approached stone pillars that were placed around in a large circle, grass was everywhere as the forest provided a large open space. Y/n opened her eyes and wiped her tears to see clearly. When she did, she saw the tall stones. "Buckley. . . You. . . You remember this place?" She muttered, slowly she got off her horse, sliding off her shoes and letting her feet touch the bare grass—entering the large circle. Looking at the stones.

She sniffled and stood in the grass, beside one of the pillars, a heavy puff of air was blown into her hair as Buckley slowly and gently knelt down on his knees before slumping against the pillar and lying down. Y/n knew that position he always made, she knelt and sat down. Leaning her back against his hefty shoulders before he rested his large head in her lap. Letting her brush his mane.

Her tears fell as she kissed his head, "He doesn't want me to have you. . ." She whispered with closed eyes, "I want to love him, Buckley, I really do. . . But he just makes things so much more difficult. . . First, he takes away my dreams to become an archer. Then my goal to become a seamstress, now the only two things my mother left me."

Buckley huffed and nudged his face closer into her chest, she hugged his neck and rested her head on his. Before hearing a crunch from afar, she stood and pulled out her bow. Aiming the arrow straight as Arthur who raised his hands.

"Hey now, easy there." He said while slowly walking towards her. Buckley stood and protectively walked up besides Y/n as he watched the strange man approaching. "I'm just here to bring you back home." He said. Y/n shook her head as she pulled the bowstring even tighter, "I'm not going back. . . Not without my horse." She muttered.

"I understand. What if we went somewhere, jus' for a day or two. You and me?" Arthur asked. "Why would I trust a stranger like yourself? You're just gonna be paid off by my father to drag me back!" She accused him, he kept his hands up and reached up for his hat before it was shot clean off his head and pinned into one of the stone pillars.

Arthur looked at her with shock as she instantly grabbed another arrow, "Don't move." She warned him. He simply nodded his head. "Want me to tell you somethin'?" He questioned, "I heard you chattin' with your friend, Kimberly her name? Said you was interested in outlaws robbin' Saint Denis. Lemme show you somethin'." Quicker than a blink of an eye, Arthur shot Y/n's quiver off her hip and placed his gun back in his holster.

She gasped and almost tripped as she jumped to the side. Still holding her bow as arrows spilled on the grass, she looked back at him and growled. "You owe me for that!" She hissed. "You come with me, and I'll pay you back. Buy a whole new case for yer." He offered.

"How do I know that you won't drag me back?" She questioned. "Lady, I'm not the type to force a woman to do what she doesn't want to do, but I am one to listen. And you can trust me when I tell you, I ain't takin' you back to your daddy." Arthur said.

Y/n was hesitant, but she glanced at Buckley who let out a soft huff from his large nostrils. She eased the tension on her bowstring and lowered her weapon, removing the arrow from the string as she let it drop onto the fallen pile of arrows. ". . . You swear?" She asked. "I swear, ma'am."

Y/n rolled her shoulder before strapping her bow into her chest then grabbing the quiver which now had a broken strap. ". . . Where to?" She muttered. "I know a place. Just, take your time getting on that horse." Arthur backed away and let her have alone time with Buckley.

Out of sight for a moment, he walked towards the tree and spotted Javier and John walking towards him. He stopped them before telling them his plan, saying to tell Dutch where he was going to be. "Yer goin' to Horseshoe Overlook?" John muttered. "Hosea said it was a good place to lie low, I'll be there with the girl. Holding her there for 'bout a day or two before I come back-", "About that, Arthur. . ." Javier cut in, "Dutch said we might need to keep her for a week instead."

"What?" Arthur mumbled. "Dutch said that he and Hosea could possibly raise the price to whoever finds her, from money to solid gold bars!" Javier whispered. "Where'd you go, Mr?" Y/n asked. John and Javier both ran off quickly as Arthur turned around, "Just about to grab my horse." He said. Y/n arched her brow and looked at his horse.

". . . She's beautiful." She muttered, Buckley following right behind her. "Thank you." Arthur said as he walked to his ride, he grabbed his hat first before setting it on his head. "Ma'am." He added before jumping into the saddle. Y/n climbed onto Buckley bareback and looked at Arthur. "I never got your name." She said.

"Arthur Callaghan." He replied, "Now, Y/n, follow me."

~~~

"Little brat just ups and decides to run off!" Richardson cursed, Dutch approached him and held his shoulder. "Callaghan is an amazing hunter, although he ain't exactly cheap for his type of service. He expects payment from me, which I can only get from someone else paying me." Dutch sighed.

Richardson groaned as he looked back at Hosea, "How much are you asking for?" Dutch just smirked.

~~~

Y/n rode close beside Arthur, he gave her a small cloak for her to wear and cover her head just in case it started to rain. "May I ask why you ran off so suddenly?" Arthur questioned. ". . . My father was plannin' on marrying me off to some random man I've never met. Selling my horse, and who knows what else." She said, "I wanted an out. . . So I left. I didn't expect this to happen."

Arthur shook his head and looked at Buckley, "What's his name?", "Buckley. . . Sometimes I call him Buck for short." Y/n answered. Buckley bowed his head and kept walking, "I taught him that trick." Y/n smirked.

Arthur chuckled at the small gesture. "C'mon, we needa speed up and get there before dark."

~Y/n pov~

The breeze was gentle, and the crickets chirping from the distance was calming to hear. I set Buckley by a tree and let him eat the grass, I looked over my shoulder and saw Arthur Callaghan fixing up a tent. I don't know where he got it from, but it's something. I've never slept in a tent before, or a cot.

I'm used to a large king sized bed, multiple blankets. Now it was just a small cot, a blanket, and probably campfire, one side of me was excited that I was camping, but another was terrified that I left my home with a stranger and I'm also staying with him. "So what's your plan?" I said. "What plan?" Arthur replied.

"When my father sends his men after me? He's going to send the entire town to find me.", "Trust me, ma'am, I don't plan on bein' caught." His southern drawl sounded rough but also sexy at the same time. I turned away from Buckley and slowly stepped closer as he tied something up, "You've done this before, I see?"

"Plenty of times, ma'am. Sometimes I travel with a group." He said. "Is it always this quiet?" I asked. "Rarely if I'm with a group." I sat on a log and sighed when my dress snagged on a twig, "Dammit." I scowled as I tugged it off. "You alright, there, Ma'am?"

"I'm okay, it's just, excuse my language but, it's my damn dress. It gets stuck on everything!" I sighed. I was looking at the sky when I heard Arthur approaching me, I turned my head and finally saw just how handsome he looked up close. "Do ya wanna buy somethin' else to wear?" He asked me. "I. . . Um, if you don't mind. I don't really care." I stuttered before looking away.

Were men's eyes always that blue? They look like pools of the ocean! "I can stop by a shop." He knelt down and started to stack a few sticks together for a fire later tonight, "I just needa know yer size and I'll be back, y'know, so people won't catch you sneakin' around." I just nodded my head while clenching my dress, I felt something tingling in my stomach but I didn't know what it was.

"Y-Yes, that'll be wonderful, Mr. Callaghan." I muttered, "I'd very much appreciate it." He set a small fire and wrote down my size for shirts and pants. "Thank you, really, Mr. Callaghan."

"No problem, ma'am. All you need to do is stay here. I'll be back." He said, he left soon after and I looked back at Buckley. "You like it here buddy?" I asked him. He flapped his ears and continued to graze the grass as he slowly found his way towards me.

The sun was close to setting, I could see the darkness coming as the crickets started to grow louder. It was beautiful outside, I stood and walked towards the cot and saw the lamps inside the tent. He has done this many times.

It was odd being outside after dark like this. I was used to a curfew; I reached up and undid my hair and let it down, undoing the braids completely as I sighed with relief. The tension was undone. I believe thirty minutes or so had passed before Arthur came back, I looked and saw that he carried a few boxes and set them on a table he left behind. "I don't have much of a fashion sense but. . ." I approached the boxes and lifted the tops off each one, seeing a different outfit in each of them.

Red flannel with jeans, another set with a blue shirt and a beautiful belt, another with a black shirt and two different hats, each one had a spare white shirt to wear underneath, different set of undergarments. "I didn't know which one you'd like, so I bought the best three they had-", "Thank you so much, Mr. Callaghan!" I smiled while hugging him. Never has a man or even a boy bought me clothing that I always wanted to wear and feel comfortable in. "You don't needa thank me, ma'am. Oh, and here. . . Thought you might needa few pairs." He grabbed one more box and placed it in my hands.

When I opened it, I felt my eyes shimmer with joy as I overlooked a beautiful pair of boots. ". . . Arthur. . ." I mumbled as I let my finger trace over the delicate pattern of golden roses that blended beautifully with the rich tan and black color. "I sorta measured your shoe size when I was fixin' the fire." My smile was bigger than ever before when I grabbed the clothing. "Thank you!" I said again before running into the tent with two boxes.

~3rd pov~

Arthur didn't know how to react when she hugged him, or even thanked him for simply buying a few outfits. Never had he had a woman almost tear up over some clothes, even though he had Sadie and Tilly help him with the clothing choices at the shop. He brushed his hair and slipped his hat back on, he kept thinking how he was going to keep a woman inside a camp for an entire week without scaring her off.

He tended to the fire and walked to his horse which carried two hares that he had hunted down on his way back. "You won't last long." He muttered. "Mr. Callaghan?" Y/n said. "Yes?", "Can you help me with something?"

Arthur approached the tent and stood by the flaps, "Anything, ma'am." He replied. Y/n exited the tent and was only wearing her corset with her undergarments covering her legs. "Do you mind undoing this corset for me? I can't reach it, those maids tied it up in a way I couldn't undo it without someone's help." She awkwardly said.

"Oh. . . Of course, here. Turn around." He said, when she did, he felt a small smile tug at the corner of his lips. Her bashful face and her sweet voice made him smile. He pulled the strings loose and undid the different knots and ties before it came undone. "There you go.", "Thank you." She said before entering the tent once more.

"Was your daddy always this. . . Demanding?" Arthur asked her. "Uhm, no actually. When I was nine he wasn't like this at all. He liked it when I wore jeans and boots, supported me about my talents with my bow, but. . . Then his twin brother, or my uncle, and my mother were killed. That's when he changed. Ever since, he's never wanted me to shoot another arrow, dress the same, or even ride Buckley anymore." Y/n answered.

"Wait, how do you know that he was demanding? I never told you all of that." Arthur chuckled and let his thumbs hook onto his belt, "I sorta overheard your conversation by the side of your mansion, I heard him hit you. I was tempted to shoot him right there and then." He confessed.

Y/n was silent, Arthur thought he made her uncomfortable but inside of the tent. She was grinning as she slid the belt into the loops of her jeans. "Well, I appreciate the thought, Mr. Callaghan. Your wife must be lucky to have found such a good man like yourself." She complimented him.

"Nah, I ain't married. I was, but it didn't work out." He said. "Oh, I'm sorry.", "It's alright."

Y/n slid on her boots and sighed when she stretched her arms, she opened the flaps of the tent and walked out. "What do you think?" She asked. Arthur could feel his heart leap out of his chest when he saw her dressed. The jeans brought out her hips, the shirt fitted around her waist and chest so well. The hat on her head and her boots tied it all together along with two regular braids hanging off both her shoulders as she leaned on her leg and crossed her arms.

"Beautiful. . ."

"What was that?" Y/n smiled as she looked at Arthur's dumbfounded expression. "I. . . You look good." He said. Bringing a brighter smile to her lips as she spun around in her new attire, "This feels amazing! It's all brand new! I love these boots, the hat, everything!" She said.

"What do you think we can do tomorrow?" She asked him while looking at the sky. "Whatever you wanna do." He answered. Y/n giggled and took in a deep breath, "I think I like it here." She sighed, "Let's go hunting tomorrow! We can find a deer—oh! Or a bear!"

"A bear?" Arthur said. "I've always wanted to hunt a bear. Especially Mor'du." She muttered. "Who the hell is Mor'du?" Arthur questioned. "You never heard the legend of Mor'du?"

Arthur shook his head and Y/n grinned, "I'll tell you if you take me hunting." She said. Arthur hung his head and sighed, "Sure, we can go hunting tomorrow." He replied

"Yes!" She smiled before hugging him again, "This is going to be the best few days of my life!"

_____________________________________

Part 2 coming soon!

#smutwarning #fanfic #arthur morgan #read dead redemption 2 #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader

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azures-bazar · 1 year

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Caribbean Blue

Yes this is 100% inspired by Enya's song.

I did not really like Chapter 5, but Guarma is seriously amazing. I love doing screenshots and short vids there, so here is another gif I made for the occasion ! (you'll see another one later on). Sean and Lenny having fun in the background is canon.)

Arthur Morgan x GenderNeutral!reader

Word count : 2.3k

Short summary : In order to escape from the Pinkertons, Dutch decided to move states, making you travel to Southern Florida, on Islamorada.

A/note : Let’s just say this takes place in an AU where the gang randomly heads to Florida in mid Chapter 3 !

Tags : fluff, cute, Arthur Morgan is happy, beautiful waves, beaches, warmth, Chapter 3 inspired, you love swimming, real location, Islamorada

Your journey through Lemoyne had not been that endless, this was what you thought. Dutch had plans on moving further east, somewhere close to the Caribbean sea. The further they would go, the better. Even Hosea agreed with this decision, they would not be found this far. This "trip" from Lemoyne to Florida had lasted for more than a month, but it was worth it. You had loved every minute of it, gazing at landscapes from your horse or from the trailer, tightly wrapped in a blanket Arthur had offered you back in Blackwater. You loved the smooth transition from the bayous to the subtropical forests of Alabama, everything felt magical.

The gang did not head to Southern Florida by the shores. You could feel Florida’s warm weather each time you would let your head pass between the trailer's flaps. The girls were excited to see the beach, so were you. You had never seen the sea before, only on pictures and paintings. It made you daydream about the colour of water, about the creatures inhabiting the greatest seas around the world. You would ask Arthur about what the sea looked like, and he would keep smiling at your excitement.

"It’s just some water." he often said. "But it moves faster."

Years ago, Hosea and Dutch had brought Arthur to the Pacific Ocean to show him how beautiful it was. Arthur could easily remember how excited he was, and how he had decided to run in the water after taking his boots off, dragging a fifteen year-old John in the process. Poor boy nearly drowned while Arthur was having the best time of his life, jumping between waves with the brightest laugh both Hosea and Dutch could remember. He was excited to see your reaction when you would finally gaze at the sea !

The gang settled near a few smalls towns, robbing banks before moving further south. At some point, upon reaching the southern part of Florida by night, Dutch robbed a ferryboat to allow you to leave the continent. By the time you climbed on the boat, you were asleep, unfortunately. Arthur carried you against him, wrapped in a blanket, while Hosea did the same to Miss Tilly. Poor girl was as excited as you were, the two of you had fallen asleep long before sunset, unable to keep up after spending endless days gazing at the landscape.

Arthur did not let go of you for the entire duration of the trip through the waves of the Caribbean sea, he even fell asleep at the some point, holding you against him on a sailor’s bed. You did not have much time to watch him asleep as lights were turned off in the cabin the two of you occupied along with with Tilly, Sadie, Mary-Beth, Charles, Javier and Lenny. The only thing you could remember from this trip was to wake up to Javier snoring beneath your bed and Charles grumbling about the overall noise of the boat. This short moment which did not last long since you quickly drifted back to sleep, nuzzling against Arthur.

"Y/N, wake up."

"Hmmm..." you grumbled

"Come on, sweetheart. We’re here."

Arthur was gently shaking you, helping you out of bed. Your deep sleep did not allow you to feel that the boat had landed on a makeshift port of an island called Islamorada, where a few people already lived. You stretched a little, still drowsy as Arthur gently held your hand through the boat’s corridors, leading you out of the boat. You were blinded by this large sunlight, barely able to understand what was going on, but you could notice that the gang had settled its camp somewhere between a set of palm trees.

"Still sleepy, huh ?" Lenny asked you, passing by. "You had some good sleep down there ! "

"Where are we ?" you asked

"Islamorada, child !" Dutch shouted from the dock. "Now, some help is really needed to keep moving our stuff !"

You rubbed your eyes one more time, getting a clearer view of the surroundings. The location where the boat had berthed was fairly magical, you could not deny it. From an endless beach to these palm trees bordering it, and this clear blue water ! You let go of Arthur’s hand, moving closer to the boat’s guard-rail on which you leaned. You were like a child discovering something new ! You smiled, your eyes were wide-open as you could not help but admire this beautiful scenery. Just like on the pictures and on paintings, if not even better !

"It’s amazing !" you said

"Sure." Arthur responded

Arthur could not take his eyes off you. He was absolutely delighted by your facial expression, continuously smiling. He had never seen you this much thrilled to see something new ! Your happiness was heartwarming enough to cause his heartrate to increase. He bent a little over you and gently kissed your temple. Arthur could easily feel your excitement, especially as soon as you noticed Tilly and Mary-Beth playing in the waves, only wearing their undergartments. However, you had to help the others to set this new camp on place, which turned out to be very hard. You could not look away from this endless sea which was ahead of you.

It took a few hours to move everything from the boat to the island. But, as soon as your tasks were finished, you quickly took a few of your clothes off and ran to the sea. You were quite surprised that the water was somewhat colder than the one of Flat Iron Lake, but you barely cared. You quickly buried your feet into the sand before letting yourself fall forward when a wave was about to take you. You laughed as you got your head out of water, watching fishes making their way around your legs, nearly screaming as you spotted a crab walk past your feet. It was magical ! All these tropical species moving by you, you had never seen any of them ! You kept swimming just above these fishes, still remaining close to the shore. You did not want to be taken away by these huge waves !

"Hey, has anyone seen Y/N ?" Arthur was asking to gang members

Arthur was gradually getting worried, unable to find you anywhere. He had been looking for you for more than a hour. Tilly and Mary-Beth were already back to camp and were doing their chores under Ms. Grimshaw’s sight, Kieran told him he had last seen you by the beach. Arthur walked past Jack, playing with a stick in the sand until spotting you playing in the waves.

"Y/N !" he called you

"Oh, Arth…- !"

You had no much time to answer his call, large wave hit the back of your head and washed you ashore. Arthur quickly ran in the water to drag you out of it, you kept coughing. Swallowing this salty water felt terrible and was certainly disgusting ! Arthur lifted you above his shoulder to walk a few feet away from the waves, putting you down as soon as he acknowledged that you were no longer coughing.

"Easy there." he chuckled. "You ain’t used to it."

"I’m gonna go back !" you said, making your way back to the sea

"No, Y/N. It’s kinda dangerous, I’ll go with you."

You rose an eyebrow as Arthur took his suspenders off and unbuttoned his shirt, throwing it on the sand. You were surprised he would go with you, but his overall fear of loosing was certainly leading him to behave this way. You did not mind his overprotective side at times, still doing your best to show him how bold and brave you were. You were an excellent pocket thief and a skilled gunslinger, but the love Arthur vowed you often led him to be mortified whenever you would be sent en robberies alone. Arthur loved you so much that any scratch would cause him to panic, still displaying a rather sarcastic side whenever he found it was mostly a minor injury.

Arthur grabbed your hand and walked into the water, plunging in one of the waves while you looked around, appreciating the view for a minute or two until he jumped out of water to scare you, clapping his hands on the water to splash you.

"Imma sea monster !" he roared

You nearly fell back as Arthur was mercilessly laughing before disappearing underwater for a second time, causing you to look around. Just like Sean and Lenny, Arthur had enjoyed having fun in Flat Iron Lake with you, he did not mind putting his seriousness aside to have a bit of "fun".

"Arthur !" you chuckled

You self something between your legs, Arthur had placed them on his shoulders and rose from underwater. You screamed as you could feel how tall you were over there, gazing around while spreading your arms wide to keep a minimum balance. You could see that Sean and Lenny were on their way to join you in your childish games, MacGuire was the one who loved that the most ! Causing mischief was great, but playing harmless games in the water was much better ! That view was quite enjoyable, you adored it, at least for the short seconds you spent on Arthur’s shoulders before he started a very sudden countdown.

"Three !" he shouted

"What ?"

"Two !"

"Arthur, wait !"

"One !"

You screamed again, laughing as Arthur fell backwards with you on his shoulders as soon as he shouted zero. You got carried by a wave, unfortunately swallowing that salty water again, causing you to jump out and cough before moving to Arthur, mercilessly splashing him. You wanted to take your revenge, but could not face him and his strength without someone else’s help. Thankfully enough, Sean and Lenny quickly came to your rescue ! Each one of them grabbed one of Arthur’s legs, causing him to fall backwards after screaming a little.

"Excellent catch, Mr. Summers !" Sean laughed

"Thank you, Mr. MacGuire !" Lenny responded

Arthur rose from the water again, quickly grabbing Sean by the waist and lifting him up before throwing him a little forward, laughing so much that he would nearly suffocate. He did the same for Lenny, still acting in a rather gentle way, throwing him near Sean. Listening to Arthur’s laugh made your heart melt. His wet hair and short beard did not make things easier ! How handsome he was when he was laughing… smiles suited him more than his usual grumpy face ! His eyes sparkled like stars when he turned his head back to you, causing you to nearly collapse. You could not resist to his charms, to his smile, to his eyes. You could not.

"Ain't ya a beautiful thing, Y/N." he smiled

"So are you." you answered

You had enough time to kiss Arthur before Sean jumped out of water and wrapped his arms around his shoulders and his legs around his hips, making him fall backwards. There was nothing so genuine than adults having fun in the water, cowboys bathing in the Caribbean Blue. The girls joined you later on, despite Ms. Grimshaw’s complaints about their careless behaviour. But all of you enjoyed something as simple as playing between these large waves. It was so much better than robbing banks, for some reason ! All of you felt safe where you were, no Pinkertons would ever come and find you on Islamorada !

You spent a few hours in the water before finally deciding it was time to go back to camp. This sudden childish attitude of yours had triggered an intense fatigue in all of you, but Arthur was the one who was the most affected by it. Earlier in the afternoon, you had enjoyed having Arthur embracing you, his head nuzzled in the crook of your neck while playing on the sand. That night, nothing was much different. Arthur was in the exact same position, resting above you like a blanket, his head placed on your shoulder, one of his hands holding the collar of your opened shirt. He loved being close to you, this close, resting into your embrace. You were reading a book to him, a book about the legends of the sea. And Arthur was so exhausted that he had been continuously drifting into sleep while listening to your soft and calming voice. The sound of the nearby waves did not help him stay awake either.

"You can be so terrifying and sweet at times, Morgan…" you whispered, kissing the top of his head

"Mmmmh…"

Arthur grumbled a little, making you chuckle. You kept caressing his back with the tip of your fingers, enjoying this moment more than anything in the world. The waves were great, this landscape was amazing. But having your dearest man on Earth nuzzled against you felt like a treasure you were ready to cherish. He whined whenever you stopped rubbing his back and moaned of pleasure when you would proceed massaging his scalp. He adored your reassuring presence, just like he dared protecting you. You were each other’s treasures.

You kept reading until your eyes started closing themselves, causing you to place your book aside. You could hear Javier sing by the fire with Uncle playing some harmonica, while Micah was most certainly minding his own business by the sea. Hosea passed by your tent, you heard his steps and his chuckle.

"Well, these two are asleep too !" he told Dutch. "Seems like everyone is exhausted around here !"

"Playing in the sea like kids didn't help much, Hosea." Dutch responded with a soft voice. "They’ll be be feeling better tomorrow."

"I hope, we need food here. This ain't a vacation."

Indeed, you needed food, and this was no vacation to anyone. However, nobody could deny how great this situation was, and how much everyone seemed to enjoy it. Even Hosea had walked by the beach, kicking the water a few times with a large smile. This place would be good for a while, that’s for sure. Everyone was safe, including Arthur, resting into your embrace. Everyone would be safe. At least, this is what you hoped.

"Things will get better, things will be good. We're safe."

#arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #azurestales #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fanfiction #cowboys being cute #fluff #arthur morgan fanfiction #beach #boys at the beach #my gifs

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river-of-wine · 8 months

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I think the strangest thing to me about the prevalence of second rat theories and how often they are discussed, especially in regards to Abigail, as canon is that like. From a writing perspective, why would the game do that? Why would it just never follow up on the supposed other traitor, especially given how big a show is made about Micah?

If it’s Molly, why even have characters doubt her in the first place? Why have characters like Mary-Beth, Arthur and of course Karen, who severs her relationship with Grimshaw and falls worse into her already frightening addiction as a result of Molly’s fate, ever doubt Molly to begin with? Why, in the same cutscene that Micah’s guilt is revealed, have Molly’s innocence be so clearly stated by somebody with no reason to lie? Milton has Arthur at gunpoint, and he’s not under the impression that any of the three people in the room with him will ever be leaving to tell the gang what he’s saying. Why just lie that Molly was innocent if she really wasn’t? Why not just let Arthur continue to believe she’s guilty? It doesn’t change anything if he thinks it was Molly and Micah, he’s going to kill him anyway. I’ve seen people say that Milton “lied” about Molly’s innocence in order to cause more conflict in the gang, but wouldn’t it be better to accuse two people of being traitors? He doesn’t know what happened to Molly, for all he knows she’s still in the gang and, given that we’re pretending she did rat on them in this scenario, they are none the wiser. Again though, that’s clearly not what he’s doing. He has no intentions of letting anybody in this room, Arthur, Sadie and Abigail, go free.

If it’s Abigail, who is certainly the more frequent target, why go through the entire epilogue in which she is a very central character with not even a hint towards her having ratted on the gang? The big finale of the epilogue in American Venom, the topic of Micah being frequently brought up by John and Sadie since Sadie’s first appearance. We know he’s a traitor, there are plenty of instances to at least imply that she was one too if she really was. If Abigail knew John would just be arrested rather than killed, as I’ve seen some people say was her condition with the Pinkerton for giving up her information, why establish her immense distress when John is actually arrested? I’m not going to bother debunking the whole Abigail rat theory because it’s pointless and has been done before, but to touch on the topic of her and Hosea, if her arc really was going to end with her tossing him to the law to save herself, why establish Hosea to be such an important person to her? The man who has helped care for her and her son, who is teaching her son to read, who openly wants a better future for them. Yes, Abigail wants the best for her family, but it is never exactly suggested that she would do this at the expense of the lives of those she cares about.

But most importantly, why never actually reveal the “second rat” if there was one? Why have the final twist of the game be hugely focused on Molly’s innocence? Why have anyone doubt her if she really is so guilty? Why have the narrative be on Abigail’s side so strongly and so frequently? Why never even once show signs, direct and substantial signs, that one of these two women were actually guilty the whole time? The idea of there being a traitor within the gang is a big deal from even before the bank robbery, with Dutch’s seemingly out of nowhere accusation of Arthur betraying him in chapter 2 and Arthur discussing the death of a traitor we never learn about when Tilly is discussing Grimshaw. This is not just something that, if it were the case, the game would just gloss over and leave.

Theories are fine, I suppose. As much as I dislike them, you can have your own opinions, though in this instance canon is hugely against you. What is frustrating is how this notion tends to spread into any discussion about Abigail and Molly as characters. Alongside the general misogyny these two tend to face, conversations about these two almost always get derailed by people treating their theories as canon, when they aren’t. Canonically, Molly was sweated multiple times and said nothing despite her admittedly very clear motive for doing so. Canonically, Abigail is never suggested to have any kind of guilt. Again, theories are fine, but remember that they’re just that. Theories. Talk about them amongst yourselves if you must, because it’s tiring having to reexplain the same points over and over when trying to discuss these two.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #molly o'shea #abigail marston

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brujahinaskirt · 2 years

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essay time! rdr2 spoilers under the cut

in order to understand why rdr2's unconventional storyline works as tragedy, we must first deeply understand that arthur morgan wanted to live. arthur didn't want poetic justice punishment wrested upon him. arthur didn't want to rest. arthur didn't want to die.

this seems like a small detail brought up just to drive in the sadness knife, but I have a point here about realism in tragedy, and how rdr2 carefully incorporates the messy randomness of life into satisfying fiction, something that is rarely done well.

look: no matter how realistic and often downright pessimistic he was about the likely fate of outlaws, and as much as he truly believed he did not deserve happiness, it's vital the audience understands that arthur fucking wanted to be happy. he did not eagerly embrace his death, romanticize it, or go quietly to his demise. arthur had hopes and wishes for his future, attainable ones! more than; he had plans for his life after the van der Linde gang, goddammit. and though he often writes/says that he knows he cannot escape the haunting memories of his past evildoing, and that he believes seeking forgiveness is a selfish exercise, his ultimate plan for himself was not to live in perpetual remorse and performative christian self-flagellation, to hell with what he deserved.

and then all of that is upended. death was not a satisfying final relief to him or a welcome release from a cruel world; it was the world's cruelest act of violence against him, the interruption of his hopes to one day become a better man living a better life. his diagnosis terrified and devastated him. he wanted to be there to help john and abigail build their family. he wanted to see jack grow up. he wanted to go to mary as he promised her he would. he wanted to see charles finally find a sense of place with the wapiti, a life that a truly good man like charles deserved. he wanted to help the girls save karen from her alcoholism. he wanted to see sadie start to rebuild a new life for herself.

in the end, arthur is able to face his fate with clear eyes, but he did not do so with ease and gratitude and peace. he did not get his slow denouement to heal and enjoy the time to naturally transform in disposition and nature into a "good man." he died with fear and sadness in his heart, for himself as well as others, and (if high-honor arthur) he died with contentment that he used his last days to make sure john's family had real hopes for their own happier future.

Sure, yes, definitely, this is a caring and brave choice to make. But arthur didn't choose to die -- he chose how to die -- and that's part of why I insist that arthur's "sacrifice" wasn't so much an act of great symbolism-loaded lofty-themed literary sacrifice as it was a simpler act of personal love. the world was cruel to arthur, and he was often cruel right back, until he made a deliberate choice to be kind -- at a moment where, to him, the world was at its very cruelest.

that distinction is to me what makes rdr2 an interesting tragedy rather than a maudlin exercise in grimdarkiness. arthur didn't, in fact, throw himself into the gears with the deliberate intention to seek redemption in death; redemption in death was forced upon him. he did not lay down his life for the sake of a self-congratulatory nobility in his martyrdom; he did not go gently, like a symbolic character does, selecting the poetic fate his narrative deserved.

and that's all bullshit anyway! life does not give a shit about what you deserve. and so it is in this story. Arthur Morgan was a deeply flawed man who did the best he could with the tragedy that his circumstances, his past choices, and the harsh randomness of the universe forced upon him. that's what life inevitably asks people, all of us, to do.

tl;dr: arthur's death was not a sacrifice and it was not his redemption. it was just his ending, as all our deaths will one day be. his redemption, his finally becoming a mythical "good man" (in his words), his (in sister calderón's words) "loving act" was not about his feelings or the intangible nature of his heart. arthur's redemption was the rushed but painfully earnest work he did to make the world into a fairer, kinder, less cruel place in whatever small ways he could before he went.

#arthur morgan #rdr2 spoilers #red dead redemption #redmeta

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sweetjuniperandboiledsatan · 8 months

Text

Chapter 28 – Survival Lessons from Mrs Sadie Adler

Full story here: Not a Doctor, Not an Angel Either Rating: M Pairing: John Marston x F!Reader; Javier Escuella x F!Reader Word count: 37,422 Chapters: 28/41 Warnings: Sexual content, mention of alcohol and cigarettes

Sadie was a much better teacher than Javier. That’s for sure.

In the few afternoons you’ve spent with her, you began to think that perhaps Javier, in his previous attempts to educate you, may have leaned towards coddling you instead of actually teaching you. In contrast with Sadie’s no-nonsense, methodical approach, you realised she might be the only one who could truly teach you how to shoot properly. She'd hand you a loaded revolver and, with a fierce glint in her eye, say, “You ain't gonna learn by just lookin' at it, darlin'. Now, hold it steady.”

Her lessons took place a good distance from Shady Belle. Somehow, she had an inkling that your self-consciousness in the presence of others would only get in the way of your progress. She made an astute observation, noting that whenever Arthur tagged along, you'd perform worse compared to when it was just the two of you.

With Sadie’s help, you began to understand the weight of the Colt in your hand, the heft of the rifle in your arms. She taught you the importance of stance, how to plant your feet firmly on the ground, and how to align your body to the target. Every detail counted, and every muscle mattered. Her instructions were sharp and to the point, much like her aim, and you wondered how the fuck did she learn all these.

She'd stand beside you, her own firearm drawn, and fire a round into a nearby tree trunk, the sharp crack of the gunshot ringing in your ears. "That's how it's done," she'd confidently proclaim, a wry smile playing on her lips. "Now, your turn."

With trembling hands, you'd raise your revolver and squeeze the trigger. In your first few tries, the recoil was jarring, and your shots went wide. But Sadie was relentless, shouting both curses and words of encouragement at you, and on many occasions, you have tested her patience. Nevertheless, slowly but surely, your accuracy did improve, something you never even thought possible.

She’d take you into the woods where you learned to shoot from different positions – standing, crouching, even lying prone in the dirt, the gunshots reverberating through the rustling leaves and the distant calls of birds. Sadie made sure you were prepared for any situation.

During one of your excursions, you finally had a breakthrough. With steady hands and newfound confidence, you aimed your rifle and pulled the trigger, taking down an unsuspecting deer with a single shot - a clean kill. You could feel the rush of adrenaline within you. Hitting a row of cans and bottles was already pretty satisfying, but this one was entirely different.

You turned to Sadie like an eager pupil waiting for her teacher’s praise and approval. But you were only met with a stern expression on her face. While that did hurt your ego a bit, deep down, you knew it wasn’t disappointment. No, it wasn’t that. It was something else. Your eyes met hers, and both of you understood. In the grand scheme of things, should the two of you ever cross paths with Colm O'Driscoll again, this was just the beginning – a small victory in a much larger battle.

The sound of slow, rhythmic clapping interrupted your moment with Sadie. Startled, you turned to see Arthur approaching. A proud grin painted across his face as he clapped his hands together.

"Well, well, look at you." He exclaimed as he gave you a friendly pat on the back. His gesture was meant to be gentle, but he gave it more force than he may have intended, causing you to sway forward slightly.

"Seems like Sadie's been doin' a fine job teachin' ya." Arthur remarked before adding, "It's getting dark. You should head back."

You glanced back at Sadie, mouthing the words 'thank you,' and her stern expression softened into a subtle smile.

As you prepared to take your leave, Arthur interjected once more by saying, "Sadie, you go on ahead. I reckon I'll stay and help our friend here skin that deer."

He looked at you with a wink. "We can give it to Pearson. He's been complainin' about the lack of meat."

"Suit yourself." Sadie nodded and made her way back to the camp.

Arthur swiftly reached for his dagger and handed it to you. He stepped closer, his voice calm and steady as he began instructing you on the process of skinning the animal. With a finger, he pointed out the precise location for your first incision, his tone patient and reassuring.

"Now, darlin', start here," he directed, guiding your hand with his own. "Gotta make sure you're followin' the natural line of the hide. Nice and easy, just like that."

The next several minutes were messy as you made the necessary incisions, but as you struggled, Arthur eventually stepped in. You watched, feeling a mix of awe and disgust, as he expertly removed the hide, revealing the warm, crimson flesh beneath. You had seen your father do it a couple of times on his patients but had never truly gotten used to such sights.

"So, uh, is everything okay between you and, uh, Marston?" he broached the topic cautiously, his hands moving through the bloody mess in front of him.

"I beg your pardon?"

"It's just that he's been asking me a lot about you. Does he know what you’ve been up to here lately?" He inquired, gesturing in the air with his dagger as he continued working on that deer.

"Uh. Sure. I think I've mentioned it to him." You shrugged your shoulders.

"Sure." Arthur glanced at you, hoisting the poor animal onto his horse. “I think John's just worried about you, is all.”

When he didn’t hear a response from you, he prodded further, “I think it's good he's spending some time with that kid."

"Yeah. I think so, too." You replied through gritted teeth. You found Arthur's probing or concern (whatever he meant) somewhat grating as you struggled to hide your annoyance.

"Sorry, Ma'am. I didn't mean to pry."

"It's alright."

The crickets chirped in chorus as dusk settled around you. With your spoils from the afternoon in tow, you rode by Arthur’s side in silence, hoping he’d put the matter concerning you and John to rest.

"Listen, [Y/N]," he paused abruptly. His fingers lightly touched your arm, imploring you to listen to what he had to say. He hesitated for a moment before continuing, "I just... I think you should consider endin' things with John."

You clenched your jaw, your grip on the reins tightening. "Why are you telling me this, Arthur?"

He let out a weary sigh and fixed his eyes firmly on yours. "Look. John's got a kid now – a family he's gotta take care of. It ain't fair for you to be dragged into his mess."

"And don't you think I know that already, Mr. Morgan?" you finally snapped, "I'm reminded of the fact every single day!" How that exactly came out of your mouth stunned both Arthur and yourself.

You watched John spend more and more time with Jack – and you knew all too well wherever Jack was, Abigail was always there. Your loneliness and jealousy had been silently festering, and you’ve reached your breaking point, a tempest raging within. The evenings you used to share with John felt empty, much like the space in the bed he used to occupy beside you. He had assured you that he'd only read Jack a few bedtime stories, promising he'd return to your side once the boy had drifted off to sleep. But more often than not, he'd fall asleep in their room, leaving you alone in yours, overwhelmed by desolation.

"Is this what this is all about? The shooting and running off to God knows where?" Arthur shot back, his voice filled with genuine confusion and concern. You had lost track of your own words in the heat of the moment. All you could think about was your desperate urge to escape. You spurred your horse into action, urging it to go as fast as possible, leaving Arthur behind on the trail.

When you reached home, you quickly looked around to see if Arthur had made it back as well - there was no sign of him yet. Secretly, a part of you wished the woods had swallowed him up. Pearson had begun serving dinner, but the conversation earlier had completely spoiled your appetite, so you hitched your horse and made a beeline for your tent, keeping a safe distance from the group that had gathered around the fire.

You closed the flaps behind you and felt a slight sense of relief wash over you. You placed your things on the floor and changed into something comfortable, one that didn’t have any bloodstains on it. You crawled to your bed, desperately praying for this day to be over.

Not a few minutes passed, you heard John's voice from the outside. "Hey.”

You replied with a weary tone, "What, John?"

"I saw your horse hitched outside, but I didn't see you come in. I brought you dinner."

"I'm not hungry."

"Can I come in, please?" He pleaded.

"I'm tired, John. Can I just talk to you tomorrow?"

The disappointment and hurt were palpable in his silence. You heard his footsteps slowly retreating from your tent, eventually fading into the night.

Warm tears began to fall uncontrollably down your face.

***

#john marston #sadie adler #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #john marston x you #javier escuella x you #javier escuella x reader #john marston x reader

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redemptionbaby · 2 years

Note

WAIT HANG ON HOW WOULD THE GANG REACT TO THE GOOD OL' "would u still love me if I was a worm🥺" QUESTION LMAO

GOOD QUESTION. Here are the select results.

Charles would not only still love you, he would make you an ornate terrarium out of a large glass jug and fill it with only the healthiest forest ferns, the most polite pillbugs and woodlice, the most nutrient rich soil, and the most tasty of fruit and vegetable compost scraps for you. Every day he writes a tiny love note message on a piece of eggshell for you (baby worm needs calcium)

Sean, John, and Javier get too tied down by the realistic aspects of this scenario. Why did you become a worm? Did a witch curse you? Because then I’d just kill the witch and break the curse. Would you still be able to talk as a worm? Could we still do…. Like…. Intimate things….?

Mary Beth is trying sooooooo hard to be nice and say “Yes, of course,” but in truth she thinks worms are gross. She could never live being married to a worm. But if it makes you feel better, I as the writer think that if it really happened, that she would learn to adjust because she wouldn’t have the heart to abandon you.

“Yes, of course!” Reply Kieran, Bill, and Karen, a little too loudly and a little too immediately.

Dutch would spout some poetic nonsense as his way of avoiding the question so you don’t get mad at him. “Are all men not worms themselves, at the end of the day?”

Arthur would say yes, but he does so with hesitation, not because he doesn’t like worms, but because he doesn’t know how to look after a worm. What if you got stepped on or something? He doesn’t know how to bandage a worm. Asking this question is more stressful to him than you could ever have predicted.

Micah: “Honestly, I would probably step on ya before I even realized it was you, sugar.”

Hosea and Sadie think that if you became a worm you should return to the earth, not because they couldn’t love you, but because they don’t think you could ever be happy as a worm if you had to live alongside humans

Abigail says “yes” automatically and without even hearing you because this is the exact brand of dumb question John comes up with when it’s just the two of them on a long trip or something.

Little Jack would say yes but it’s followed by about 1000000 questions about worms (because he’s trying to be educated so he’s be able to keep you alive in this hypothetical scenario)

Molly immediately grimaces, but she at least does you the curtesy of hesitating before she says no.

BONUS Albert Mason: almost disturbingly enthusiastic about the idea. Promises he would start a calendar series about you. A magazine. Make postcards of you. That’s how beautiful you would still be to him even if you were a worm. He’d have a travel sized terrarium he guarded with his life so he could take you to see all the natural wonders of North America and let you taste all of the soils.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #writing #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 x reader #gang reactions #Albert Mason #tagging him because he has so little content I know us Mason lovers sometimes be hunting for scraps…

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12timetraveler · 2 years

Note

My ass is having a meltdown of Kieran again so I’m seeking comfort with a possible story from your wonderful and creative brain.

Perhaps the reader is nice to him when they kidnap him because she knows that not everyone is bad so she cares for him and stuff-like he and a bunch others probably just joined to survive and did what was told

Perhaps some soft and fluffy smut as well to mend my heart

Thank you 🤧🙏

O Sinners Lets Go Down

Summary:

All of camp hates Kieran Duffy, but reader just can't believe that the poor man tied to the tree could be a dangerous O'Driscoll. When he's freed she decides to show him some kindness and get to know him.

Notes:

~~~~~~~~~~~ Okay so this one technically goes over the wordcount limit that I set for myself. But fuck it. My camp my rules. It's still shorter than a lot of my fics CW Mentions of past trauma from reader. Not a whole lot of gruesome details but reader has been through some shit. Kidnapping, Family death. NSFT/NSFW

This piece can be read in it's entirety below or on AO3

As much as you tried to fight it, your eyes seemed to be constantly flicking over to the tree on the edge of camp where he was tied up.

He was an O'Driscoll, or at least he used to be. You knew you were supposed to hate and fear him. You certainly had reason to despise the O’Driscolls. But just looking at the poor man, hanging his head in defeat where he stood tied to the tree, you couldn't bring yourself to hate him.

You actually thought he was kind of attractive looking. Maybe not right now, with his hair matted and his clothes soiled, face caked in dirt and blood. But you'd seen him when Arthur first dragged him into Colter. He had a kind face. He didn't look like a murderous, heartless O'Driscoll. He looked like a good soul trapped in his circumstances.

You tried to sneak him water or a piece of bread when you could. You had to be careful not to get caught. You knew Dutch was trying to starve information out of him. But he'd die going without water for so long.

You never spoke a word to him. Just approached quietly, usually late at night, with a chunk of bread and a cup of water. He would watch you, wide-eyed, afraid you were going to beat him. But when you held the bread to his mouth he took it with wide eyes, too hungry to ask why. And when you pressed the tin of water to his lips he drank without question, desperate for water. After that you'd hurry away, afraid of getting caught and getting either of you in trouble.

When he rode out with John, Arthur and Bill you were sure it was the last you'd see of him. Once they got what they needed they'd cut him loose for sure. They wouldn’t kill him... probably. But there would be no reason to keep him. You couldn't help the little pang in your heart to see him go. But it was better for him to live a good, free life than be tied to a tree, beaten and tortured.

When John returned with him on the back of his horse, your jaw hit the floor. You'd never expected to see him again. John grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt and dragged him to Dutch's tent, Bill trailing behind. The four of them talked for a bit. Dutch didn't seem quite happy to see the O'Driscoll back. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he seemed to be trying to persuade Dutch of something, and John and Bill were backing him up. Dutch dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

He got right to work with the horses. Grooming them, trimming their feet, checking for injury. He was very thorough in their care, and by nightfall he'd seen to all of them. He fell asleep sitting up with his back to a tree, arms folded over his chest and head down.

~~~~~~

A few days later things seemed to be settling. He wasn't exactly welcomed with open arms. Most everyone regarded him with suspicion, if not outright hatred. But he was doing a good job of keeping his head down and doing his work, despite Jack throwing rocks at him, Bill tormenting him with gelding tongs, and Sadie threatening to kill him in his sleep.

He was jumpy and scared, tripping over himself to stay out from underfoot, like a beaten puppy. But there was something about him that just caught your eye. You felt drawn to him. You wanted to get to know him better.

It was a nice warm day, probably the warmest of the year so far. Perfect day for a little trip to the river.

"Hey," you said, approaching him one morning. He glanced around, trying to determine who you were talking to. Realizing no one was around he straightened up and gave you his full attention.

"Yes, miss?" He asked respectfully.

"It's Kieran, right?" You asked. He nodded. "Do you want to come down to the river with me and a couple of the others? We could use a hand hauling some water. Plus I figure you might want to wash up a little,"

"Do I stink that bad?" He asked with a grimace.

"Only a little. Bill’s worse," you assured him quickly, "But I also figured with how long you were tied to that tree... You maybe could use a little rinse." You chewed your lip, worried you were offending him. Fortunately he was just giving you a shy smile, and didn’t seem upset. .

“That... that’d be mighty nice,” He said. He paused and glanced around, seeming to remember that no one around him trusted him. “As long as... I mean... am I allowed out of camp? Especially with someone as... with... uh... with you or the other gals?”

“Hey Dutch,” You called, catching the leader’s attention from where he sat reading by his tent. “Is it okay if Kieran comes with me and some of the others down to the river to help carry water back? We could use the extra set of hands to haul the water,”

Dutch scratched his chin, seeming to think it over. “I suppose,” He finally said. “If you really want to take him along. You taking your guns?”

“Course,” You scoffed.

“Good. Alright then. I don’t have any problem with it,” He said. You and Kieran turned away. “O’Driscoll,” Dutch called, stopping both of you in your tracks. “If any of them come back with so much as a scratch, I’ll let Bill loose on you,”

“Of course, sir,” Kieran nodded fiercely. “Not a scratch. I...I’d never... and if anyone else tries to... er...”

“We’ll be fine,” you interrupted Kieran in his rambling, grabbing his arm and gently pulling him away. You could hear a couple snickers from the other gang members at the poor man’s expense. They certainly were enjoying watching the poor man cower and stumble over himself.

You led him over to where Mary Beth and Tilly were gathering what you needed to take down to the river. A couple large bundles of laundry, a tin wash tub to carry the clean clothes in, some soap, a washboard, and a number of empty pails to bring back clean water in.

“Is he coming with us?” Tilly asked as you approached with Kieran in tow.

“Yes. Figured he could use a little scrub himself, plus he can help carry the water back,”

“I-if you ladies don’t mind,” Kieran said, tipping his hat politely.

“I’ll never say no to some help,” Mary Beth said with a small smile.

“We got everything?” You asked.

“Yep,” Tilly said, handing you your repeater, which was leaned up against the wagon. She and Mary Beth each had a gun on their back as well. You swung the strap over your shoulder and then moved to pick up one of the bundles of laundry.

“Oh, h-here, allow me,” Kieran said, picking up the two bundles, slinging one over his shoulder and carrying the other one down by his legs.

“Thank you,” You said with a smile.

“What a gentleman. The others could learn a thing or two,” Mary Beth giggled.

Kieran flushed under all the attention. “Lead on,” He said.

You picked up the large tub with the wash board and soap while Mary Beth and Tilly grabbed the buckets. Tilly and Mary Beth led the way, with you and Kieran following behind. Your little group followed the trail down the hillside toward the Dakota River.

“Ah, sure is nice to get out of camp,” Tilly sighed, stretching her arms out, letting the empty pails swing from her wrists with every step.

“Even if it’s just to the river,” Mary Beth agreed.

“You ladies don’t get to go out much?” Kieran asked.

“Not anymore,” You shrugged.

“Used to be we’d get to go into town every few days,” Mary Beth explained. “Work some of the fools in the saloon, get some information, that sort of thing,”

“What happened?” Kieran asked. “Why’re you so confined to camp?”

“It’s gotten too dangerous,” Tilly sighed.

“Bounty hunters, Pinkertons, lawmen. Seems they’re bent on civilizing everything and want to get rid of any of us who don’t fit into their plans,” You explained.

“Had some really close calls. So Dutch asked that we keep to camp more,” Mary Beth huffed.

“Plus, Grimshaw’s more than happy to keep us around camp, doing house chores,” Tilly grumbled.

“I swear she just invents things for us to do,” Mary Beth sighed.

“She’s, uh... She’s quite the matron,” Kieran chuckled.

“That’s putting it lightly,” Tilly chuckled.

“Miss Gaskill, go scrub that cast iron until you can see your face in it!!” Mary Beth screeched in a mocking tone, much to your amusement.

“Miss Jackson, there’s still dirt on this ground. Sweep the camp again!” Tilly said mockingly.

You all broke into laughter, even Kieran. You couldn’t help but notice how sweet his smile was. Not the shy little smiles he’d been giving you but his genuine, happy smile. It was blinding.

“What was it she got after you for yesterday?” Mary Beth asked, looking back at you. You rolled your eyes.

“She said there was still a shit stain on Uncle's union suit,” You grumbled. “It’s Uncle. Of course there’s shit stains. They don’t come out,” You all broke out into giggles once again.

“He’s the lazy old drunk who sleeps all day and drinks all night, right?” Kieran asked.

“Well there’s a couple of them that would fit that description, but yes I get the feeling you’re thinking of the right one,” You said.

“And uh... the red headed man who’s always stumblin’ and slurrin’... Is he really a priest?”

“Yes,” Mary Beth replied.

“At least we think so. Reverend Swanson’s been through a lot, from my understanding,” Tilly said.

Your little group had finally reached the river below Horseshoe Overlook, having followed the trail down and stopped just a little north of where the trail met the main road. You plopped the tub down in the sand on the banks, and Kieran dropped the bags of laundry.

“Here’s a good spot,” You said, surveying the area. “The water should be deep enough that you can scrub down a little while we use those rocks to clean the laundry,” you said, handing Kieran a bar of soap and a rag.

“Not a lot of uh... privacy,” Kieran murmured, blushing slightly.

“We won’t look,” You vowed. But he still looked a little uncomfortable, looking up and down the road for any travelers. “You don’t have to disrobe, but I thought I could scrub your clothes for you if you did,”

“Oh. No you don’t have to do that,” He said quickly.

“It’s kind of my job,” You pointed out,

“You’re part of the gang now, right?” Mary Beth asked, hands on her hips in a teasing way.

“Y-yes. Well... sort of. I guess,”

“What about this,” You suggested. “You strip down to your drawers and undershirt, but take everything else off. Then I can at least wash some of your clothes, and you can wash the others while you wash yourself,”

“That would be... thank you,” Kieran said sincerely. You just flashed him a friendly smile.

“Alright then. Go ahead and set your clothes with the other laundry and we’ll get it done,” You said, stepping over to where Tilly and Mary Beth were getting all set up.

“Alright, who wants to do what?” You asked. “I don’t mind going into the river if you two wanna keep to the shallows,”

“Sure,” Tilly said

“Works for me,” Mary Beth chirped, “Need help with your skirt?”

“Thanks,” You said, turning so Mary Beth could help you with the buttons on your skirt, letting the fabric fall down over your petticoats to the dirt below. You undid the buttons of your blouse and vest, setting them both aside on a rock, along with your skirt. You’d forgone wearing a corset today, so you were left in your corset cover and petticoats.

A gasp caught your attention and you looked up to see Kieran holding his blue shirt in one hand, his other hand up against the side of his face to cover his gaze, like a blinder on a horse. Even still you could see the flush of red going up his neck.

“I-I’m sorry I... I didn’t mean to...” He stammered. You, Tilly and Mary Beth all giggled.

“You sure you’re an outlaw, honey?” Mary Beth tittered.

“It’s okay Kieran,” You assured him. “If I wasn’t okay with you seeing me like this, I would have just let my clothes get wet,”

“I don’t want to be a pervert...” He mumbled.

“You won’t be,” You assured him. “I mean, I wear less than this to bed. You’ve seen me heading to bed before. I’m still decent,” You assured him.

Carefully he peered over at you, as if afraid you’d strike him the moment he caught sight of you in your underclothes. But you just gave him a reassuring smile.

“See. It’s fine,” You assured him. Tilly and Mary Beth were still giggling, and Kieran’s face was flushing all different colors of red.

“Okay,” He said. “If you’re okay with it then... okay,” He began working on taking his gunbelt off, and you turned to gather what you’d need to get started. You bent over to grab another bar of soap from the wash bin.

A strangled moan caught your attention and you peered over your shoulder at Kieran. He had his trousers half down his thighs. He jumped when he saw you turn around, and quickly turned his back to you, hopping up and down to try and tug his trousers down faster, though they quickly got stuck on his boots.

“Are you alright?” You asked, not quite sure what was happening.

“F-fine,” He stammered, finally freeing himself from his boots and trousers. “Heh. I-I’m fine,” He said, giving you a small smile over his shoulder. He quickly grabbed the bar of soap you’d given him and moved a little further downstream, wading quickly into the river. He yelp as the cold water hit his waist but he kept going.

“He’s a funny one,” you chuckled, returning to what you were doing.

“You cannot be that oblivious,” Tilly huffed, keeping her voice low so he couldn’t hear.

“Hm?” you asked, not following.

“He was hard for you,” Mary Beth hissed between giggles.

“I mean, how could he not be, with you bending over in your petticoats, giving him a nice view with your behind pointed right at him,” Tilly laughed.

“I... I didn’t mean to,” you mumbled, feeling your face heat up. You glanced downstream where Kieran was working up the courage to submerge completely in the cold river water.

“Yeah but you’re happy he was, hmm?” Tilly asked, bumping you with her shoulder. Mary Beth was giggling like a squirrel, looking between you and Kieran.

“I... I don’t know... maybe,” You mumbled.

“Mmhmm,” Tilly hummed, giving you a look that told you she knew exactly what you wanted.

“You... you both are too much,” You laughed, grabbing some of the laundry from the piles and stepping out into the cold river, ready to get to work. “Eep. Cold,” you squeaked as the river water lapped at your thighs.

“It’s freezing ain't it,” Kieran laughed from downstream, waving at you. You laughed.

“Yeah. Probably the snow runoff,” You waved back at him, stepping out into the river until you were about waist deep. You got to work scrubbing the laundry in the stream. Most laundry was done back at camp, but sometimes it was just easier to use the river. As much of a task as it was carrying everything down to the river, you kind of preferred doing it this way.

You passed the clothes you’d just done to the gals on the bank, letting them start scrubbing the harder stains, beating them out on the rocks while you gathered the next handful of clothes.

You spent much of the late morning like this, talking with the girls, singing songs, just enjoying your time with your friends.

And if your eyes would occasionally flick downstream to watch Kieran scrub his beard or wash his arms... well... was that such a crime?

“So why does Sean already have a black eye?” You asked the girls.

“John found out what he and Karen did in his tent,” Mary Beth giggled.

“What did they...?” you looked over at them. Clearly you’d missed out on a vital piece of gossip. Tilly wiggled her eyebrows and you squealed in laughter, realizing they’d used his tent for some reunion sex. Karen and Sean were the hottest on-again-off-again in camp. It was no wonder they’d had some fun once Sean returned.

“John was not happy about it,” Tilly laughed.

You glanced downstream as Kieran stepped out of the river, looking a bit like a drowned rat, but a clean one at least. He shook his head like a dog, sending water droplets flying, before he started squeezing water out of sections of his hair.

You were just finishing up scrubbing his blue shirt and you brought it up to shore to lay out on the rocks to dry next to his wild rag and trousers. “Perfect timing. I just finished these up,”

“They’re cleaner than they’ve been in some time,” Kieran whistled, looking at his shirt. “Er... that’s not to say... um... the O’Driscoll girls aren’t really there for laundry and uh... there ain’t much time to do your own when you run with them,”

“I understand,” You said, saving him from himself. He gave you a lopsided grin.

“I’m trying to say... thanks,” He said. God his smile was so nice. You felt yourself flushing slightly just for having his gaze focused on you. You ducked your head to hide your blush and turned back to the river.

“Um... so we’ve still got some laundry to do. You’re welcome to stay with us and let your clothes dry or head back to camp with some water pails,” You said, grabbing the next handful of clothes.

“I don’t mind waiting,” He said, sitting down on a rock. “Y’all were right, it’s nice to get out of camp now and then. Besides, it’s probably best for you to have a chaperone, in case anyone tries to give you any trouble,”

“We can handle oursel--oof,” Mary Beth started to say before Tilly cut her off with an elbow to the ribs.

“That would be great. Thanks Kieran,” Tilly said. You didn’t look at any of them, knowing you’d only make yourself more flustered. You just waded back out into the river and started cleaning the next couple of items.

You continued working, talking and singing. You tried to include Kieran in the conversation as much as possible but he was very nervous and had a hard time keeping involved. But he seemed content to sit on the rock and listen, drying off in the sun.

You did catch him watching you a couple times, and with some of the other men it would have made you mad or nervous. But you didn’t see any ulterior motive from Kieran’s gaze. He wasn’t getting his jollies, wasn’t staring at your breasts or what he could see of your behind in the river. In fact most of the time he seemed to be watching your face, studying you like he wanted to remember you forever. Instead of creeping you out, it made you blush.

“Okay. I think we’re just about done,” Mary Beth sighed, straightening up with her hands on her hips. You’d been working for a couple hours now and all the laundry had been soaked, scrubbed, wrung out, and piled in the empty wash tub to be transported up the hill.

“You guys can head back to camp,” You said. “I’m still trying to salvage Jack's overalls after he slipped in the mud.”

“You sure? We can wait,” Mary Beth offered.

“I’ll stay with her,” Kieran offered. The two girls glanced over at you and you nodded.

“Alright. We’ll see you two back at camp,” Mary Beth said, grabbing the tub of clean clothes. Tilly dipped two buckets in the river.

“Don’t get up to too much trouble,” She winked as the two of them started back up the path to Horseshoe Overlook.

You moved in from the middle of the water, leaning on one of the rocks closer to the shore as you continued scrubbing the overalls, trying to work out the caked-in muck. You hummed quietly as you worked.

"So, how'd you end.up running with Dutch's Boys?" Kieran asked after a time.

"Oh, so you think we're at the 'emotional backstory' stage in this friendship, huh?" You asked, flashing Kieran a mischievous look to let him know you're just teasing him. He grinned at you.

"Well, seems like everyone's keen to share theirs ‘round the campfire. I've only been off of that tree for a week and I already know about Hosea's wife Bessie, John's marital problems, and watched Bill nearly cry over how Dutch saved him,"

You couldn't help but let out a big, unladylike laugh. "Yeah. Well that's the men. Open books they are. We ladies keep our traumas close to our chest." You tilted your head at him just so. "But I suppose I could be persuaded to share, if you'll return the favor,"

"You know how I joined Dutch's boys. Arthur dragged me through the snow."

"No. How'd you join the O'Driscolls?"

:”Oh them,” He chuckled. He paused for a minute, trying to find the best place to start.

“My parents came over from Ireland. Wanted to be farmers out in California. But they died before we ever got there. Cholera.

“Eventually I started running with another gang, much smaller than you lot. Only... ten fellers maybe. They were alright, fair. Only, lawmen found camp one day and killed them all. I barely escaped. Ran on my own for a while, tried my hand at the lone-wolf outlaw life, since it seemed all I was good for.

“But I robbed a score that the O’Driscolls were eyeing. They caught up to me a few days later and gave me a choice. Join them or die,” He chuckled bitterly. “Didn’t seem like much of a choice really. That was ‘bout six months back.”

“Did you like running with them?” You asked. Kieran gave you a bit of a look. “I’m not asking to question your loyalty. I’m just... curious. Colm’s got so many men working for him. Nearly an endless stream. But he always seems so awful to them. So I’ve always wondered why people stayed with him,”

“Well he’ll kill you if you try to leave,” Kieran said matter-of-factly. “He treats deserters worse than the army does. Torture’s them for days before he kills them. No one leaves cause they’re all too scared.”

“Oh,” You said, feeling a little dumb. You’d always assumed there was some sort of loyalty, like you all had toward Dutch. But it was just fear.

You couldn’t help thinking of all the O’Driscolls you’d seen the boys kill over the years. Hell, the O’Driscolls you’d put bullets in. How many of them had been like Kieran? Just poor men with no other choice aside from death. It was an uncomfortable thought.

“So, how about you?” He asked, pulling you from your thoughts. You met his gaze, and he gave you a friendly, encouraging smile.

You sat back against the rock, thinking of the best place to start. But there really was no better place than the beginning.

“I’m a little familiar with the O’Driscolls’ hospitality,” you sighed, returning to scrubbing the overalls. “It was years ago. I was still a teenager. Maybe sixteen? Living way out west, while they were still out that way. It was me, my parents, and my older sister. We had a little homestead, finally seemed to have our feet under us after so many years of struggling.

“But that’s a dangerous place for a homesteader to be. Financially comfortable. It paints a much bigger target on you,” You explained. “We were not wealthy by any means. But if our boots wore out we could afford to replace them. If our dresses got holes we could turn them into rags and get a new dress. If a cow was eaten by a bear, we’d still make it through the winter. Not wealthy, but comfortable.

“The O’Driscolls caught wind of that. Saw us as easy victims. They came in the night and ransacked the place. They stole me and my sister and took us back to their camp.”

Kieran gasped, and you met his gaze. His soft gray eyes held yours. You gave him a small, reassuring smile.

“They killed my sister outright. She was too... strong. She fought them every step of the way and they couldn’t have that. But I was still timid, just a child, really. You never think you’re that young at sixteen but I was still so naive.

“I don’t like to think about what they would have done to me. But fortunately they never had the chance. Dutch and his boys raided the camp that next morning. The left no O’Driscoll alive. I was sure I was out of the frying pan and into the fire, but they were good, kind. Dutch very carefully cut me free. Arthur gave me his jacket. Hosea took me home.

“But there was no home left. Colm's Boys burned it to the ground. Hosea didn’t let me go through the rubble but... I think my parents' bodies must have been there, the way he looked at me.

“So they took me in. Arthur taught me how to shoot, John taught me how to fight, and Susan taught me how to rob folk. Hosea told me that I could leave at any point, but where would I go?” You met Kieran’s gaze. “This is my family now,”

Kieran held your gaze for a minute, just letting your story sink in. His eyebrows were pulled upward, almost disappearing under the brim of his hat.

“I’m sorry,” Kieran said sincerely. “That’s awful.”

“It could have been worse,” You shrugged.

“Yeah, but it could have been better too,” He countered. “No one deserves to go through all of that. Especially someone as... as kind an-and beautiful as you,” He averted his gaze, watching as his boot scuffed in the sand.

“Thank you,” You said. “Unfortunately the world isn’t so kind. Everyone in the gang has some sort of story. Some worse, some better than mine.” You lifted the overalls from the water and sighed, changing the subject. “Well, this is as good as it’s going to get,” You wrung out the denim as best as you could. “It’s not good as new but at least it’s wearable. Jack’ll just get it all dirty again anyway. No point in killing myself trying to get it any cleaner,”

“Sure,” Kieran agreed, understanding you didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “So, uh... guess we’re heading back to camp then, huh?” He sounded sad at the idea. You knew camp was not a safe, comfortable place for him. But, you weren’t done chatting with him.

“Not necessarily,” you hummed. “We could take the long way. I’ve been itching to check out that burned down little town at the bottom of the hill. If you don’t mind, that is,”

Kieran seemed to light up at the suggestion. “I don’t mind at all,” He said, sliding his suspenders up over his shoulders and pulling his blue shirt on before fixing his wild rag around his neck. His clothes were still a little damp, but nothing too uncomfortable.

You waded the rest of the way to shore and set down Jack’s overalls in a bucket while you gathered your clothes. You wrung as much water as you could out of your petticoats then started re-dressing. Once you had your skirt, blouse and vest back on, you picked up the bucket and began filling it with water, draping Jack’s overalls over your arm. Kieran grabbed the other bucket and filled it as well.

The two of you started down the road, heading towards the burned down town you’d spotted from camp, each carrying a bucket of water with you.

“So what did you do with the O’Driscolls?” You asked. “Did you have a special job or were you a gunman?”

“I looked after the horses, just like I do now,” He said. “Sometimes I’d go out on jobs. I know how to handle a gun. But I was at the very bottom of the heap.” He scratched his beard for a moment. “Do you mind if we don’t talk about them? I don’t exactly have fond memories. I’d rather talk about something more pleasant,"

“Sure. Sorry,” You apologized. “Just... curiosity. But we do not have to talk about them,” You paused, trying to think up something else to talk to. “Oh. Is that new horse yours? The one that wandered into camp a few days ago?”

“Yeah,” Kieran said, smiling. “That’s Branwen. He’s been my horse for a few years now. We got separated up in the snow when Arthur... Well, but he must have followed us down here. I was brushing out The Count and he just came up and bumped my shoulder, looking for hay,”

“That’s so sweet,” You smiled. “I’m glad he found you again. He’s really beautiful,”

“Isn’t he? His coat is stunning,” Kieran said proudly, “I... I bet he’d like you. You should... er... you can pet him if you’d like. He loves attention,”

“I will. I love horses,” you sighed. “I miss mine. Lost her when we fled Blackwater. Jenny, one of the other girls in camp, was borrowing her. Unfortunately neither of them made it.”

“I’m sorry. It’s not easy when you lose them,” Kieran murmured.

“No. It’s not,”

And there you went bringing down the mood again. You scrambled to find something else to talk about.

“When you aren’t doin’ camp chores, what do you like to do?” Kieran asked.

“Hmph. It’s been so long since I haven’t had camp chores to do, I don’t remember,” you joked. “But... I don’t know... I like singing campfire songs. Going on trail rides. In the past... Well I’ve always enjoyed shows,”

“Shows?” Kieran asked.

“Yeah. Just any kind of performance. Saloon dancers or plays or circus acts... just any sort of performance. It’s a nice sort of escape from everything, to just sit and watch someone put themselves out there. To get lost in their performance. It’s... nice,”

“You know,” Kieran hummed. “I don’t think I’ve ever gone to see any shows. But there’s one of those moving picture shows in Valentine,”

“We should go sometime,” You said excitedly. Kieran smiled ruefully.

“Unfortunately if I set one foot in Valentine I’m dead,” He sighed. Your face fell a little. Right. You’d forgotten the O’Driscolls seemed to run the town. “But, if we’re ever somewhere I can leave camp without being shot... Well I’d love to take you out to some sort of show,” His cheeks flushed red.

“That would be wonderful,” You hummed. “What about you? What do you do for fun?”

“I like fishing,” He said. “It’s... well I guess it’s kind of an escape too. Just standing on the shore, getting lost in the waves and waiting for a bite,”

“I’ve never really been fishing,” You hummed.

“I could teach you some time, if you’d like,” He offered.

“I would love that,” You smiled up at him.

You’d been moseying down the road to the burnt down town and finally you arrived. The two of you approached a worn sign just outside the charred ruins.

“Limpany,” you hummed, reading the faded letters on the sign.

Kieran followed you as you cut off the road and walked into what was likely the main road of the little town. All the buildings were burned down to skeletons of their former selves, except for one building that was made of bricks.

You set your bucket down in the middle of town and slowly turned in a circle, taking in the scene. It was a small town, smaller even than Valentine. But what might it look like today if it hadn’t burned down? How might it have expanded? It was clearly once a booming little place, judging by the structures that still stood.

Kieran set his bucket down next to yours and followed you into the first building.

“Must’ve been a saloon,” Kieran noted as you stepped through the entryway. You nodded in agreement.

“Quite a nice one, I bet,” You murmured, looking around, trying to imagine what it may have looked like. “Though... no rooms for working girls,” You noted.

“Boring then,” Kieran teased. You huffed and elbowed him lightly in the side. You slowly crossed the room, looking around.

Rats scurried away as you crossed what may have once been quite a nice little dance floor. You could just picture little hoedowns being held here, piano going all night as couples laughed and danced and courted.

You turned as you walked, looking around the place and imagining how it might have been. You reached the stairs and stepped up the first couple of stairs.

“Careful,” Kieran said, looking up at you from the bottom of the stairs. God the man had some serious puppy dog eyes. “It might not be safe,”

“The wood's black, but not charred completely,” You said, jumping on the step a couple times to prove your point. The roof may be gone, but the floor and walls seemed pretty stable. You continued climbing the stairs up to the second floor.

Kieran followed you the rest of the way up the stairs and out onto the balcony out front, overlooking the settlement. You looked out over the charred town, just taking it all in.

Kieran came to stand next to you on the balcony. He was very quiet as he stood there, looking out over the town, but not really taking it in. You could feel the anxiety rolling off of him in waves. That feeling of someone who wants to say something but isn’t sure how to say it. You pretended not to notice, letting him take a minute to gather himself.

“How...” Kieran began, but he trailed off. You turned to face him, giving him your full attention. He wasn’t looking at you, eyes staring at his boots as they scuffed the dirty darkened wood below you. “How can you be so nice to me?” He whispered. “I was an O’Driscoll. The same gang that ruined your life. You have every right to hate me just as much as Mrs. Adler. Certainly more than Arthur and them. But you’re the only one who looks at me like...” He finally forced himself to meet your gaze. “Like I’m human. Even when I was still tied up you were kind to me.”

“I learned a long time ago that holding a grudge poisons a person,” you said. “That deep kind of hate just festers and spoils until you’re just a rotting corpse on the side of the road. I can never forgive Colm O’Driscoll and his gang. But you...” you paused and lifted your hand to cup his cheek. “You’re not an O’Driscoll. You’re kind and sincere and--”

Before you could say another word, Kieran’s lips were on yours, kissing you fiercely. You melted into his arms, lips following his every move. For a moment everything stopped, and it was just you and him floating above everything else.

His lips were eager, uncoordinated, desperate to kiss you. You could feel the strong emotion behind his movements. His hands grasped at your hips, pulling you closer so your body was flush with his in a most immodest way.

As quickly as he’d started, Kieran broke the kiss with a horrified gasp, stepping back to a respectful distance. “I-I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have... I didn’t mean to overstep... you’re just... just...” He trailed off as you closed the gap between the two of you. Slowly you lifted your hand to his cheek once more, moving as if you were moving around a spooked horse.

“What if I liked it?” you asked quietly.

“You... really?” He asked, astonished.

“Yes,” you giggled, stroking his cheek. He leaned into your touch like a cat desperate for pets. “Trust me, if I didn’t like it, I would have made that clear,”

“Then...” Kieran trailed off. “If I did it again?”

“You should do it and see,” You purred, letting your hands slide down to his shirt, tugging him closer to you.

This time the kiss was much more tender and coordinated. His lips pressed lightly against yours, and you responded immediately, letting him guide you in a slow, tender kiss. His lips were thin and chapped, and his unkempt beard itched your face just a little, but the feelings behind his actions overwrote any mild discomfort from his lack of self-care.

Your hands slid up his shoulders, linking behind his neck. Soft strands of still-damp, freshly washed hair tickled your hands, soft as goose down brushing against your skin.

Kieran guided you to lean back against one of the rails, trying to pin you close to him. The wood creaked and shifted behind you the moment your weight pressed against it, threatening to give way. You broke the kiss with a gasp and grabbed onto Kieran tightly for balance. He pulled you away from the edge, holding you close.

“Okay,” you panted, “Maybe it’s not completely safe up here,” you admitted. Kieran chuckled and the two of you carefully made your way back down the steps and out of the structure.

You took some time to explore the town. Across the street from the saloon was the general store. A number of smaller buildings, likely houses, lined the center of the town, with the sheriff's office and prison building at the head of the settlement. The jailhouse was made of brick, and was essentially untouched by the fire, aside from some black dust around the bottom. A large padlock sat on the outside of the jailhouse, keeping whatever was inside firmly sealed in.

As much fun as you were having exploring the town with Kieran, you had something else on your mind. Your lips were still tingling from when he kissed you, and you wanted more. You reached out and took Kieran’s hand, leading him around the back of the jailhouse where you’d be hidden from the road. He followed without question.

He let out a grunt of surprise when, once you were around the back, you flung your arms around his neck and pressed your lips to his. His hands settled on your waist, and his lips quickly caught up, kissing you eagerly.

You pushed yourself up on your toes so it was easier to kiss him, and your arms wrapped around his shoulder tighter to keep you close to him. Your fingers trailed up his head, knocking his hat to the ground behind him. His hands held your waist, keeping you balanced against him.

After a moment Kieran broke the kiss, grinning down at you. Neither of you let go of the other, just pulling back enough that you could meet each other's gaze.

You took a moment to study him, really study him. He was maybe a little taller than average. His hair looked like raven feathers now that it was cleaned. Without so much dirt on his face his features softened. His wrinkles were less pronounced, he was probably in his late twenties/early thirties. His beard was scraggly, and could do with some grooming, but it suited him all the same. What really caught your attention was his eyes. Such a beautiful icy color, all grays and blues and greens.

Kieran tilted his head. You'd been staring. But you couldn't say you were all that embarrassed.

"You're so handsome," you murmured. Kieran let out a choked sound, caught completely off guard by your little comment. He stood there gaping for a moment, not sure what to say.

"I... You..." Kieran squeaked. You giggled and kissed his cheek. "You... You really think I'm handsome?" He asked, face turning all shades of red. You nodded and hummed in affirmation.

"But you... You're..." Kieran sighed and cupped your cheek in his hand. "You're so beautiful." He whispered. "The prettiest gal I ever saw. There's no competition. I don't understand how someone so beautiful could look twice at me,"

"But I've looked more than twice," you murmured. "Even when we were up in the snow you had my attention,"

Kieran grabbed your face and kissed you hard. You gasped into the kiss and his tongue pressed past your lips. You moaned into his lips and leaned into him, letting him hold you up as the kiss swept you away.

He kissed you again. And again, and again, and again. The two of you couldn't get enough of each other.

“We,” Kieran panted against your lips. “We should stop,” He murmured.

“Do you want to stop?” You asked.

“God no but...” He trailed off, icy eyes locking on yours.

“I don’t want to stop either,” You whispered.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why me?” Kieran asked, brows pinching together. “I’m sure any of the fellers back at camp would be head over heels for your attention. Why would you want... me?”

“Because I like you,” you hummed. “I think you’re very handsome, and you’re kind. Life has kicked you down over and over again, the same as it’s done for me. You’re a... a kindred spirit,”

“You really think so?” He asked, seeming shocked that you saw all of that in him. You nodded, biting your lips.

“I do,” You assured him, leaning in closer. “And as far as you want to go, I think I’d like to go too,” You murmured in his ear.

Kieran groaned and grabbed your hands, backing you up against the jailhouse and pinning you there, your back against the solid bricks. His lips smashed against yours hungrily, sucking your bottom lip between his and gently teasing it between his teeth before releasing it.

“If I do something you don’t like, or you want to stop for any reason, you’ll say so?” Kieran murmured, eyes locked on yours. You nodded. “Can I... Can I touch you?” He asked, hand coming up to hover over your chest. You giggled and nodded again.

You sighed and Kieran groaned as his hand gently cupped your breast. He slowly kneaded it as he leaned in to kiss you once more. His tongue swiped past your lips into your mouth, and you sucked in a breath through your nose at the taste of him.

You could feel him starting to harden against you, a slight bulge pressing against your hip that hadn't been there before. You rolled your body against him ever so slightly, and he moaned into the kiss.

"Stay there," Kieran murmured against your lips. You could only watch through lidded gaze as he knelt before you, eyes locked on yours. You gasped as he grabbed the hem of your skirts and lifted them, ducking his head under the curtain of fabric and letting it fall across his back until he was hidden under your skirts.

You jumped as his hands gently brushed over your knees, trailing up to the hem of your drawers. You felt the ribbon on your drawers loosen, and Kieran tenderly slid the thin fabric down your legs, guiding you to step out of them.

You sighed as his lips gently pressed against your leg, trailing up your thigh. His beard tickled the soft skin of your inner legs as he went, and you could feel goosebumps prickling up across your skin.

"So pretty," Kieran hummed, his voice muffled by the fabric of your skirts. His hands stroked up and down your thighs for a moment. "Spread your legs a little for me?" He asked.

You shifted your feet so there was space between your thighs. You shivered as Kieran's breath ghosted over the tender skin between your legs. Large hands gripped one leg and guided you to swing it up over his shoulder so he would have more access.

You had to cover your mouth as his tongue pressed over your center, lapping at your clit. He started with longer, slower licks, trying to learn your body and what you needed from him. Gradually he began honing in on those sweet spots that had you singing under him.

He clutched your thighs as he ate you out, kneading the flesh with his strong hands. Having explored your center, he began to shift his focus specifically to your clit, flicking his tongue lightly across the small bump. You bit your lip and closed your eyes, sinking into the sensation of his tongue.

Your fingers itched to tangle in his hair, but with him hidden under your skirts all you could do was clutch at yourself, letting one hand come up and hold your breast, the other clutching your skirt just over Kieran’s head.

Kieran was very good at this. He ate you out enthusiastically, as if you were the most delicious meal he’d ever tasted. He was ravenous for you, slurping and sucking and making the lewdest sounds you’d ever heard.

“God, Kieran,” You whined, back arching just a little, pushing your hips against his mouth even more. “So good. D-don’t stop,”

“Trust me, darlin’,” He purred, “I ain’t planning on it,”

His fingers joined in on the fun, gently spreading your labia, gathering your natural lubricant on his finger before he began circling your entrance. You moaned as he slowly pushed in, careful not to rush it or do anything that may cause you discomfort. He moaned against your skin.

“So warm,” He sighed, just barely loud enough for you to hear. His hot breath against your most sensitive parts left you shivering, “So warm and wet for me. Beautiful girl.”

“Kieran,” You whined, knocking your head lightly against the brick wall behind you, staring up at the clouds above. You could feel your abs starting to tremble with the incoming pleasure.

Kieran began moving his finger in and out, crooking it on every slide out in search of that golden spot. He found it after a couple of strokes, pulling a high, shuddering gasp from you. From there he moved his finger in earnest, making sure every move pressed against your g-spot.

“Kieran, Kieran,” You gasped, releasing your skirt to bring your hand up over your mouth.

“There you are, darlin’,” He mumbled, lips hardly leaving your pussy. “Come on. Let me have it,”

With a choked off curse, you came around his finger, legs trembling. Your cries were muffled into the palm of your hand, but judging by the way Kieran’s grip on your thigh tightened you knew he could hear you.

Slowly your core stopped pulsing, your legs regained some sense of stability, and your breathing began to steady out.

You pulled at your skirts, lifting them over Kieran’s head. He peered up at you, pale eyes dark with lust, beard glistening with your pleasure. You moaned and grabbed his wild rag, tugging him up toward you.

“Come here,” You whined.

“You sure?” he asked, letting you pull him into a kiss anyway. His lips were salty with the taste of you, and you moaned into the kiss. “I can keep going down there if you’d...”

“No,” you whined. “Need you,”

Kieran’s eyes flicked down to where your hand still cupped one of your breasts. You’d forgotten it was there, so enveloped in your pleasure. His hand trailed up your body, coming to rest over the other one, holding it in his large hand.

“So soft and sweet,” He purred, leaning down to kiss along your jaw. “I know we shouldn’t disrobe all the way. But can I get a better look?”

You giggled and nodded. He leaned in and stole another kiss as his fingers slid up to the buttons of your blouse, undoing the top half so he could see your breasts better through your corset cover.

You sighed as his hand came up to rest over your clavicle before trailing down your cleavage. You shuddered as his warm hands stroked the soft mound of your breast. His calloused hand lightly brushed across your nipples, making you jump and keen against him.

“God, so beautiful,” He purred, dipping his head down to place kisses down your neck and chest, right to the edge of your corset cover’s neckline. “I wanna see them so bad, but I won’t ask you to bare yourself out here,” he cooed.

“You’ll have to find somewhere to take me then,” You teased breathlessly. “Somewhere more private,”

“Y-you are dangerous,” Kieran panted, tilting his head up to look at you. “You’d really want to do this again some time?”

“Of course,” You said, cupping his face in your hands. “As long as you want to,”

“So badly,” He moaned, burying his face in your neck. “I’ve wanted you since that first night you snuck me bread and water,”

You gently guided his head up so you could meet his lips for another kiss. He moaned against your lips, and his hips involuntarily rolled against your thigh. You could feel him hot and hard through the fabric. Your fingers trailed down his hips to the waistband of his trousers, sliding around to the front so you could begin unbuttoning him.

“Are you sure you want... We can stop now if you’d rather,” Kieran broke the kiss and met your gaze nervously.

“And stop before the good part?” you purred, undoing the last button. “I think not,”

“Shit,” He sighed, knocking his forehead against yours. You both looked down to where your hands were resting on either side of the opening of his trousers. You slid your hand in, finding the opening in his drawers as well, and gently pulled him out.

You had to admit you were a little bit surprised by his size. You’d unfortunately caught a glimpse of him when Dutch pantsed him and Bill threatened him with gelding tongs. He’d been very, very small. You were expecting a few inches. But he was average in length, thickening at the base.

“Bit bigger than when you saw it before huh?” Kieran said ruefully. You gasped and met his gaze.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to look,” You stammered.

“It’s okay,” He murmured. “Kinda hard not to look when a man’s strapped to a tree being threatened with gelding tongs. I saw you look up from your chores,”

“I’m sorry,” You murmured again, kissing his cheek. “But um... you’re quite a bit bigger than I expected,” You confirmed.

“I’ve always been more of a grower,” He explained with a chuckle. “So long as it satisfies now, I reckon it don’t matter what it looks like relaxed,” You giggled and kissed him.

You slid one hand down to your thigh, hiking up your skirts. Kieran’s hand joined you, helping you gather the fabric up and lift your leg. You hooked your knee around Kieran’s hips, and you gasped when you felt his hot member bump your center.

“You’ll pull out?” you asked.

“Of course,” He said, very seriously. “You ready?”

You nodded, leaning forward and kissing him, squishing your noses between you with the force of your kiss. You felt him reach down and find his member, swiping it across your folds to slick it up before lining up with your entrance.

You leaned forward at the same time he did, the two of you meeting together as he pushed in. You broke the kiss with a gasp, eyes flying open to meet his gaze as the two of you gently rocked against each other.

He cupped your cheek with his free hand, brushing his thumb across your skin while his icy eyes locked you in his gaze.

“There you go, darlin’,” He cooed, sinking as deep as he could inside of you. “Are you alright?” He asked. You nodded breathlessly. “Okay. You tell me when it’s okay to move.” His arms wrapped around you, hugging you to him as he leaned against you so you were firmly pinned between the wall and him.

You burrowed your face against his neck, breathing in his scent as you adjusted to the feel of him inside of you. He certainly wasn’t the biggest you’d ever taken, but honestly the biggest had hurt like a sonofabitch. He felt so perfect, like he was made to fit inside of you. The position didn’t allow for the deepest penetration, but what you had felt so damn good.

“G’head,” you whispered, rolling your hips against him. He sighed and you felt his hips pull back until just the tip was inside of you before he pushed back in. You moaned as his cock dragged along your walls, spreading you beautifully.

You moaned into his neck as he continued his slow movements in and out, hips pressing yours firmly to the brick wall with every thrust. You muffled your keening noises into his shoulder, loud enough that he’d certainly hear, but the noise wouldn’t carry any further.

But your sounds seemed to spur him on, each thrust going a little harder, a little faster, picking up deliciously until he set a steady rhythm, hard but not pounding, consistent but not too fast. The perfect combination for a first time together, still learning each other, what you liked.

He braced one hand against the wall by your head, his other hand wrapping under your thigh and clutching at your behind to help keep you balanced and offer him some leverage. He lifted your leg a little higher on his waist, and you gasped against his skin at the change of angles. From this position his cock was bumping against that sweet spot inside of you.

“Right there,” You whispered, nipping his earlobe. Kieran kept up his pace, making sure to hit that spot every time. He let go of the wall, letting his hand come down between the two of you. He found your clit easily and began rubbing it, pulling another long moan from your lips.

“Y’got another one for me?” He murmured. You could tell he was struggling to keep control. Clearly it had been some time for him. But fortunately your pleasure was building again.

“Uh huh,” You whimpered.

Kieran continued driving you wild, keeping up that beautiful pace, hitting your g-spot every time, all while his fingers rubbed your clit. He was quite the attentive lover. You trembled against him as you felt that pressure building in your core, tighter and tighter until...

“Kieran,” you gasped against his neck, pulsing around his cock as your pleasure swept you away. You felt Kieran tense against you, and he pulled out, slipping two fingers inside of you to replace the loss of his cock.

“There you go,” He sighed. “God you’re so beautiful when you fall apart. I wonder what you’d look like when you don’t have to hold back,”

You whimpered and looked down between the two of you, where his cock, still hard, waited for you. With shaky hands you reached down and took him in your hand.

Kieran pressed his forehead against yours as you pumped his cock with your hand, maintaining the pace that he’d been going at. He braced both hands against the wall on either side of your head, clenching his teeth to keep quiet as he came in your hand. You slowly stroked him through it, easing him back to earth with you.

As his orgasm passed his body relaxed against you. His arms came to cradle your head against him, softly petting your hair as you both caught your breath. You wrapped your arms up under his arms, holding him firmly against you.

The two of you could only stand there, panting and trying to catch your breath. The only sounds you could hear were the birds chirping nearby, the faint sounds of the river on the other side of the charred town, and Kieran’s breathing in your ear.

After a few minutes, you reluctantly separated, pulling back enough to meet each other’s gaze. Kieran leaned forward to kiss your forehead, and you tenderly rubbed his cheek. Letting your hands fall between you, you gingerly tucked him away in his drawers, doing up the buttons of his trousers. Kieran shifted, adjusting himself before giving you a satisfied smile.

He crouched down in front of you, gathering your drawers and holding them up for you, letting you brace your hand against his shoulder for balance as you carefully stepped back into the discarded garment, letting him tug them up around your hips and tie the bow in place. You let your skirts drop back around you, and Kieran helped you smooth them out.

Kieran stood up once you were sorted out, and like a curtain fell you could see the shift in his mood. He looked so nervous, unable to meet your eyes, like he was afraid you’d hate him.

You reached out and gently took his face in your hands, peppering kisses across his face until he was laughing and lightly swatting you away before pulling you into his arms, tucking you under his neck and cuddling with you as best as the two of you could.

“Mmmmm,” You sighed, stretching against him before settling back against him. “That was wonderful,”

“Believe me, you deserve a much better setting,” He sighed. “But I guess we make do with what we have,”

“When you’re an outlaw, sometimes the back of a jailhouse is all you’ve got,” you giggled. “Did you enjoy it?”

“You even have to ask?” He chuckled, petting your hair. “Of course I did. You’re... God, you’re so incredible. So beautiful and sweet and... and so damn arousing,” He groaned. “I’m sure if any of them back at camp find out I’ll be murdered for even looking at you. But what a fine death,” He chuckled.

“Nah,” you sighed. “I won’t let ‘em kill you. I like you too much,”

You heard a familiar voice calling your name and peered around the building to see Arthur standing in the middle of the town next to your abandoned buckets of water, looking around for you. His hand rested on his gun, ready for trouble.

“We’re here,” you called, grabbing his attention. You walked around the prison building, doing your best to act normal, like you hadn’t just had some of the best sex of your life. Kieran followed behind you.

“There you are,” Arthur sighed. “What are you two doing? Dutch was getting worried,”

“We’re fine,” You assured him. “Kieran and I just got to talking,”

As you met Arthur in the middle he paused, surveying the scene for a moment. He subtly looked you over, looking for any signs of any hurt, then looked over Kieran for any signs of trouble.

“The girls said you and he would be fine but Dutch wanted me to come find you anyway,” He said, his eyes flicking between you and Kieran. “You didn’t do anything to her, did you O’Driscoll?” He growled. Kieran shrunk under his gaze, looking more than a little terrified.

“Nothin’ I didn’t want him to do,” You winked, leaning down and picking up one of the buckets of water. “Come on, Kieran. Before they send the whole cavalry after us,” you chuckled.

Arthur stared open-mouthed as you walked past him. Kieran picked up the other bucket and quickly followed after you, ducking around Arthur.

Kieran was quiet as you walked up the hill back to camp, ever aware of Arthur’s presence a few feet behind the two of you.

“There you are, dear girl,” Hosea called once the two of you walked back into camp. He and Dutch were standing outside Dutch’s tent.

“You alright? That weasel didn’t hurt you did he?” Dutch asked, looking you over.

“I’m fine, Dutch,” You assured him brightly. “Just lost track of time. I wanted to check out those burned down ruins at the bottom of the canyon. Kieran was just keeping guard, making sure no one bothered me,”

Dutch glanced behind you at Arthur who nodded, seeming to back up your story. You knew he could let Dutch know what you’d said, how you’d all but admitted that you and Kieran had been messing around. But he didn’t. Arthur trusted your judgment, you knew. You were grateful he didn’t tell Dutch what you’d been up to, knowing the man would be less forgiving with Kieran.

“Alright,” Dutch hummed. “Well, it seems Tilly and Mary Beth were right that you two would be fine. But next time try not to be gone so long. It’s too dangerous,”

“Understood, Dutch,” you said with a polite nod. You and Kieran headed over to the chuck wagon, setting down your buckets of water.

“I’ll uh... I better get back to the horses,” Kieran mumbled, rubbing his neck. “I... thank you for today. Ah uh.. I don’t mean for the... though I am very grateful that you... that we... I only meant how nice it was to get out of camp and... bathe in the river... not together I... you were there, you know what I’m trying to...”

You giggled and grabbed his wild rag, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “It was my pleasure,” you purred in his ear before rolling back on your heels. “Literally.” you winked. Kieran turned five different shades of red before he laughed.

“A-anyway I’ll uh... see you around?” He asked bashfully.

“I should hope so,” you teased. “It’s a small camp. And besides,” You leaned forward once more, dropping your voice. “You still owe me a nice night somewhere private,”

“Y-yeah,” Kieran grinned. “Yeah I suppose I do,” he said. He began backing up, ready to head back to the horses. “I’ll keep that promise, too, don’t you worry. I--” He let out a little squawk as he tripped backwards over a (thankfully empty) bucket, falling backwards on his ass. You did your best to stifle your giggles as he pulled himself to his feet, wanting to save his pride as much as possible.

“I’ll see you later, Kieran,” You chuckled. He grinned and nodded, tipping his hat before hurrying away.

Across camp you could see Hosea and Arthur chatting quietly. From the way Arthur glanced over at you, you had a feeling he was catching Hosea up to speed on what he’d found the two of you doing. But you knew Hosea wouldn’t kick up much of a fuss, though he’d likely pull you aside to make sure nothing had happened that you didn’t want to.

But with the sun starting to go down, all that would likely wait until tomorrow. Tonight all that was left to do was eat some supper and relax by the fire.

You rounded the wagon and spotted Abigail sitting with the other gals at the round table. “Here, Abigail,” You said, handing her Jack’s overalls. “Couldn’t get all the stains out but I think they’re still wearable,” You said.

“Looks great,” Abigail said, inspecting the overalls. “I never thought they’d even be this clean. Thanks,”

“No problem,” You said, turning and walking over to the stew pot. You heard four sets of boots on the dirt behind you. The girls coming over to grasp onto whatever gossip you could offer.

“So, you two were gone a while,” Mary Beth hummed.

“A bit,” You shrugged coyly. They’d have to work to get anything out of you. “We went to check out that burned down town,”

“Is that all you checked out?” Karen asked as you picked up two plates and began ladling stew into each of them. You gave her a little side-eye, telling her all she needed to know. The girls giggled with delight at the fresh, juicy gossip.

“Was it good?” Tilly asked.

“Oh yes, the town was quite nice,” You replied, standing up.

“Oh come on. That’s all we get?” Karen huffed as you walked away with your two plates.

“Good night, girls,” You called over your shoulder, ending the conversation.

You searched among the horses, but you couldn’t see Kieran anywhere.

“Hey, Kieran,” you called. Kieran’s face poked around one of the horses, smiling at you. You approached him, stepping between the two large horses. “Brought you some stew. Figured you’d be hungry after all that... work,” You purred.

Kieran chuckled and glanced around. But no one could see you between the horses. He leaned forward and you gave him a quick kiss before handing him his stew.

Stepping out from between the horses, the two of you headed over to a quiet spot on the edge of camp to eat supper and chat undisturbed. You found the two of you chatting long into the night, only going to bed when Charles, on guard duty, passed you and warned you of how late it was before moving on.

Talking with Kieran was so natural, it was easy to lose track of time.

With a quick, secret kiss, the two of you separated, you to your bedroll, Kieran to one of the large trees.

#Short Sprint #Kieran/reader #female reader #F!reader #kieran duffy #rdr2 fanfic #ao3 fanfic

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