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dumblydork · 3 years

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Summer

Hello! I am SO sorry for having gone MIA all of a sudden on Tumblr and Ao3, but life caught up once exams ended and I was in a deep, dark place for sometime. But not to worry, because I'm definitely better now, and finally got over my writer's block/unmotivation (if that's a word) and what better way to start off writing again if not with a Hinny fic?

As usual, I hope you enjoy this sort of non-magic alternate universe, maybe a modern meet-cute of sorts? From the one and only Ginny Weasley's perspective, of course.

Again, you can find my Ao3 right here where I post quite fluffy Wolfstar one shots!

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The summer was harsh in Cornwall, which was where Ginny's family home was situated. She went up to university in London, just having recently finished her second year in Drama. Last summer, she was on a long trip with her best friend Luna, and hadn't been able to make it down to be with her family. But this year, she fully intended to spend as much time as possible with them, even if her older twin brothers were being annoying arses.

"Fred, George, just wipe the bloody tables already!" She screamed, exasperated, even though the twins were not even 20 feet away. The only unique cafe-by-day/restaurant-by-night was owned by Ginny's family. It was a quaint place, serving the best coffee to tourists and locals alike, along with not such a sharply contrasted cosy restaurant theme the place adopted when the sun went down.

And currently, the cafe was a few hours away from opening as a restaurant, and was left in the care of Ginny and her older twin brothers. She had another older brother after the twins, but he was off with his university friends (being an year older) and had even MORE older brothers ranked above the twins. Her oldest brother Bill, worked as a vet in New York, also where the second brother Charlie worked as an art curator. The third brother Percy was currently obtaining his PhD in some sort of Math which Ginny was too 'humanities' to understand (in Percy's own words, that subject bigot). The brothers after Percy, twins Fred and George were as stated, being annoying prats but worked in some sort of prank shop, much to their mother and Percy's chagrin (Between us and her, Ginny never understood why Percy felt a need to voice this opinion, because if Ginny also opened her mouth to provide an opinion on every single thing under the sun, working in a prank shop was perfectly acceptable).

Finally the last brother Ron went to university in Devon, having recently finished his degree in Astronomy combined with Philosophy, and that was it. Growing up with 6 older brothers, Ginny was significantly hot tempered, a trait often made fun of because of her (and her whole family's) flaming red hair.

"Oh for God's sake the two of you, just shut up if you don't want to do any work!" She finally snapped, causing two identical pairs of brownish eyes to look at her.

"Okay!" They smirked, before actually rushing away to the back of the cafe. Ginny sighed, wondering for the tenth time that afternoon why she bothered to come down here in summer. The twins, despite being her favourite, were useless gits-

"Ginny! Where are Fred and George?" Her mother's voice flew out from the front of the store, removing Ginny from her trail of thoughts, where Molly stood with hands laden with grocery bags. Her father, Arthur, she saw outside from the huge floor to ceiling windows, was unloading the boot of their car of more paper bags.

"They ran away after being absolutely useless gits." She muttered angrily, almost aggressively wiping a glass and placing it on the shelves behind her.

Her mother let out a long suffering sigh, but nevertheless joined Ginny in tidying up the cafe. "They're quite irresponsible." Molly sighed, wiping down tables at a superhuman speed.

"Mum if it's okay, can I join Ron and his friends at the party happening down at the beach?" Ginny asked apprehensively. The question had been burning at the back of her mind since the morning when Ron actually invited her to the beach party being thrown by one of the local boys. He had brought his uni friends and girlfriend down from Devon, and Ginny had already met Hermione, Ron's soulmate, if their behaviour was anything to go by.

Being in an all girls school, Ginny practically grew up with her girlfriends gushing about boys and celebrities, often almost swooning like some Victorian women when boys from the neighbouring school passed by their grounds.

However, Ginny was smart- if having six brothers had taught her anything, it was that boys were annoying, and only a few handful of them were actually decent. But now, looking at how close Ron and Hermione were, Ginny was starting to long for her own sort of romance. It had been over a year since she broke up with her first and only boyfriend Dean. She was convinced the breakup had solidified her stance on relationships, which was that relationships were okay but there was no need to actively look for one. Ron and Hermione's lovey dovey-ness was revolting, but uncharacteristically had Ginny pining away for her love story as well. Not that she'd ever admit it, of course.

"Well there's nothing really to do, and if it's busy there's a lot of pairs of hands to help. So sure, go on." Molly finally said and Ginny could almost fist pump, if it wasn't for the wet rag she was holding.

The evening rolled around quicker than Ginny anticipated, and before she knew it, her and Hermione stood in Ginny's small attic bedroom, getting ready for the party. "So, tell me, how was Dean?" Hermione asked, looking behind at Ginny through the mirror, where the younger girl stood blinking away extra mascara.

"Oh well, he was alright. Nothing like fireworks or sparkle." Ginny flushed slightly as she processed her own words. Oh, how she sounded like a lovestruck 12 year old.

However, Hermione didn't seem to mind. She simply grinned. "I'm sure with the right person it's more than just sparkles and fireworks." Hermione winked, and Ginny wondered if there was more to the statement than she understood. However, Hermione was already done with the topic, now going on about her course and what plans Ginny had for after university.

They walked downstairs, finding Ron standing at the door, his eyes glued to Hermione as she walked down the stairs. To be fair, Hermione definitely looked stunning- even if it was for a casual beach party. Ginny noted slightly bitterly to herself how the simplest pair of jeans and top could make one gorgeous to the right eyes. She breathed deeply as Ron wrapped an arm around his girlfriend, the girlfriend in question smirking back at Ginny as she followed them. Okay, very confusing.

The walk to the beach from the cafe was short, and there was already a bonfire going in the distance, with some upbeat song playing from someone's phone. "So, where is Harry and everyone else?" Hermione asked, looking around. Ron still had a hand in Hermione's as the two of them looked around for who had to be Ron's friends. "Neville!" Ron suddenly yelled good naturedly, as a tall guy walked towards the three of them with a big grin on his face.

"Ron! Hermione!" Neville hugged each of them in turn, smiling broadly at Ginny.

"Neville, this is my younger sister Ginny. Ginny, that's one of our friends from uni, Neville." Ron introduced. Ginny waved, which was returned by Neville.

"Is your girlfriend here as well?" Hermione asked, to which Ron added, "Oh, do we finally get to meet the elusive To-Be-Mrs. Longbottom?"

Perhaps having noticed Ginny's confusion, Neville clarified. "These two here haven't had the chance to meet my girlfriend- well, fiance as of a week, yet. In answer to your question Ron, no, she unfortunately couldn't make it. But she's been inviting the two of you over for dinner since ages." He turned to Ron.

"Actually yeah, we should definitely go. Anybody seen Harry?" Ron asked, looking around the small crowd of people. Ginny moved away from the couple to sit next to the fire, and grab a cold beer in the process.

She had just made herself comfortable slightly away from the warm fire when a figure sat down next to her, causing shivers to go up her left side. "Hi, you must be Ginny." The figure spoke and Ginny looked to the source of the voice, to be met by the unruliest mop of black hair she had ever seen on a human, and twinkling green eyes. In the soft light from the fire, they glowed slightly amber.

"I am. But I don't think I've met you?"

Ginny didn't get an answer because Ron's voice interrupted them. "Harry, you came!" He shouted, the figure (Harry) getting up to tackle Ron in a hug.

"Of course I did, getting sloshed at your best mate's beach party is always infinitely better than home." Harry grinned, and Ginny started to feel her heart race.

"I see you've met Ginny." Ron said, sitting down in between her and Harry.

"I just did, yeah." Harry smiled mischievously. They had moved closer to the fire, and in the brighter light, Harry's face was more distinct. And boy was he fit. The hair, even though messy, was not unattractive (quite the opposite), and his face was slightly round, made rounder by the permanent grin which seemed to reside there. And his eyes were covered by round glasses, reflecting off the orange from the fire.

"Well anyway, Gin, this is Harry, my best mate from university. He just made it down here to Cornwall." Ron said, and suddenly got up to fetch more drinks, but Ginny didn't miss the glares Hermione was shooting Ron from across the fire.

"Do you reckon we go a bit further away?" Ginny, being so busy interpreting the look Hermione was giving Ron, hadn't noticed the boy had shifted closer to her.

"Uh, sure." She found herself slightly tongue tied, staring into green amber.

"Brilliant, Let's go?" Harry got up, and lent Ginny a hand. She took it, and a slight warmth, probably not from the fire, ran down her spine when their hands remained connected.

They walked away from the party, not too far that a search team would be required, but just far enough to hold a conversation in peace. The music slightly played in the background, a slower guitar theme, and Ginny turned around to see Ron and Hermione swaying around the fire, the brightest smile settled on both their faces. Ginny simply let out a happy sigh, attention darting down to entwined hands.

"So, Ron tells me you're in drama?" He asked, as they sat down near the water with their legs bent, just that the waves touched their toes and washed back.

"Yes, I am, final year now. Although I haven't heard a lot about you?" Ginny teased. Harry simply chuckled, a sound she realised she found much more attractive than she should have.

"Well it's a shame since I am his best mate but, Harry Potter, third year medic, at your service." He lightly bowed his head, eliciting a giggle out of the girl.

"Medicine huh, that definitely sounds hectic." She commented, as her fingers drew an absent minded pattern in the sand separating their sitting figures.

"I also captain the football team." He replied, eyes shining with humor. Ginny looked up, wondering if it was a coincidence that the man she found extremely fit also checked off all her criterion of 'boyfriend'.

"Oh- well I don't know how you found the time to be here, what with studying and football." Ginny smiled. Harry looked back at her, eyes boring into her brown ones. "Only because I was told someone stunning was going to be here." He said in a lower voice. Ginny flushed under the stare.

"I'm sure having those feelings for your best mate's girlfriend is not a good idea." She teased, feeling some confidence seeping into her. Harry scooted closer, placing a hand on Ginny's.

"And what if I said they weren't for the girlfriend, but for the sister?" His eyes darted down to her lips, her own pulse quickening. Then continuing with her sudden confidence, she unconsciously leaned in, her lips just millimeters away from Harry's. "The sister would definitely like that because she thinks you're extremely fit too." Ginny whispered, her lips just brushing against Harry's before he closed the distance completely.

The two of them sat there, away from the party, lips moving in slow sync as if they were doing the communicating. Getting to know each other in silent movements, a dance of attraction and dominance. Thee music faded in the background, as behind her closed eyes Ginny saw stars, and faintly made out the sound of fireworks exploding behind them. Not that she'd admit it to anyone, of course.

But in that moment, it was just her, Harry and the cool water playing with their feet. And when they finally pulled apart, Ginny secretly swore that she saw her reflection in green pools glow and sparkle.

Not that she'd ever admit it, obviously.

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TAGLIST: @amy-herondale-chase // @purplepygmypuffskein // @ginnypxtter // @alwaysmagica1 // @norakelly // @her-blazing-look //

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Okay, I hope you guys enjoyed that! I wrote that when I was half asleep, so I'm not even sure if most of it makes sense haha.

As usual, if you want to join the taglist and be notified whenever I write a new Hinny story (which will be much more frequently now), please interact with the pinned TAGLIST post on my account!

Thank you for reading, and please interact with the post! Reblogs are always appreciated but likes and comments are just as amazing! Loads of virtual hugs xxx

#hinny #alternate universe #harry potter #headcanon #harry x ginny #ginny weasley #romance #au #fiction #beach #summer #party #okay out of tags #writing #ao3 writer #taglist

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rxmanticdevil · 3 years

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Drabble/Short Fic #1 - Cutting Ties

((Characters: Josiah Trelawny (& his family), Arthur Morgan Spoilers: Yes, through Ch. 4 Words: ~982 Trigger warnings: Robbery Explanation for this abomination: Just a “what if” babble imagining if in the escape from the Saint Denis’ bank robbery gone horribly wrong Arthur ended up accidentally breaking into Trelawny’s house. He takes the opportunity to deliver Trelawny news and advice.

I just got this scene in my head and I wanted to write it, okay? Hahaha. I might write another version from the perspective of Arthur, and then a darker version for it were Dutch instead of Arthur.))

Those eyes were colder than Trelawny could have ever imagined.

There were a million ways he saw this same situation play out in his mind over the years. It was far from a possibility he hadn’t entertained before. And yet, actually being in the predicament was certainly jarring. Not only that, but there was a larger cast here than he had imagined there would be.

His hands were raised in surrender, he was standing stiff, acutely aware that his wife and young sons were trembling behind him. He was between them and the predator before them. In all those imagined scenarios, he couldn’t have imagined the relief in his heart that the barrel of the gun he was staring down was aimed at him. That meant his family was safe. The sound of the gun clicking seemed to echo in his family’s Saint Denis home.

“Josiah, no!” his wife was frantic.

“Go into that room and shut the door. Don’t make a sound, or I’ll kill him,” the voice of his opposition was low, gruff, pointed at his wife and kids. He could hear as they scrambled to follow the orders.

And Trelawny’s only regret in the moment was that he couldn’t tell them he would be unharmed.

Well, so he thought.

The narrowed eyes, furrowed brows, they were familiar. Dirty blonde hair tumbling over ears. The rest of the face hidden under the brim of a hat and the black fabric of a bandana was something he could easily paint in his mind. The man may be pointing a gun at him, but Josiah still trusted him.

“Arthur,” he whispered, not wanting his wife to know the connection between the man robbing their home (and from the gunshots earlier, he suspected the city too) and her husband.

“Quiet you.” And Trelawny could imagine the terror he’d fear should this be more than a farce. An act. An attempt at ensuring Trelawny’s reputation of an upstanding man remained untainted, and Arthur’s reputation as a ruthless outlaw remained intact, “Your valuables.”

It was a demand.

“I don’t have anything you’d want-”

Arthur closed the distance between them, boots crunching the shards of glass from the broken window that had provided entry. A large, rough hand went to Trelawny’s shirt collar while the gun was pressed to his head, “Bullshit. This house’s got jewelry don’t it? You’re fancy, I know you got money.”

Now Arthur’s face was close to his, and Trelawny felt for the first time in the encounter real fear. The world around them vanished into the background. Arthur’s body, although smaller than it had been in the past (a point of concern, if Trelawny was thinking straight) was still hulking over his own. They both knew Josiah was far from a fighter, and at this proximity was completely at Arthur’s mercy. Something he had previously thought he had, but now with the gun to his head and hand at his neck, he wasn’t sure.

“Don’t come back,” the whisper was quiet, pointed. A stark contrast to the man’s violent actions.

The words were hardly registering.

“We lost Hosea. And Lenny.”

“What? Arthur? What’s going-”

Josiah had no time to process what was said. A fist came at him, “Ah!” he yelped in pain as it made contact with his cheek- though he knew from watching the outlaw fight in the past it wasn’t Arthur’s worst.

“I said your valuables. I can take your life instead if that’s more convenient,” It was back to the show.

“A-a-ah yes,” his mind was still racing, and now his head aching from the punch, “That drawer, it should- should have some jewelry in it. Maybe some money.”

He was shoved roughly into the wall behind him as Arthur moved over to the designated drawer, opening it and pocketing pearl earrings and a necklace, along with a small billfold. He turned back to Trelawny, “Thanks for the donation. You know, you’re lucky you ran into me. My friend would’a killed you.”

There was something in how that had been said that brought a chill to Trelawny’s spine. Friend? Which one? That Micah character? Well, Trelawny could have told anyone that if one of the Van der Linde gang would kill him it would be-

“A Dutch fellow.”

Dutch? There was so much that Arthur was telling him, he needed a moment with all of it. But before he could focus on even one of the threads, Arthur had once again closed the distance between them.

“Guess this is good-bye,” and with a quick hit with the butt of a pistol, Trelawny collapsed to the ground.

______

“Josiah?! Josiah! Dear! Wake up, please!”

Head aching with each word, his eyes fluttered open. Pain was coursing through his body as he struggled to focus on the world.

“Oh, thank God!” His wife wrapped her arms around him, bringing him close to her chest.

“Daddy!” his sons rushed to his side, clinging onto him.

She pulled away from him just enough to check his face, her sweet eyes lingering on his bruises, “Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes, don’t worry about a thing, darling, I’m alright,” he held his family, but his mind was still on the encounter. Arthur said so much: Hosea and Lenny… dead? Dutch was a danger now? Don’t return?

There were countless questions. But from the sound of it, none of them would be answered. And honestly, as long as his family was safe – he supposed the answers weren’t important.

Though his heart ached, for Hosea- the wise man, for Lenny- the young, bright spirit. Gone like sweet, playful Sean. How many more deaths in the gang would there be?

He wasn’t even upset about the robbery, if what Arthur said was true – and he trusted the outlaw more than one probably should trust such a degenerate – then it was a small price to pay to be protected from Dutch’s wrath.

He had been playing with fire for long enough, it seemed. This had just been a small singe from the flames, and it was probably best he quit before he became engulfed in them.

#{drabble}#{short fic}#((it's one of those two))#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption fan fic #josiah trelawny #arthur morgan #rdr2 spoilers #{rebloggable}#{my writing}#((a version of this with dutch would be set after Guarma when he's really unravelling #and would mostly just be my desire to write gratuitous violence so #that's just the real trash that might stay in the garbage but idk #also up for rping that with someone hahahaha))

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hysterialevi · 5 years

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When the Devil Cries pt. 34

Fanfic summary: (NO SPOILERS IN THIS STORY) After arriving in Saint Denis, Arthur ends up falling in love with a seemingly innocent pianist, only to find himself in a battle with one of the most notorious outlaws to ever emerge from America. Now, between working for Dutch and robbing money for the gang, Arthur has to also protect the man he loves as the two of them try to find their freedom.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Male OC

Previous chapter

This story is also on AO3

Author’s note: Real quick, I just wanna thank you guys for sticking with this story for so long. There aren’t that many chapters left (I’m estimating only about 1 or 2 after this one), and the fact that this fic is almost over has me feeling emotional lol. I hope you guys enjoy the last few parts of this story, and again, thanks for being there for all this time :)

From Arthur’s POV

O’CREAGH’S RUN

A COUPLE OF WEEKS LATER

“You got everything?” Hamish asked, eyeing my bag.

I shut the leather flap closed, placin’ my hands on my hips.

“Yeah. I think so. Eddie and I should be ready to go.”

The veteran limped over to me and patted me on the shoulder, displaying a warm smile.

“Well then, you boys stay safe out there, you hear? Things can get pretty wild on the roads nowadays, but you already know this. I just hope your plan to get out of America works for you.”

I nodded in agreement, gazing at Eddie through one of the windows as he readied the horses outside.

“Yeah, me too. Lemme tell you, it’s been one hell of a journey, runnin’ around with that boy, but...I know it’s gonna be worth it. I just have this...feelin’ in me, you know?”

Hamish followed my line of sight and peered at Eddie with an almost fatherly expression, reminiscing about the times when he was our age.

“I believe that feeling is called ‘hope,” he replied. “You become very familiar with it when you fight in a war. Sometimes, it’s all you have. Guns are fine and dandy, sure, but what happens when you don’t have one? That ‘feeling’ is the only thing you can hold onto, and if you’re lucky...it might just save your life.”

I took my attention away from the pianist for a moment and changed the subject, curious to know more about Hamish’s past.

“Sounds like those were bad times,” I remarked seriously. “How anyone survived that war is beyond me.”

Hamish raised a brow, appearing confused. “You wasn’t around back then?”

“I was,” I corrected, “but I was knee-high to a grasshopper. Just a lil’ boy. I hardly remember anything from back then.”

The veteran let out a sigh. “Consider yourself lucky. Ain’t nothin’ pleasant to remember about the Civil War. Colored folk were in chains, our people was beatin’ them, and of course...there was death. Everywhere you went. Sometimes, the bodies lay so thick, you coulda walked across the whole field without your boots touching mud.”

I shook my head in a sympathetic manner, lookin’ Hamish in the eye.

“It’s a good thing those times are behind us, then.”

He gave me a weary expression. “Behind the government, perhaps. But not us. There’s still conflict in this country every single day. A thousand little wars ragin’ on in the unseen corners of America. That’s why you absolutely cannot let anything happen to you, or Mister Ryan.”

Hamish paused at the mention of Eddie’s name and switched to a more inquiring tone, leaning casually on his crutch.

“Say, how did you meet that man in the first place? I’ve spoken with Eddie a bit, and he says y’all haven’t known each other for that long, but the two of you seem real close to me.”

A chuckle escaped me. “I ran into him in Saint Denis. Quite literally, actually. I had just come stumblin’ outta some pompous saloon and accidentally slammed right into him. It was...memorable, you could say.”

Hamish returned the laugh. “Tell me, what was Eddie like back then? How’d a simple pianist end up running around with America’s most wanted?”

I backtracked through all the months I’d spent with Eddie, the memories bombarding my head like the continuous flash of a camera.

“To be honest, I couldn’t quite tell you. He was a kind, law-abiding citizen who had never killed a man before, and then...there was me. A rotten, ol’ thief come looking to pick that city clean.”

The other man smirked at that, clearly not buying it. “And yet, Eddie insists you’re one of the noblest men he’s ever known.”

I grinned in response, carrying on with my story. “Well, I suppose Eddie just...brought somethin’ out in me. I saw the struggles he was dealin’ with, and I wanted to give him better. So, I helped him out with his troubles, taught him how to survive, and gave him shelter within the gang, but...now that’s fallen apart, too.”

I sighed in a despondent tone, glancing at the floor. “...Seems like that happens all too often, nowadays.”

An encouraging glint twinkled in Hamish’s eyes. “So it does. But you’ll make it through this, Arthur. You and Eddie. I know a survivor when I see one.”

I picked up the leather bag and slung it over my shoulder, preparin’ to head outside as I spoke with Hamish along the way.

“I just...I wanna give Eddie the life he deserves, y’know? But I dunno if I can do it.”

The veteran followed after me, still remaining optimistic.

“Why not? You’ve gotten this far, ain’t you?”

I stopped right in front of the door, turnin’ around to face the old man.

“Well, yeah, but how long will we be running? I’m a criminal, for god’s sake. An outlaw. I’m constantly on the lookout for Pinkertons, bounty hunters, rival gangs -- how in the hell am I supposed to help Eddie find a normal life when I can’t even find one?”

Hamish chuckled lightly, pointing out the obvious. “You rely on yourself too much, Arthur. Remember, you ain’t bearing all this weight by yourself. Eddie’s there to help you just as much as you’re there to help him.”

The veteran laid a hand on my shoulder, attempting to reassure me. “I know it’s comfortable believing that you’re capable of findin’ all your own solutions, but the reality is, sometimes you need other people to fill in the blanks. You haven’t been able to find a normal life, Arthur, because you ain’t meant to do it on your own. Don’t be afraid to lean on Eddie every once in a while. The boy’s strong. He can take it. You just gotta let him know what’s goin’ on.”

Falling silent for a minute, I took what Hamish said to heart and thought about it for a while, suddenly changin’ my whole perspective on my relationship with Eddie.

I...I supposed Hamish was right.

I had gotten so used to fixing my own problems and building up my own pride, that I forgot there weren’t no shame in askin’ for help when I needed it.

Things was just always so tense within the gang, and everyone was concerned with their own problems, that eventually, I learned to look out for myself. Didn’t even take a moment to step back and consider that perhaps, I wasn’t as alone as I thought.

I knew Eddie was capable of protecting himself, and of me, but I was just too afraid to let him do it.

I rested a hand on the doorknob and simply stayed still for a moment, listenin’ to Hamish as he continued to talk.

“Love goes both ways, Arthur. Whatever you’re willin’ to do in order to keep Eddie alive, I know that man feels the same way about you. It’s how love works.”

“Wait,” I said, pausing for a second. “...Love? How did you know that we were...” my voice trailed off awkwardly, causin’ me to clear my throat. “Did...did Eddie tell you?”

The veteran chortled. “Didn’t have to. The bond between you two is pretty obvious. In fact, I suspected it from the moment you set foot on my doorstep. I just never said anything ‘cause I didn’t wanna pry.”

My face started to feel hot with embarrassment, and I sheepishly rubbed the back of my neck. “Ah. I see.”

Hamish quickly offered some reassurance, noticing my mood.

“Hey, you’ll get no judgements here. I must admit I’m a tad surprised, but frankly...” he sighed, his eyes sinking with profound sorrow, “...I’ve seen the damage unfair judgement can do. My own partner -- a colored woman -- was killed years ago because of it. ...You just take care of Mister Ryan while you’re out there, alright? And yourself.”

I nodded firmly at that, somewhat more relaxed now that our secret was out in the open.

“Oh, believe me. I will.”

A paternal smile radiated on the old man’s face and he pulled me into a hug with one of his arms, happily pattin’ me on the back as he said goodbye.

“Then I wish you luck. I’ll miss your company, Arthur. Yours and Eddie’s. It was a pleasure havin’ you boys stay.”

I laughed warmly at that, opening the front door.

“Heh, well, thank you for everything you’ve done. Y’know...this might be the first time I’m leavin’ someone’s house without any of their belongings.”

Hamish shook his head in an amused manner, separating the hug. “Oh, I don’t doubt that. Let’s just see if you can keep it up.”

I stepped out the door and made my way into the crisp weather outside, throwin’ one last wave at Hamish as he stayed behind.

“I’ll do my best.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Strollin’ away from the quaint cabin as a light breeze whistled past me, I approached the horses while Eddie secured our stuff onto their backs and whistled to himself, his face shielded from the sun due to the Nevada hat sittin’ on his head.

His leg was looking much better now, thanks to all those weeks of recovery. He still weren’t able to walk or run as well as before, and it had been a while since he last left the house, but the man didn’t require a cane to get around no more. At least, not most of the time.

I was just happy to see Eddie on his feet again.

It scared the hell outta me, watchin’ him go through all that just ‘cause of one bullet. There was a lot of pain and frustration involved with his healing process, and part of me worried he’d never be able to walk again. As for the other part, well -- I was just grateful that he was still around in the first place.

After all, it didn’t look like many of our people survived Rodrick’s attack back at Beaver Hollow. And considering what happened to fellers like Kieran, or Lenny, or Strauss...I considered ourselves lucky for gettin’ away how we did.

I only hoped our luck would last long enough for us to get out of America.

Our plan at the moment was to get to Saint Denis and hop onto the next ship to England, but I had seen enough of my friends get killed to know that nothin’ was ever that easy. The road to freedom was rarely ever a straight path, and I doubted this one was going to be any different.

I supposed we would just have to wait and see what the future held.

“Morning, handsome,” I called out cheerfully, slingin’ my bag over my horse’s saddle. “You ready to go?”

The pianist fed his mount a quick snack, patting him on the neck.

“Ready as I’ll ever be. It feels like ages since I last stepped outside. What about you, Arthur? How are you feeling?”

I let out a hesitant sigh, admittedly nervous about going to England.

“...I’m ready,” I answered, not sounding as sincere as I hoped. “Just...not quite used to the idea of livin’ halfway across the world yet.”

Eddie picked up on my tone and gave me a concerned look. “If you’re uncomfortable with going to England, we can always go somewhere else. There’s still time to decide. Remember, this isn’t just about me. I wanna make sure you’re safe too.”

“Well...where else would we go?” I asked. “Ain’t like we got a lot of options.”

The other man offered some suggestions. “Canada, perhaps? Or even Mexico, if you prefer.”

I waved a dismissive hand, goin’ along with our original idea.

“Nah, both of those places are too close. I’d feel better knowin’ we had some ocean between us and them Pinkertons. If they’re gonna come after me, I wanna at least make ‘em work for it. Besides, accordin’ to Javier, Mexico ain’t the best place to lie low right now.”

The pianist shrugged uncertainly, takin’ my word for it. “Well, alright, I guess.”

I came to a halt, noticing that Eddie still had a worried expression on his face.

“...Look, I’ll be fine,” I reassured him. “I just need some time to wrap my head ‘round this whole thing. I’ve never left America before. You know this. England’s a whole new world to me.”

The other man clearly wasn’t convinced about my commitment to this just yet, but decided to trust me anyway.

“...If you say so. Just let me know if you change your mind, okay? I don’t wanna drag you into something you’re not willing to do. And besides, the more backup plans we have, the better. I hate to be the pessimist, but there really is no guarantee our trip to England will go smoothly. And that’s assuming we even reach Saint Denis.”

I chuckled sarcastically, unhitching my horse. “You certainly know how to comfort a man, don’t you?”

Eddie smirked in response. “I learned from the best. Anyways, now that we got that out of the way...” he mounted his horse, stickin’ his boots in the stirrups, “...shall we get going?”

I followed his actions and climbed on top of my own mount, makin’ myself comfortable in the saddle.

“Yes, let’s.”

Turning away from Hamish’s lone cabin, the two of us began trotting at a casual pace as we slowly made our way back to the road, finally resuming the seemingly eternal journey we started months ago.

I couldn’t lie -- I was gonna miss O’Creagh’s Run. There was just a certain air to the place that offered a sense of sanctuary, and I always felt like we was hidden from the rest of the world whenever I wandered near here.

I supposed I was just more a nature person. America had its flaws, sure, but part of me honestly wished we could stay. Ever since I was a little boy, the view of lively meadows, never-ending forests, and purple mountains crowning the horizon always made me feel at home.

Somethin’ about them just brought you closer to the sky, I guess. They seemed to compliment the stars like nothing mankind ever built, and no matter how large people made their cities or how brightly they lit them up...I knew the wild west was always gonna have my heart.

It just made me sad to know that those times were comin’ to an end.

All them years I spent runnin’ around with Dutch and Hosea -- creating our own society and riding across America -- they were nothing more than a handful of lost memories now.

Hosea was dead, Dutch had lost his mind, and I...well, I hated to admit it, but the era of outlaws and gunslingers was over.

Despite all our efforts to stay ahead of it, civilization was spreading rapidly across the whole world, and people like me had no place in its society.

If I was gonna keep Eddie alive and hope to have a future with him, my entire lifestyle was gonna have to change.

My criminal background, my time spent runnin’ from the law, my love for a freer life -- it would all have to go. I would have to become a...civilized man, and live in a civilized place.

I didn’t know if I was ready for that kind of a difference, but what I did know was that I loved Eddie. And regardless of how much I longed for another life, that man meant more to me than anything else right now.

Even if it meant giving up everything I had in America, I was gonna do whatever it took to help him...because I knew he’d do the same for me.

I just hoped we’d be able to reach Saint Denis first. We were finally nearing the end of this harsh journey, and Lord only knew what sort of obstacles we was gonna face along the way. I had a feeling neither Atticus nor the Pinkertons were going to let us go that easy, but if I had any say in it, they weren’t gonna stop us from reaching England.

Nothing was.

~~~~~~~~~~

A COUPLE HOURS LATER

EASTERN NEW HANOVER

Roaming through New Hanover’s wide, open fields, Eddie and I ventured down a path that would lead us alongside the Kamassa River and straight into Bluewater Marsh, hopefully taking us to the northern region of Bayou Nwa before the day ended.

So far, things had been peaceful enough except for a few random crazies on the road, but...we had yet to run into anything life-threatening.

The weather was only partly cloudy, the roads were empty, the birds were soarin’ in the sky, and our heads were still on our shoulders. S’far as I was concerned, that was a win in my book.

As for Eddie, the man seemed content with our plan and didn’t show as much hesitance as I did, but there was still a certain...melancholy surrounding him. Sorta like he was about to visit a cemetery or something.

Though, the more I thought about it...he kinda was. After all, the last time Eddie set foot in England was when his family had just been murdered, and his previous partner, Nathaniel, was killed.

Goin’ back to that place after all these years...I imagined it must’ve brought back some terrible memories for the man.

I knew from personal experience that there weren’t nothing pleasant about returning to an old graveyard, and the longer Eddie stayed silent, the more I worried about his well-being.

I leaned over in my saddle and brought my horse closer to the other man, wantin’ to check up on him.

“Hey, Eddie,” I said, peerin’ at him from under my hat. “You doin’ alright there? You seem kinda...preoccupied.”

The pianist took his eyes off the road for a moment and glanced at me, his brow furrowed with suspicion.

“...I won’t lie to you, Arthur,” he replied in a perturbed voice. “I’ve had a strange feeling ever since we left the cabin. Like...someone’s watching us.”

I took a look at the surrounding area, scanning the trees to our side.

“You see anyone?” I questioned.

“Not yet,” Eddie admitted, “but the feeling’s still there.”

“Well...just keep your eyes open,” I warned. “I doubt it’s Atticus, but there’s still plenty of bandits in these parts. Could be them.”

The pianist wasn’t so sure. “Maybe, but bandits don’t stalk you, do they?”

I let out a troubled sigh, shakin’ my head. “Not usually, no. Again, like I said -- just keep your eyes open. We don’t need any surprises.”

Tryin’ to ease Eddie’s nerves, I decided to switch topics and took on a softer tone, hoping to calm the man down a little.

“Listen,” I began, “when I asked if you was doin’ okay, I was more referring to the fact that we’re going back to England. To your homeland. I know you haven’t seen it in a long time, and I was just...curious, I guess. About what’s on your mind.”

Eddie chuckled in response, though it sounded more like he was laughing at himself.

“You know, it’s the strangest thing. From the moment I set foot in the States, I spent every second wishing I could go back home. I missed London. I missed my family, the people, the buildings, the culture, the way of life...”

I jumped in. “But now...?”

“But now...” he continued, “I honestly wish I could stay here. In America. With you.”

I grinned, admittedly a tad surprised. “Is that so?”

Eddie returned the smile. “I’m afraid it is. But...I know it’s not safe for us here anymore. I know we have to leave. It’s just -- I’ll miss America. Despite everything we’ve been through.”

“Aw, don’t worry,” I reassured him. “We’ll come back someday.”

The pianist smirked. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Ridin’ in silence for a few moments, a random thought suddenly crossed my mind when I glanced at Eddie’s mount, causing me to raise a question.

“Hey, I just noticed something. Whatever happened to your other horse, Bullet? I haven’t seen him around for a while.”

Eddie frowned at that, sighing mournfully. “He died, I’m afraid.”

My eyes sprang open in surprise. “Died? When?”

“He was shot down when Rodrick attacked our camp,” he explained. “I didn’t even get the chance to try to save him.”

Bewildered by the news, I thought back to the ambush and replayed all the events in my head as clearly as I could, suddenly realizin’ something I completely missed before.

If I recalled correctly, I took cover behind a dead horse at some point during the shootout. It was right after Eddie had just been shot in the leg and I was tryin’ to make my way to him.

...That must’ve been Bullet.

“Aw, shit...” I breathed out. “I’m sorry, Eddie. He was a good horse.”

“Yeah,” he agreed softly. “he was. I’ll miss that big brute. I’m just glad it wasn’t you.”

I leaned to the side and placed a hand on top of Eddie’s, comforting the pianist.

“Oh, you know I wouldn’t let that happen. And neither would you.”

Smiling warmly at the comment, Eddie’s face radiated with affection as he tightened his hand ‘round mine, gazing lovingly at me.

Just before he could reply however, a third voice suddenly cut him off from a distance and darkened the mood with a sense of dread, causin’ us to stop dead in our tracks.

“A sweet sentiment,” their voice flatly observed, “...but I’m afraid that’s all it is.”

Turnin’ to see just who the hell had interrupted us, I brought my focus to the opposite end of the road and spotted a mysterious man sitting on a horse, only to quickly recognize the Pinkerton badge shining brightly on his coat.

There was a large array of other agents protecting him on both sides -- all of them armed to the teeth -- and the more I searched the thick trees surrounding us, the easier I started to notice the sons-of-bitches hidin’ in the bushes.

I guessed Eddie’s instincts were correct.

“...Shit...” I cursed under my breath. “Milton.”

Eddie paused. “Wait, you know this man?”

I kept my voice low, makin’ sure that the bastard couldn’t hear me.

“He’s one of them Pinkertons,” I explained with a whisper. “He’s been hunting Dutch for months now. Even before I met you.”

“...Dammit. What should we do?”

I signaled Eddie to stay back with a simple gesture, remindin’ him to remain calm as Milton slowly approached the two of us.

“Just let me do the talking,” I said. “Don’t shoot anything yet.”

Eddie was obviously unsettled by the encounter but followed my lead anyway, keepin’ his hand close to his holster.

“...If you think that’s best. Just be careful.”

I gave him a nod, ensuring that I would.

Finally bringin’ my attention over to Milton, I tapped my spurs into the side of my horse and steadily trotted closer to him, wandering down the road alone as the other Pinkertons kept their guns nailed onto me.

I didn’t dare take my eyes off of Milton’s friends -- especially not that sleaze Ross -- and with every torturous second that passed by, I could feel Milton’s glare practically piercin’ through me more and more.

It was evident that he didn’t intend on lettin’ us walk outta here alive, and just by studying his arrogant demeanor, I could tell he had already captured some o’ the other folks in our gang.

My only question was who.

“Mister Morgan,” Milton greeted as I came to a halt. “Nice to see you again. It’s been quite a long time since we last spoke.”

I sighed to myself, already wishin’ I could kill this man. “...I do my best to avoid you.”

“So I see.”

The Pinkerton’s iron sight traveled over to Eddie, leading him into his next question. “...I assume that’s Mister Ryan?”

I followed Milton’s gaze and briefly glanced at the pianist, surprised that he knew him.

“Oh, there’s no need to be shocked,” Milton remarked, noticing my expression. “Micah Bell hardly left anything to question, after all. He’s been quite the informant as of late.”

An irritated breath escaped me. “Of course. Well...what is it that you want?”

The agent rested his arms on the horn of his saddle. “I want many things, Mister Morgan. Van der Linde, most of all. But also...you.”

That triggered a sense of alarm within me, but I decided to hold it back for now.

“So...what,” I asked, tryin’ to hide my agitation, “you here to kill me? Claim the price on my head? Is that it?”

Milton nonchalantly shook his head. “Not kill. ...Not yet.”

The Pinkerton raised his hands in a diplomatic manner and slowly walked towards me, closing the distance between us until there were only a couple meters left.

“I’ve come to make a deal, Mister Morgan.”

I let out a scoff. “A deal?”

“I’m offering you a chance to surrender,” Milton continued, disregarding my reluctance. “Lay down your weapons, and come with me peacefully. If you tell me where to find Van der Linde, I promise you won’t be executed.”

I refused to humor him.

“Ol’ Dutch? I haven’t seen him in weeks.”

The Pinkerton obviously didn’t believe me. “Is that so?”

“I’ve lied about many things in my time, agent,” I countered, “but that ain’t one of them.”

Milton’s mind remained unswayed. “Even so, my offer still stands. You may not know where Dutch is at the moment, but I’m sure a man like you would know how to find him. Help me locate Mister Van der Linde, and you have my word you won’t swing.”

I shrugged. “And you expect me to just believe you?”

The agent’s expression hardened with impatience. “You don’t have a choice.”

Cocking their guns as a warning, the other Pinkertons immediately assumed a more hostile stance as they cornered me and Eddie within the confines of this road, preventin’ us from going anywhere.

There were far too many of them for us to simply escape without a fight, and judging by the faint rustling I heard from behind me, I could only assume they had blocked us from the rear as well.

We were trapped.

“So,” Milton said, readying his own pistol, “what’s it going to be, Arthur? Shall we handle this like civilized folk...or do I need to order my men to open fire?”

Observin’ the Pinkertons with an alarmed glare, I started to grow restless as my heart began to pound heavily and I slowly realized just how many of them there actually were.

It looked like an entire goddamned battalion had ambushed us, and for as far as the eye could see, there were nothin’ but Pinkertons blocking us from every direction, making me feel as if we was trapped in a human cobweb.

It was clear to me that we had to get the hell outta here as soon as possible...but I just didn’t know how.

Eddie trotted closer to me and kept his voice hushed, whispering in a panicked tone.

“There’s too many of them, Arthur,” he stated, his eyes frantically dartin’ around. “If we start shooting, we’ll be slaughtered...!”

I glanced back at him, adamant that we would make it outta this.

“We can’t surrender now, Eddie. We’ve come way too far. If they take us, we’ll go straight to the gallows. You think that’s any better than dyin’ here?”

The pianist found himself at a dead end. “Well -- what else can we do? Do you believe Milton will actually spare you if we surrender?”

I shook my head. “I doubt it, but it don’t matter anyway. I ain’t gonna become a traitor like Micah. If Milton wants Dutch, he’s gon’ have to find him himself.”

“No,” Eddie disagreed, “Dutch betrayed you, Arthur. Not the other way around. You were his son and he almost killed you...! Don’t you want him to answer for what he did? Perhaps this is your chance.”

“I ain’t in the revenge business, Eddie.” I reminded him. “If Dutch is gonna die by my hand someday, so be it. But I won’t give these snakes the satisfaction.”

The other man sighed out of discouragement.

“Very well, but...” his voice trailed off into a grim silence, leadin’ me to urge him on.

“What is it?” I questioned.

Eddie gazed at me with an expression sharpened by genuine fear and clenched his jaw out of distress, knowing damn-well what the near-future held.

“...I don’t want to die, Arthur,” he confessed morosely. “If we don’t do what Milton says, his Pinkertons will kill us right here. We’ll...we’ll be dead. ...I’m not ready for that.”

I let out a heartbroken breath at the statement and bit my bottom lip, reluctant to admit that Eddie was right once the dreadful news sunk in.

We...we truly were done for, weren’t we?

We couldn’t surrender, and we couldn’t fight all these men either.

Just like that, all our efforts to get outta this country had been snuffed out like a dying candle because of these goddamned Pinkertons, and for the first time since I met Eddie, I was powerless to stop it.

...This was where we were gonna die.

This was how our journey was gonna come to an end.

These were my final moments in this godforsaken world, and the retribution for all the sins I had committed had caught up to me at last.

Even if I had to die today though, I refused to let the Pinkertons use me as their toy.

I was gonna go down fighting like the outlaw I was born to be, and I’d do it side-by-side with the man I loved.

There weren’t no glory in this kind of death, but perhaps there would be peace.

“...Arthur?” Eddie asked, bringin’ me back to reality. I could tell he was waiting for a decision. “What are you thinking?”

I steadily lowered my hand so that it was next to my holster and glared at Milton with an unbreakable stare, somehow tryin’ to comfort Eddie even in the face of imminent death.

“...We stand our ground.” I said with a heavy heart, attempting to remain strong for both our sakes. “Milton’s a goddamned fool if he thinks we’re gonna surrender.”

To my surprise, Eddie didn’t even question the choice and simply reached for his own revolver, barely wavering as he walked his horse to my side.

“Then I’ll stand with you.”

I gave Eddie a look of profound remorse, hopelessly wishing I could whisk him away from this mess.

“You know I love you, right?” I whispered compassionately, unable to believe I was truly sayin’ goodbye to this man.

“There’s no doubt in my mind.” He confirmed, maintaining his composure. “I love you, too, Arthur.”

Finally done with waitin’ for an answer, Milton raised his voice and called to us from the other end of the road, demanding a decision from us.

“Well? Have you made a choice, Mister Morgan? Will you accept my offer? My patience grows thin.”

I threw the Pinkerton a steadfast grin and lightly scoffed to myself, strangely amused by the fact that, despite cornering us, he still lost this battle.

“Not a chance, Milton,” I replied firmly. “...I’m afraid we’ll be outlaws for life.”

The agent responded with an ice-cold glower.

“...So be it.”

Boldly elevating his arm into the air with an open hand, Milton signaled the other Pinkertons to prepare for a fight.

“You chose this path, Arthur,” he announced, narrowing his eyes in anger. “Let it be known that I offered you mercy.”

The rest of the Pinkertons readied their rifles, eagerly taking aim.

“May God spare you from the suffering you’ve inflicted on His creatures, Mister Morgan,” Milton prayed apathetically. “...Because I certainly won’t.”

Striking like a thunderbolt, an unexpected bang echoed throughout the entire field as everyone instantly froze and birds soared away in the distance, all of us stuck in disbelief until we noticed a bullet hole buried in Milton’s skull.

It didn’t look like the agent had realized what had happened just yet, but after about a second of staring blankly into the space ahead of him, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he collapsed to the ground, rendering us speechless.

I hurriedly searched for the source of the shot, only to spot Rodrick Kinglsey mounted on a horse in the distance.

Goddammit...

That son-of-a-bitch found us.

The madman cocked his smoking repeater and chuckled maliciously, goading the Pinkertons into a fight as the rest of Atticus’ gang joined the scene.

“You government boys did us a huge favor,” he mocked, “but we’ll take it from here.”

“Shit!” Agent Ross exclaimed sharply, finally snappin’ out of his state of shock. “There’s more of the bastards! Open fire!”

Not even wasting a single second, the Pinkertons began raining bullets on Atticus’ gang as guns fired off in every direction and smoke filled the air, forcin’ us to ride blind while horses frantically trampled all over the scene.

“Eddie!” I shouted over the commotion, “RUN!”

Takin’ this opportunity to flee, the pianist and I immediately hauled ass away from the battlefield as we shot down Pinkertons and outlaws alike, not sparing even one bullet during our escape.

Unfortunately for us, some of Atticus’ men had managed to single us out from the crowd -- including Rodrick -- and started to chase after us, shootin’ wildly as if there was no tomorrow.

“Shit!” Eddie yelled, dodging a bullet that just barely missed his head. “Where are we going?!”

I gestured in front of us. “Just keep headin’ south! We’ll try to lose them up ahead!”

Whippin’ my reins with a sharp tug, I glanced over my shoulder and fired a few shots at the men behind us, struggling to keep my aim straight with how much my horse was diggin’ its hooves into the ground.

I managed to kill one of Atticus’ men and sent them crashin’ into the dirt below, practically turning them into a human tumbleweed as they rolled through thick billows of dust.

It looked like the Pinkertons were keepin’ the rest of their gang busy with all the chaos surrounding Milton’s death, and fortunately for me and Eddie, I had yet to see any sign of Atticus Rose himself.

Though, if Rodrick was here runnin’ after us, I had no other choice but to assume he was close.

We would have to deal with him sooner or later.

“Arthur, look!” Eddie called out, pointing ahead. “There’s a bridge!”

Peering over the wavy hills laid out in front of us, I leaned forward in my saddle and gazed through the numerous trees, makin’ out a long hanging bridge not too far away from us.

It was positioned just above a colossal waterfall and connected the gap between two massive rock formations, both of which towered over the land like a pair of skyscrapers.

That could be our way out.

“Get across the bridge!” I told Eddie. “We’ll cut it down from the other side!”

The pianist glued his eyes onto the multiple people ridin’ behind me, instantly slipping his pistol out.

“That might be harder than you think...!”

Bringin’ my attention back to Rodrick and his men, I signaled for Eddie to follow my lead as the two of us started gunning them down together, both of us desperately tryin’ to pick up our speed.

It wouldn’t be too long before we’d be crossin’ that bridge now, and if we didn’t put enough distance between ourselves and Rodrick’s men, our plan to trap ‘em on the other side would’ve been one of futility.

“You go on ahead!” I exclaimed at Eddie, killing another one of Atticus’ people. “I’ll make sure these bastards stay back!”

“What? No!” Eddie rejected. “I’m not leaving you here, Arthur!”

I hurriedly reloaded my pistol. “Look, that bridge is too narrow for us to cross it at the same time anyway, so you may as well just go in front of me! Now, hurry!”

Letting out a reluctant sigh, the pianist pondered the dilemma for a moment before snappin’ his horse’s reins and bolting ahead, rushing directly towards the bridge’s entrance.

Just before he had any time to react however, I suddenly noticed a small group of Atticus’ men hidin’ on the other side, ready to cut the bridge down right as Eddie was about to cross it.

“Oh, shit,” I cursed, “Eddie! STOP!”

But it was too late.

Even though the pianist had already yanked the reins back with a great amount of force, the poor animal still slid onto the bridge’s rickety planks due to its incredible speed and let out a panicked neigh as the structure came swingin’ down, causing both the horse and Eddie to go plummeting towards the waterfall.

“EDDIE!” I yelled, immediately hopping off my own mount. I sprinted towards the edge of the cliff and looked down, only to see that the man was now dangling from a thin ledge as the waterfall raged underneath him.

“A-Arthur!” Eddie shouted back, his voice strainin’ with effort. “I can’t hold on much longer!”

“Here!” I said, extending an arm. “Grab my hand!”

Before I could get anywhere near the man though, the sound of someone cocking their gun abruptly reached my ears, leadin’ me to come to a halt.

It was Mister Kingsley himself.

“...I wouldn’t do that if I was you, sunshine.” He warned, wearin’ his usual grin. “You might hurt yourself.”

I steadily rose from the ground and turned to face the crazed man, secretly panicking on the inside about how Eddie was about to fall at any second.

“You son-of-a-bitch...” I muttered lowly, clenchin’ my fist. “What d’you want with us? Atticus, I understand, but you -- what the hell do you get outta this?”

Rodrick sauntered towards me and smiled widely, shrugging casually.

“Entertainment, my good sir,” he answered simply. “Entertainment. You see--” he let out a melodramatic sigh, “everybody’s so boring, nowadays. They’re always bein’ held back by polite manners, or etiquette, or some goddamn pretense.”

Rodrick gestured to me. “You though? You’re so easy to rile up. All someone’s gotta do is point a gun at Mister Ryan, and you’re ready to kill a man.” An amused chuckle escaped him. “You can pretend to be a good man all you want, Arthur. Everyone knows you’re just as rotten as the rest of us. Nothin’ but another thief with larceny in his blood. Ain’t no shame in it though. In fact, that’s what I like about you.”

I strengthened my gaze and glared at Kingsley, starin’ him down.

“I used to be like that, but not anymore.”

He scoffed in a bored manner. “Pfft...come on, Morgan. Don’t tell me you’ve grown a conscious suddenly. All because you helped one man? What about the other men in your life? Lenny? Strauss? Hosea? All of ‘em died ‘cause you felt Eddie was more important. Tell me...d’you feel like a hero yet?”

“Shut your mouth, Kingsley!” I snapped, raisin’ my voice.

“Or what?” He asked with a smirk. “You’ll kill me? I’m the one with a gun in my hand, sunshine.”

Rodrick strolled closer to me and playfully tapped the barrel of his pistol against my hat, clearly enjoying himself.

“Oh, how easy it would be to put a bullet in your head right now. I could take away everything you’ve worked for, everything you’ve achieved. I could destroy Eddie’s entire life with just the simple pull of a trigger, and he’d never see you again. I gotta admit...havin’ that much power at my fingertips -- it’s almost addicting.”

Kingsley suddenly pointed his gun away from me and took a few steps back, reachin’ for his knife.

“...But I won’t do it. After all, where’s the fun in shootin’ such an interesting creature like you? Naw...you and me, we’re gonna fight man-to-man. Outlaw-to-outlaw. Killer-to-killer.”

He brandished his knife and began circling around me, encouragin’ me to follow his actions.

“Well, come on then, sunshine! Do your worst. ...Show me exactly what kind of a monster Dutch van der Linde created.”

Barely givin’ me a chance to fight back, Rodrick aggressively lunged forward and started slashing erratically at me, sporting an insane smile as the sky grew darker above us, and the rumbling of thunder lurked in the distance.

By now, the clouds had evolved into one, monstrous shadow that blotted out the sun and stretched across the entire region, leavin’ just enough room for a slice of sunlight.

As for Kingsley himself, the bastard fought more like a wild animal than a man and moved sporadically around me, makin’ it even more difficult than usual to read his patterns.

“What’s the matter, Arthur?” Rodrick taunted, throwin’ a punch at me. “You ain’t got any fight left in you?”

Spitting out a mouthful of blood, I hurriedly reached down and whipped out my own knife before retaliating with a few solid cuts to his chest, rippin’ through the fabric of his suit.

Despite managing to make Rodrick bleed however, the wound didn’t seem to slow him down at all. He simply bounced back from the injury as if it was nothing, and if I didn’t know any better, I would’ve said it actually fueled him to fight harder.

The man suddenly grabbed me by the collar and slammed me against a nearby boulder, knockin’ the wind outta my lungs.

“Gonna have to do more than that, Morgan...!”

Forcing his knife towards my throat, Rodrick wrestled with me as I desperately tried to push him away and practically crushed his hand with an iron grip, making my arm tremble due to the amount of strength I was puttin’ on it.

The two of us scratched and clawed at each other like a bunch of animals and nearly tore each other apart in the mud, our faces becoming more and more bruised as the fight carried on.

“Why won’t you just die...?!”

Closin’ my fist, I repeatedly slammed my knuckles into Rodrick’s cheekbone and damn-near smashed his face in, doin’ everything I could to get the madman off me.

Luckily, with one final punch to the nose, I put enough power behind the attack to send Rodrick reeling and shoved him away from me, afterwards tackling him to the ground.

Keeping the man down with my weight, I began pressing my own knife into his throat and struggled against his resistance, lettin’ out a pained groan when Rodrick started twisting the skin on my wrist.

There was blood streaming down from his nose at this point, but even with the numerous lacerations decoratin’ his body and a broken nose, Kingsley still brawled with the same amount of prowess as he did before.

He jabbed his knee into my gut and threw me off, takin’ a second to regain his footing.

“You fight like the devil himself, sunshine,” Rodrick growled in a deranged tone. “I almost don’t wanna kill you!”

Rising back to his feet with an unbalanced sway, the maniac loosely charged at me again and aimed straight for my throat, tiredly trampling through the soupy mud beneath our feet.

Thanks to his fatigued state however, I managed to grab him by the shoulders and hurl him in a different direction, pinnin’ the lunatic against a tree as I practically held onto him for support, admittedly more beaten up than I cared to show.

Determined to put an end to this vicious fight, I wasted no time in takin’ hold of my knife and immediately thrusting it forward, eagerly planting the blade deep into Rodrick’s abdomen as the man’s eyes widened in shock.

It was the first time I had ever seen the outlaw in a state of fear or pain, and as malignant as it might’ve sounded, just gettin’ the chance to watch that cocky grin finally be wiped off his goddamned face granted me with a dark sense of satisfaction that I had never felt before.

I drilled the knife even further into his stomach, almost snarling at him while his hot blood stained my hand.

“You’re wrong, Kingsley,” I said through gritted teeth, stabbing him again. “I am a good man.”

I drove the blade into him one last time, twistin’ the weapon inside his chest.

“...But only when I need to be.”

Watchin’ the life vanish from his eyes, I didn’t even bother to blink as Rodrick writhed in pain and blood gathered in his mouth, causing him to choke.

His face was red with agony and the veins in his forehead protruded from his skin, makin’ me think they were about to burst.

Though, to my surprise, Kingsley managed to conjure one, final smile and let out a hoarse laugh, revealing the bloodied teeth beneath.

“...Oh...you got me, Morgan...” he wheezed out. “...You got me. My only regret is...lettin’ you kill me before going after Atticus. My, my, what a show that would’ve been...”

Rodrick weakly patted my hand, uttering his last words.

“...Go on...and raise some hell, would you, sunshine? I know it’s gonna be beautiful...it always is...”

Drifting into a deathly silence, Rodrick’s body finally fell limp as his last breath escaped him and his hand slipped from the knife’s hilt, allowin’ me to relax for the first time in a while.

I couldn’t believe he was actually dead.

After so many months of him tormenting me and Eddie -- there were times when I felt like the bastard would never die.

He just seemed so invincible. So welcoming to death. So...inhumane.

But I was foolish to think in such a way. It was clear to me now that Rodrick bled just like every other son-of-a-bitch on this Earth...and boy, was I glad that he did.

Removin’ my blade from the man’s torso, I stepped away and let his body collapse to the soaking wet ground, instantly bringing my focus back to Eddie now that Kingsley was dead.

I had no idea if the pianist was still latched on to that little piece of rock on the cliff face, but to think that he already fallen to his death made me sick with worry.

“Eddie!” I called out, kneeling by the edge. “You there?”

Thankfully, I got a response.

“I’m here, Arthur! But the rock’s too wet! I-I can’t climb up!”

I reached a hand down, suddenly realizin’ just how much blood was covering it.

“Come on! I’ll pull you up!”

Grabbing onto my arm, Eddie grunted with effort and hoisted himself onto my level, usin’ the thin ledges in the cliff’s side as leverage.

“I got you, darling,” I comforted, helping him over the edge. “I got you.”

Finally returning to the surface, Eddie gladly plopped himself on the grass and simply sat there for a moment, briefly catchin’ his breath.

“Jesus Christ...” he panted out, “that...that was close. Thank you, Arthur. I would’ve slipped soon if you didn’t help.”

“No need to thank me,” I replied, also out of breath. “Let’s just get the hell outta here...and go to Saint Denis. I’ve had enough of this goddamn place.”

Eddie nodded in agreement and stood up from the ground, only to freeze mid-action when he noticed Rodrick’s body sitting against the tree.

The pianist paused for a second, staring blankly at his corpse.

“Wait...Rodrick’s dead?” He asked, clearly in disbelief. “...You...you killed him?”

“I did.” I said firmly. “And I’d do it again.”

Contrary to what I expected, Eddie sighed in regret and hung his head low, recalling all the encounters he had with that lunatic.

“That crazy bastard...” he whispered softly. “Both him and Middleton pursued me for years. I never thought I’d be blessed to see the day he died. My only regret is that I couldn’t help you finish him off.”

I laid a reassuring hand on Eddie’s shoulder, urgin’ him to look away.

“Well...he’s as dead as they come now, thank God. We should move before we end up like him.”

“Yeah. You’re right. Come on, let’s...”

Eddie suddenly paused, jerking his head around in confusion as if he had just heard something.

I shrugged. “What?”

The pianist brought his gaze upwards, leadin’ him to point towards the sky.

“Arthur, look.”

Following his line of sight, I turned around and saw a magnificent rock formation dominating the landscape in the distance, as well as a group of people who were fightin’ on top of it.

The rock was shaped like an anvil and tilted towards the clouds with an incredible height, almost as if it were a ramp to the heavens themselves.

Once I took a better look though, I realized that the people standing atop weren’t just some random passersby. The majority of them was Pinkertons...and they were fighting Atticus.

“It’s Atticus,” I remarked nonchalantly. “So what?”

Eddie gave me a resolute stare, formulatin’ a plan in his head.

“...We have to kill him, Arthur.”

I pulled back at the idea, lookin’ at the other man in bewilderment.

“What? Eddie, we can’t--”

“--We have to,” he reiterated, taking hold of my hand. “If we don’t, he’ll never stop chasing us. Atticus already followed me to America. What makes you think he won’t follow us to England? This is our chance to eliminate him! Rodrick is dead, and the Pinkertons have him cornered. We can do this.”

I let out a deep breath, still tentative about the proposal.

“...You know how I feel about vengeance, Eddie.”

The pianist persisted. “This isn’t about vengeance. We’ve been looking at this all wrong, Arthur. We’re never going to be free if we just...keep running! We need to face Atticus head-on. We need to kill him. Otherwise, this journey’s never going to end. You know that.”

Chewin’ on my lip in thought, I pondered the decision for a while as I weighed our options, genuinely torn about what to do.

On one hand, I knew Eddie wasn’t gonna leave this place so long as Atticus still breathed. They had too much history. Too much to settle. They both needed closure.

And on top of that, I couldn’t deny that I conceded Eddie’s point about Atticus chasin’ us halfway across the world. That old man had done it before, after all, and I’d seen how relentless he could be for myself.

What worried me though, was the number of Pinkertons we’d have to fight through in order to reach him. They was givin’ him hell at the moment, and I wasn’t sure if Eddie and I would be able to kill that many people on our own.

I mean, we barely escaped death not too long ago. The last thing I wanted to do was tempt it even more.

But, then again...I knew Eddie well enough to know that once he had his mind set on something, it’d be foolish to get in his way.

As much as I wanted to just leave and high-tail it outta here, I couldn’t help but wonder if he was right. Maybe this was our chance to get rid of Atticus.

Maybe we could finally put an end to this godforsaken war, and close this chapter in our lives.

We just had to be brave enough to do it.

“...Okay,” I agreed at last. “You’re right. Atticus needs to die.”

Eddie’s expression perked with hope, and a glint of excitement twinkled in his eyes.

“You mean, you’ll help me kill him?”

I nodded assertively and thought back to the day Eddie and I killed Middleton, swiftly takin’ out my revolvers as the two of us made our way to Atticus.

“For you...anything.”

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #eddie ryan #arthur morgan x male oc #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 story

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7scorpion · 5 years

Text

Basically Arthur x Micah

Sorry guys i really wanted to write this fic but i got tired halfway thru because i started focusing on my oc a little bit... its kind of messy since i havent written in a while but its basically that

also i only post on tumblr mobile so im preemptively apologizing for the non read-more'd post

Rated R to be safe

Cowboy hatefic

"Talk to me Cowpoke." That old, not quite as southern accent hummed from above a dim oil lamp. Leaning shoulders onto the post of Arthur's tent, Micah set a downcast glance from the brim of his leather hat. Eyes searching the warm, glistening-- pathetic, 'brother' before him. He caught his own thoughts again. His wide, well used palms gripping the edge of his cot upon hearing his voice, strong, but still so ... entrancing?

"Now what? Can't you see I'm busy?" Curtly, Arthur shot back, accompanied by his most serious face.

A chuckle, or two, then Micah sighs again "Ain't you never heard of courtesy? I'm asking you to talk. You can't come back from a job in a huff, causin' a scene and NOT expect Dutch to send someone to check on 'ya" He lied.

Micah came to see Arthur on his own accord. Something always stirred him when Arthur was enraged. Wether it be his incessant comments causing it, or, some unfortunate crossing the big lug's path the wrong way. Micah's seen him shout until he was red in the face, and it sent shivers up his spine. It infuriated him, but he had never had a better orgasm in his life thinking about that deep reverberating shout. The way his lips pulled back over his teeth, his blue eyes lighting with impulsiveness, nearly feral. It was almost a bonus for Micah, knowing from the moment he touched himself to the thought, he had to wind Arthur up constantly. Just to hear that deep visceral sound again.

"Really. Dutch, sent YOU. Of all people, to discuss this with ME." Arthurs voice raising just in that little accusatory tone, had gotten Micah to swing up straight, locking eyes with Arthur. "Oh yeah, Cowpoke. Why? You tellin' me I'm not your favorite around here?" Thick sarcasm, the usual cadence out of Micah's lips as it peels into a grin. A disgusted grunt from Arthur is returned; rejection. It helps with the process, Micah tells himself.

Arthur stands from his cot, clothes unfold from his chest. Dark eyes lock on the little bit of chest hair peeking from Arthur's linen that drives Micah wild. There was something so dainty about him? Beautifully male. Micah stirs his hips again, adjusting his growing discomfort.

Arthur steps closer, eyes meet. Micah shoots his glance down for a moment, he cant stand it for long. Piercing eyes, sad, wonderful - Vile. He gives a low growl at Arthurs new position.

"Git on. I'm not dealing with your shit right now." The words fall out of Arthurs mouth with such certainty, and Micah disliked that.

Detouring around Arthur's pitiful excuse for a blockade, Micah steps to his cot feeling welcome to a seat.

"You think yer being funny? What do you want from me?" Arthur half pleaded, now standing over Micah as he was before, watching the rat bastard make himself comfortable. This was one of Micah's favorite angles to view his Cowpoke, with his strong jaw highlighted by the lamp. Thank the Lord he isn't married.

Micah shook his head. "Well, who do you think you are coming into camp like a bat out of hell?" Micah halfheartedly pitched back, as it was all he could think of.

Plain desperate to continue on. Still dazzled by the beads of sweat on Arthurs cheek. He watched his blue eyes roll like they were falling out of his head, so clearly over what Micah intended to 'pull'.

"Please, not now. I really don't have time for this." Arthur groaned, before collecting his gun belt from his chest. "I'm going for a ride, be gone when I'm back." With that, the younger cowboy sauntered to his horse and saddled up. To ride his stress away until sunset. Micah sat enraged. Utterly boiling. His plan turned, and it hasn't worked in weeks. This was his final attempt to get that sweet release from hearing Arthur raise his voice. Weeks had gone by and the man nearly seemed passive, Micah couldn't get a rise, not even out of himself. Micah left Arthurs tent dejected, he needed something new. Simple wordplay wasn't working anymore. Striding to the campfire, Micah mulled his plans and options, for him it was dire. He held his open palms over the fire, squat on a log, eyes glossed in thought. Oblivious to the negging of the stragglers at the evening fire. Nearly desperate for a piece of Arthur's emotion.

Hours feel like days. Sitting, waiting, checking of pocket watches. The sun had gone down nearly two hours ago. Revelers of the camp were loudly singing, mostly out of tune. Micah had sequestered himself as usual at a table, whittling to pass time. His final decision was simply, to try again. Maybe this time he would break the camels back and get a rise. A deep sigh. Relief at the thought of being able to feel it again. To himself, Micah hoped at least some of the campers would be asleep by that time. He lit a cigarette and took a deep drag, closing his eyes. Desperately trying to reconjure the image of Arthur in his mind. Shouting for his life. Wonderful, wild, absolutely intoxicating.

"Mister Bell." A familiar low, drawl, dripping with honey drifts through Micahs ear. Eyes open in a flash, and dart upwards to the source; his cowpoke walking past him, with a relaxed grin.

Waves of disappointment overtook Micah. Arthur was calm, his plans were ruined. Stunned silence was exchanged, Micah's eyes darted back to his cigarette. Moments passed in thought before the cigarette was thrust between his lips and pulled to the end, nearly burning his fingers. Micah tossed the ember laden paper to the ground and tailed after Arthur, blind from his disappointment turned rage.

Arthur stood in his tent, wiping his face of the few beads of sweat with his back turned. Unaware of Micah's steam whistle mouth coming up behind him.

"Who do you think you are coming up to me like that!" Micah shouts down at the other man, causing him to whip around on his boot heel. Arthur's face twisted to a look of confusion and offense, he wasn't even aware he'd done anything.

"What in the hell are you talking about?" Arthur argues, in a lower voice, noticing Hosea had laid down for the night a few feet away after joining the small festivities. Micah shoved Arthur forward with a strong right arm, extracting the wind from his chest for a moment. Just like that, Arthur's mood turned. He thrust his arms forward and shoved Micah down.

Trying to catch himself, Micah grasped for anything. The post, the table, then, the ties to Arthur's canvas tent and tumbled to the ground. They barely noticed the canvas had fallen around them before they continued to throw punches inside of Arthur's tent. There was a limit to this Cowpoke's patience and Micah was finding it every time.

"I don't have time for this!" Arthur shouts before landing his beautiful, horrible fist into Micah's face. He sat above Micah attempting to restrain him. "What in the hell is wrong with you?!" Strained shouting through gritted teeth. Upon hearing which, Micah needed to adjust his hips under Arthur to accommodate his new rise.

Noises of resistance, grunts and shouts ensued before Micah found an opening. Arthur slipped on Micah's hips and felt something jab him, for a moment he was sure he was stabbed. With a swift motion, Micah flipped his favorite cowpoke onto his back, a new angle. He'd never seen this perspective before, his Adam's apple so pronounced, cheekbones... that chest. Nearly losing his advantage staring into Arthur's flesh, he resettles firmly, pressing the young man's arms over his head. "Now tell me why you do this to me." Micah uttered words he never thought he would. He felt as though he exposed himself for what he was. Obsessed. "Oh, you just cant help yourself, sick bastard." Arthur mumbled through labored breath followed by a low breathy chuckle, his eyes now trained on Micah's pronounced member. It took less than a moment for Micah to return to earth from Arthur basically calling him a freak. Blood pumping and a deep stare, sweat beads forming, deep, deep breaths. Slower and slower.

Lips meet. Fast and sloppy. Arthur's exposed chest shines under his oil lamp, coarse dirty hands grasp and grab at him. "Get naked, pretty boy." Micah growled, crawling upwards and jerking Arthur to his feet by his open shirt. They couldn't keep their hands off each other to do that.

Kissing desperately, chest to chest, the warmth stimulating that little dead part of their soul for passion. Assisted undressing, hats tossed without a care, physical absorption into the act. The world disappeared around them as they fell to Arthur's cot.

Hand jar, petroleum creme. God's gift to horny cowboys without a woman in sight. In this case, horny cowboys with no interest in the women in sight. Much more consumed with seeing how the other reacts to their provided pleasure. Arthur let himself be laid out, and Micah take over. After all Dutch DID want him to start trusting him more.

Not a delicate touch was exchanged as Micah ferociously tore open Arthur's button down and Arthur tossed Micah's hat away. Micah wasted no time, stepping up quickly to undo his current partner's pants, yanking downward without a care. Arthur couldn't complain, he was still wrapped up in all the groping of his various erogenous zones.

He wasn't going to allow himself to be completely nude, after all this was just impulsive and quick. Arthur was also still dwelling on the possibility that someone might be so inclined as to check on them. Though, who really would want to find out the source of those sounds. Micah unstraps his pants, allowing them to fall below his knees, and Arthur's immediately thrown back into the moment.

"You like what you see, pretty boy?" Micah's dark smug chuckle rings in one ear and out the other as he stares at the younger man sat before his hips. Arthur wasn't a man who needed to ask what he had to do next, he coated his hand in the petroleum and got to work.

#rdr2 fic #micahxarthur #micah bell x arthur morgan #rdr fic #rdr2 fanfic #rdr fanfiction #rdr2 fanfiction #hi this fic is my first in a while and i like this pairing!#im just throwing it out there for content 💕#micah x arthur #micah/arthur #morbell

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