#somethin about the way Arthur asked her to get John and such out because Sadie and him were 'more ghosts than people' makes me nervous tho

[roaringheat]

Sadie give me a chance pls pls pls

#vark posts #v live blogging #u KNOWWW my ass did not hesitate to help her fuck up o'driscolls #im so fuckin happy with this mission tho #just like goin in depth about her character and actually having her seek out revenge and take action #a lot of games ive loved would never give a character that much actual action to support their character #its usually more like 'this character has trauma!! this will never be brought up again' #coughDeaconfallout4cough #with Sadie she was practically howling with rage and covered in blood from stabbing a man to death #which was kinda hot #but my point is you can fuckin FEEL her emotion and its right in ur face #also her and Arthur's friendship is so nice im gonna sob #somethin about the way Arthur asked her to get John and such out because Sadie and him were 'more ghosts than people' makes me nervous tho #baller line and incredible fun to analyze tho #despite her having absolutely nothing to lose and not being afraid of dying i really dont think she'll die #she seems more central to the plot than some of the others #or im delusional idk

[queenxxxsupreme]

Hello! May I please request something with a reader who's hosea's daughter and she starts a romantic relationship with either Charles or Arthur? (I can't decide I love those both those boys too much)

AN: Hi babe! I chose Arthur for this! 

Warnings: implied smut

***

The moon hung high in the night sky and thousands of stars littered the empty space surrounding it. There wasn’t a cloud to be seen. 

Cicadas and crickets chirped. Raccoons chattered from high up in treetops. Occasionally there was the sound of a coyote as it strayed too close to camp then scurrying away upon realizing that there were people nearby. 

You made your way through camp, finishing your braid over your shoulder. 

Everyone was settling down for the night after having a few drinks. 

You moved towards the tent you shared with Karen and Sadie when a hand suddenly wrapped around your mouth from behind. An arm latched around your waist. Panic was just about to set in when you heard his voice in your ear. 

“Easy there, pumpkin.” Arthur whispered. “Don’t want anyone to hear you.”

He let you go but held on to your wrist as he tugged you around to the backside of the wagons. 

“Arthur Morgan!” You whispered his name loudly, hitting his arm. “Don’t you do that again! I almost had a heart attack!”

“Shh.” He chuckled, holding a finger to his lips. His hands found your hips and he backed you up against the wagon. “Don’t want anyone to hear you.”

You grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him down to kiss him. He pinned your hips against the wagon with his own then brought his hands up to cup your face. 

“Let’s go for a ride.” Arthur pulled away from you, his hand finding your wrist once more. He started to pull you away from the wagon but you stopped him. 

“What has gotten into you tonight, Arthur?” You asked him, a little smile playing on your lips. You enjoyed his playful moods, but they were rare and it wasn’t often that they came about. Usually it only happened when he was drinking. 

“I just wanna spend time with you without worryin’ about anyone, pumpkin.” He tugged on your hand. 

“And you wanna go for a ride?”

“Yeah.”

“How much have you had to drink?”

“How much could you taste?” He countered. You rolled your eyes. 

“I’ll only go with you if you let me control the horse.” 

“Oh, pumpkin. Come on. I wanna take you somewhere.” 

“You can tell me directions.”

“Fine.” He grumbled. “Come on.” 

Arthur guided you across camp to his horse. He helped you up onto the saddle and then got up onto the back of the horse himself. 

***

Slipping past Bill on guard duty was easy. 

The place Arthur took you to was just on the other side of the border of Lemoyne and New Hanover. The spot was along the shore of Flat Iron Lake. 

“What’s special about this place?” You looked over your shoulder to Arthur as you brought the horse to a stop in the grass. 

“Huh?”

“You said the spot was special. What’s special about it?”

“Well…. it’s away from camp.” He held his hand out for you. You got down from the horse and passed him the reins. He tethered the horse to a tree so it could eat grass while the two of you went closer to the water. 

Arthur held his hand out for you again, making a grabbing motion. You furrowed your brows together before putting your hand in his. 

He walked alongside you with your fingers laced together. 

“I been doin’ a lotta thinkin’.” 

“Uh-oh.” You giggled. “Should I be worried?”

“Yeah, probably.” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. 

Arthur was silent for a few moments, so you looked over at him. He was looking out over the lake. 

“Arthur, what is it?” You stopped walking and turned to face him. 

He shook his head, eyes flickering down to his boots. 

“It-It’s nothin’. Just stupid thoughts.” 

“It ain’t stupid if it’s got you thinkin’ so hard I can see the smoke coming out of your ears.” You reached up to cup his jaw. You brushed your thumb along his cheek. “Come on. It’s just me. You can say whatever it is you’re thinking to me.”

His eyes met yours and he nodded, a little smile tugging at his lips. 

“I…. Y/N, I want whatever it is we got…. I want it to be real.”

You furrowed your brows together, tilting your head to the side a little. 

“I thought…. Well, I guess I thought it was real.” Your voice was quiet. 

“No, not like that.” He shook his head. “I meant that I-I want to be real. To have a real…. a real thing with you.”

A smile spread across your lips as you realized what Arthur was struggling to say. 

“A real relationship, Arthur Morgan?” 

He nodded his head. 

“Now I-I put a lotta thought into it. Even talked it over with Charles. He’s a smart feller.” 

“He is. You want this?” 

“I want you.” Arthur slipped his arm around your waist and pulled you against him. “I ain’t felt that way about somebody in a long time.” 

“Only if you’re sure–,”

“I am sure.” He cut you off, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes.” You answered without hesitation, holding his gaze. “Yes.”

“Okay then.” He grinned, large hands slipping down to your backside. 

***

The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon when you and Arthur returned to camp. You parted ways where the horses were hitched, leaving with only murmurs of goodbyes. It was bad enough you’d spent the entire night out. You didn’t need to risk being caught just yet. You’d tell everyone when you were ready. But neither of you saw Hosea Matthews–your father–watching from the opposite side of camp as you slipped into your tent. 

Arthur wasn’t very fond of romance from the get-go, and being that you were Hosea’s daughter made him ever more hesitant to start anything with you. However, that changed when he got to know you better. 

Being that you didn’t grow up in the Van Der Linde Gang, you didn’t know the outlaw the way everyone else did. 

Though Hosea was your father, he didn’t raise you. He and his late wife and your mother, Bessy, had agreed that the life they had wasn’t suitable for a baby. So they gave you to Bessy’s sister and brother-in-law so that you could be raised in a proper setting and have a chance at a good life. Hosea and Bessy made sure to visit you when they could, and even after Bessy passed away Hosea continued to visit you and let you know that he cared about you. He wanted what was best for his only daughter. He didn’t want you to have the same life as him or to be subjected to the horrors he had faced.

But here you were, the newest member of the Van der Linde Gang. 

***

You managed to only get a couple hours of sleep before Karen nudged you awake, warning you that Susan would be by to raise hell if you weren’t up soon. 

You got dressed and went out to get a cup of coffee. You spotted Hosea sitting at a table reading through a newspaper, so you decided to join him. 

“Good morning, Hosea.” You greeted. 

“Good morning, dear.” He gave you a smile. “How’d you sleep?” 

“Not too bad. I’m getting used to the nighttime noises so I’m not waking up so much. Anything interestin’ in there?”

“Not yet.” 

“Mornin’, Hosea.” Arthur crossed through camp, heading for his tent. “Mornin’, Y/N.”

“Good morning, Arthur.”

“Good morning, Arthur.” You smiled just a little before looking down at your coffee. 

You wanted to tell Hosea about you and Arthur. Now that things were serious between you two, it felt like you needed to tell him. Before, you were just flirting and messing around. There was no need for anyone to know what was happening because it was just two grown adults keeping each other company. But now…. Now it was different. 

You sat with Hosea for a bit, chatting about what was in the newspaper. 

Then you noticed a group began to form around the horses that consisted of Javier, Charles, Arthur, Sean, and John. 

“What are you staring at, sweetheart?”

You turned your head look at Hosea. You didn’t realize you were staring. 

“Nothing, Hosea.”

He looked in the direction you had been staring in. 

“Which one is it?”

“What?”

“Which one of them numbskulls were you gawking at?”

“None of them.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.” He shook his head, eyes lingering on you. When you made no effort to carry on the conversation, he reached into a pocket on his vest to check the time. “Your mother used to get that same look in her eye when she saw somethin’ in a shop window she wanted.”

Curious, you glanced up from your coffee which you had been staring at rather intently. You weren’t really reading anyways. 

“She would?”

“She would.” Hosea nodded, a fond smile coming to his lips as his eyes left you to look out over the lake behind you. “And usually, I’d go back to the shop some time later when she wasn’t with me and steal it for her.”

“How romantic.”

“She thought so.” He chuckled. “She certainly knew how to put up with me and my antics. But she was about as good of a liar as you are, my dear.”

You put the book down on the table.

“I really wish you’d stop reading me like I’m one of your marks.”

“I can’t help it, sweetheart. It’s a bad habit. A very bad, nasty habit.” Hosea turned his head to look at the group of men gathered around the horses. “I don’t think it would be John. He’s far too dim for you. But if we go by brains, I don’t think any of them have a lick of sense. Well, except for Charles.” Hosea paused to gauge your reaction. You kept your lips pressed together in a firm line, adamant on not giving him any reaction. “If it was Bill Williamson, I’d be disappointed in you.”

“Ew, no.”

“Good girl. Javier?”

You didn’t answer.

“Hmm. Arthur perhaps?”

You shifted in your seat and took a small breath. The actions didn’t seem that big, but apparently they meant something to Hosea. 

The con-man leaned back in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck as he let out a little sigh. 

“That dimwit, Y/N?”

“He’s not a dimwit, Hosea.”

“I swear, Y/N, I’ve seen fish with more sense than that boy.”

“Hosea.”

“I’m serious. Me and Dutch were real concerned about him. Well, that was until John came along. Made Arthur look a goddamn genius.”

You stood up and picked up your coffee cup. 

“Sweetheart, I didn’t mean to offend you.” Hosea put his hand out to stop you. “I know you’re sweet on him. I saw you coming back into camp together this morning.” 

Your eyes immediately met his, panic finding its way into your veins. Then you looked over to Arthur. Did your father know what you were doing with Arthur while you were gone? 

“I’m a little hurt neither of you told me, but I know why you kept it to yourselves. This camp ain’t the place for romance.”

“Hosea.” You whispered, eyes meeting his once more. “Don’t…. Don’t let Arthur know that you know, okay? I-I think he wanted to tell you himself. We just…. We didn’t want everyone here to know, and he’s…. Arthur’s a funny guy when it comes to being sweet on a lady.”

“Oh, I know. He’s had his heart broke real bad before. Don’t you think about breakin’ it, you hear? You’re my daughter so I’ll be sure to tell him the same, but he’s like a son to me, you know.”

“I know, Hosea. Don’t worry. I have no intentions of hurting him.”

“Good.”

Taglist:  @winterwolf @doggone-cowgirl @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @nonodino @krenee1drful @thefirelordm @sargeantsea @sokkasdarling @thecollection @mayday1284  @kashasenpai

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x reader fluff #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan fluff #rdr2 red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #kacey answers

[rodeo-boots]

if requests are open than requests you shall get! think you could write some sadie and abigail, with a dominant sadie and some denial? thank you!

Thank u so much for this request, writing this was actually a lot of fun!! I hope this is what you've been lookin' for <3

Rating: Explicit

Words: 2837

Warnings: this is set in the epilogue, there's an argument with John in the beginning here, as well as some discussions about John and how not good of a husband he is. I'm sorry John, ily

AO3

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It wasn't rare to see Abigail alone in the ranch house.

Most times when Sadie popped by, the woman was busying herself with chores, took charge of her household better than Sadie ever could and worked without any complaints to begin with. Even though she had every reason to complain.

Her husband was rarely home, stayed out to go on his own little adventures rather than helping his wife. It was a discouraging sight. Not what Sadie's own married life had been like at all.

She had always believed that marriage only deepened the bond between two people. But looking at Abigail and John, that sentiment was clearly wrong.

They had escaped the harsh reality of their gang-life years ago, had chosen a separate path from Sadie by leading what might be called a settled life, while she didn't forget about her roots.

Ever since her own husband had died, it had become increasingly hard for Sadie to sit down, to let the silence consume her and allow a lack of work to weigh her down. She rather put herself out there, used the skills she had acquired over the years and brought in bounties who thought themselves bigger than her.

Occasionally, she just had to return to the Marston household, however.

She had to check in, make sure that everything still ran as harmonically as could be, and most importantly, that Abigail was happy. All those years, she's always had a soft spot for her. Arthur might've teased her about it, might've said she was sweet on the woman.

But Arthur Morgan was long gone. And she was only doing what was in her might to make sure his sacrifice wouldn't be for nothing.

Once again, she found herself standing in front of the doors to the ranch house, raised her fist to knock, before brushing sweaty strands of hair out of her face.

It was hot, overwhelmingly so, the climate of the west still not being entirely to her liking.

When the door opened, it was with a bout of yelling, with an air of tension and a stressed John who pushed his way right past her.

"Then do what you want, I ain't listenin' to your nagging no more!" He only passed Sadie a brief look, gave her a short nod though his jaw was still as tense as it had been before.

"John Marston, this conversation is far from over!”

When Abigail marched through the door, her husband had already swung his leg over the back of his horse, didn't waste a second to look back as he rode off.

"Christ," Abigail exhaled, ran her hands over her features before her gaze shifted to the side, where Sadie leaned against the wall of her house.

"I'm sorry, didn't mean to greet you quite like this."

Sadie shook her head, nodded towards the chairs upon the porch. "You wanna sit down? Looks like you could use a distraction."

Abigail slung the dishcloth she had held in her hands over her shoulder, sinking down in one of the nearest chairs with a soft sigh.

Pushing herself off the wall, Sadie sauntered to the free chair, sat herself down with her knees parted and her elbows rested upon them. She gazed up at Abigail, only needing to take one look at her face to tell that she had more on her mind than the apparent fight with John.

"Want a smoke?"

The woman gave her a nod, and Sadie offered her one of her last cigarettes, watching as Abigail relaxed a little more once tobacco flooded her lungs.

"I don't understand what's with him– he... he ain't wanna spend time with the boy. But every time he gets home he complains that Jack never does anythin'."

Abigail twisted the cigarette between her fingers, bringing it up to her lips again to take another deep drag.

She looked tired, looked like she had laid awake for a couple nights by now. Realistically, the troublesome times were supposed to be over. But Abigail appeared like they had only just begun.

"All he really does is complain, and lie. I ain't got no idea what he does each time he's out. He brings back no money, and when he does... I ain't wanna know where it's from."

With a frown at her own lips, Sadie reached out, rested a hand on Abigail's knee. "He's tryin'," she said, knowing that John, despite everything, had always only looked after his family.

"I know. I'm bein' ungrateful." Abigail took another drag from her cigarette, passing it over to Sadie while muttering a "I ain't want this no more."

Sadie raised her hand off Abigail's knee, reached for the cigarette to finish it off. She wouldn't waste something she might've paid for.

"You should look after each other," she began to speak again, thoughtfully watching the smoke curl around them. "And work together instead of alone. I know it's gotta be hard, and I ain't think he deserves a woman like you, but... do it for Jack."

Deep down, Sadie didn't want Abigail to be unhappily married, however. She knew that John and her didn't work out as a couple, knew that the one who suffered most between them was their very own son.

The last advice she wanted to give was for Abigail to endure, but what else could she say that wouldn't give her away?

Abigail's eyes were on her by the time she tore herself out of her thoughts. "I'm always doin' everything for Jack. Always. He's everythin' I got."

"You got me."

The woman huffed, averted her eyes to look out onto her yard.

Jack had found a shady spot for himself, sitting underneath a big oak tree with a book in his hands, unbothered by the conflict that had shaped between his parents.

"Do I?" She asked eventually, searching Sadie's expression. "You got a job. You're doin' somethin' you love and can come and go as you please. Maybe you ain't much different than John."

It was Sadie's turn to huff, shaking her head ever so gently at the words that left the other woman's lips. "Do I look like a John to you?" She raised an eyebrow, a lopsided smile at her lips.

Sadie stood, offering Abigail a hand to get to her feet as well. "Let's get outta this heat. You got somethin' to drink?"

*

It wasn't rare for them to sit and talk, for them to lounge on the couch in the Marston's living space and catch up like old friends would.

That's what they were, after all; friends, nothing more, nothing less.

Sadie nursed her glass of water, glad for the hydration even though she had meant liquor by asking for a drink. Maybe being here with a sober mind was best, though.

"I..." Sadie's gaze shifted over to the other woman when she spoke up, inquiry in her expression. She had been quiet all this time, looked deep in thought still, and Sadie couldn't tell what might be going through her head.

"I still love him."

That hadn't been what she had expected to hear.

"No doubt 'bout that, I never meant to–"

But Abigail already shook her head. "I ain't sayin' that because you insinuated anythin', just... I gotta remind myself." And after swallowing she added, "to tell him."

"If it ain't true, y'ain't gotta tell him anything," Sadie pointed out, firmly but patiently. "You don't gotta love him to raise a child together. Jack would do better if you two just... dropped the act."

At that, Abigail's expression tightened once again. "What act?" She had set her glass down by her side, her gaze bordering on angry. "We've been together for years, we're married, I ain't gonna forget all about that."

"But are you happy?"

Abigail's anger deflated, her posture slowly starting to loosen again as she sunk back into the couch cushions.

Despite not receiving an answer, Sadie was sure what it would be, sighing as she put her glass down, and pushed herself off the couch to crouch in front of the other woman.

She took her hands into her own, the gesture kind, though there was no denying the underlying love of it.

Abigail stared down at her, and Sadie met her gaze without any problems.

Encouragingly squeezing Abigail's hands, she spoke up. "You're a strong woman, Abigail. You know what you want, what you need. It ain't John, not as your husband ‘tleast." And while she hadn't intended to speak poorly of him, Sadie only wished to give her friend some good advice.

"You're only together for Jack by now, and he knows that. You know that. It ain't gonna work."

Abigail briefly chewed at the inside of her lip, Sadie's stare dropping to them as she involuntarily licked her own.

"What do you suggest?" The woman asked carefully, not making any move of pulling her hands away from Sadie's.

"Stay friends. Work together around the house, but live your own separate lives. That's kind of what you're doin' already, anyways."

She moved to get up, to push herself back onto her feet, but Abigail stopped her, held onto her hands a little tighter.

"I never knew you had such a way with words, Mrs. Adler."

Sadie snorted, laughed out joyfully and shook her head. "Guess that's what you're doin' to me," she responded without thinking twice, always having felt a little more cheesy around the other woman.

"Oh, is it?" Abigail teased. She seemed to be in a good mood by now, which was surprising, but nothing Sadie would ever complain about. "Is there somethin' else I'm doin' to you?"

It almost sounded like she was flirting with her, Sadie biting back her smile as she sat up on her heels. "You want the truth?" She asked, waiting for Abigail's nod.

Leaning in a little further, she propped her arms up left and right of Abigail's hips, her lips at her ear as she spoke her next, bold words. "You make me so wet," she chuckled, playfully biting down on Abigail's earlobe, pulling away only to catch her expression.

Which wasn't as flustered as she had hoped for. "That it?" The smile still remained on Abigail's lips, but she didn't appear surprised, if anything, she looked happy.

Sadie couldn't stop herself anymore, cradling Abigail's jaw to pull her closer, her eyelids fluttering shut by the time the woman's soft lips met her own, chapped ones.

"Bedroom," she mumbled into the kiss, and without pulling back right away, she shrugged her coat off her shoulders and dropped her hat on top of it, nibbled on Abigail's lower lip one more time before loosening the embrace, and leading her into her bedroom.

*

Abigail landed on her back upon the mattress, Sadie following suit with no intention of ever pulling away again.

She had half-heartedly kicked the door shut behind them, had opened a couple buttons of her blouse before giving up and focusing on something better instead. That being Abigail.

Their lips met once again with apparent urgency, the woman beneath Sadie gasping when she grabbed her skirt and pulled it upwards.

"I never knew you were quite so rough," Abigail chuckled, Sadie pulling back for a second to peer down and into her face.

"You like that?" She asked, tilting her head while her fingers brushed through the other woman's hair, and loosened the tie holding it all together.

Abigail smiled, genuinely for the first time in a while, guiding Sadie down to her again. "I like you," she clarified, her words barely audible.

But they didn't go unnoticed.

"You do?"

Abigail nodded without hesitation, the smile upon Sadie's own lips spreading.

"Now... you spoke about bein' wet before," the woman started, one of her hands trailing down and towards the front of Sadie's pants.

She caught it before Abigail's hand could reach its destination, pinning both of them over her head. Clicking her tongue, she straddled her waist, not caring too much about the boots she had yet to kick off.

"My rules." She kept both of Abigail's wrists pinned with one hand, her other caressing the soft skin of her face. "Understood?"

Abigail swallowed, a rosy blush coloring her cheeks. "I could've guessed." She had spoken quietly once again, though Sadie had picked up her words just the same.

Releasing a questioning hum, her free hand dropped to roam Abigail's body, squeezing her hip appreciatively.

"Could've known you wanna be in control," the other woman finished, biting down on her plush lower lip at Sadie's fleeting touches, squirming beneath her in a need for more.

But from one moment to the next, Sadie let go, sat back and began undressing herself.

"It wouldn't be fun otherwise," she replied with a lopsided grin, Abigail staring up at her in awe, until Sadie clicked her tongue again.

"Go on, undress."

They didn't need long, their bodies soon flush against one another’s again, Sadie taking the lead as she had wished to do before.

Truthfully, she had yearned to touch Abigail for years, ever since their time back at camp, had dreamed about a moment such as this. And now it was finally a reality.

She listened to her sweet moans, her voice like music to her ears when she gasped her name the moment Sadie's fingers dipped down into her tight wet heat.

Fingers started to claw at her shoulders, Sadie keeping herself up with her knees, seated right between Abigail's parted thighs.

"C'mon, I wanna hear you," she encouraged, fingers twisting and crooking until the other woman released a particularly sweet little noise, the smile upon Sadie's lips growing at the sound.

She kissed her once more; her lips, the corner of her mouth, along her jaw and down to her neck. Sadie paid attention to her collarbones, dipping her head lower to envelop one of Abigail's nipples in the heat of her mouth.

Each and every reaction went straight to her head, was soaked up right away to never be let go of again. Sadie's eyes remained glued to Abigail' flushed features, even after she had tossed her head back.

Then she ventured lower, kissed above and below Abigail's navel while her hands held her hips in place, smirking up at her before bringing her mouth right where she might need it the most.

The moment she licked over Abigail's clit, the woman tensed beneath her, curved her spine and tried to raise her hips higher.

"It's alright, nice'n easy," Sadie hummed, tasting her lover on the tip of her tongue.

Steadily, she worked up a rhythm, explored Abigail's sensitive sex until the woman was quaking and trembling. She tried to remember her most responsive spots, the tongue-movements that made Abigail's eyes roll back and her voice grow hoarse.

Once she slipped two fingers into her slick heat, Abigail quivered, and came with a choked-off moan.

Slowing her pace before pulling her fingers out entirely, Sadie crawled over Abigail's body, pushing her hair back out of her face to look her into the eyes. "Pretty good, huh?"

Abigail huffed, bonelessly sprawled out on the mattress. "You ain't too bad," she admitted, though that much was clear. "C'mere." She pulled Sadie in again, prompted her to lay down on top of her as her arms wrapped around her neck.

"Fuck me," she demanded, Sadie huffing out at the words she had never expected to hear from Abigail.

Regardless, she couldn't deny her that request, propping her hands up on both sides of her head before beginning to grind down. Her cunt had been leaking all this time, Abigail’s slick mixing with her own as they moved against each other – with one another.

"Shit–" Sadie's breath stuttered, the heat within her loins only continuing to grow, breaths turning into pants the more she increased the pace of her movements.

Beneath her, Abigail seemed to be in a similar position, still oh-so-sensitive and overstimulated from her last orgasm, shivering and gasping each time Sadie ground down on her.

It didn't take too much, a few more coordinated rolls of Sadie's hips and they both were tipping over the edge. Her hair fell in front of her face, breaths stuttering as she let her release wash over her.

Sadie plopped down by Abigail's side, not hesitating before she pulled her right into her arms.

They laid there for a while, listening to each other's breaths and the hearts beating within both their chests.

"See? You don't need a cock to be happy," Sadie mumbled, turning her head towards the other woman.

Abigail nudged her, unable to bite back her laughter. "Don't talk like that."

"M'only jokin'." The smile remained at Sadie's lips, her gaze a loving and adoring one. "Just talk to him, okay?"

She reached over, taking hold of Abigail's jaw, her thumb caressing her cheekbone.

"I will."

#sadigail #abigail roberts #abigail roberts marston #sadie adler #red dead redemption 2 #nsft #rdr2 fandom #rdr fanfic #rdr2 requests #anon #my writing #my trash #long post

[sternbagel]

Inspired by the wonderful OC lore that @charlotte-balfours-garden​ wrote and posted, I decided to finish this piece that’s been sitting in my drafts for months about my own RDR OC, visual references here!

Note: This takes place in canon, Chapter 3, and while everyone calls her Alberta Taylor at this point, it’s not her real name, just something she’s been going by for years because of something in her past. Professionally, she’s a bounty hunter, but has dabbled in other things. 

Read This First

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well, at least the one thing today that hasn’t been surprising is Arthur finding Al has dragged a chair over to his tent to read, one leg propped up on the chest at the end of his cot. Sometimes she’ll set up there to get ample shade from the sun, and according to her, the chest is the perfect foot rest height. 

“Afternoon, Arthur,” she greets lazily as she turns the page.

“Miss Taylor. Comfortable?”

“Sure.” She cuts her eyes up at him from under the brim of her hat, seemingly just to give him a greeting glance and smile, but when she spots the shiny new accessory pinned to his vest, her head raises higher. “You steal that off a dead lawman or somethin’?”

And it begins, Arthur thinks with a snort. “No, Dutch—” he waves an arm in the direction he came from, though Dutch has long ago left that area—“got us ingratiated with the local sheriff, so now we’re honorary deputies.”

“Was Sheriff Gray drunk?” 

That’s surprising. They only met the sheriff yesterday, and he’s not sure the full story of their encounter has been relayed to the rest of camp, just the orders not to cause any trouble. “How’d you know his name?”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he realizes that most likely, it was Hosea. Those two are close. 

She answers with a cavalier shrug before he can say anything. “I’ve been here before. Once. Didn’t stay long.”

Arthur takes the bait she leaves out. “Why not?”

“Well, it’s Lemoyne. I don’t spend very long here if I can help it. But first time I got to Rhodes lookin’ for bounty posters, Sheriff Gray was puking in the bushes. Somehow he managed to get out that they do all the bounty hunting themselves. No reason to go back.”

“Well, that’s pretty much how I found him when I went lookin’ for Dutch and Bill.”

“Figures,” she laughs, shaking her head. “Not that I really care, but where is Bill? Didn’t see him come back with y’all. Still with the Sheriff, ingratiating himself?” She looks thoughtful for a moment. “I didn’t get that impression off him, but I wasn—”

Arthur holds up a hand and shakes his own head with a smirk. “No, no, the Grays around here don’t seem… his type. Matter of fact, I should probably warn Bill to just play it cool—“

“What, drunk, dumb, and ignorant ain’t Bill’s type? What about that guy we saw him chattin’ up at that saloon in Armadillo?”

“That ain’t what I mean,” he snorts.

“I know.” Al flashes a playful smirk. “I’m just messin’.”

“Well, anyway, no, he’s off hidin’ some wagon full o’ moonshine we stole off some bootleggers under the Sheriff’s orders. Hosea’ll know what to do with it.”

“Moonshine?” This seems to pique her interest, again to Arthur’s surprise. “You know who you stole it off of?”

“Yes…” Arthur’s eyebrows knit together. He slowly lumbers over to his table, laying down the deputy badge and watching her carefully. Al’s expression is calm, but it’s a thin enough veneer that he sees the curiosity building by the second. “What’s it to you?”

“Curious.”

“Yeah.”

The book in her lap finally closes. “I used to run with some moonshiners not too long ago.”

“Alberta Taylor. Well, I never took you for a bootlegger.”

She throws an arm over the back of her chair and lets her head fall back, exposing more of her neck. It’s then that Arthur notices she’s not wearing her usual green neckerchief. Or her green jacket. She must be really burning up to be in just her workshirt and jeans. “Not every professional bounty hunter is a staunch upholder of the law, Arthur Morgan,” she says matter-of-factly with a lift of her brow.

“I never said that. Didn’t mean it neither. I mean, look who you fell in with, I know better. I just ain’t seen you drink much moonshine.”

“Sure. Always been more of a beer and tequila woman.”

He plops down on his cot and lights a cigarette. “Then what you doin’ runnin’ with moonshiners?”

“Tell me who you stole the liquor off of first, cowboy.”

Arthur concedes. Al is stubborn. “The Braithwaites. And those fellers that run around here with those yellow bandanas. Sadie and I ran into ‘em a few days ago. Uh—”

“Lemoyne Raiders?” She sneers. “I’d hoped someone had snuffed ‘em out by now. Hijo de putas.”

He takes a long drag of the cigarette before answering. “Yeah, that’s them. You’ve had some run-ins with ‘em, huh?”

“Like I said, just the once. Three of them stopped me on my way into Rhodes. Brought ‘em into town, dead, which is when I met Sheriff Gray. They didn’t have any bounties on ‘em, so all I got outta one of his deputies was five dollars. I know they weren’t even worth that much, but he coulda paid me more,” she grumbles. Her light Cuban accent comes out more the lower her voice goes.

“Sounds about right. Least ya got paid somethin’.”

“I guess.” She picks at the spine of her book for a moment. “Wasn’t long after that I met a… moonshiner legend, so to say, through a mutual friend. Though friend seems to be pushing it.”

He gets the sense she’s not fully sour on the “friend,” so his shoulders shake in amusement. 

“He was a lot like Uncle, actually.”

“Lord.” Arthur snickers, smoke billowing out of his mouth. 

“Yeah. Not as lazy. Probably younger, but who knows.”

“I reckon Uncle ain’t as old as he wants folks to think. Besides just bein’ too lazy, it’s probably why he don’t trim his beard.”

Al laughs, rougher than usual until she coughs and clears it up. “Damn humidity.”

“Tell me about it,” Arthur agrees, leaning forward and propping one elbow up on his knee. “So, this… moonshiner legend.”

“Ever heard the name Maggie Fike?”

The name isn’t familiar, but it isn’t unfamiliar either. “Don’t think so,” he settles on. 

“Well, she’s been mostly out this way rather than out where y’all been running around. Revenue Agents caught up to her a couple years back, tried burning her alive. Didn’t work, but gave her a nasty scar and bad eye. Almost puts Marston to shame. Almost,” she adds with a grin as he walks between Arthur and Strauss’ tents.

“Take a look in the mirror, Miss Taylor,” he grumbles back. Then he chucks a cigarette butt at a chuckling Arthur. “You too, Morgan.”

John disappears around the side of the tent as Arthur brushes off the butt. “Cranky cause he ain’t had his midday nap.”

“Pick better material.”

Al chuckles and presses the palm of her hand on her hat, affixing it more securely to her head. “Anyway…”

“Anyway…” Arthur sighs lightly. “You said she survived?”

“Yeah, went into hiding for a while. Somehow got a hold of my ‘friend’, who then asked me for help gettin’ her business back on its feet. Easy work at first. Finding a good location for the shack, gettin’ her some supplies, that stuff.” She waves a hand around. “Most folks don’t pay much mind to a bounty hunter buyin’ supplies in bulk like I was or destroying illegal stills. Sometimes I brought in the other moonshiners to the local town to collect on a bounty. Made for a better cover for what I was really doing.”

“Takin’ out the competition.” Arthur chuckles. 

“Exactly. Then came—”

“What the hell are you two talkin’ about anyway?”

Al puts her hand back on her hat before tipping her head back, almost touching the back of the chair, and looks at John, upside down. Arthur leans forward more to get his own look and the rangy outlaw, who’s circled back around to the other side of his wagon. 

“And what the hell is that?” John asks. He’s looking directly at the badge on Arthur’s table, disgust etched into his features. As if it’s some rotting, maggot infested carcass Arthur’s using for decoration.

Arthur sighs and briefly explains again.

“So this is just another excuse for you to play dress-up, eh? Guess I need to tell Hosea you’re itchin’ to go scammin’ with him again.”

“You do that, it’ll be your pecker in the stew pot next meal.”

Al’s crossed her arms over her chest and is watching them with barely contained amusement. “Playing dress-up? I don’t think I’ve seen that side of you yet, Arthur.”

“And you won’t,” he growls. “Only reason Hosea takes me on those jobs is because he knows I hate it. Just once I’d like him to take Marston instead.”

“You sure about that?” Al studies John as if she’s a talent agent in the big city. “Doesn’t he like to avoid mayhem on those jobs?”

John snorts indignantly. “Yeah, well, I’d like to see you try and follow Hosea’s lead. I swear even he don’t know what he’s doin’ half the time.”

“But it works.” Her eyebrows raise pointedly. 

“But it works,” John concedes. 

“Well, next time you go, let me know. I’d love to watch y’all work.”

“Whatever,” John grumbles as he waves her off and saunters away. Apparently he’s given up on butting into their conversation.

“I ain’t pullin’ that type of job with Hosea again. What we had set up in Blackwater, sure, but not...” Arthur wags a finger in the air, then unfurls the rest of his fingers and waves his hand once before letting it fall back in his lap. “Not that. The girls and Trelawny are much better’n me anyway. Safer that way.”

Al shrugs. “I won’t argue that.”

“So, back to what you was sayin’?” Arthur’s not willing to let the moonshiner story drop. It’s not often she lets down her walls and tells stories of her past that don’t directly involve some bounty she’s nabbed. He knows what happened to her family, but that had been a moment he wasn’t meant to see, and neither of them have ever brought it up again.

“So after we get a shack set up, she gets word of where this old buddy of hers is, go rescue him so he can make our moonshine. Not long after that, her nephew’s gettin’ moved from Sisika, so I go rescue him.”

Arthur pulls the cigarette from his lips and folds his arms across his chest, leaning back against the wagon. “Just you against a bunch of lawmen?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Morgan,” she drawls, lolling her head to the side.

“Suppose I shouldn’t be,” he chuckles.

“No, actually, I had a couple friends with me, cashed in on some favors. I’m not stupid or reckless enough to take on an armed prison transport.”

Arthur just shrugs. “Woulda believed you either way.”

“You’re too trusting,” she remarks. There’s a teasing lilt to her voice, but her eyes sparkle with something else. 

“Perhaps you’re right.”

“Well, we bring them back to the shack, get the business up and running. Enact some revenge on a rival of hers in the meantime, I get to kill the agent who tried to burn her. Spent about a year with them. I didn’t do a lot of the actual running of moonshine, one of those friends who helped me break out Maggie’s nephew, Lem, did most of that. I focused on taking out the competition, clearing out Revenue Agent roadblocks when we were sure we couldn’t sneak past them. The real dirty work. But I didn’t mind, kept me moving, out of the government’s crosshairs enough that I could keep killin’ those damn agents.”

Arthur cocks his head curiously. But she isn’t done talking, so he lets her continue, holding onto his question for now.

“Couple months before I ran into y’all, I told them I’d have to leave. I’d spent so much time in this area, couldn’t… Needed to get out and go back out west. See some old friends, see some open country. They reckoned they’d be fine without me, but threw them the name of another friend I knew’d be able to help them, pick up my slack.”

“So… you think they’re still runnin’ that shine?”

“No reason not to. Never heard anything about her being captured. Got a letter from them while I was in Blackwater, actually. They’re doin’ well.” She gives a fond, reminiscent smile. “That friend is working with Maggie now, too. Dunno how she stands him, but…”

“Good. Since we’re over this way, you plannin’ on seein’ ‘em?”

“They’re north, Roanoke Ridge territory. Might, if I feel safe leavin’ you fools by yourself for more than a week.”

Arthur chuckles and shakes his head. “I reckon we can survive without ya for that long.”

“With all the trouble you been causing lately? I don’t think so, Mr. Morgan.” Al fans herself with her book, smirking at Arthur pointedly.

“I actually got another question for ya,” he diverts.

“Shoot.”

“I been thinkin’ about this since you got here, but now, knowin’ how much you seem to hate the Revenue Agents, how come you’re a bounty hunter, takin’ payouts from the government, but runnin’ with a bunch’a outlaws? After a year of runnin’ shine, that is.”

A simple shrug is her reply, and the pause is so long Arthur isn’t sure she’ll actually give him an explanation, until, “You have your code, I have mine.”

“Huh,” he grunts. They watch each other casually for a long moment, then he asks, “You gonna explain?”

He can see her weigh her options, and eventually she relents. “You know…” Her expression immediately tells him what she means: her past, what happened to her. 

“Yeah,” he offers quietly.

“Well, nobody’s born a seasoned gunslinger. When I first started bounty hunting, I had to take the easier targets. Most big pay days, or the jobs that are good start for those of us that’re green, they’re people who rob banks with a pen, rich people doing rich people crimes. They’re soft, easy, and all it really takes to catch them is knowing the land better and being tougher than city folk. Which ain’t hard at all. So, until I could stand on my own, those were the only kinds I took. Then I started goin’ after the bastards I really wanted to. People like the Johnson Brothers.”

She nearly spits the name. Arthur feels the sting in her soul.

“I never take those soft bounties anymore,” she continues after a deep breath, seeming more like herself again with every word. “Unless I need a break. But it’s been a while since I have.”

“Been a while since you took a bounty at all.”

She must notice the question in his voice. Not judgement, but question. “No. You’ve been kicking up too much fuss. Wouldn’t be smart for me to be seen around town here more than once or twice.”

Arthur rolls his eyes. While it is mostly true, it’s about all he’s going to get out of her, but he knows the real reason why. Even if she won’t admit it to herself. “Got me there, Al.”

“Not hard to do, Arthur.”

#also we're going with the bill is gay theory. but like. half the gang is gay so she's not making fun of that. #she hates bill. so she's making fun of HIM directly. #hope that comes across lol. #also i hope it's okay to tag you in this!!! I can fix it if not #rdr #alma tejada #my fics #i guess that's gonna be a tag. i mostly just share this shit with friends and post my much bigger projects elsewhere

[tiredcowpoke]

TITLE: Blank Spots [4] PAIRING: (Somewhat pre-established) Arthur Morgan/Fem!Reader, could be seen as an OC. REQUEST: Unprompted. BLURB: After waking up at the base of a steep incline and nearly freezing to death, you stumble upon a group of strangers who swear up and down that they know you. WARNINGS: Some creative license for amnesia. Head injury. NOTE: I struggled a bit with this chapter on pacing, direction, and getting it to where I wanted it, so hopefully that’s not easily read. As always, thank you all for the feedback on my previous chapters, it’s been great to get such a warm reception for this story so far. TAG LIST: @on-my-way-to-erebor / @otherthingstoreid @ireallyhonestlydontcare​ @elanisha @darlingsdevil @cirillamylove @bunnyreese12

The next time you awoke, it was marginally warmer than the last couple days in the room you shared with Arthur.

A slow lift of your head and a glance around told you that it was well into the day with sunlight seen through the semi-broken window, Arthur’s cot empty. There hadn’t been much conversation after your meal last night. With at least a little bit of information on your situation and some questions starting to get answered, it allowed your mind to slow enough to sleep when your head wasn’t aching in pain. As you sat up, there was a sharp pain that appeared behind your eye below where the injury was, but it seemed to ebb out somewhat more than what it had been doing the days before.

Still, you knew you should be taking it somewhat easy for a while.

Rising up, you decided to do something other than hide out in the cramped room and stepped out into the main area of the building. The camp was quiet, knowing there was going to be a robbery of a train today so you figured you would be alone. However, Hosea remained behind, almost hunched over in the chair as he sat in front of the fireplace before straightening up slightly at your reappearance.

“It’s warmer today…” you commented, taking a glance around yourself a moment as he nodded slightly.

“It is. It’s good for us, means we can finally get outta here once all them return from that train.”

There was a touch of something to his tone, a bitterness, but you figured it was better that you left that alone. Even if you had gotten out of this with all your memories intact, you had a feeling maybe it wasn’t best to question or poke at the higher ups in the gang. At least...well, you really weren’t sure how they ran their gang. If there was room for question. Dutch was charismatic, headstrong, but he hadn’t done anything so far that suggested you couldn’t mention things to him. Hosea, too. Still, you just...didn’t know.

“How’re you feelin’?” Hosea asked, causing you to come back to the moment at the question.

“Better,” you stated with a soft nod, “My head hurts a little less.”

“Good. There was a lotta concern over that bump on your head.”

“Yeah, I...I could see that a bit in Arthur.”

Hosea nodded in understanding, gesturing toward the chair beside him. You paused for a moment before deciding to take his silent request, sitting yourself down in the chair before taking a moment to take in the heat from the fireplace.

“Told me a bit about that train, too,” you continued.

“Well, you always did have an interest in them. Wanted to go on nearly every one we got our hands on. Maybe once you’re better you can get back to that…” he trailed off at the look on your face, meeting his gaze like he was telling you some story you had been waiting to hear, “Or not, I suppose.”

“I just figured out last night that I was--am an outlaw, running with a group of outlaws. I shouldn’t be surprised, but any information on how I was before all this is something I can’t help but wonder about.”

“Of course, I don’t blame you,” Hosea replied.

“It’s just strange. I’m filled with uncertainty and a part of me feels bad because I know I’m not acting like myself, or at least the person people are expecting, as most people I’ve talked to seem to look at me like I’ve grown a second head.”

“You certainly aren’t acting like yourself,” Hosea confirmed, “Suppose we’ll just...have to see what happens. If we have to get used to this new you or just wait a while longer before you start soundin’ like yourself.”

You didn’t reply to that, looking away from him as you worried your lip between your teeth a moment in thought. He had a point. You could still talk, you had some idea on what you did and didn’t like, you had some memories. You weren’t a completely blank page just waiting for someone to fill. Yet, you still weren’t sure who you were, both past and present. You knew your name, your age, that you had a family somewhere. You had been told you were this outlaw, that you knew how to use a gun and liked to rob trains.

If that was who you were now, you had no idea. It raised the question of if...well, if Arthur had agreed to be in a relationship with the previous you, was it fair on either of you to continue it as it were?

“You don’t have to stay with us if you don’t want to,” Hosea said after your pause, causing you to glance back toward him, “I imagine Dutch’ll have somethin’ to say about that idea, but…”

“I really don’t know what I want, Mr. Matthews,” you muttered, earning a quick chuckle from him that almost dissolved into a cough.

“Haven’t heard you call me Mr. Matthews since you first joined us,” he commented, letting out a sigh as the light amusement seemed to falter somewhat. “Nobody’s forcin’ you to stay or go. Just...have you talked to Arthur about everythin’? What you’re wantin’ to do?”

“Not really. He answered some of my questions last night, but...that’s the hard question.”

“No doubt.”

“I can’t pretend…” you continued, “I can’t tell him the moments where I realized I...felt more for him than just a fellow gang member or pretend that I know what he’s like, why I decided to…”

“You’re gonna have to start over,” Hosea replied, “In a lot of places, I figure. You didn’t just know Arthur, myself, or Dutch. You might have to decide on if bein’ with him is right at the moment, if he’d be willin’ to start over with everythin’.”

“Would he?”

Hosea let out a short huff, “I can give you an idea but it’s best you ask him yourself.”

“Any information helps.”

“He’s always been fond of you in ways...never thought it would get to where it is with him now, but…”

“Is it...is it love?” The question put a pit in your stomach, a part of you really hoping it was ‘no’. However, Hosea let out another rough, wheezy chuckle as he shook his head.

“Now that’s somethin’ I really can’t answer for him.”

Despite the situation and the thought, you couldn’t help the slight pull upwards to your lips at his response. Yeah, that was fair.

“Thank you,” you stated, sincerity lingering in your tone. “For letting me ask strange questions and not putting a bullet in me a couple nights ago.”

“You remember that?” he asked, “Well, I came close. We’d just kidnapped that O’Driscoll, thought one of his buddies had wandered in after him.”

“...You kidnapped someone?”

“Not me personally,” Hosea muttered, “Would’ve been more focused on makin’ sure we had enough here to survive the snowstorm, but...well, that’s somethin’ better left for you to ask Dutch about. It’s a long story but O’Driscolls have been a thorn in our sides for years, and us them.”

“I feel I get more questions every time I get one answered…”

“It ain’t your concern right now,” Hosea stated, placing a hand on your shoulder before rising from his seat, “I would just focus on gettin’ ready to leave this place once all them get back.”

                                                           ***

You didn’t know how far out that train was, but it was another sleep before Dutch and company had come riding in with the pride of a successful job in his tone. Arthur was notably missing from this little parade, but the flurry of action that followed after was enough to push that observation to the back of your mind. It was early morning, but people didn’t waste much time on getting the wagons ready to head out to where they had decided their next camp would be.

Considering you weren’t even sure on where that was, it put a small twist of anxiety in your gut, but you had been allowed to be relatively hands off with the process with the weakness that still persisted from a mix of trying to heal your head and the lack of food. You weren’t the only injured person in camp at the moment, it seemed, as you had watched some people discussing what to do with a man named John and a woman, Sadie, who didn’t seem to be hurt but was definitely disturbed by something. Grimshaw, much as your first impression of her was rough around the edges, had seemed to get even more so under the pressure of getting the camp set up. You were getting used to hearing her ordering people around, though it wasn’t until some sunlight brought more heat that the snow and ice keeping the wagons in place were able to be removed.

You didn’t have anything to really pack, and being pushed aside from doing much in your condition for the moment, it left you feeling out of place and just waiting for something. Eventually, Grimshaw approached you in a bit of a huff, pausing to point toward a wagon that was being loaded up.

“We’re going to put you in with Mr. Marston,” she explained, leaving you to only nod along, much as you had no idea who she was talking about, “If he can keep awake for long enough, maybe the two of you can keep an eye on each other.”

“Is he the man who’s been laid out in that cot in the other room?” you asked, “I remember him from when I showed up here. If anything, I don’t think I’m that bad, but I can keep an eye on him for now if that helps.”

“Well, I appreciate that, miss, but as we needed it more in closing up camp…” she remarked, shifting to look toward your forehead a moment.

“Next time…” you muttered with an almost tense grin, though you found yourself almost flinching back when she reached out and gripped at your bandages.

However, upon feeling her just check the wound, you relaxed somewhat as she looked at it a moment before securing the bandage back to where it was.

“Well, at least Mr. Morgan has this wrapped properly so I don’t have to redo it for now…” she muttered, “That’s going to leave a nasty scar once it’s healed, but it’s lookin’ better.”

“Feels a little better,” you said with a small nod.

“Well, good,” she stated, “Go on, get ready. We have no time to be standin’ around for much longer.”

You weren’t too sure what exactly you had to gather and ready for the trip, but you wandered back into the building you had been staying in to gather up what you knew you at least had. Securing the weapon belt around your hips, you took a moment to remove the gun that had sat in the holster. Thankfully, you at least remembered the basics your uncle had taught you all those years ago, but anything else would have to be relearned. Though, upon further inspection, it appeared a couple shots had been taken in the round, a small frown settling in your expression. You stared at it a moment as if the sight would open something up in your mind, but after nothing seemed to surface you sighed and tucked the weapon back into the holster and made your way back outside.

John had already been loaded up into the wagon by the time you made it over there, climbing up into it before sitting down toward the back of it. You could hear some chatter around you, Grimshaw mostly with Dutch’s voice in and out.

“Well, ain’t you a sight.”

The voice came from behind you, near croaking but it caused you to glance back to see John’s head had tilted slightly toward you, peering out at you from the bandages around his face. You could see the ugly red gashes on his face that were closed haphazardly with stitching. Out of the two of you, it was clear he suffered more physically. Though, again, he was another stranger to add to the list of people who seemed to know you. For a moment you were about to go into the whole “I don’t know you, what happened?” piece that sat on your tongue, but it seemed to die a bit at the woozy state he seemed to be in.

“I’m not the one with the ruined face…” you commented, earning a quick huff from him as he lowered his head back down a bit.

“Ain’t always been anythin’ to look at,” he returned, almost a mutter over the noise around him.

“Guess we’ll have to see how things are once we’re both healed.”

“Mm…” It was a sound of agreement, but with how he seemed to nod off again after the words, you decided that was the conversation you would get for the ride to the new camp. You leaned yourself against the side of the wagon, listening to the people around you as you waited for things to start moving. Which, much as it was getting close to pressing on your patience, things eventually did.

There would still be some snow to get through, more trees and mountains to be seen as the wagon moved along and away from the camp. Away from the lands that held some familiarity to you, even vaguely in parts. Still, you allowed yourself to shut your eyes, knowing John was just passed out as the movement and eventually the warming weather allowed for some sleepiness to take hold.  

However, it really only felt like you had slept for a couple minutes before you were opening your eyes again to the sound of some ruckus, noticing the drastic change of scenery as the light glow of a setting sun cast onto the green grass and tall trees that surrounded you, a river nearby. You raised your head slightly, blinking against the heaviness behind your eyes as you noticed one of the further off wagons had stopped, catching sight of Arthur stepping off to seemingly check on something. Well, at least he seemed to be around. You hadn’t seen heads or tails of him for a day, but you figured you might have to get used to that. Glancing back toward John, who still appeared to be asleep, you situated yourself back down into the wagon and soaked in the heat for a minute, much as there still was a slight bite to it.

You couldn’t help but feel relieved to be out of the snow and cold, away from that terrible mountain and what happened on it.

                                                             ***

“Grimshaw suggested you might need some help?”

Less of a suggestion, really. A day and a half had passed since you had arrived at the new camp, your strength returning fairly quickly and Susan was also pretty quick to catch on to that. She wanted you to start helping out around camp again, something she claimed she had been fairly patient about. To her credit, she had been, much as you could catch the odd comment here and there. Approaching the camp’s cook had been her suggestion, his wagon thankfully already set up and hard to miss so you didn’t have to fumble around with the question on who he was. Still, despite that, he seemed somewhat surprised to see you standing before his table.

“I’m gonna need all the help I can get,” he started, “I’m out of supplies, I need someone to go into town.”

“Someone had mentioned I should check in with the doctor in town,” you commented, “I would gladly do it for you, but I don’t have a horse or much of a sense of direction out here.”

“Well, it’s good we got a wagon and plenty of riders around here,” he said in return, leaning over to look over your shoulder toward someone approaching, “Mr. Morgan!”

You let out a slow breath at the sound of approaching foot falls, not too sure where the pit in your stomach came from. There hadn’t been too much time to really talk with him, Hosea’s words still circling in your head but you still weren’t sure how to go about bringing it up. It would have to be, eventually, but you still didn’t quite have the words for it.

“What you want?” he asked, causing you to cast him a glance as he came to a stop beside you.

“I need someone to go to the general store in Valentine to pick up what I ordered here,” the cook explained, handing him some paper, “and since she’s saying she needs to visit the doctor, figure you two could do it.”

“Oh, so you’re callin’ the shots now?” Arthur asked, sarcasm heavy in his tone.

“No, but I am feeding you all. So, please…”

“It’s not a problem,” you said, shifting away from the table.

Really, you kind of wanted to get out of camp anyway, much as a part of you didn’t fully know where you all were while also still wanted to leave on your own for a while. You gingerly pressed a hand over your eye upon the small ache that appeared at the movement of your body, pulling a small sigh from you. Would be a while still with that, you supposed. Could have been worse, considering the injury, but it was still a bit of a pain to deal with. Outside of the obvious issue your memory presented, that is.

“You need a doctor?” Arthur asked after a moment, causing you to pause as he moved on ahead toward where one of the wagons was sitting.

“I need something for my head,” you explained, “Also, I think one of the women suggested doing so anyway, much as I trust you all in helping me.”

“Oh, nobody here’s a doctor,” Arthur returned, “much as we do well for ourselves.”

You let out a small sound of understanding from the back of your throat before waiting until the horses were ready, climbing up into the passenger seat with Arthur before heading down the trail through the trees and out of camp. Really, you couldn’t help but look around yourself at the cliffs and hills, the deer that would scatter off at the sound of approaching hooves. They had mentioned heading out east, somewhere you couldn’t recall ever heading out to. Your father and uncle liked to keep close to home out west, though...well, it was hard to tell if you had travelled anywhere else. Maybe not this far out east, but still. Somehow you had ran into these people, had stayed for a year or two apparently.

You really didn’t want to dwell on the fact that a couple years of your existence had just disappeared.

“I...hate to ask, but what’s the cook’s name?” you asked after a moment, Arthur glancing toward you with a slightly raised eyebrow.

“You two ain’t been introduced?” he asked, then seemed to realize the answer to his own question, “Ah, guess not. Dutch hasn’t been exactly loud an’ proud ‘bout what’s happened to you. Some people know but not everybody.”

“Neither am I.”

“His name’s Simon Pearson.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” you muttered, “So, what does he need?”

“Nothin’ special, I don’t think. Corn, some provisions…”

“He couldn’t get it himself?” Much as you appreciated the chance to get out, you couldn’t help but wonder why he couldn’t fill his own shopping list if it was that short.

“Oh, he certainly could, but he’s more at home hangin’ out in camp and butcherin’ what’s brought to him,” Arthur remarked around a small chuckle, “You used to avoid camp meals after a while. Used to get his feathers up.”

“Huh…” That stew you had back in the mountains wasn’t exactly the...best, but you figured it would change once there was a more ready supply of meat and things to cook with.

“You still ain’t remember much?”

You shook your head. “Hosea mentioned that I should probably treat this like I’m starting over, but...I don’t know, some things seem familiar but I can’t figure out why.”

“Familiar’s good news, I guess,” he offered with a small shrug. You could feel the addition to what you had talked with Hosea about sitting on the tip of your tongue, but you bit it back as you could see a small town appearing in the distance. That or perhaps you were a little unsure if you should agree to starting over or just...well, the alternative wasn’t really fair.

What the hell was fair in this situation? You had no idea. So, perhaps that is why you decided to leave that for another time. Hopefully soon, you could imagine Arthur’s probably going to start wondering.

Valentine wasn’t much to look at, “mud and morons” as Hosea had said, but you couldn’t help but take in the liveliness of the people around you a bit. Granted, perhaps it wasn’t much, but compared to the bareness of the mountains and different from the faces you had been getting used to seeing around camp. You took in the buildings as Arthur led the wagon next to what appeared to be the stable, dropping down from the wagon as you did the same. Much as you felt your clothes were still a little warm for the town, Valentine was cool enough to at least let you not worry about it too much for the moment.

There was a man standing at a table on the street for what appeared to be donations for some kind of charity, Arthur not really paying him much mind as he passed, leaving you to trail a bit behind him a moment as you watched the man coughing heavily into his arm. You watched him a moment as he lifted his head back up, a sinking feeling dropping down into the pit of your stomach as a quick feeling of recognition washed over you for a moment. There was a moment where Valentine had stilled and you were stuck with the feeling of your father’s hand gripping at your forearm, pulling you harshly into the house. You could remember glancing back to see a man and woman talking outside. Then they were gone behind a heavy door being slammed shut, your father’s voice ringing in your ears.

“She’s gone and married some softhearted farmer and suddenly thinks that gives her the right to tell me that I got no right to raise my own kid?”

He had changed drastically from what you could recall in your memory--frail, sickly, his eyes sunken and rimmed in red. You found some words rising to the tip of your tongue until reality seemed to shift back into focus with the touch of a hand to your elbow, making you flinch.

“Hey--calm down, it’s me. You ain’t heard me callin’ your name?”

You blinked up at Arthur for a moment before you shook your head slightly, swallowing down the tightness in your throat. You were pretty sure your uncle was standing on the street corner looking like he was slowly wandering toward death’s door, but...well, you weren’t too sure how to approach that situation in the moment.

“Just--yeah. I’m sorry,” you replied, Arthur dropping his hand as he glanced toward the man in question before he glanced back down at you.

“You becomin’ one of those givers to charity, now?” he asked, his tone teasing but it pulled a tension out of you that you couldn’t seem to explain in the moment.

“I’m going to the doctor,” you stated, “I’ll meet you out here when I’m done.”

#my writing. #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader

[sweets-fanfics]

Homecoming 18

Title: Beatrice

Wordcount: 2986

Warning: grumpy reader

Tags: @rollyjogerjones

AN: Time jump, fight me. (please don’t)

________________

You slept on your cot soundly when you feel the tiny person next to you start to squirm. You roll over and wrap your arms around your daughter as she begins to wake up. 

“Good morning, my love.” You say to her softly. 

You named her Beatrice after Arthur’s mother, but she was mainly referred to as Bea. You found out you were pregnant about a month after Arthur, your father and some of the other men went missing. That was almost three years ago. You didn’t ever think you’d be a mother. But with Abigail’s help, and Henry’s, you have been able to get through it. 

Around that time as well Henry and Sadie were able to break John out and he was back helping where he could, along with Charles. Sadie took over the role of a leader and she thrived. She, John and Charles would do the hunting. She would also do what she could to find out if the men were even alive still.

You wanted to do more but your pregnancy was not good. You were sick most of the time. Abigail and Miss Grimshaw said it was probably also from the stress of Arthur going missing and Hosea passing. 

It had been two years and you were still in shock about Hosea. He always seemed like the glue that held it all together. And now that he was gone you didn’t know how together everyone would be when the boys were able to get back. If ever. 

Sadie had helped us set up camp in a small run-down place called Lakay. It was a dump at first but slowly you’d been able to make it into a steady camp with everyone’s help.

Henry had become extremely sick. In fact, he almost died shortly after saving John. You were able to get him to rest and eventually he recovered. Lord knows how. But he still did have a real nasty cough that never seemed to go away. He said he was fine but even a few years later you can tell he never really recovered.

Bear was still a good boy. He mostly would sleep if he wasn’t following Bea around as she learned to walk.

Bea was an amazing little girl. She had her father’s eyes and your dark hair. As she learned to walk and would chase around Jack, her porcelain skin developed tiny freckles. She only said a handful of words, if that. Mainly the words consisted of, ‘momma,’ ‘bear,’ and Miss Grimshaw’s favorite, ‘Grimmy.’ You noticed, however, she’s been trying to say Henry’s name.

 Bea loved when you would play your violin for her and Jack or when you’d let her pluck the strings while you read next to her. You wished every night that Arthur could meet her. 

Bea let out a soft giggle pulling you from your thoughts. You smiled at her as she played with the ringlets of your hair. “Should we go see if Pearson is making breakfast?” Your little girl giggled in response. 

You sat up in bed and stretched before slipping your shoes on. You looked at Arthur’s hat on the old bedside table. You never wore it. It made you feel sad. Bea, however, loved wearing it.

You did wear Arthur’s blue shirt constantly. At first, it was because it smelt like him. But over time it began to lose the smell. Once you were ready you picked up Bea and began to head outside with Bear following behind. 

“Y/N!” Pearson called to you. “And little miss Bea is up as well I see.” He turns around before handing you a small bowl. “You were saying you want her to start getting used to solids more since she’s been having trouble right?” You nodded looking at the bowl. “I made some porridge and mixed some fruit in so she can work on the chewing without hurting her teeth.”

“Thank you so much, Pearson!” You smile at him before looking at Bea. “Did you hear that? He made special food for you. Should we go look at the water and eat it?”

By the time you sat on the old rickety rocking chair Bea was already mostly covered in the food as she ate. You rocked slowly humming to her as she ate her breakfast with her little dimpled hands. As you lean back into the chair you close your eyes and accidentally doze off. 

 ___________________

You weren’t sure how long you were asleep. But Bear barking somewhere in the camp made you jump in your seat. You looked around a bit trying to catch your bearings. Bea was softly snoring in your arms. The bowl was empty but you were pretty sure most of the contents were on her face. You chuckled to yourself and used your sleeve to try and wipe off the food from her naturally rosy cheeks. 

You had almost completely cleaned her off when you heard the wood of the deck creak from someone stepping on to it. You figured it was Sadie or Grimshaw coming to tease you for falling asleep. You stood up while adjusting Bea in your arms.

“I’m sorry I dozed off. It’s so hard to get Bea to sleep when she’s teeth-...” As you turned around it wasn’t Sadie or Miss Grimshaw that was standing in front of you.

The first thing you looked at was his eyes. His beautiful green-blue eyes. Then as your jaw dropped you saw his wonderful smile you missed so much. “Arthur?”

“You know, my whole time riding here I thought about somethin’ clever to say to you.” Arthur stepped closer to you as you looked at him in shock. “But then I saw your face, and my mind went completely blank.”

Tears began to form in your eyes and Arthur quickly wiped them away softly as he chuckled. “And I’m even more at a loss of words because of…” He looked down at Bea who was starting to stir.

“You’re alive…” You mumble.

“Yes, my love, I think you should know by now I’d always come back to you.” He leaned in and kissed your lips tenderly. His lips were extremely dry but at the moment you didn’t quite care. He pulled back and chuckled again, “Are you gonna introduce us?”

You blinked as you snapped back to reality. “Oh, my cowboy. You missed a lot.” You said cheerfully. Bea sat her head up from your shoulder and gave Arthur a groggy confused look. She took in his face before hiding in the crook of your neck. “My little Bea,” You said to her softly, “Remember how every night I tell you about your daddy who is the greatest cowboy around?” She peaked at him a bit as Arthur looked at you as you called him her father.

“This is him,” You smile at her. “This is your daddy. He came home.” You looked up at him and smiled, “Daddy, this is your baby girl, I named her Beatrice but we all call her Bea.”

Arthur still seemed at a loss for words as Bea looked him up and down. “You gonna say hi?” You ask smiling.

Arthur blinks a bit before holding a hand out to Bea. She looks at him a bit weary but softly grabs one of his fingers. There seems to be some sort of spark in Arthur when her hand touches his. His eyes light up and he’s smiling like a goof. You hold Bea out to him a bit. Arthur gives you a worried look real quick but takes her in his arms.

They click instantly. She lays her head on his shoulder as he introduces himself. “Hiya Miss Bea, it looks like I’m your daddy. I’m sorry I’m so late.” He rubs her chubby cheek with the pad of his thumb. He glances at you. “I’m really sorry I’m late.” He says again to you this time.

“Better late than never.” You sigh.

Arthur smiles at you before looking back to Bea, “You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, other than your momma.” He lifts Bea up in the air who giggles in excitement. 

“Arthur?” You hear Sadie call from behind him. He turns around putting Bea in the crook of his arm as she keeps a tight grasp on his other hand. “Oh my god!” She hurries up and gives him a tight hug. “And it looks like you two have already been introduced!”

“I… I really wasn’t expecting…” He glances down at Bea who returns his look with a smile.

“Neither was your wife.” Sadie teases.

“Oh, Sadie, not again.” You groan softly as the two turn their attention to you.

“When the doctor told her she damn near fainted.” You roll your eyes, embarrassed.

“I didn’t think I’d be gettin’ pregnant anytime soon.” Arthur leans in and kisses you again. 

“I’m proud of you, baby.” He hums.

“Oh, you two, back to being cute and disgusting. Come in and see everyone, Arthur.” Sadie pretends to be disgusted as she walks to the cabin calling for everyone.

“We better go.” You grab Bea as she reaches for you.

Arthur grabs your free hand and you can tell he won’t be letting go any time soon. 

 ____________________

You walk into the cabin as Bea is blabbering in her own language. Bear is hopping around Arthur’s legs and Arthur is trying not to trip.

“Arthur!” Henry says before covering his mouth to let out a cough.

“You still sick?” Arthur asks as Henry shakes his hand.

“He was battling TB while you were gone, Mr. Morgan.” You say to him.

“Barely survived too.” Henry sighs.

Arthur shakes his head and pats Henry’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

As Henry moves out of the way Arthur is attacked by every other camp member. They ask if he knew about Hosea and Lenny. Abigail smacks his arm for not being careful. Arthur is taken aback a bit when he sees Jack is now seven and no longer a tiny four-year-old.

The door behind us opens and John and Charles walk in. They’d been out hunting since the day before. “Arthur?” John asks right away.

“Hey, you’re out,” Arthur says as he pulls his brother into a hug.

“Uh... Yeah, Sadie and Henry got me out.” John explains with shock still on his face.

“I’m glad you're back,” Charles adds, shaking Arthur’s hand. “You met Bea right?” 

“She’s amazing,” Arthur mumbles as he sneaks a peek at Bea and me as we talk to Jack. He smiles thinking I don't see him looking. 

“Where're the others?” John asks.

“We all came to shore separately,” Arthur says as the door opens again and Javier and Micah walk in. 

“Javier!” the group cheers. All ignoring Micah, except Henry who shakes his hand.

Micah right away looks towards me and sees Bea. “You moved on from Morgan?” He asked, already seeming to want to pick a fight. 

“Arthur, why didn’t you leave that one wherever y'all were?”  You ask ignoring his comment.

Arthur sighs and stands next to you. “Tried shakin’ him, but he just kept showin’ up.”

Micah rolls his eyes, “Oh har har.” 

 ________________

It was long into the night when the next person arrived. No one had gone to sleep due to the excitement. Arthur looked like he was going to throw a bigger fit than Bea when you said you were going to put her to bed. 

“Well, how about you join me so maybe next time you can put her down.” He liked that idea and stood up to follow you to your own cabin. As you walked outside you noticed the rain pouring down. 

Arthur watched as you tucked Bea closer to you before you and him dashed across to your little cabin. Arthur looked around as you began to rock Bea. “Here it is…” Arthur whispers and picks his hat up placing it on his head. 

“You look good.” You say softly. You placed a finger on Bea’s forehead before slowly bringing it down to the tip of her nose. A trick you learned from Abigail that helps babies fall asleep. And as it had all the past nights, Bea slowly began to drift off until she was out like a light.

“You’re really good at that,” Arthur whispers. You glance up at him and smile. You had forgotten he was in the room. When you rock Bea you tend to forget about the world. 

“I have a few years of practice.” You put Bea down softly in the center of the cot and put a pillow down to keep her from rolling off. 

“Y/N… I wanted to come back sooner…” He takes your hands and holds them up to his lips so he can kiss them.

“What happened, Arthur?” You rub his cheek as he sits on the cot next to you. He lets out a long sigh he seemed to have been holding in for a while. He glances at Bea and smiles before looking back at you. 

“Dutch… he… When we got there there was a civil war goin’ on. And I said we should try to get back. But Dutch wanted to be Dutch and volunteered us to help. I didn’t know it would take two goddamn years…” He looked down at his hands.

“What is it?”

“He’s killed… a lot. Even an old lady who just wanted more money for helping us. He’s changed, Y/N.” You pulled your husband into a hug. You pretended you didn’t feel your shoulder get wet as he broke down a bit. “I can’t believe I wasn’t here for you.”  

“It’s okay. I had a lot of help.” You push him back a bit and quickly wipe his eyes. “I’m so happy you’re home.” 

“I’m so happy I’m home.” He agreed, leaning in to kiss you. 

When his lips were less than an inch from yours there was a knock at the door. You suppress a groan, “It’s already starting again.” Arthur chuckles before standing and walking to the door. 

“It’s about time you showed up,” Arthur says sarcastically and moves out of the way so you can see your father.

“Father.” You say excitedly. You got off the bed and ran up to him. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” You say as he pulls you into a hug.

“Oh, my daughter. I missed you so much.” His voice was just a bit too loud so you and Arthur both shushed him. “Excuse me?” He asks, a bit offended.

“We just got Bea to sleep,” Arthur explains, but it seems to confuse him more.

“Bea?” 

You lead him over to your cot where Bea is softly snoring, “I found out about her a month after you all disappeared.” 

Dutch glances at Bea. You see him smile a bit but then it drops and he turns giving Arthur a dirty look. “So while I needed your help in Saint Denise you were sleeping with my daughter?” He asks, angry.

“Whoa, father. We were married.” You say trying to calm him.

“That too. Did you once ask me, or her brother? You just decided to do it all yourself?” Dutch jabs a finger in Arthur’s chest. You notice Arthur is struggling not to argue back.

“Father!” You say sharply, “It was all my idea. You are just tired. Go to sleep and you can meet her in the morning.” 

You attempt to nudge him towards the door but he stands firm. “I need you two to stop thinking about yourselves and playing house, and think about the rest of this goddamn group.” His voice gets loud again. Bea starts to whine a bit making you shift your attention to her. Dutch doesn’t like that, “Do I make myself clear Y/N?” He shouts. 

You pick up Bea and start trying to calm her down. “Get out of my room Dutch.” You say coldly. “You don’t get to disappear for three years and come back demanding.”

Arthur stands between the two of you, “Dutch, just go sleep. You’re tired.”

“There wouldn’t be a damn group anymore if it hadn’t been for Sadie, Charles and I.” You say ignoring Arthur. “How about a damn thank you.”

Dutch throws his hands up, “So entitled! The only one who still believes in me seems to be Henry and Micah! You need to have faith and trust me!” 

“Oh fuck Micah, he’s a damn rat anyway.” You admit.

“I highly doubt that,” Dutch says throwing away what you said completely. “If anyone is a damn rat it’s John or…” He stops and turns away.

“Or who, Dutch, me?” You scoff and hand Bea to Arthur who is pleading with you to drop it for the night. “Listen here father, you don’t have to believe me. It’ll probably bite you in the ass sometime later. But since joining this goddamn gang I have been nothin’ but faithful. We are a family. You need to take a deep breath and think before you speak. There is no more Hosea to be your voice of reason. Now get. Out. Of. My. Room.” 

Dutch glares at you but turns and leaves slamming the door behind him. As soon as the door shuts your legs turn into jelly and you sink to the floor, freaking out Arthur behind you. 

“Y/N!” He calls but you hold up a hand.

“I’m okay.” You don’t get up but you look over your shoulder at him. “Thank you, for not getting in the way… That was a lot of pent up anger I needed to get out.”  He shakes his head and lends a hand out to you which you accept.

“It kept me from snapping at him.” You took Bea from him and kissed her forehead.

“I see what you mean about him changing.”

#homecoming #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fandom #rdr #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #dutch x Daughter!reader #arthur morgan (father) #creative writing #writing #write #fanfic #fanfiction #r*

[emily-strange]

Second Chances

Wow so this chapter...feels like I’ve been working on it for years! haha But we got there in the end. I’m going to be on and off here today because it’s my birthday and I’ll either be off playing games to distract myself or in a cupboard crying because I feel old haha

Really hope you enjoy this chapter!! Please let me know what you think xx

Tagging: @porkchop-ao3 @redeadepression @lucacangettathisasss @janewilson-rdo @gangofgunslingers @fangirl-ramblings and @sleepylunarwolf who asked but if you’d like me to stop let me know :) Apologies if you’ve asked to be tagged and I haven’t - please just send me another message! :)

For the premise of this story, Jack is a little bit younger. I just can’t hurt that boy’s feelings!

Summary: You’re Sadie Adler’s 18 year old daughter who was visiting when the O’Driscoll’s attack. How will you cope with gang life and your increasing feelings for someone who, on the surface, isn’t up for grabs?

Pairing: John Marston x female reader

Warnings: None that I can think of!

Chapter 7

You see Hosea glance at you but you don’t make eye contact with him, you just play with the skirt of your dress and try to seem less frazzled than you actually feel. He’d caught you off guard and you know he noticed it.

Hosea whistles and calls for Arthur to loop around and come back to the wagon, which he does with the greatest of ease. Even with your new little horse in tow. When he reaches the front of the wagon, Hosea pulls on the horses to stop the wagon.

“It’sa nice day. Miss Adler ‘nd I are gonna take the scenic route back ta camp. You good?” Hosea asks Arthur even though you all know it isn’t a question. Arthur looks at you and then scoffs a little bit, shaking his head while grumbling something like, “Alright” under his breath. He really can be so grumpy.

Hosea takes out the large stack of bills from his breast pocket and dolls it out amongst the three of you. He hands two piles to Arthur for camp and himself, then hands a pile to you.

You take the stack and look through bills, “Wow…” you say quietly to yourself. Trying to forget the people, or person, that the money came from. You then turn to Hosea and say appreciatively, “…..minus the amount for the horse?”

Hosea chuckles and stuffs his pile back into his pocket, “Now, I’m making an….executive decision here and sayin’ that boys an investment fer the camp. So, camp’ll pay….You two happy with that!?”

Hosea looks at Arthur who holds up his hands up in surrender before putting his money away. You open your mouth to protest but Arthur beats you to it saying, “I’d just agree if I were you Miss. He’s likea dog with a bone when he gets an idea into him.”

“Okay…” you say to Hosea, your smile beaming, “Thank you Mr Matthews.” You lean across the seat and give Hosea a small kiss on his cheek.

“Best not be doin’ that either, think his heart’ll give out!” Arthur laughs heartily and Hosea reaches for his gun. “Think that’s ma queue!” Arthur says before manoeuvring the horse’s round again.

“Can you please tell my mom that I’m fine….oh and ask Kieran to check over my new baby?” You ask Arthur who shakes his head and replies, “That best not be his new name.”

“Well….” You pretend to think to yourself, “….he is a Morgan. Maybe I’ll call him Arthur.”

Hosea bursts out a large laugh and Arthur grumbles to himself, “Never heard that one before.”

You smile at Arthur who huffs lightly and tips his hat. He gently kicks the horses into a gallop and you smile watching your new horse trot away, knowing he’s safe with Arthur. He’s grumpy but he loves those horses. You’ve seen him sneak your boy a treat or two already.

“Shall we?” Hosea asks readying the reins and you nod happily singing, “We shall!”

Hosea gets the wagon going again and you ride in comfortable silence for around 15 minutes. He stops at a lovely grassy bank next to a large lake and you eagerly jump down, not waiting for Hosea to help you. While Hosea secures the horses, you walk to the waters edge and squint as the sun glares off of the water.

“Me and Bessie stopped at this lake many a time on the way back from town.” He says looking out into the water. You can tell whoever she was meant a great deal to him.

“Bessie was my wife” Hosea confirms and moves to sit on a large overturned log; groaning a bit as he sits, “We lost her a while back now. Still feels like yesterday.”

You take a seat next to him and think about your father.

“Does it ever get better?” you ask Hosea in a small voice, “Sometimes I feel like I can’t breathe it hurts so much.”

Hosea sighs and you know he’s choosing his words carefully.

“It doesn’t always get...better..” he says, stopping briefly, “but it does get easier to carry.”

You nod, mostly to yourself and Hosea bumps your arms with his. Bringing you back to the present.

“Now, I’m not usually in the business of gossiping.” He begins, giving a slight chuckle, “However..John..” Hosea trails off and shakes his head, almost as if he isn’t sure how to phrase it. You sit quietly and allow him the space to think. After about half a minute, Hosea continues, gesturing with his hands as he speaks.

“You haveta understand that John and Arthur, they grew up tough. It was hard on them. Those boys…” Hosea sighs, “Me and Bessie, we couldn’t have kids. Probably for the best considering our lifestyle but..they were ours you know? We raised them as ours.” You smile and nod, imagining a pair of young (and grumpy) misfit teenagers.

Hosea sees you smile and laughs.

“You know, I don’t think John’s properly cut his hair since Bessie died. She used ta have Arthur pin him down just so she could shear that mop.” He grins while putting his head in his hands dramatically.

“Something I’m sure he appreciated greatly” you laugh. You look at Hosea and watch as his eyes swim with all the memories his heart clearly holds. He takes a moment and adjusts his hat, shielding himself from the bright sun. And possibly shielding his eyes from you.

“But as I was sayin’. They didn’t have it easy. Arthur’d been with us a long while before Dutch saved John..” Hosea continues but your brain jumped at the word “saved”. You opened your mouth to ask but Hosea cut you off, “Now I’ll let John tell you about his past. Some things a man should be allowed to keep to himself if he so chooses.”

You try to understand where Hosea is coming from but it just confuses you.

“Why share anything with me then? About John?” you ask, honestly curious as to why the older man would ‘indulge in gossip’ as he put it.

Hosea glances at you and gives a small, sweet smile, “Honestly? Because no one’s ever seemed bothered before...about how John is. Not since Bessie anyway…I think that might be the biggest reason he ran off.”

“Something was mentioned about him leaving….” You say quietly.

“Mmhm for about a year. After Jack was born…it was tough on him. But runnin’ off…” Hosea is the picture of a disappointed father as he shakes his head, “for a while we thought he was dead. But then people’d seen him about so. That’s when we knew. If I had’ta guess, I’d say that’s what hurt Arthur the most. Thinkin’ his brother was dead. Then finding out he’d just taken off.”

“I get it..” you say begrudgingly. Part of you had hoped Arthur was being petty in his feelings towards John but honestly you really did understand. You take a second to ponder over how someone might feel if you just took off one day, or night, without a word. The memories threatening to invade your mind make you feel less than relaxed so you jump back into the conversation with another question. “Did he just..waltz back in one day?”

“Basically” Hosea nods and gives a grim laugh, “I think he was expecting more of a fight. He came in with his back up, waitin’ for a punch but Arthur just…walked away.”

“That was probably worse.” You recognise and Hosea agrees. “John said he went to Arthur when Abigail told him she was pregnant. That all he said was that it was time to ‘be a man’.”

Hosea scoffs, “I’m sure he did. Arthur had his reasons for reacting that way…but I agree with what you’re getting at. He could’ve handled it better.”

Hosea gets up and stretches out his back with an over the top groan. You watch him as he settles his hands on his hips and turns to you. “Now, Miss Adler, why don’t you just ask what I know you’re dyin’ to ask.” He says smiling perceptively at you.

“John’s not Jack’s father is he?” you blurt out and Hosea lets out a long, deep breath before simply saying, “I don’t believe so, no.”

All of a sudden you jump up from your seat on the log, causing the older man to flinch. You stomp childishly over to Hosea and find yourself in front of him before your brain even registers that you’ve stood up.

“I don’t understand you people!” you almost yell, “He’s…he’s struggling. He doesn’t eat, do you know that? He thinks no one notices, but I did, I do. He doesn’t…people are...and well Abigail she’s..” you flail your arms around. Completely exasperated, “I don’t understand you all.”

You shake your head when Hosea stays quiet. You can see that part of him is ashamed. It’s in the way he hangs his head, avoiding eye contact with you completely. You go and sit back down on the log with a thud, “You all go on about being family…but when one of you are struggling….you’re just setting him up to fail.”

“I know it might seem that way y/n but John knew what he was riskin’ when he started seein’ Abigail. Dutch has always preached about goin’ outside’a camp for…companionship. Not that he practices it himself of course.” Hosea grumbles and comes to sit next to you as you listen, “I did warn him. As did Arthur.”

Hosea sighs and scratches at his chin. You don’t know what you’d expected when you decided to get answers from one of the gang’s elders, but this horrible sinking feeling wasn’t it. John’s situation seems well and truly stuck.

“Arthur’s always gained somethin’ from being alone. Like he thrives on that feelin’. Be it good or bad!” Hosea laughs humourlessly, “But John…being alone, it almost…cripples him. Used ta drive Arthur nuts, couldn’t get a moments peace when John was younger. Always wanting someone with him. Needing someone next to him when he slept.”

“That’s so…sad.” You say and Hosea looks at you. After a moment you both break into a morbid little chuckle which erupts into full blown laughter. You don’t know why you’re laughing, it’s horrible really. But it’s almost so sad that if you don’t find the humour in Arthur’s annoyance then all you’d do is cry.

“Oh and doesn’t that sum everything up nicely?” Hosea says once the laughter subsides, “Sad.”

You both sit quietly for a minute or two and just let the sun shine down on you.

“John’s always been sensitive” Hosea finally says, “It’s somethin’ Dutchs’ tried ta shake outta him over the years. He basically caused this…rivalry, between him and Arthur hoping it’d toughen him up.”

“Well, the man survived gunshots and a wolf attack. I’d say he’s pretty damn tough and I doubt very much that’s from years of being pitted against Arthur.” You say bitterly as your nostrils flare. You completely miss the smirk Hosea gives you. “So unless Abigail decides to be…forthcoming…with the truth…that’s that?” you ask, fully knowing the answer.

After a quiet pause Hosea says gently, “I know this world may be confusing fer you. If you ask me, you ‘nd your mother are better off out of it…not sayin’ you should just up and leave, but…I just think once you’re on yer feet…it may be worth thinkin’ long and hard about how you want your life to look.”

“And isn’t that the million-dollar question.” You say under your breath, but Hosea had still caught it and looks at you quizzically. “Sorry” you say laughing a little, “it’s something my pa used to say. When I asked for advice or his opinion…he used to say ‘now isn’t that the million-dollar question’.” You smile at the memory but find yourself falling into a pit of sadness. But before melancholy can completely set in, Hosea breaks the silence.  

“Now, I think I’ve been good and honest with you Miss Adler. Will you be honest with me?” Hosea asks, turning fully to look at you. You shrink under his intense gaze but nod anyway. “What is it about our Mr Marston that has you so…curious…as you put it?”

You know what Hosea is asking. He’s trying to suss out if you have romantic feelings or intentions towards John. Problem is, you don’t really know yourself. So instead of lying you decide to be completely truthful, part of you sensing that he’d know if you lied. So why try?

“Honestly Hosea…I don’t know.” You say before running your hands through your hair, getting it out of your face so you can look him in the eye better, “He was sweet to me. Kind. And, I think I want to repay that you know? Be a friend maybe…” You trail off and shrug, knowing it isn’t a concrete answer. It does however seem to satisfy Hosea who claps his hands onto his knees and pushes himself up.

“Alright then. Good enough.” He says holding out a hand to you. You take it and he helps you up from the log, “You know, my Bessie would’ve liked you. You have’a kind soul…but I also see the fire she used’ta have herself.”

“In that case I’ll take it as a wonderful compliment Mr Matthews.” You say making your way back to the wagon. “You know, I’d like to know more about her…if you ever feel like sharing.”

Ever the gentleman, Hosea helps you up onto the wagon and you smooth out your dress before sitting. You’re really looking forward to getting back into some jeans. After Hosea settles next to you, he quietly says, “I think I’ve had my fill of memories today Miss. But at another time, that’d be lovely.”

He gives you another soft smile before starting the horses back towards camp.

[the-awkward-outlaw]

Second Chances - Ch. 27

The Tyrant

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death, fluff, smut

Word count: ~8900

Masterlist

Read on AO3

Over the course of the next few days, you and Arthur flit between camp and hunting trips, doing your best to keep everyone fed despite the fact that Pearson’s stews are mostly meat and little else. Arthur left a few hours ago to help John with a job Micah gave them, which was to blow up Bacchus Bridge. The fact that Micah was the one to assign the job does little to ease your and Arthur’s worries. Even John, Abigail and Sadie were wary of that fact. 

Micah handing out jobs to Arthur and John isn’t the only red flag. While he’s never hesitated to antagonize the other camp members, he’s always relented from doing so with Arthur, John and Grimshaw. However, you witnessed him one day telling Grimshaw how to get the other girls to work better and faster. No one ever told Grimshaw what to do, not even Dutch. It’s apparent Grimshaw doesn’t appreciate it, she’s become more hostile since, not relenting to even deal out a slap or two to Tilly and Mary-Beth. It doesn’t improve the camp’s overall mood either. 

John and Arthur return in the early evening from destroying the bridge. You’re at Pearson’s wagon, cooking once more since Pearson’s hit the bottle too hard again. The two men hitch their horses and dismount, talking all the while. They’re close enough you can just make out what they’re saying. 

“We ain’t always seen eye-to-eye, you and me,” John says to him. 

“I guess I always thought things came too easy for you. But here we are.” 

“What are we gonna do about all this?” 

“Do what I told you, John. Talk to Abigail, see what she knows about… that whole business,” Arthur says, patting Artemis’s neck. “Then figure out what you wanna do. Remember your family.” 

“I still don’t know, Arthur. I… Dutch has been like a father to me for twenty years.” 

“I know. But do you really think this mess we’re in is really worth sacrificin’ your family for? They deserve better.” 

“I’ll think about it.” John walks away, giving you a brief nod. 

Arthur walks over to you, his face set. 

“What is it?” you ask. 

“Need to talk to you about somethin’. But not here. Later when we’re somewhere private.” 

“Got somethin’ you feel like sharing, Morgan?” Micah says, coming around the wagon, his brow raised expectantly. 

“It ain’t nothin’ to do with you, Micah,” Arthur hisses. “If ya wanna know, it’s to do with our wedding.” 

“Odd that you can’t talk to your girl about it in the middle of camp. Almost like you’re trying to hide something.” 

“Maybe we’re trying to keep our private lives private, Bell,” you snap. “Besides, what do you care what we’re talking about? Not like you’re coming to the wedding.” 

He chuckles a little and takes a step forward. “Damn right about that one. But Morgan, if I were you, I’d keep a check on this girl of yours. Don’t want nothin’ bad happening to her.” 

“Excuse me?” he says, marching up to Micah. They stand inches from each other. 

“I’m just saying it’s in the gang’s best interests to keep her safe, just like all the other women. Wouldn’t wanna lose our best cook while Pearson’s got his head spinning, now would we?” 

“Get lost, Micah,” Arthur growls. “If ya feel like worryin’ about anyone’s safety, I’d worry about your own.” 

“Oh, trust me, Morgan. Don’t worry about me, I’m doing just fine. Now you two go back to your... wedding talk.” He leaves with a small laugh.

“I hate him so much,” you say softly when Arthur turns back to you.

“I know. But that’s why I wanted to talk to you outside this place. Micah might be a snake and an ass, but I think he’s right when he said there might be a rat in camp.” 

You recall hearing Micah telling that to Dutch, and although you feel as though most of the things that have come from his mouth have been lies, it feels like Micah was being honest for once. It seems like more and more, Pinkertons have been able to find the gang and know about their activity. It’s hard to say who it could be, though you’re sure that certain members aren’t, such as Charles and Swanson. You hope it wasn’t Strauss, though the idea doesn’t quite match up. The camp was Strauss’s safe zone, until Arthur kicked him out. He’d be an unlikely culprit, but you keep the idea in mind. 

As you and Arthur sit on your cot eating the meat-heavy stew, Arthur speaks up.

“Wanna go up to see the Wapiti again tomorrow. See how they’re doing.” 

“Okay, I’ll come too. I hope they’re doing okay.” 

“Me too. They’re good people trapped in a bad situation. Dutch ain’t helpin’ ‘em.”

“I’ve been thinking about that. Dutch has always been the helpful sort, I mean look at how he helped Sadie and me when we first joined. What he’s doing with Eagle Flies feels different. Like…” 

“Like he wants to cause a fight,” Arthur finishes. “I know. I keep tellin’ him that it’s a fool’s game to be playin’ the Indians and the army like this, but he don’t seem too interested in listenin’ to me no more.” 

You set your plate down and grab his hand. “I wish we could fix what’s happening, Arthur. Seems like Dutch doesn’t wanna listen to anybody except Micah. And he’s just getting worse and worse. When you and John were gone, he was standing outside his tent screaming something about faith and loyalty for a solid five minutes. Kept saying we got no room for doubters but that’s all any of us seem to be able to do anymore.”

“I know. Like I said, we’ll talk about it when we’re not in camp. Too risky here and I ain’t sure who we can trust anymore.” 

You lean over and put your head on his shoulder. “I guess as long as we can trust each other, it’ll have to be enough for now. How’d that thing go with John?”

“Fine. Still don’t know why Dutch wanted us to blow up the bridge. Just said it would divert the Pinkertons’ attention elsewhere. I don’t know though, feels more like it’s just gonna attract them to us even more.” 

You sigh again, squeezing his hand. “I guess we’ll just play it his way for a while.” Arthur nods, though his eyes don’t meet yours.

In the morning, Arthur takes you out early with the excuse that he wants to go hunting, but you see right through him. He clearly is getting tired of camp. It doesn’t help that Micah has been marching around, commenting on nearly everyone’s activities. You’re happy that Pearson at least is sober enough to cook. You follow Arthur up the path out of the Roanoke Valley and into the Grizzlies, travelling west to Wapiti. 

As you head down the path which leads towards Bacchus Station, Arthur finally speaks up. 

“That thing I wanted to talk to ya about,” he says. “I’m thinkin’, well, I’m thinkin’ we need to talk about the likely possibility of us leavin’ the gang.”

“What?” you say, caught off guard. While you had suggested it when the gang first came to Beaver Hollow, Arthur was adamant on remaining. “What changed your mind?” 

“Well, John and I were talkin’ yesterday when we was at the bridge. It just don’t feel we know Dutch anymore. I know you sure don’t, but we known him for twenty years at least. Now he’s almost like a stranger who’s just stringin’ us along with his games.” 

“I know, Arthur,” you say heavily. “But I thought you wanted to try to help him get better? To give him time?” 

“I don’t know if that’s possible. I love Dutch, don’t get me wrong. He saved me, John and many of the others. But now he just seems like he wants more enemies. We ain’t lyin’ low, and I doubt we’ll be gettin’ out of here with everyone alive.” 

“I know what you mean. I don’t want anyone else to die.”

“Me neither. So I talked to John, told him to think about gettin’ out with Abigail and Jack. But listen to me: if we can get them out, then we can go. You and I, we can disappear, start our own lives elsewhere. Get married like we want.” 

As he says this, it makes your heart skip a beat. All you’ve wanted since agreeing to marry him is to try and have a proper life with him. “That sounds wonderful, Arthur. But I agree, we need to try and get John and his family out. They… they have more to live for than we do, especially young Jack.” 

“Surprised to hear you say that, darlin’.” 

You sigh as the pair of you pass Bacchus Bridge, or what’s left of it. “I tried the domestic life, Arthur. It didn’t sit well with me. It wasn’t just my late husband that made it awful. The life itself, the empty existence of cooking his meals and cleaning his home. I hated it.” 

“So livin’ with our rowdy bunch was better?” he chuckles. “Rarely havin’ four walls around ya and a roof over your head was preferable?” 

“Well, not always, but the company was more enjoyable. I’m not saying I wouldn’t mind a home, but I just don’t want to be forced to remain there like James tried to make me do.” 

“I know what you mean, sweetheart,” Arthur says. “And if we get outta this mess, we’ll figure out what we’ll do.” 

Finally you’re approaching the blue river nestled in the orange earth, the columns of smoke rising from where the Wapiti live. You both hitch your horses outside the tribe before looking around. It’s relatively quiet, but that might be because it’s still early. As you and Arthur walk into the tribe, you see Captain Monroe scooping up some kind of soup into a bowl and walking it over to a woman sitting with her son’s head in her lap. Looking at him as you approach, the boy looks quite ill. His mother brushes the hair from his face before taking the bowl from Monroe. 

“Captain,” Arthur says. “We’re here like you asked.” 

“Thank you for coming. Just in time. The Chief has gone out looking for medications.”

“Quite a business,” Arthur says, looking around again. 

You do as well, and you can see some of the other tribe members look ill like the boy. “What’s going on?” you ask.

“Colonel Favors seems to think the natives have broken some promise they never made, and now he’s punishing them by withholding vaccines.”  

“He can’t do that,” you say as Monroe approaches the fire again to scoop up more soup.

“Well, he thinks he can,” Monroe says bluntly. A young man approaches the fire with an elderly man, his hair streaked white. The young man holds his shoulders in support. Monroe hands the old man a bowl. “I was supposed to oversee the administrations of the vaccines, but I heard the wagon’s been diverted.”

“Why would he do such a thing?” Arthur asks. He walks around the fire, looking more into the tribe. 

“To be honest, I truly don’t know. They say he didn’t have a very good war, so maybe he’s trying to start another one. I’m trying to find out, but he knows I’m trying to find out. He’d like to provoke me almost as much as these poor bastards.”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“I mean that despite the fact that I think he’s a horse’s ass, he knows I think that. So we’re just stuck here trying to make the best of things.” 

“This is the best of things?” Arthur demands, looking angry. “Children, dying of diseases?” He pauses a moment, glancing your way. “Where is this wagon? Where can we find it?” 

“I’ll show you,” Monroe says, stirring the soup one last time. “It’s supposed to be heading to Wapiti after coming up through Valentine, but it’s been diverted south.” 

“Come on then, Captain,” Arthur says, heading over to the horses. You and Monroe go with him, mounting up. You almost laugh seeing Rannoch next to Artemis and Monroe’s large draft; Rannoch looks tiny between them. 

“Now we must act with due caution,” Monroe warns. 

“Oh, we will. Now lead the way, Captain,” Arthur grunts. 

Monroe leads you out of the tribe the way you had come in and down south past the destroyed bridge and into the Cumberland Forest. Along the way, the three of you further discuss this Colonel Favours. 

“So he knows you’re up here helpin’ these people?” Arthur asks. 

“Yes and no. He knows I’m up here to produce a report on the situation. I was sent down from the North after word spread of the unrest in the region, but I think my presence might be making things worse.”

“How do you mean?” you ask. You’re coming to the realization that the Wapiti’s problems with the army is far more complex than you’d thought. 

“I worry he’s taking some of these actions more to protect himself now,” Monroe explains. “If he can incite more retaliation, maybe he can prove a stronger defense.” 

“Like destroying that shrine,” Arthur says heavily.

“I’ve heard of this tactic before,” you say. “When someone’s sitting on something you want, the best way to justify taking it is to make them your enemy.” 

“Yes, but I don’t know if he personally sanctioned any of this or not,” Monroe says. “There’s a culture in his regiment now. The rot has traveled down the trunk.”

“Well, let’s just find this wagon,” Arthur says. “I should mention we don’t intend you to be involved. Sounds like you got enough trouble to worry about.” 

“Thank you both, but I must ask you please to be discrete. We really can’t afford more conflict.” 

“We will be,” you say. “I got Rains Fall his Chanupa back from those bastards and they never even noticed me.” 

“Yes, Rains Fall did say something about that. I’m still hoping a meeting can be arranged between him and Colonel Favours.”

“Sounds like that could be problematic,” Arthur says. “So should we drop the wagon back at the reservation?” 

“No no, you just need to commandeer the vaccine. Stealing those and the wagon will only make things worse. Favours has many flaws, but I don’t believe callousness is one of them. More an insecure man at the end of his career trying to cling onto something that’s already gone. He fought for the Union in the war, but his record was considered far from illustrious. A failed man is often the most dangerous.” 

As Monroe leads you up the side of a hill, you look over at Arthur with a knowing expression. The more Monroe describes Favours, the more you’re reminded of Dutch. Monroe takes you further west on the hill’s steady incline, weaving through aspens and pines. He pulls his horse to a stop near a small plateau overlooking the trail that leads to Valentine, you and Arthur do the same. Dismounting, you hunch down as Monroe does and go to the edge of the rise, pulling out your binoculars. Monroe explains that the wagon will be coming up the road from Valentine any moment. Arthur also pulls out his binoculars and looks down the road. 

“You’re good people,” Monroe says, “but I fear this task may be a fool’s errand.”

“Well, firstly I’m a long way from a good person,” Arthur says quietly. “Secondly, fool’s errands are my favorite kind of work.”

“Same goes here,” you say with a small laugh. 

“In that case, I can see we’ll be great friends,” Monroe says somberly. 

A few seconds pass in silence until Arthur lowers his binoculars. “May I ask a question?” he says to Monroe. “Why don’t you just tell all the folk up in Washington what kind of an idiot Colonel Favours is and save everyone a lot of bother?” 

“Well, unfortunately, the government doesn’t work quite like that.”

“If you say so,” Arthur says, although it’s clear he doesn’t understand why it can’t be that simple. You don’t either.

Looking through your binoculars, you see a wagon driving through the trees down the path, a passenger sitting beside the driver. “I think I see it,” you say. 

“Alright, get yourself outta here, Captain,” Arthur says. 

Monroe stands up, although he still hunches. “Just remember to keep it clean, understand me?” 

“Don’t worry, we’re as clean as they come,” Arthur responds. “Hell, all we do is clean.” 

“Well, good luck,” Monroe says. His tone indicates he doesn’t hold a lot of faith that you both can do this quietly, but you say nothing. “Try not to get yourselves killed.” 

He hops onto his horse and canters down the plateau away from the path. 

Arthur turns to you. “How do you think we should do this?” 

“I’m not sure. I guess the same way we’d approach any other wagon we were gonna rob from. Maybe I could pull the old ‘injured or lost lady in need of some help’ tactic?” 

“I ain’t too sure that’ll work this time, sweetheart. These are army boys, less likely to stop for a lost lady.” 

“Well, what do you suggest?” 

He pauses for a second, the wagon getting closer and closer. “I’ll ride up beside them, keep ‘em distracted with some chatter. Act like I’m lost and askin’ for direction or somethin’. You jump into the wagon and get the vaccines.” 

You nod. “That could work, just make sure you keep both of them involved.” 

You mount up, Arthur tells you to ride a few paces after him and then he dashes down the plateau, towards the trail and the passing wagon. After a few seconds, you chase after them, keeping a good distance behind it. 

Arthur approaches the side of the wagon on the driver’s side. “Excuse me, fellers,” he says politely.

“This is an army wagon, sir,” the passenger says. “You need to keep movin’.” 

“Oh, yes sir, I fully intend to, but I’m afraid I’ve really lost my way. Ain’t from around here, see. Was tryin’ to visit my cousin…” 

As Arthur continues telling his story and asking for directions to Valentine, you trot Rannoch on the other side of the wagon, keeping a wary eye on the army men. Once Rannoch’s close enough to the side, you swing your right leg over the saddle and hop off his back and into the wagon. Arthur conveniently pretends to cough right as you do so in order to cover the sound of your thud.

“Apologies,” he says, clearing his throat. “I been tryin’ to find my way for a while and all the dirt from the road is doin’ a number on my lungs.” 

“You say you’re heading to Valentine?” the driver asks as you stand up quietly as you can.

“Yes sir. Like I said, my cousin’s there and I’m tryin’ to visit him.” 

“Well, we just left Valentine…” 

You look around the wagon quickly, spotting a small black chest sitting on a crate on the side of the wagon closest to Arthur. Silently, you unlatch the hook of the box and open it, a smaller metal box with over a dozen needles, along with bottles of medicine. You quickly stuff the box into your satchel and relatch the chest. Arthur pretends to scratch his chin, looking back at you and you give him the thumbs up just as the passenger finishes telling him directions. 

“Well, thank you, kind sirs. Enjoy the rest of your day.” 

You head to the back of the wagon and hop out, crashing to the ground. Luckily, Arthur purposefully slowed down Artemis to a steady trot so the men would be less likely to hear the thud. You get to your feet, brushing yourself off. 

“You get ‘em?” Arthur asks.

“Sure did. Now come on, let’s go to Wapiti.” 

He smiles at you proudly as you whistle for Rannoch. “Really come into your own as a thief now, ain’t ya?” 

“Well, I had a good instructor,” you say, mounting up and patting Rannoch’s neck. The two of you turn and head up the trail in the opposite direction of the wagon, making your way north and back to the tribe. 

Once you get there, you can’t find Monroe, but Arthur asks a tribe member who points him to a partially collapsed tent. Inside, Monroe is talking to a man lying down on a bed roll. 

“Captain Monroe,” he says. “We got the medicine.” 

Monroe looks up at you, relief spread across his face. “Wonderful. That’s great news, Mr. Morgan.” 

He stands up and you hand him the metal box. 

“It went pretty clean,” Arthur says.

Monroe opens the metal box and holds up a brown glass bottle full of liquid. “Us three could swing for this.” 

“Well, if it means these kids have a chance, then I’m willin’ to run for it,” Arthur says. You nod in agreement. 

“I just hope Colonel Favours thinks he was robbed by bandits, and not…” Monroe puts the box down on a crate. 

“Oh no, we’re still bandits, ain’t no doubt about that.” 

“Of course,” Monroe humors. “I better get to work. Thank you both very much. Bandits or not, this was a good thing.” He shakes Arthur’s hand, then yours. “Maybe it’ll get us killed, but it had to be done.” 

“Well,” you say, looking around. “I figure if Colonel Favours thinks it’s okay to rob from these people, then it’s our right to rob him back.” 

Monroe offers a rare smile and then begins rummaging in the box. You both say your farewells to him, heading back to the horses. 

“Hey,” Arthur says, settling into the saddle. “You wanna go fishin’?” 

“Fishing?” you reply. You haven’t gone fishing together in ages. 

“Sure. Was thinkin’ of stopping by that one-legged veteran’s house. He… asked me to go fishin’ with him in exchange for getting his leg back. Like I said, think you’d like him.” 

You shrug your shoulders. “If it gives us a reason not to go back to that awful camp, I’m okay with it.” 

He chuckles. “Figure you wouldn’t have a problem.” 

He guides you down the path out of Wapiti and further south and east. As you ride, he describes how he met this veteran, who’d been bucked off his horse named Buell after a snake spooked him. From how Arthur tells him, this man sounds like he’s not one to be messed with. 

After a short while, you travel along a ridge looking down into a small bowl-like valley, a lake tucked into it. Once you go down into the valley, you recognize it.

“Isn’t this O’Creagh’s Run?” 

“Yes. That’s his cabin there.”  Arthur points to a small cabin sitting on the edge of the lake, a tall cream-colored horse hitched to the porch. 

“I recognize this place,” you say. “I slept by this lake the night before I got attacked by the Murfrees.” 

Arthur nods. “Yes, Charles and I tracked you down here.” He hitches Artemis by the cream horse, you do the same. You look at the horse, with his unique coloring. His coat’s almost gold, but more white and his eyes are a pale blue. He snorts but doesn’t move at the sight of you. 

Arthur walks onto the porch and knocks on the door. From inside comes a voice: “The door’s open.” 

Arthur smiles at you and then opens it. “Hamish.” 

“Arthur,” the voice replies. “Come on in.” 

Arthur heads inside, taking your hand. You see the cabin’s small with just a table, kitchen, a few shelves, and a bed tucked behind a wall. A fireplace sits near the bed, a ram’s head hanging to the side of it. 

“You said we might go out fishing,” Arthur says, “but I wanted to introduce you to my future wife. Y/N, this is Hamish Sinclair.” 

Hamish, an older wild looking man with a thick grey and white beard, stands up, hobbling a little because of his fake leg. He shakes your hand and smiles. 

“Any friend of Arthur’s is a friend of mine,” he says. “He helped me in a spot of trouble to get me back my leg after my ass of a horse bucked me.” 

You can’t help but laugh. “Yes, Arthur told me about that.”

Hamish looks at Arthur. “Well, it don’t take much persuading to get me to go fishing. Let’s go in my boat.” 

Arthur nods and holds the door open for Hamish and you. The three of you walk up to a boating dock by the cabin, a small boat attached to it. Arthur holds it steady while you and Hamish climb into it, Hamish taking the front. 

“So what we fishin’ for?” you ask as Arthur takes up the oars. 

“Only one thing worth catching in this lake. The great Tyrant. Mean as hell northern pike. Eats everything else that spawns around here, its own kind included.” 

As Arthur gets the oars situated, he begins turning the boat to point into the lake. “What’s our bait? A jack or somethin’?” 

“Hell no, he’s a clever old bastard.” Hamish shows you both some lures, explaining he made them himself. He hands the newer ones to you and Arthur, keeping a rather beaten-up lure for himself. You’d think he was being chivalrous, but Arthur’s taught you enough about fishing to know that the more beaten lures seem to attract more fish for some reason. 

Hamish points to a spot on the north end of the lake, just above an island with a tall, half naked pine tree on it. Arthur rows to it and then brings the boat to a stop. Hamish drops a small anchor. 

“He don’t keep far from me, the Tyrant,” Hamish says, slowly getting to his feet. “Wants me to know whose lake it is.” 

“We’ll show him who’s boss,” you say.

Hamish laughs. “The optimism of youth.” 

You and Arthur pull out your reels and attach the new lures to them, casting off towards the island. Hamish explains he spent years making these lures, finding the right combination of feathers and glimmer to attract the biggest fish. He goes on to say how he tried multiple things to get the shine on them, including bullet casings and a metal.

“Now I hear you can buy them in a shop,” he says sourly.

“That wouldn’t be quite so satisfying,” Arthur says, “gettin’ him with somethin’ shop-bought.” 

“I’m inclined to agree.” 

The next few moments pass in relative silence. Despite the fact that nothing is happening with anyone’s poles, you aren’t bored. This lake is beautiful, and you enjoy the sounds of the birds and the water gently slapping the boat, the way the sun brushes your skin, the smell of the pines and the lake. Time seems to slow down, the chaos of the past few weeks ripples away, leaving a sense of peace. You realize that even though you’re life has changed so much the past year and a half, this place has never changed. It’s probably been exactly this way for hundreds of years, maybe even more. Although the idea makes you feel small and insignificant, it doesn’t make you feel sad. More humble than anything else. 

Suddenly Hamish’s pole bends at the tip. “Oh, what’s this?” he says excitedly. He jerks the reel back, setting the hook and then beginning to pull in the line. “I got something alright.” He lets out a shrill laugh, despite the fact that his pole’s bending ominously towards the water, signifying he’s got something big on the end. 

“Come on, Tyrant, I got you.” He bends the pole back again, trying to bring the catch closer. “I got you!” He stumbles back as the pole releases. “It went all slack! Come back.” 

He rights himself and begins pulling in the line again, the pole bending. Without warning, the pole jerks hard, sending Hamish into the water. You and Arthur scream for him, but he’s below the surface. 

“He weren’t wrong about naming it Tyrant,” you say as you both pull in and collapse your reels. 20 yards away, Hamish pops out of the water, Arthur calls to him again.

“Stay there, I’ll row out to you.” 

“Row quick, bastard just bumped me!” 

Arthur rows quickly over to Hamish, who coughs and sputters a bit in the water. Once the boat’s stopped, Hamish swims surprisingly well the last few feet to the boat. You and Arthur bend down and work together, pulling him into the boat. After a brief inspection, you silently acknowledge he’s unhurt. At least he still has his leg. 

“You lose anything?” Arthur asks.  

“Just my rod,” Hamish grunts, pulling himself up to sit on the front seat. “Would’ve gotten my toes too if they weren’t wooden.” 

“If you want another go at him, I still got my rod,” Arthur offers. 

“Nah, he’s your fish now. Or maybe Y/N will show us up, catch him first.” 

You had only been warming up to Hamish before, but now you decide you like him. Arthur chuckles and sits down in the back, handling the oars to push the boat into an area so that you can cast into the spot Hamish popped up from. Once the anchor’s dropped again, you and Arthur reassemble your poles. 

“When he bumped me,” Hamish says, “I had to check twice. Thought I’d find a chunk of me missing.” 

“Man-eating pike,” Arthur says with a smile. “That would be a first.” 

“I’m not so sure. But our hopes of catching this bastard lie with you two.” 

You smile and throw the lure out into the area where the boat had just been. Arthur does the same, his lure plopping into the water a few yards to the left of yours. Slowly, you both begin pulling in the lines. 

After only a few seconds, Arthur’s line jerks hard. “Think I got him,” he says. He tugs on the line, setting the hook and begins pulling it in. A few rotations of his rod later, the line suddenly springs loose, the lure bobbing up to the surface.

“Crap, he got off,” Arthur groans. 

As he’s checking his line to make sure it hasn’t tangled, yours suddenly jerks harder than you’ve ever felt before. 

“She got him!” Hamish declares excitedly. “Now don’t let him go!”

You yank the reel back hard, trying to set the hook into his mouth. The fish struggles for a second and then tires, relaxing.

“Pull him in,” Arthur says, dropping his lure. He stands behind you, putting his hands on your shoulders just as the fish begins fighting again. You tug on the line but stop pulling it in, allowing the fish to tire once more. 

“You got this, darlin’. Now don’t let him do to you what he did to Hamish.” 

Hamish laughs, leaning on the edge of the boat as you continue reeling. The fish starts fighting again, but you’re beginning to tire as well. He’s fought harder than any fish you’ve ever caught before. Arthur, seeming to sense your predicament, kisses your temple and squeezes your shoulders. “You can do this, sweetheart.” 

You yank the pole up again as the fish tires, reeling it in more. Finally you can see the massive form of the pike in the water a few feet below the surface. He glints brown and silver in the water before he twitches, fighting with a new surge of strength. 

“Keep a hold of him,” Hamish says. 

You do as he says and the fish tires again, allowing you to bring him to the edge of the boat. Hamish grabs a small club from under his seat and slams it into the pike’s head twice. Then, he grabs the massive pike and dumps him on the floor of the boat, pulls out his gun and bashes the fish’s head with the butt of his pistol. 

“Damn you, Tyrant!” he yells.

The fish jerks and jiggles with each strike, his massive mouth opening and closing as he tries to breathe, displaying his relatively small but sharp teeth. After Hamish has smashed him a few times, the fish stops jerking, the mouth no longer gaping, a sizable dent in his head.

After a second or two, Hamish sits down and leans against the side of the boat. He looks up and gives a triumphant holler. 

“I’m real sorry,” Arthur says, patting your shoulder as you finish catching your breath.

“What are you sorry for?” Hamish gets to his feet. “You’re girl caught him.” 

Arthur huffs and rubs your back, taking your pole from your tired hands. He collapses it and then his. 

Hamish clambers back up into his seat. “Let’s row back,” he says. 

Arthur sits down and rows the boat back to the dock. He and Hamish tie the boat off and then Hamish climbs onto the dock.

“Here, pass me the Tyrant. That is if you’re sure neither of you want him.” 

“Oh, we ain’t gonna poach from your pond,” Arthur says, handing over the long fish. 

“I’ll give him his honors then. He sure was something though, huh?” 

“Yeah he was,” you agree, admiring the red fins and finely spotted back and sides of the fish. Despite being a beast, he was a beautiful fish. You step onto the dock, followed by Arthur. 

“Thanks for takin’ us out,” Arthur says. 

“I appreciate the company,” Hamish replies. “But hey, you ever wanna go out huntin’, you stop by again. Both of you.” You nod enthusiastically. Arthur agrees. Hamish says his farewell and then goes into his cabin, closing the door. 

“You’re right,” you say, taking Arthur’s hand. “I like him.”

He chuckles. “Knew you would.” He rubs your hands slowly, easing the soreness from your fingers. “You did good, sweetheart. Showed both us fishermen up.” 

You smile back at him and then stretch up, meeting his lips with yours. “Remember, you taught me how to fish. Along with a lot of other things.” 

He sighs and runs a thumb across your cheek. “Same goes for you, darlin’. I’ve learned a lot from you. Learned how to be quiet within myself, how to calm myself. I sometimes wonder if I’d be dead if it weren’t for you.” 

“Oh hush,” you say. “You’re the toughest man I ever met. Nothing could take you down.” 

He laughs and kisses you again before taking your hand and walking over to the horses where you mount up. Arthur begins riding back in the direction of camp, but you stop him. 

“Arthur, I don’t wanna go back yet,” you say, hoping you don’t sound childish.

“Why’s that?”

“You know why. Not only is it because of the Murfrees and what they did, I just… I hate how everyone’s acting. I remember when you first brought me to camp, most folk were on good terms with each other, or at least friendly. Now it’s like you look at any of them the wrong way, they’ll tear your throat out with their bare teeth.” 

Arthur sighs and pulls Artemis to a stop. “I know, sweetheart. It makes me real sad. I known all them for a long time. It’s hard for me too, watching things turn out like this.” 

You sigh, patting Rannoch. “I keep wishing we had a way to change it, but the more things happen, it’s like we’re getting farther from where we wanna be.” 

“I know.” He looks down the path and then back to you. “We don’t have to go back now. But what do you wanna do in the meantime, darlin’?” 

“I, uh, I don’t know,” you admit. “I wanna go somewhere warm and… pretty.” 

He smiles at you. “Okay. Think I know of a place just down the path here. Ain’t too far.” 

He turns his horse to go in the opposite direction and canters off, you following in his stead. You travel down the trail for a quarter of an hour, the only change coming to the land is that the forest has grown thicker. The trail dips slightly, exposing a small pond with a cabin on the other side of it. Arthur stops here and looks at you expectantly.

“This is Moonstone Pond. Not the biggest or prettiest place, but I think it’ll do. Unless you wanna go somewhere else.” 

You look over the small pond, nestled snugly between the thick trees. The pond seems to be shallow, you can see the large rocks at the bottom. Nodding your head to show your approval, you dismount Rannoch and walk to the water’s edge. 

“This is fine, Arthur. Maybe we can stay here the rest of the day, camp here tonight?” 

Arthur offers a small smile and dismounts Artemis, leading both horses off the path. He unsaddles Artemis, giving her an affectionate pat on the neck. “Get some rest, girl.” 

You’re about to do the same with Rannoch when Arthur stops you. “I’ll take care of him. Why don’t you go see if anyone lives in the cabin. Don’t wanna be intrudin’ on someone else’s land.” 

You nod and go over to the cabin. When you had first spotted it, you thought a large, thick tree had been growing right against the structure. Now that you’re close, you can see the tree isn’t growing at all. The massive pine had tipped probably months ago, crashing on the cabin and splitting it nearly in half. The stone foundation is the only thing left undestroyed. 

You wonder if there’s anything inside the cabin that you can take, food or jewelry, so you grab the doorknob and try to turn it. The metal knob is stiff from months of disuse and the elements. With some work, you finally open it, squeaking the door open. Light floods into the cabin, the fallen tree has surprisingly covered the opening it created. Bats shriek and flutter, startled by the light. The cabin reeks of their presence, but you ignore it. However, there is another odor here you instantly recognize: the stench of decay.

Stepping into the cabin, you look around this half of the cabin, finding a small dresser. Opening it, you find a silver pocketwatch and take it. It makes you think of Lenny. For a brief second you think you’ll give it to him until you remember he’s been dead for weeks now. You’ve caught yourself doing that a few times, both with Lenny and Hosea. Their deaths had been so sudden you’ve still struggled to process it, despite the time that has passed. 

You shake your head and look around again, finding nothing more to raid on this side of the cabin. Just as you’re approaching the thick trunk of the tree, thinking you might climb it and go to the other side, the smell of decay grows so strong you can barely stand to breathe. Looking around, it doesn’t take long to see the source. 

Under the tree trunk, you see the smashed remains of a table and between them and the bark, a grayed and withered arm protrudes. You’re shocked, you didn’t think the poor bastard who lived here would have been unfortunate enough to be inside when the tree fell. You secretly hope he was the only one here and he didn’t have a wife or children. You decide to let the dead rest in peace and leave the cabin, closing the door behind you.

“Anyone home?” Arthur asks, having just finished brushing Rannoch. You tell him what you found, including the corpse. 

“Well,” he says heavily. “So much for hoping for an abandoned cabin we could sleep in tonight.”

“It’s fine, Arthur. Ain’t like we haven’t slept in your tent often enough.” 

He nods and looks out to the pond. “You wanna fish again? Be able to catch somethin’ fresh for dinner.” 

“Oh I think I’ve had my fair share of fishing for the day, Arthur. But why don’t you go ahead?” 

You sit down on a boulder nestled among a cluster of reeds. He smiles and pulls out his rod, reassembling it.

“What are you gonna do?” he asks as he takes up a spot on the water’s edge and changes bait. 

“Think I’m gonna try my hand at drawing again. Probably going to do a poor job, but…”

“Hey, everyone’s gotta start somewhere, sweetheart. I was a bad artist once too.” 

“Now that I don’t believe,” you say sarcastically as you pull out your journal. He laughs softly as he casts out.

As Arthur fishes, you try and draw him standing on the bank of the pond along with the scenery. When you’re finished, you inspect it, sighing in frustration. Although the quality’s much better than when you first started drawing, it’s still pretty bad in your opinion. You turn the page and write about the things you’ve done since the last time you wrote. It’s a habit you’ve picked up from Arthur. 

When you were a kid and your grandmother was still alive, she had kept a journal. When she first tried to teach you to read, before your father found out and tore it all down, she tried to get you to keep a journal. It worked for a while but you found keeping a journal tedious, under the impressions that you had to write in it each day, even if nothing happened. It wasn’t just your father’s anger that had forced you to stop writing in your journal, it was also that you found it to be a chore.

After you and Arthur fell in love, he had shown you a few pages in his journal. You joked that he wanted to show off his gorgeous handwriting, but you knew he genuinely trusted you enough to share those thoughts with you alone. Watching him write and reading what he chose to share with you made you realize that a journal wasn’t something you felt forced to write in, but only for you to decide what to do with it, even if it was jotting down the tiniest idea you didn’t want to forget. Now that you’ve picked up Arthur’s habit of keeping one, you wish you’d had it long before you met him.

“How’s the drawin’ comin’?” he asks, collapsing his pole. 

You finish your sentence and sigh. “Not well, I’m afraid.” You turn the pages back to show him the poorly drawn scene. He sits on the boulder next to you, putting an arm around your shoulder. 

“Hey, it’s not that bad,” he says encouragingly. 

“Yours would be better,” you say.

“Sweetheart, you keep comparin’ your work to mine, you’ll never get better. You got plenty of room to grow and learn. When you say things like that, you prevent yourself from usin’ that potential. Now come on, get a fresh page and I’ll show you a few tricks.” 

You sigh and turn to a blank page. Arthur takes your hand in his, keeping the pencil in your grip. He points out certain details of the land, the water, the plants and shows you how to hold the pencil to get them to look right. When it’s done, it looks much better than your previous attempt.

“Still doesn’t look as good,” you say. “If you were in it, it’d be perfect.” 

You look at him and smile when he blushes. 

“That ain’t no way to describe me, miss,” he says, hiding his eyes with his hat the way he does when he’s embarrassed.

“Why not? I’m only telling the truth.” 

“I ain’t perfect, sweetheart. I’ve made a lot of mistakes.” 

“Who hasn’t, Arthur? I’ve done a lot of stupid things for even dumber reasons, yet you’ve told me everyday for months how beautiful and perfect you think I am.” 

“Is it working?” he asks. “Me telling you that?”

You smile and look down at your journal. “Well, I still think you’re a liar, but I… I might be gentler with myself when things go wrong.” 

He rubs your back. “Then I’ll just keep on sayin’ em.” 

Still smiling, you lean into him, grabbing his hand as you watch the sun set below the mountains. It’s hard to believe that the last time Arthur had shown you some drawing tips, it had been right before your first kiss.You lift his hand and kiss it.

He kisses your temple, then your cheek and then your neck, making you sigh happily. 

“How about we get dinner made and then we get our tent up and have some fun?” he purrs in your ear. 

If the path didn’t skirt the pond, you’d already be throwing Arthur down on the ground and straddling him, but instead you just nod. Arthur unwinds his arm from behind you and stands up, setting up the tent while you make a crude fire pit with rocks, logs and kindling. 

Arthur fillets the fish while you set his grill over the fire. Once he’s done, he sets the meat on the grill and then sits next to you. His fingertips trace over your shoulder blades, sending goose bumps across your skin. You look at him, the skin of his neck and chest shining ever so slightly in the firelight. It makes you bite your lip. Without thinking, you lean in and start kissing his neck. 

He groans, his hand squeezing your shoulder. “Darlin’, why don’t you wait until the fish is done cookin’?” 

“Forget the fish,” you purr, your fingers finding the buttons of his shirt and working them loose.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he pulls you up gently. You look up into his eyes, but it’s obvious he really doesn’t want you to stop. “We’ll eat quick, okay?” 

Arthur keeps his promise but once the fish is cooked and eaten, he acts like he’s prepared to stay out here under the stars. He leans back on the rock behind him, putting his hands behind his neck.

“Well come on, Arthur,” you say, standing up and holding out your hand. “Thought we were gonna have some fun?” 

His eyes are hidden beneath his hat, but he tips his head up and gives you the cheekiest smirk. He’s teasing you again. You sit down next to him again, settling yourself to rest against his side. His hand settles on your back again and you start kissing his neck once more. His head tips back as he sighs while your fingers work on his buttons, tugging his shirt open. You smile at the fact that he’s not wearing his union suit again. He’s been doing that less and less, almost like he knows that when the two of you are outside camp alone, you’re much more likely to have sex. 

Once his shirt’s undone, your hand glides down to his groin and you squeeze him gently. He groans once more, you can feel him hardening beneath his jeans. Without warning, he stands up, picking you up and carrying you into the tent. 

Once inside, he closes the tent flaps and turns back to you, his eyes dark and hungry. Without saying a word, his hands unbutton his pants, springing his length loose. You look at it for a moment smiling, then you stand up and unbutton your shirt, throwing it off and stripping out of your pants, leaving yourself in nothing but your undergarments. Arthur finishes ripping his clothes off. You’re just about to take off your chemise when Arthur’s hands grab yours.

“Let me,” he growls softly. He quickly throws off your chemise and then rips your bloomers down, leaving you naked. His fingers find your hard nipples, stiffened from the cool air. Gently, he guides you down to the ground, his lips crashing against yours as his hands squeeze your breasts. Your legs wrap around his waist, waiting for him to enter you. Instead, his lips leave yours. 

“Try not to move,” he whispers in your ears. 

You’re about to ask him what he’s going to do when his right hand brushes between your breasts, glides down your stomach and finds your slit. You moan when his fingers spread them, tickling your core. Your hips want to thrust, but you remember his command, which leaves you lying still although you’re shivering with anticipation. 

His fingers circle your core again and again, causing you to twitch as jolts shoot down to your toes. He’s kissing your neck as he does this, which only makes things worse. You groan when one of his fingers slides into you, followed by another. 

“Please, Arthur,” you beg, your nails digging into his back. 

He answers by withdrawing his fingers and inserting his length into you, spreading your walls until he’s buried to the hilt. He stays still for a moment, letting you adjust to his width. Then he pulls back and slams into you, making you grunt. 

“Oh, Arthur,” you sigh as he thrusts into you again and again. 

“Love those pretty sounds you make,” he growls in your ear. He takes your knees and pushes them up, opening you wider and he goes even deeper. You have to grit your teeth to stop from making some loud noise as he pumps into you, his cock brushing your spot. 

He must be able to see the effort you’re making into being quiet. He kisses just under your jaw. 

“Come on, sweetheart. Ain’t no one out here but us two. Let it out.” 

Your eyes roll back into your head as his fingers find your slit again, rubbing your clit once more. Your fingers dig in so deep you’re sure you’ll find bloody scratches on his back in the morning. He kisses your jaw again and again as he thrusts, working your jaw loose. He’s intent on making you cry out, which he’s already close to doing. 

His pace quickens with his thrusts and his hand circles faster, pressing harder into your body. “I wanna hear you scream, girl,” his lips brush your neck. 

“Arthur,” you gasp beneath him. “God, you’re close. Just, just keep going.” 

You’re still shivering beneath him as his cock continues to pound into you, writhing within your walls. His fingers, however, slow down in pace as he makes lazy circles around your clit, making you go wild. A strong warmth grows in your stomach and then travels down to your slit, exploding as he circles again and you cry out, your back arching as you press yourself against him. 

“Fuck!” you say once your release passes. 

“Good girl,” he purrs in your ear. His hands plant on your hips and he thrusts harder and faster into you, building the friction and leading to his own release. You look down between your bodies to see him moving in and out, your legs spread wide.

“C-can I move now?” you ask, your voice shaky. 

He simply grunts, giving you permission. You lift your hips, giving him a better angle and grinding against him, helping to build him up. Without intention, you can feel your second already rising. 

“Oh God, Arthur,” you moan. “Keep going.” 

He smiles and obeys, his cock brushing your spot again and again until finally, with one last hard thrust, he explodes inside you. He curses as he does so, then he thrusts a few more times, gentler with each pulse. You can feel your orgasm ebbing away as he removes his cock from you. 

“Arthur, please,” you beg. “Just… a little more. One more.” 

He chuckles and slides both hands up your thighs. With one hand, he spreads your folds, completely exposing you. The other brushes between you. Your hips jerk up and down as he moves. 

“Oh God, Arthur,” you say again, your eyes closed. “Fuck!” 

He laughs gently, delicately working between your legs. “You look good like this, darlin’,” he cooes. His hand spreads you even further, allowing him better access to your sensitive, pulsing nub. Your hands squeeze the bedroll, the fabric crumpling in your grip as your legs suddenly shoot out straight as your second orgasm takes control. He stimulates you again and again, prolonging your release, making you squeal. 

“Easy, girl,” he says as you settle, his voice deep. You pant, still lying on your back. 

“Jesus, Arthur,” you say once you’ve caught your breath. “That was incredible.” 

“Yes, but I need my round two.”

He bends down and kisses you as his cock slides into you once more, making you wince. He works quickly this time, bringing himself to his release within only a few moments. He explodes a second time inside you, filling you up. 

“God, you feel so good,” he says, collapsing onto you. You struggle to breathe beneath his body; he’s much larger than you are. 

“Arthur,” you gasp. “Can’t… breathe.”

“Sorry, darlin’,” he says, rolling over. You take a deep breath and then curl into the crook of his arm, laying your head on his sweaty chest, suddenly exhausted. His hand slides up your back, drawing lazy circles across your skin. He kisses your forehead. 

“Go to sleep, darlin’.” 

As if on command, you close your eyes and immediately fall asleep.

#red dead redemption 2 #Red Dead Redemption #red dead fanfic #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader smut #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan smut #R* Games #rockstar games #Van Der Linde Gang #I'm awkward #second chances #I hope this smut isn't cringe worthy

[flamehairedwritings]

The Fire In Your Eyes: Chapter Nine

Characters: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Rating: The whole series will be E, 18+ ONLY for violence, gore, character deaths, animal deaths, parent deaths, swearing, grief, sexual themes and unprotected sex.

Summary: Saved by Arthur Morgan when her town is attacked, a young woman’s past comes back to haunt her when she has no choice but to join the Van der Linde Gang.

Read on AO3

The Fire In Your Eyes Masterlist

Please don’t copy, steal or re-post my work; credit does not count.

By The Light of the Silvery Moon

Arthur, John and Dutch were gone for the rest of the day. Nothing to usually be concerned about, but she’d overheard Hosea talking with Abigail, saying they’d gone to see Angelo Bronte to get Jack back.

Angelo fucking Bronte. To fucking get Jack back.

She couldn’t believe Arthur had gone with her. He should have left with John, he should have been running to help them get Jack, but instead he’d gone with her to do something they could’ve done when there were slightly less pressing matters to attend to. Why the hell had he gone with her? No matter what way she thought about it she couldn’t wrap her head around it. One minute she was incensed, the next she was touched, the next she was mortified, the next she was just plain confused. She’d considered that maybe it wasn’t that strong a lead, but immediately shot herself down, almost laughing, with the fact that none of those men would leave without Jack, no matter what.

Sadie found her, almost mumbling to herself, frowning at the water from where she sat on the jetty after dinner.

“Somethin’ on your mind, lady?” Sadie said, taking a seat beside her with a groan.

Ada exhaled a breath and shook her head. “No, just...”

Now hang on a minute...

This was something she could talk with Sadie about without divulging any information about herself.

Thank God because if I don’t talk to someone about it I will go insane.

Licking her lips, she looked at her. “Arthur came with me to visit Sean’s grave earlier.”

“... Yeah?” Sadie prompted when she just stared at her, arching an eyebrow.

Ada shook her head slightly, her hands palms up. “He came with me when he’d just told John that Dutch was in Saint Denis and they were planning on getting Jack, today, now.”

“Yeah?”

“Sadie,” she paused to let out an incredulous laugh, “... He came with me to Sean’s grave instead of going to rescue Jack. He prioritised coming with me rather than getting Jack, it’s insane, I don’t understand it.”

Sadie looked at her. Then she burst into laughter. Ada pulled her head back, staring at her.

Maybe I’m not the only one going insane.

“Excuse me, what the hell is so funny?” she demanded as Sadie grinned, a hand over her stomach.

“Dear Lord, my sweet summer child,” she laughed, rubbing her stomach. “You sweet thing...”

“What?” Ada demanded again.

Her chuckles subsiding, Sadie fixed her gaze on her, amusement dancing across her features. “Annie, that man likes you.”

Ada stared.

Now that was one option she hadn’t quite entertained, because...

“No. No. No.” She shook her head, pulling a slight face as she looked back at the water. “No, that’s... No, he can’t.”

“He ain’t that disgustin’, is he?” Sadie laughed.

“No, no, it’s not that...” Far fucking from it. “It’s just... He can’t.” She nearly implored Sadie as she said it, nearly begged. Because he couldn’t. Any way she thought about it, he just couldn’t. She had an undecided death wish against his adopted father, she was Michael O’Driscoll’s daughter, Colm O’Driscoll’s niece, she, well, she was her, she was just Ada, it didn’t make any sense.

And it completely complicated things.

“Whatever you say, honey,” Sadie chuckled. “But I know infatuation when I see it, so you’re either callin’ me dumb or you’re just in denial.”

“Infatuation...” she breathed the word, half-laughed again.

This wasn’t part of any plan. Not that she had a plan. But this certainly wasn’t part of it. Yes, he was kind to her and he was nice and considerate and he made her laugh and feel safe and respected but he only did that because... Well, there was no sane reason for it. Other than that he... Well, no, there was a sane reason; he was a good man.

Sadie just watched her, smiling. “You think any harder about it I think your brain’s gonna fall out. Just relax, woman. Just take a chance, if you like him, which I think you do. It ain’t no bad thing.”

Oh, but yes it is.

“Hang on, you think I like him?” she asked.

“Like I said, I know infatuation.” Sadie nudged her with her elbow. “Just relax. Live your life. Take all the good things that come, Annie, you know we ain’t been gettin’ many of ‘em.”

Well, she wasn’t wrong there. But a whole lot of catastrophic badness could come from this.

If there was ever a time to start drinking.

“Hey, do you think we—”

A woman screamed. Both of them were on their feet in seconds, staring towards the main path, three riders cantering down it.

Then they realised it was a delighted scream.

Glancing at each other, they ran for the house.

Dutch, John and Arthur came through the darkness, pulling their horses to an abrupt halt, and Susan gave another delighted cry, clapping her hands together, though Ada didn’t quite know why she was so—

“Hey, they’re back!” Uncle called out, rising from the log he’d been sitting on. “I... I think I see Jack!”

Ada’s heart stopped as she and Sadie slowed as the rest of the group convened. And he was right. There the sweet boy was, sat with his father.

“Abigail!” Dutch called out, a wide smile on his face. “Abigail! We got you your son, everything—”

“We got him!” John cut in with a grin as he saw Abigail. “He’s fine!”

“Mama!” Jack shouted, grinning and looking so like his father.

Abigail cried out as she ran through the group, tears falling down her cheeks as she beamed. John dismounted and lifted Jack out of the saddle, putting him on the ground as he continued, “I’m fine, Mama, they fed me good, Italian food. You ever eat that?”

“Come here, you silly boy,” she wept as she fell to her knees and pulled him into her arms.

Ada closed her eyes for a few moments as she listened to them.

Thank God. Thank God.

She didn’t even want to think about what would have happened had something happened to the boy.

“Now let’s celebrate!” Dutch cried, and for once she was happy to obey.

Dismounting, Arthur watched as Abigail cried and cried and held her son as he babbled on about what a great time he’d had while they’d all been pulling their hair out.

Meeting Bronte had been... Well, he was certainly a different kettle of fish. He was a new kind of criminal, one that operated in broad daylight, had a fancy home on a fancy street, everyone knew what he was doing and no one dared to stop him. He’d caught Dutch’s admiring gaze, at both the house and the man who owned it. Arthur didn’t like any of it.

He thought about what he’d written in his journal while he’d waited for them all to join him at Shady Belle.

‘I cannot decide which I like less, the swamps or the city. Both are full of parasites, reptiles and slime. We’re a long way east of land we know, and far from real open country.’

How he longed for fields and wide open spaces where you didn’t meet anyone for miles.

He also didn’t like how easily Bronte had got them to do his bidding, but, well... Then again he did have Jack. But, he was back now and that was all that mattered. For now. Pushing his hands into his pockets, he followed the rest of the group to the main camp fire. Ada, Sadie’s arm looped through her’s as they walked along, looked back at him and gave a wide smile. It warmed his chest as he smiled, inclining his head. He wanted to speak to her but Hosea appeared at his side, clapping him on the back and asking for every detail on Angelo Bronte.

Javier was already tuning his guitar and starting to strum out a tune as people opened crates and passed around beer and whisky bottles, taking seats on whatever they could or standing and swaying to the music. Dropping their arms, Sadie sat on the log as Ada stood, folding her arms and smiling as she watched the group. This was when they were at their best; singing, happy, sharing alcohol, not a care in the world because they had this win, despite what would face them once against tomorrow.

“For you.” Lifting her head, Lenny smiled at her as he offered her an open bottle of whisky.

She raised an eyebrow as she smiled. “You know I don’t drink.”

“Come on, girl,” Uncle chimed in from where he sat beside Sadie. “We’re celebratin’ ain’t we? One won’t hurt.”

Glancing at him, Sadie and Lenny, she sighed and accepted the bottle. “Fine, fine, if it’ll get you all off my back...”

Raising the bottle to her lips, she took a sip... and instantly nearly choked on it. She managed to swallow it down as they laughed, pulling a face and hissing through her teeth as the amber liquid burned down her throat.

“Oh, God... Oh my God, that’s awful...”

Sadie cackled as she took the bottle from her, shaking her head. “Well, hey, at least you tried it.”

“Yeah, and I’ll never try it again.” Ada coughed, still cringing at the taste. “Does anyone have any water?”

Charles handed her a skin of water, a smile tugging at his lips, as Sadie laughed again.

“You’re all awful,” Ada declared before taking a large sip of water, washing the taste out of her mouth.

“Awh, I’m proud of ya,” Sadie grinned, patting her leg as she handed the skin back to Charles.

“I absolutely despise you.”

Sadie’s cackle was soon drowned out by the sound of Javier striking up a new, rousing tune that they all around the fire began to sing with him. Ada watched them all, folding her arms as she coughed again. She couldn’t help but smile, though. At their very best.

Her gaze travelled them, going from person to person, until it reached Pearson’s wagon, Micah and Bill talking beside it, drinking, and a foot or so away, leaning against a table, Arthur.

“Ay, ay, ay, ay!” the group yelled out, raising their chosen drinks at the apparent chorus of the song, as she moved over to him, smiling lightly.

He raised his eyebrows as she approached, returning her smile.

“Well, that was entertainin’ to witness.”

She snorted. “I’m sure it was. I’m so grateful to have so many friends around for that rite of passage.”

“It grows on you.”

She wrinkled her freckled nose. “I don’t think I want it to.” She looked him over as he chuckled. “How was it, getting him back?” she asked, her voice lowered.

He shrugged, taking a breath. “Easy enough. We just had to sort out somethin’ for Bronte, nothin’ too bad. That was it.”

Her eyebrows rose slightly. “That’s extremely fortunate.”

“Yes, it was.”

She could sense that troubled and perplexed him as much as it did her and she opened her mouth to ask more when Karen’s voice suddenly cut across Javier’s ending song.

“Annie! Come ‘nd sit with me, Annie, c’mere.” Karen, who had started drinking even before Jack had returned home, gestured her over, patting the chair next to her that had just been vacated by Pearson.

Ada met Arthur’s gaze, a smile pulling at her lips. “Excuse me.”

He smiled as he watched her do as she was bade, sweeping her skirt out under herself as she sat. Like a proper lady.

 Karen slapped her hands onto her knees as Ada sat, squinting her eyes a little. “How come you ain’t married, Annie? You’re so pretty, I bet you’ve had suitors at least, you must’ve.”

Ada’s eyebrows rose slightly as she glanced between the women watching her intently and a few of the men taking the time to drink.

“Well, I did have a couple when I was younger, yes, but nothing came of them.”

“Awh, you didn’t love ‘em?”

Ada smiled lightly as she shook her head, her hands in her lap. “No, I didn’t.”

"Are you a romantic, Annie?” Mary-Beth asked with a smile, her lovely face slightly flushed from the alcohol.

“Not particularly.” She shrugged, playing with the material of her skirt. “I declined them more out of practicality, they had nothing to offer.”

Karen released a laugh, raising her bottle to her lips. “That’s my girl.”

“How’d they court you?” Mary-Beth leaned forward slightly.

“Ah,” Ada waved a hand. “The usual, flowers, mediocre poetry, asking to dance with me when we had town dances.”

“Oh, that’s so nice,” Mary-Beth beamed.

 “Not particularly.” She went on as Mary-Beth looked puzzled, “It just made me uncomfortable because I knew it wasn’t real, they didn’t mean it. It felt performative.”

Karen laughed again. “Jesus, God help the man who tries to charm you.”

“Amen to that.” Glancing up, Ada met Sadie’s twinkling gaze, raising her eyebrows.

Ada’s lips twitched as she shook her head, looking into the fire.

Hell... Yeah, God help him.

The conversation seemed to be over when Karen began to sing along with Javier, laughing at nearly every line. She wished she could join in. They always sang songs she’d never heard of, ones that Ada didn’t think anyone would dare write, ones that were gently sweet, and some she couldn’t understand because of the language they were in. But it was entertainment enough to see Karen, Tilly, Mary-Beth, Susan, Uncle and Lenny sing along, as drunk as they were. It was the only time Susan and Karen got along, too.

She laughed and clapped her hands along to the music, though, as Uncle and Mary-Beth danced together to the fast tune, laughing themselves. It tugged at her heart a little, the happiness.

God, I wish Sean was here.

Her throat suddenly dry, she stood and moved behind the chairs to Pearson’s wagon, needing a drink.

“You and I should go out for a drink in Saint Denis sometime, I promise not to lose you this time,” she heard Arthur say to Lenny, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Oh, God, Arthur, I think not,” the young man replied, laughing even as he pulled a face.

Arthur chuckled, patting him on the back before he saw her at the wagon. Moving back over to it, she lifted a skin of water.

“Can I offer you a water, too?”

“Sure.” As joyful as the night was, he just didn’t feel like drinking the hard stuff.

He took the skin from her as they both leaned back against the table, watching the revellers by the fire.

“You’re not going to ask anyone to dance?” she asked, a smile pulling at her lips.

He huffed out a laugh. “I ain’t much of a dancer.”

“Maybe I could teach you sometime.”

Glancing at her and her smirk, he arched an eyebrow as he took a sip of water, handing it back to her. “Oh, you’re that good are you?”

“So I’ve been told.”

“By one of your many suitors?”

Her smirk widened as she shrugged. “Yes. And many others.”

“How lucky we are to have you, Miss Sawyer.”

She laughed, and he looked at her, the little lines that appeared at the corners of her eyes as she did, the curves of her nose and lips, the curls that framed her face.

Ask her to dance.

She looked up at him and opened her mouth to say something when she suddenly looked beyond him, frowning slightly. Following her gaze, he saw Dutch striding out from behind the ladies’ wagon, Molly following close behind him. Neither looked happy.

“Oh, Christ...” he muttered as he straightened, already knowing what was about to come.

“You have ruined my life!” Molly yelled at Dutch, the music and singing luckily keeping the group occupied. Or they were just too polite to stare. Or used to it.

“I see things differently,” Dutch shot back, lighting himself a cigar.

“I’m sure ye do.” Molly sounded drunk, and close to tears. “Ye see everythin’ differently.” She sniffed then shook her head fiercely, halting. “Just leave me alone, ye bastard.”

Dutch just continued on, smiling and joining the group as if nothing was amiss.

"Are they all right?” Ada asked Arthur quietly.

“Nah,” Arthur sighed. “Haven’t been for some time.”

She followed him as he rounded the corner of the house, watching to make sure Molly actually made it inside. She did, tripping on the side-door step slightly, unaware of both of them watching. Shaking his head, Arthur continued to walk along the side of the house, Ada beside him.

“Why doesn’t she leave?” she asked, her voice lowered.

“Where would she go?” He gripped his belt, shaking his head. “She ain’t got nobody else. Like all of us.”

She frowned. “But to be this unhappy, though? Rather than free?”

His jaw moved slightly as he exhaled a breath. “You gotta have money to do that. Molly’s money is Dutch’s money and he don’t give her much if any ‘cause she don’t contribute. Better to be unhappy and secure, she probably thinks.”

“That’s so sad,” she murmured.

“I guess.”

She didn’t want to dwell on the tricky topic, though, not tonight, not when they’d just got Jack back safely. Clasping her hands behind her back as they wandered across the grass at the back of the house, her eyebrows rose a little.

“So, Saint Denis is an interesting place.”

Arthur chuckled, grateful for the change in topic. “Yeah. Could be some business to be made.”

“With street urchins?”

“Christ, don’t bring that up again,” he muttered.

She smiled broadly. “It’s not often I see you flustered, Arthur Morgan—”

“I was not flustered.”

“Rattled, then.”

“I was not rattled—”

“Shaken. Traumatised. Overcome.”

“I was none of those things,” he muttered. “I was just faintly surprised. The kids were a second or two quicker.”

“I think age is catching up to you.”

He snorted. They came to the small fishing shed that sat at the back of the property, Arthur slowing to let her move up the steps first. He followed her along the wooden walkway that wrapped around it and moved out onto the back landing. She exhaled a slow breath as she leaned back against the shed, her arms folding across her chest. The lights of Saint Denis shone in the distance, beckoning and welcoming.

“It’s so bright,” she murmured as Arthur leaned his hip against a barrel, raising his gaze to the lights.

“Yeah, and loud, and busy.”

She smiled. “You just don’t like people at all, do you?”

He glanced at her. “Not particularly.” She was certain he was mocking her earlier words.

“Another sign of age.”

“I am not gettin’ old, I just have my preferences.”

“That’s exactly what an old man would say.”

“Will you shut up? I’m tryin’ to enjoy this joyful night.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You are a bossy man, Mr Morgan.”

He looked at her, raising his eyebrows. “Am I?”

She lifted her chin, nodding. “Yes. Extremely. Been bossing me around since the moment we met.”

“Why’d you agree to come with me, then, in Strawberry?”

“Lesser of two evils.”

He chuckled, shaking his head.

Her gaze lingered on him as they fell silent, biting at her lower lip. She liked their silences, liked how comfortable they were but... It always gave an opportunity. An opportunity to ask one of the hundreds of questions she had, the comfort and ease they shared in each other’s company making it always seem like the right time to ask.

“Arthur?”

“Yeah?”

His gaze returned to hers. She shifted her position against the shed, her hands behind her back.

“Colm said you were going to leave me. That you tried to escape.”

He blinked, shifting his own stance slightly. Now how long had she been thinking about that? 

“I didn’t know what I was doin’. Half outta my mind, I think.” He inhaled a breath, shaking his head. “I thought I could hear Ophelia close by and I thought if I got to her then I could go to get help, but then I didn’t want to leave you with them.”

She was quiet again, and he could practically see the thoughts rolling around in her mind.

“Why did you come for me after, when we were at that farm, when you’d escaped from the cellar?"

“Ain’t we already talked about this?” He exhaled a laugh. “You really have such a hard time believin’ I can do the right thing sometimes?”

She smiled lightly. “It’s not that, I just... you barely knew me. We meant nothing to each other. You could have gotten yourself away with no trouble at all and not wasted the last of your energy. I would’ve no longer been your responsibility, then.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You either have a hard time believin’ I can do the right thing, or that someone would do somethin’ right for you.”

She scoffed, opening her mouth and closing it. Well... Now... Agreeing to either one of those... was just going to lead to complicated conversations that she certainly didn’t want to have.

He watched her, slightly flustered as she was. He decided to help her out, shrugging a shoulder as he looked out across the water. 

“Either way, I’d do it again.”

She looked at him, a slight fluttering in her chest. Lord, she needed answers.

“You went with me today, too.”

He glanced at her, pausing. “Yeah.”

She licked her lips. “You went with me instead of going to get Jack.”

She couldn’t read his features. “Yeah?”

God, is anyone sure he and Sadie aren’t related.

She lifted a hand, probably looking as helpless as she felt. “Well, I don’t understand why, Arthur.”

He studied her, silence stretching between them.

“You wanna know why I saved you and why I went with you?”

She nodded a few times, her gaze locked on his. “Yes.”

“Because you’re the most irritatin’ woman I’ve ever met.”

She blinked, her head pulling back slightly. “Excuse me?”

He pushed away from the barrel, beginning to move closer to her.

“You’re irritatin’ and stubborn, difficult to read and understand, sometimes a damn fool and I couldn’t bear the thought of leavin’ you behind. ”

She stared at him, her heart beginning to beat a little faster as he approached, his voice lowering.

“And I can’t stop thinkin’ about you. You make me feel somethin’, Ada. Most of the time it’s annoyance but sometimes it’s somethin’ else.”

She laughed, the sound short and breathy. “You really know how to charm a lady, don’t you?”

He smiled and placed his hand on the wood beside her head, and it made her heart stutter. “You prefer I was like one of your suitors? Bringin’ you flowers and writin’ pretty poetry?”

Her lips twitched at the thought. “I’d like to see you give it a try.”

He tilted his head. “You ain’t one of them girls, though, are you, Miss Adaline? You’re a practical woman, if I remember rightly."

Oh, God, his voice...

“What can you offer me, then, Mr Morgan?” she murmured, her head leaning back against the shed.

“Nothin’.”

She thought she saw his eyes, possibly, briefly, drop down her body.

“Good, because I don’t want anything from a scoundrel like you.”

“Yes, you do,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over one of her curls.

“What could I possibly—”

Dipping his head, he caught her lips in a kiss. Her words vanished with a soft sound as she paused, her eyes automatically falling shut. The sweetness of the kiss caught her more by surprise than the actual act. Maybe because she had wanted him to kiss her.

Just as she went to move her hand to his shoulder, it suddenly ended, and his head was drawing back as she blinked her eyes open.

Gone was the easy, arrogant manner he’d had only seconds before, now he looked entirely apologetic.

“I’m sorry, that—”

She exhaled a sharp breath.

“For Christ’s sake, Arthur...”

Her hand slid around to the back of his neck and she pulled him close again, claiming his lips this time in a firmer kiss. She had to rise up on her toes to actually meet his lips, and her other hand gripped his shoulder to steady herself. He wasn’t moving.

Oh, Lord, had she now made the mistake?

Why—

His arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her tight against him, eliciting a faint sound from the back of her throat that had him pressing his fingers into her side. As his lips moved against hers, he lowered his head and pressed her against the wood, their bodies flush. Her lips parted wider with a gasp when his tongue swept across her lower lip.

Nobody had ever kissed her like this before. Her previous kisses had been, well, like the previous kiss, gentle and sweet, but she didn’t want gentle and sweet.

She wanted this.

She could faintly taste whisky on his tongue as it stroked against hers, he had possibly had one drink earlier when she hadn’t seen, and he was right... she could grow used to the taste. His grip around her was firm, and his other hand had moved to cup her jaw, his thumb stroking along her cheekbone. And the way he kissed... how did anybody ever learn how to kiss like this? Oh, Christ, she didn’t want to think about that right now.

She just hoped she wasn’t terrible.

What if I am?

Why was she so in her head?

Stop it—

Another gasp was suddenly pulled from her when she felt his hands on the outsides of her thighs, and he lifted her, her skirt rising to her knees, stepping between her parted legs and holding her against the wooden wall. The kiss had broken with the action, and she couldn’t stop the breathless smile that broke across her lips as she gazed down at him, one arm wrapped around his neck, the other hand on his chest. One corner of his mouth lifted higher than the other as he held her gaze.

There was his fire. Blazing brightly, joyfully.

“I told you that smart mouth was gonna get you in trouble, Miss Ada,” he drawled, his voice rougher, lower, and it sent the most delicious of feelings through her.

“You really are a dumb man if you think it was unintentional,” she answered, in barely above a whisper, not quite knowing where her voice had gone.

“Still won’t shut up, huh?”

“I think you made a valiant effort but—”

She was made to break off, once again, when his lips touched her neck. Her breathing halted for a moment as he began to press slow, open-mouthed kisses to her skin, her mouth remaining open as her eyes closed.

Oh, sweet Lord...

Warmth began to pool between her legs and her fingers itched to soothe the slow throbbing that accompanied it.

What would Arthur’s fingers feel like?

She moaned. It was quiet, but it was most definitely a moan; that they could have both agreed upon. They probably could have both agreed upon the fact that he growled in return.

His tongue swept over her skin, briefly, but it caused another moan.

What would his tongue feel like, too?

He shifted his stance slightly, pressing a little closer against her and... She could feel his erection pressing against her thigh.

Oh, my God...

What would his cock feel like?

“Finally got you quiet, huh,” he murmured, just under her jaw, and she inhaled sharply.

“Technically not quiet,” she breathed.

“And I don’t mind at all.”

Her fingers curled into the hair at the nape of his neck as she tilted her head down, prompting him to lift his own.

“Kiss me,” she murmured.

And without another word he did. It was urgent and firm and all she could feel and taste was him. All she wanted was—

“Ring-dang do..."

He had her back on her feet in seconds. Smoothing her blouse down and hoping she didn’t look as flushed as she felt, she turned and moved away from him, before wrapping an arm around her waist as she pressed the fingers of her other hand against her lips.

And she had to fight very hard to stop a smile.

“... ringer-danger... Dang...”

Arthur cleared his throat from somewhere behind her. Not quite able to tear his gaze from her yet, he tugged his waistcoat down, and hoped his hard cock wasn’t showing too prominently through his trousers. Running his hand through his hair, he leaned back against the barrel once more and exhaled a breath, finally looking away.

Kieran rounded the corner, his feet heavy on the wooden boards, his shoulders slumped. Looking up, he stopped singing,

“Oh, hey... Hey, Arthur...” His drunken gaze drifted over to Ada. “... Oh, Annie, hey...”

Ada turned, her arms folded and a light smile on her lips. “Hello.”

“Sorry, I, I thought this was the other shed, I’ve been, I sleep in there, sometimes.”

Arthur pointed behind Kieran, gripping his gun belt. “That’s back that way, pal.”

“Oh, right, thank you...” He looked between them both, then laughed suddenly, and it was the first time she’d ever seen him smile. “I am really drunk,” he continued, grinning.

Arthur couldn’t stop a slightly bemused smile himself, his eyebrows raising. “That you are. Some sleep will do you right.”

Kieran nodded, still laughing even as he turned to head back the way he came. “Yeah... Ring, dang... Dang do~...”

Ada watched Kieran stagger off, hoping he wouldn’t fall down the steps and fall straight into the mud. Then, her gaze returned to Arthur. His eyes were already locked back on her. Her near-giddy smile from before returned.

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself, Arthur Morgan.”

“You bossin’ me about now?”

“Yeah, I think you like it.”

He chuckled. “I think I do.”

They looked at each other, the need and want still there, but the moment gone. She could feel the flush on her cheeks and the wetness between her thighs as she bit at her lower lip. He took a breath and cleared his throat.

“It’s getting late.”

“Yes, it is.”

He nodded towards the house.

“I’ll walk you to your stand.”

“How kind.”

“I heard there’s a scoundrel about.”

She laughed, the giddy, almost nervous energy still spreading through her as she moved across the planks to the stairs. She could practically feel his eyes on her back. A lesser or weaker man would have grabbed her again and just carried right on, but... It was almost more arousing that he didn’t. 

But why wasn’t he? Oh, stop, it’s the sensible thing to do, you idiot.

They walked in silence, Ada playing with her hands and feeling like a teenager, Arthur willing his erection to go away quicker as his hands gripped his belt, hoping that would aid in covering it somewhat should someone pass them. But no one did, all too busy still dancing and drinking and singing or sleeping.

He wanted to kiss her again, to feel her against him once more but he’d already pushed his luck and gotten gold. No, he’d be a damn gentleman and show some restraint.

They slowed as they neared her stand, and she turned to him, a pink flush on her cheeks and a warm twinkle of fire in her eyes, a smile on her lips.

“Goodnight, Arthur.”

“Goodnight, Miss Sawyer.”

He watched her walk the rest of the way to the stand.

God damn. Holy shit.

Running his hand down his mouth, he shook his head at himself, heading towards the house. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he’d think about the consequences. Now, he’d think about what a damn lucky man he was.

Ada woke slowly, one arm wrapped around her pillow. She guessed it must either be 8 or 9 in the morning, though camp was still quiet, people either sleeping off the alcohol or taking advantage of the general good mood to have a lie-in. Turning onto her back, a smile was instantly tugging at her lips, as if the memory of the night before was just waiting for her to wake up so she could relive it all over again.

  She had never felt like that before. She’d been aroused before, sure, when she’d conjured images in her mind of the brave heroes in her books, but never had it been like last night. Last night had been... She couldn’t even begin to describe it. It had been something good, something that had felt right...

Get some breakfast and coffee in you before you become a giddy girl again.

Pushing her blanket off, she pushed herself up onto her knees and stretched with a gentle groan. To her right at the small camp fire was Charles and Lenny, the former having a cup of coffee, the latter fast asleep. John was stood guard at the front entrance, probably because he was the most sober person to take a watch, surprisingly. Then again, he’d gone straight upstairs with Abigail and Jack once they’d begun to celebrate. She smiled at the thought of their quiet, private reunion as a family. Casting her gaze further along to the main camp fire, she saw the girls were up, probably due to Susan not allowing them a lie-in despite everything. Sadie was there, too, sipping from a cup. Lifting her head, she met Ada’s gaze and waved. Ada waved back, her smile widening.

She’ll laugh so hard she’ll probably choke when I tell her about it. Can’t wait for the ‘I told you so’.

Rising to her feet, she pulled her boots on and made her way over.

Karen sat with her head in her hands, taking long, slow breaths. Mary-Beth looked a bit bedraggled, sipping her coffee every few seconds and staring at the fire. Tilly had her eyes closed, a bowl of uneaten porridge in her hands. Sadie was the only alive looking one, cleaning the rifle that lay across her lap.

“Good mornin’!” she greeted Ada cheerfully, making the other girls snap out of their dazes and look up, smiling weakly.

“Good morning,” Ada replied, just as cheerily.

“Coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

Sadie handed her a full cup as she sat, wrapping her hands around it. “Mmh, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Catching Sadie’s eye, she just smiled as the older woman gave her a very knowing look.

“Where’s Arthur off to in a hurry?” Tilly croaked, her throat stripped dry by alcohol and singing.

Ada’s head whipped to the side and they all watched as he strode down the porch steps, past the fountain and to Ophelia, mounting quickly and urging her onto the road and down the main path. Ada frowned as Karen groaned.

“I hope it’s nothin’, I don’t wanna deal with anythin’ today.”

“Nah, he just got a letter from Mary,” Mary-Beth said, her voice almost as hoarse as Tilly’s.

Ada paused.

A relative?

"How do you know?” Tilly said.

Mary-Beth sniffed, massaging her temple. “Herr Strauss went out early this mornin’ to see if we had any mail. I asked who had mail, I’m expectin’ some nice writin’ paper, and he said Arthur and Pearson did. I recognised Mary’s handwritin’ on the letter.”

“You gotta stop bein’ such a stalker, Mary-Beth.”

“Who’s Mary?” Ada asked as nonchalantly as she could, having had to stop herself from cutting Tilly off.

Mary-Beth dropped her hand into her lap after shooting a look at Tilly. “He and Mary used to be an item years ago, they were engaged at one point. Then it just broke off.”

A coldness prickled down her spine.

“Why?”

“She doesn’t like all of this, wanted him to change, and her daddy didn’t like him. I think he still loves her, though.” Mary-Beth pulled a face. “I think she’s mean for usin’ that, though. Keepin’ pullin’ him back, givin’ him hope whenever she needs help with somethin’.”

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Karen mumbled, pushing herself up and stumbling towards the nearest tree.

Tilly and Mary-Beth were too busy turning away and tutting at Karen to notice Ada staring at her hands, still. Sadie looked at her, her lips pressed together a little.

“Don’t think anythin’ of it,” she murmured gently so only she could hear.

Ada just nodded, taking a sip of her coffee. It shouldn’t have irked her as much as it did. She didn’t want anything serious from him, that’s what she’d said the night before and that’s what she’d meant, but if she was interfering in something...

Arthur was gone most of the day.

It didn’t bother her.

She told herself that only until the third hour.

Having taken over Javier’s watch, she stood on the outer south edge of the property, slowing pacing up and down the thin dirt path. If she wasn’t thinking about someone’s happiness she could potentially be ruining then she was thinking about the kiss. Should she have allowed it?

Oh, hell, stop lying to yourself, woman, you wanted it.

He’d known it, he’d plain seen it and said it. And she had enjoyed it.

For a man who was often boorish and bad-tempered, his hands had been... gentle. His lips had felt wonderful. What was this man caging inside of himself? Why hadn’t she seen this side of him before? Why wasn’t he wandering off every other night to the nearest saloon like some of the men did? Was he saving himself for this Mary, hoping she’d change her mind, and she and the kiss last night had just been an error? Maybe he had had more whisky than she thought, maybe he’d had quite a few when she hadn’t been looking.

God, she missed Sean. She would have loved to talk with him, or even be distracted, and he would have wanted to distract. He would have made everything seem so simple and that it wasn’t serious and she was a fool for over-thinking it and Arthur was just a fool, besides she was getting ahead of herself, she didn’t even know why he’d gone to see this Mary, maybe it was nothing at all—

She turned and stopped abruptly. Arthur was approaching, his hands on his belt, smiling. It made her heart stop.

“Hello,” she greeted him lightly.

“Hey,” he answered, a knowing smile on his lips. 

God, why did that make her stomach clench in the most delicious of ways.

“You have a nice time in town?” she said swiftly, needing to distract herself.

Arthur blinked slightly in surprise. Shit, she wasn’t really meant to know he was in town.

“Yeah, thanks,” he said after a moment. “I saw an old friend.”

Now that surprised her. She hadn’t expected him to be so open about it. Most men would keep past loves a secret, especially if they’d just been to see them. Especially if they were talking to a woman they’d kissed the night before.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, but I got a feelin’ you already knew that.”

“Oh?” was all she could think to say.

He nodded, tilting his head. “Yeah.”

She licked her lips then exhaled. “Fine, I do know who you were seeing. Mary-Beth told me and the girls.”

He seemed to consider something. “... Are you jealous?”

She scoffed slightly, looking down at the ground then back to him, a faint smile on her lips. “No, Arthur, I’m not. I just don’t want to be in the middle of something.”

“You ain’t in the middle of anythin’,” he shook his head. “Mary and I, we had our time, and we lost it.”

He didn’t seem too broken about it but... there was definitely an air of sadness. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

He shrugged. “Nah, probably for the best.” He rubbed his jaw. “She asked me to run away with her. Then said she knew I wouldn’t. I said I wanted to. That I would, once we got our money but, now...” He let out a humourless laugh and looked away. She had stilled. “Hell, I don’t know what it is about her. When I’m not with her I can see what a terrible idea it would be, that we don’t work. But when I’m with her... it’s like I forget all that.”

Her faint smile returned. “I think that might be love.”

Arthur looked back to her, arching an eyebrow with a faint air of amusement. “Ain’t practical, though, is it.”

Her smile just lingered. “I don’t think love is.”

Arthur just hummed.

 Ada licked her lips and continued, “Maybe you like the idea of being with Mary more than actually being with her.”

His eyebrows rose for a moment as he shrugged. “You might be righ’.”

She was quiet for a moment, watching him. “I guess part of you wants to be free from all this, then.”

His gaze flicked to her. “’Free’... You used that same word when talkin’ about Molly. We ain’t bein’ kept here against our will, Ada.”

"I know, but... all this running constantly, don’t you get tired?”

Arthur sighed. “Ada, you don’t know this life, you don’t—”

She frowned. “I know what this life can do to people, Arthur—”

“So do I,” he cut her off, his voice lowering slightly despite how far from the camp they were. “You think I don’t just want to give it all up? Think I just don’t want a quiet life? That’s what everyone wants but it ain’t real—”

"Running away to Tahiti isn’t real, Arthur,” she implored, ”It’s a fantasy cooked up by a man who fancies himself a king and you all blindly follow him—”

"We don’t blindly follow him, Ada, that ain’t true. He’s saved all those people, he’s cared for us all—”

She scoffed. “Oh, so he’s been kind to you so that means you have to do as he says?”

Arthur hissed out a breath, frowning. “No, of course it don’t, it’s about loyalty—”

 “Loyalty or following out of an obligation, or fear?” she shot back.

“Ada—”

“Help me understand, Arthur,” she implored again, holding her hand out. “Help me to understand why you all adore him. Because he’s good to you all? Because you all have nothing else? Because you all genuinely love him? Are you all just unwilling to see the man that he really is?”

Arthur’s gaze was cold. “He’s the greatest man I’ve ever met.”

She tutted, almost pulling a face as she shook her head. “He has such a hold on you, it’s—”

“You don’t know anythin’. You don’t know shit.”

“I know a bad man and an ignorant follower.”

He pointed a finger at her, his jaw moving. “You need to watch what you’re sayin’—”

"I told you that I saw him standing there,” she hissed. “I told you I saw him kill my father for no reason, a man who was living that quiet life you don’t believe in, he killed him. He took my family’s happiness, he ruined us. I told you all that and you still defend him.”

Arthur’s gaze softened, though only a fraction. “I ain’t sayin’ Dutch ain’t done some bad things but—”

“Always with an excuse—” she started to mutter.

“What he did was wrong,” he cut her off, his tone having risen slightly. “All righ’, that I know, but he’s done some good, too.”

"Good doesn’t negate from bad,” she spat without thinking.

He arched an eyebrow. “Don’t it? We all deserve a chance to make up for our sins, don’t we?”

She looked at him, her jaw clenched. She couldn’t disagree with that. She didn’t, couldn’t back down though.

“So that’s what he’s doing now, is it? Atoning for his sins by stealing from people still?”

"He just wants a better life for all of us.”

She shook her head. "I wish I could see things the way you do, I really wish I could. I wish you could see it my way, too.”

Arthur took a step closer, his tone quiet again. “Ada, I’m tellin’ you this as a friend... You either got to resolve all this in your head or you might have to start thinkin’ about movin’ on.”

A humourless smile pulled briefly at her lips as her heart quietly shattered. “Submit or flee, is that it?”

He pressed his lips together. “Resolve this, or think about movin’ on. You ain’t got any other choice.”

“Don’t I?”

He stared at her, her features blank, her eyes cold.

His jaw moving slightly, he lowered his voice. “Ada... I would stop you.”

She just looked at him.

“It ain’t worth it,” he murmured.

Her gaze shifted to over his shoulder, as if he wasn’t even there.

“My shift is over,” was all she said as she passed him.

He didn’t turn, but he heard her greet Lenny as he approached to take over. Closing his eyes, his head bowed slightly as he placed his hands on his hips.

Dear God, what a damn fuckin’ mess.

—

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Tagged: @belfry-bat​​​​​​​, @sistasarah-sallysaidso​​​, @ntlmundy​

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x original female character #arthur morgan x female oc #my writing #flamehairedwritings

[queenxxxsupreme]

Hi!! Could you do a rdr2 oneshot and Arthur is a chubby boi and insecure about it?? I'm a hoe for chubby Arthur 🧍‍♀️many thanks!!

A/N: Omg I haven’t been able to find enough chubby!Arthur on here but I love him!!! My masterlist is here and here is the link to go to if you want to be on any of my taglists!

Warnings: poor self image and Arthur hating on himself

***

“Thank you for giving me a hand with dinner tonight, Y/N.” 

You looked over your shoulder to Pearson, offering him a little smile. 

“I wasn’t busy and I don’t mind lending a hand.”

“I’m glad someone helps out around here.” He muttered, sending Molly a brief glare. She sat at the table across from you, touching up on her lipstick. You had been chatting with her while you cut up vegetables for Pearson. 

“Would you want her cuttin’ up vegetables for dinner?” You asked him, keeping your voice low enough so she wouldn’t hear you. “Might end up losing a finger in the stew.”

“That would be somethin’.” He chuckled. 

As Pearson moved towards his wagon to retrieve something, you picked up your conversation with Molly. She was as worried as could be about Dutch.

“Dutch is…. He’s got a lot on his shoulders right now, Molly.”

“But you see that he’s different too, don’t you?” She put her compact mirror down and looked at you. “I’m-I’m not just goin’ crazy, am I?”

“No, Molly. You aren’t.” You shook your head. “If you’d like, I can see if Arthur would be willing to talk to him.”

She was quiet, her eyes finding Dutch. He was standing at the fire not too far away with Hosea, John, Micah, and Ms. Grimshaw.

You put the chopped carrots into a bowl and wiped off the blade of your knife. As you moved on to the potatoes, you looked up to find Arthur. A few minutes ago when you had last checked on him, he was sitting at another table across from camp with Sadie. He was still there, but Sadie was gone. 

He still appeared to be tense and to have something on his mind. All day, he had been grumpy and distant. After he insisted that nothing was wrong, you were somewhat convinced that he had just woken up on the wrong side of the bed.

“There she is. Mi amor.” 

You turned your head to see Javier move around the table you were at. You smiled at him.

You had met Javier long before you ever joined the Van der Linde gang. You were close friends with the outlaw and had a rather flirtatious relationship with him, though it never went further than flirty comments.

“When are we going to go on that fishing trip, cariño?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” You picked up a potato and began to peel it. “I reckon when you can buy me one of them fancy boats.” 

“A fancy boat? What do you need a fancy boat to go fishing for?” Javier eyed what you were doing, paying attention to your knife work. “You handle that knife well, amor. Who taught you so well?”

You rolled your eyes, knowing very well he was teasing you. He was the one who taught you how to use a knife. 

“Some fella I met a while ago.” 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Arthur move. You turned your head to watch him walk away, taking note of how fast he moved and how tense he appeared. You wanted to follow him and make sure he was okay, but you had to finish helping Pearson with dinner. 

***

A while later, Pearson called for everyone to come get dinner. You excused yourself from the table with Hosea, John, and Lenny to go find Arthur. The grump was upstairs in his room. He was laying on his bed with one knee bent slightly and his eyes focused on the ceiling. Upon hearing the bedroom door creak open, Arthur sat up. His broad shoulders were hunched and he didn’t meet your gaze.

“Supper’s ready, darlin’.” You held the door open for him.

“Not hungry.” He muttered, rubbing the back of his head. 

“Are you sure? You haven’t eaten much all day.”

“Yeah, m’sure.” 

You watched him for a few moments. Your stomach twisted up into knots at the sound of his voice, small and weak. Something was wrong. He just was being stubborn and keeping it from you. 

You looked out into the hall, listening for a few moments to see if anyone else was in the house. Luckily, everyone was outside having dinner. You stepped back into Arthur’s room and closed the door behind yourself. Your footsteps were quiet as you crossed the room to sit down on the bed next to him.

He kept his eyes on the wooden floorboards between his boots, unable to bring himself to look at you. He knew the second he looked at you, the second he gazed into those Y/E/C eyes, he’d be done for. He’d pour his heart out and bare his soul to you. It happened far too often when he felt like this. 

You placed your hand on the back of his head, fingers gently combing through the dirty blond hair at his nape. You leaned over to kiss his shoulder, not minding that you were kissing the material of his dark blue button down. 

“I know you better than you think, Arthur Morgan.” You murmured against his shoulder. “You don’t gotta tell me if you don’t want to…. But I am here for you always.”

“Ain’t nothin’ you can do, pumpkin.” He whispered. 

“I’m sure there’s something I could do.” You studied his profile, admiring everything from his lashes to the curve of his chin. You reached over to place your hand on the side of his face and gently turned his head towards you.

Blue eyes met yours. You smiled. He tried to but it didn’t reach his eyes. It was forced. It didn’t belong on his lips. 

“I-I just….” He trailed off, pulling your hand from his face. He kept ahold of your hand, dropping his gaze to where he now held your hand in his lap. “You know there’s always gonna be…. There’s gonna be better for you out there, pumpkin. Someone better for you than me.”

Your heart sunk at the realization that this was what had been on his mind all day.

“Arthur Morgan, there is no one better for me than the man sittin’ right here next to me.” You squeezed his hand. 

“That ain’t true.” He murmured. “Why didn’t you and Javier ever get together?”

“Arthur.” You said his name gently. “We’ve been over this. Javier and I are just friends. Nothing more. I don’t see him that way and he surely doesn’t see me that way. I’m a flirt, you know that. All sweet talk.”

“I know. Just…. I ain’t nothin’ like Javier or Charles or even Sean or Lenny. I’m more like Bill or Pearson.”

“And what in the world makes you say that?” You furrowed your brows together. “Arthur, you’re nothing like Bill or Pearson.” 

“Startin’ to look like ‘em.” He muttered. 

“Oh, Arthur.” You placed your hand on his thigh. “No you don’t–,”

“Don’t say that, Y/N.” Arthur stood up suddenly, taking a few steps away from the bed, turning to face you. He ran his hands over his face then back through his hair. “It ain’t so subtle, Y/N. Shirts ain’t fittin’ like they used to. And my belts, they’re needin’ to be put on a different loop than they used to be. Soon I’ll have a gut like Pearson or Williamson!”

“Arthur.” You said his name calmly, but he wasn’t finished yet. 

“And you! My god, Y/N! You don’t deserve an old ugly bastard like me! You don’t deserve the kind of life I can give you! You-You deserve a house and somewhere to call home. You deserve to have a family and somewhere stable to be. You don’t deserve this life. You deserve better.” His voice lowered to a broken whisper as he looked at you with teary blue eyes. “So much better than I could ever give you.”

You couldn’t hold his gaze any longer. You looked down as tears welled in your eyes. 

He had stopped yelling his frustrations but now his tone had shifted to something more hoarse and broken. 

“I-I just…. When I look in the mirror, Y/N, I can’t find a single damn thing worth shit. And that just ain’t fair to you.” 

You brushed the tears from your cheeks, biting down on your trembling bottom lip. 

As Arthur stood there a few feet away from the bed looking at you, guilt began to form a nasty ball in the pit of his stomach while he watched you cry.

“I didn’t mean to make you upset, pumpkin.” He wanted to move to your side to comfort you, but his boots were stuck to the wooden floorboards beneath him.

You shook your head softly, not yet trusting your voice. You patted the space on the bed next to you, silently telling him to return to where he had been just a few minutes earlier. 

He shuffled over to sit down next to you, allowing you to wrap one of your arms around his that was closest to you. You tucked your nose into his shoulder, inhaling his scent for a few minutes. 

“Arthur Morgan. Where to begin?”

“That’s the million dollar question.” He chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood. You smiled a little, but it was hidden since you were still nose deep in his shoulder.

“I think you’re still as handsome as ever, no matter what weight you gain. And if I’m being honest with you, I don’t mind it at all. You always tell me you like to put you head on my thighs/”

“‘Cause they’re soft and comfortable. Perfect for naps.” He placed his hand on your thigh and as if to prove a point, he gave you a soft squeeze. 

“Exactly. There ain’t nothing wrong with being soft and comfortable, Arthur. And just because you’ve gained weight doesn’t mean you don’t deserve me. The two have no correlation.” You lifted your head from his shoulder and reached over to take hold of his chin. You turned his head so that he had no choice but to face you. “I love you, Arthur Morgan. You’re a good man with a heart of gold. If there’s better out there, I don’t want it. I only want you, ya hear?”

He nodded softly, leaning over to kiss your forehead.

“Hearin’ you talk so badly about yourself breaks my heart. You’re so much more than you think.” You kissed his cheek, your thumb gently tracing the stubble along his jaw.

“M’sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for it. We can fix it. It’ll just take some time and a lot of effort from you, you stubborn man.” You let his chin go and placed your hand on his knee, rubbing gently. “Do you want to go downstairs and have dinner with everyone else? Or do you want me to bring our bowls up here?”

He thought about it for a moment, his hand on the small of your back racing circles into your shirt.

“Let’s go down there. I could use some fresh air.”

You nodded, giving him a smile and a kiss on the cheek. 

Taglist:  @doggone-cowgirl @winterwolf @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @krenee1drful @zodiacaldust @nonodino @gabstaroc @cal-lifornication @thefirelordm @sargeantsea

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

#arthur morgan x reader fluff #Arthur Morgan x reader #Arthur Morgan #chubby!arthur Morgan #chubby!arthur morgan x reader #Arthur Morgan ask #kacey answers #🧍‍♀️anon

[thefloorisbalaclava]

7. or 14. ?? uwu

Thank you for sending me a prompt. I found a way to work both of them in just for you ;)

7. routine kisses where the other person presents their cheek/forehead for the hello/goodbye kiss without even looking up from what they’re doing.

14. starting with a kiss meant to be gentle, ending up in passion.

You couldn’t sleep.

You were used to it. Arthur had taken to calling you ‘night owl’. He also enjoyed being the one to wake you up in the morning because of how grumpy you were. He would chuckle and poke fun if you ever cursed at him or threw something at him for waking you up.

For some reason, that made you smile.

No. It wasn’t just some reason. You knew exactly what the reason was—you loved Arthur and there was no denying it now. You tried to brush it off as just some silly crush, but this was something more.

Chances were he didn’t feel the same way though and that was all right. He was more focused on doing things for the gang then falling in love. You were sure there was another reason, a broken heart maybe, but you wouldn’t press him about it.

You rolled out of bed with a groan and walked out of your tent. The air still had a chill to it, but it felt nice and you sat down at one of the tables, playing with a knife someone had left there.

“What are you doin’ up?” Arthur asked, walking up behind you. You hardly reacted. Nothing frightened you much anymore.

“Couldn’t sleep.” You shrugged your shoulders and began twirling the knife.

“Can I sit with you or are you plannin’ on usin’ that thing on me?” He pointed to the knife and you placed it on the table as he approached.

“That depends on if you behave yourself, Mr. Morgan.”

“I always do, ma'am.”

You rolled your eyes at that and looked down at the knife, sitting up a little straighter so Arthur could kiss your cheek the way he liked.

“You like kissin’ me, Arthur?” you asked.

“If I say yes, you gonna stab me?” He laughed quietly as he took his place across from you. “Yes, I like kissin’ you.”

“Good ‘cause I like when you do…” You wanted to say more. You wanted to ask, ‘but why don’t you ever kiss me on the lips?’ but couldn’t find the courage. “Why are you up?”

“Figured I’d get up early and start gettin’ my horse ready for today.” He and John were supposed to be going out to do something with oil wagons today. It was dangerous and certainly worrying, but you knew he’d be okay.

“Can I help?” you asked, standing with him.

“Sure.” He walked over to the horses’ station and handed you a brush. “If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” You hummed to yourself as you brushed his horse and you had no idea Arthur had been watching you. Suddenly, you felt a weight over your shoulders and realized he had put his coat on you.

“Can’t have you gettin’ sick.” He went back to packing his things and you pulled the coat tighter around you before brushing the horse again.

By the time you two were done, most of the camp was wide awake. John had began getting his horse ready and looked at you suspiciously.

“What?” you asked.

“You got Arthur’s coat around ya,” he pointed out. You had totally forgotten about that.

“So? I was cold.” You shrugged it off and handed it to Arthur.

“Right.” John chuckled and walked away.

“Don’t let him get to you,” Arthur said, putting his arm around your shoulders casually.

“Who? John? He don’t bother me. I would like to hit him over the head with that horse brush though.” You both laughed, and you helped him get a few last things ready. “You gonna be careful, right?”

“’Course. Don’t you be worryin’ about me.” He walked over to where you were strapping his saddlebags on and you stood on your tiptoes so he could get to your cheek.

“Fine, no worryin’,” you lied. John walked over and got on his horse and Arthur followed suit. “Bye y'all.”

“Ma'am.” Arthur tipped his hat and rode off. You watched until you couldn’t see the dust rising from the horse’s hooves anymore.

You worried. You told him you wouldn’t but there weren’t enough chores in the world to keep you from worrying.

The sun had begun to set, and Arthur and John still hadn’t returned. Everyone else in camp seemed to carry on as if everything was fine but you would only be fine when you heard his voice again.

You laid on your bed roll and closed your eyes, waiting for the sound of hooves that didn’t come. Eventually, you had fallen asleep and dreamt that he was back and safe and kissing your cheek as he always did.

“Hey sugar. I don’t mean to wake you, but I noticed you ain’t eaten today and I brought you somethin,” Sadie said quietly, holding a bowl of stew in front of you. You smiled and sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before taking the bowl from her.

“Thank you.” You ate slowly and kept your eyes down so that Sadie wouldn’t see the tears swimming there.

“You worried about him?” she asked. You only nodded. If you tried speaking, the tears would flow freely, and you wouldn’t be able to stop them. “He’s fine. I’m sure he’ll be back any time now.”

“I hope so.” You ate a little more before giving Sadie your bowl. Your ears (and heart) perked up at the sound of horses coming into camp.

“Speak of the devil.” Sadie winked and left your tent.

You stood quickly and fixed your hair as best you could then grabbed a book to pretend you were busy reading and not worried sick about Arthur the entire time. You sat on your bed roll and waited for him to come to you though part of you just wanted to run to him.

“What you readin’?” he asked, ducking as he walked into your tent.

“Nothin’ interestin.” The truth was, you hadn’t read a single word.

“Good.” Arthur snatched the book from your hand and you were about to scold him when you noticed how he was covered in dust…and blood.

“Arthur!” you gasped. “You’re hurt.” You stood again and moved to him quickly.

“It ain’t mine,” he said as though that would comfort you.

“You sure? You’re lookin’ kinda rough.” You checked his arms and hands for wounds and only found superficial ones.

“Oh…well, thank you,” he remarked sarcastically.

“You know what I mean. You’re sure you’re okay, right?”

“Yeah, now stop fussin’.” He moved your hands away and held onto them. “I need you to answer me somethin’.”

“Okay.”

“You ain’t got no weapons on you, do ya?” he asked, and you furrowed your brow.

“No…why?”

“’Cause I’m gonna kiss you and I wanna make sure you don’t kill me after.”

“Kiss me? Why would I kill you for doin’ that? You always kiss me.” You looked at him, confused.

“I mean kiss you like…a proper one.”

You turned your cheek to him and tapped it. “Would you just go on and stop bein’ strange about it.”

“I need you to look at me.”

“Arthur…why are you bein’ so…” Then it happened. He kissed your lips. It was a chaste kiss, nothing scandalous, but it was enough for you to notice just how soft his lips were. Such soft lips for such a rough man.

“There.” He stepped back and rubbed the back of his neck. “I…uh, hope that was okay. If not, I won’t do it again. I really want to though so I hope it was okay.”

“You call that a proper kiss, Mr. Morgan?” You moved closer to him and kissed him, taking him by surprise. This time, you ran your fingers through his hair, knocking his hat off in the process. He groaned quietly and wrapped his arms around you, deepening the kiss. You stumbled back into one of the posts holding up the tent, hitting your head, but you still didn’t stop. You had been waiting for this moment for the longest and you’d be damned if you let anything ruin it.

You wrapped one of your legs around the back of his thigh and he gasped making you smile inwardly. It seemed you weren’t the only one waiting for this moment. He pulled away as if he wanted to say something but immediately pressed his lips to yours again, slipping his tongue past your lips cautiously. When your tongue touched his, he groaned again, and you found yourself being lifted off the ground.

“Arthur…,” you murmured nervously.

“You’re all right. I got you,” he whispered against your lips before kissing you again. Your dress had started to fall off your shoulders, but you didn’t care. Right now, you wished he would just tear it off you. He moved from your lips down to your neck, a particularly sensitive area, and began kissing and nibbling. You said his name loudly then quickly covered your mouth.

“You have no idea how long I been dreamin’ about this,” you sighed.

“Just as long as me, I reckon.” He smiled against your neck then kissed it. “If I don’t stop now, I ain’t ever gonna stop.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to.” You pulled him in for another kiss, but someone walked up to the tent and Arthur hastily put you down.

“If you two are done in there, Dutch would like to see you Arthur,” John said.

“Oh, we’re done,” Arthur called, “The sound of your voice has the ability to ruin things.” Arthur smiled as you laughed into your hand.

“Shut up and get your ass out here,” John said angrily before retreating.

“Guess I better go.”

“Guess so.” Neither of you moved, though. You just kept staring at each other. “Well, go on. I ain’t goin’ anywhere. We can pick up where we left off later…”

“Is that a promise, ma'am?”

“It’s a promise, Mr. Morgan.” You kissed him once more and he followed as you pulled away.

“You can’t go and do that when I’m supposed to be leavin’. Ibain’t gonna be able to leave you ever again.”

“Well, guess you got a reason to keep comin’ back now.”

“You were always my reason for comin’ back…even before what we just did.” He could be really sweet when he wanted to be.

You looked away shyly and shooed him away. “Get on outta here.”

“I’ll be back real soon,” he said before ducking out of your tent.

“And I’ll be waitin’,” you said quietly before touching your lips and smiling to yourself.

#more kisses for our boah #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #prompt #headcanon #bintangy

[jo-the-schmo]

Red, Dead, Reflections Ch.5

Chapter 1 Chapter 2  Chapter 3 Chapter 4

A/N: DEAR JESUS FINALLY HOLY SHIT this too way too long. I’ve been super busy and getting sick a lot these past few weeks. This chapter is a little lackluster but something is really better than nothing. I hope this is good enough in any case! Have a good read! Love you!

Summary:  At the age of 23, you and your pseudo-family perform a heist gone wrong, leading you into a dangerous position. Discover your own history, the story of those around you, and gain new relationships along the way in this (sorta) choose your own adventure.

Warnings: Explicit language, violence, alcohol, possible genitalia mentions, alcohol, not much else I think?

Word count: 6000+

Tags!: @lennysvmmers @zoilalove213 @eccentricc-catt

Choose Your Words Wisely 

“When do you think we’ll head into town?” You readjusted the strap of your mask attached to your belt loops.

“Why you askin’ me? I ain’t your keeper.”

“I mean, you sorta are. I don’t have a horse and Dutch said he ‘doesn’t want me getting lost’. I don’t wanna annoy you, but we’ve been here for like, a week, and done absolutely nothing.” He sighed at your comment, somewhat in agreement.

“Uncle was sayin’ somethin’ about headin’ out, but I haven’t seen that bastard in hours.” Arthur complained through slightly gritted teeth as he hefted a bag of feed over his shoulder. “If ya find him and see if he’s ready, I wouldn’t mind goin’, We’re running out of coffee anyway…” You stopped following him.

“Got it, I’ll see where he’s hiding.” You pivoted to the side and walked towards the main camp area. Bill was prodding the fire in boredom. “Hey Bill, do you know where Uncle is at?”

“Prob’ly asleep or drunk, the old loon.” He croaked.

“Well, I figured that much.” That was usually what Uncle seemed to be doing. You weren’t one to judge, but he was a recluse one for sure. Now that I think about it, I haven’t seen the Reverend in a few days…where’s he at?

“I know Charles and Javier got tired of waiting for him, so they just went out a few hours ago.”

“Okay, thanks, Bill.” You don’t talk to Bill that much, he just didn’t seem to enjoy your company for some reason, or anyone’s company for that matter. You kept looking around, trying to figure out where he could be. If I was sleeping off a hangover, where would I be?

“James! My boy! Come here for a moment, would ya?” A deep, modulated voice called out from somewhere behind you. You turned and saw Dutch standing in front of his tent. You didn’t respond vocally, you’ve found you don’t need to. As long as you’re visually enacting the request, he took that as answer enough. Dutch was a watchful man. You took a few steps toward him and you noticed Molly wasn’t around. She was usually hanging out in here. Actually, I’ve never seen Molly NOT in here.

“What’s up, Dutch?”

“Come inside, young man. Have a seat.” He placed his palm on the space between your shoulder blades and guided you inside the fabricated enclosure. Dutch had the biggest space of the group, which always bothered you in a weird way. Everyone except him, Arthur, and you slept on the ground. He moved you towards a chair, which you took a seat in out of politeness. You were starting to get nervous. Dutch had never really wanted to speak one on one with you before, much less take this approach to starting a conversation.

“What’s this about?” You tried to keep your voice as neutral as possible. He stayed standing, even pacing slowly across the floor about two feet away from you. The cuffs of his white shirt had a few rust colored stains.

“Nothin’ but a few questions, my friend.” It was subtle, but you could tell he was trying to take on a slightly intimidating presence. It wasn’t malicious or anything like that, which only made you more curious. “I’d like to know what you’re still doin’ here.” That statement took you aback.

“I’m confused, what do you me-“

“Why are you still here?” He cut you off. You took a moment to consider his question, there was a reason he wasn’t letting you get an explanation. The severity and weight of your potential answer only reflected in the sunken depths of his pupils. He looked exhausted.

“Because you’ve allowed me to.”  

“Ah, I see…” He stopped all his movements and bent down slightly to get a closer look at you. His hand rested against the back of the chair you were sitting. “I wanna trust you, my boy. You saved my life up on that mountain, I won’t soon forget that. Do you know what my family is about, West?”

“Living.”

“That’s right. Now, what are you about, James?” For a moment, Dutch’s face wasn’t his anymore. His hair was longer, light brown, his face was slim with a messy stubble. It was Austin.

“Why are you here, Y/N?”

“What?”

“You’re safe, you’re all patched up, why haven’t you left me yet?” His eyes looked much kinder back then. So did his smile.

“Because…I don’t want to? You saved me.”

“People save people all the time and don’t follow them across a state.” He took a step closer. “What’s your deal? What do you want?”

“I…” You couldn’t be entirely sure, but you felt it. “I want the world to be better… I want the world to let me survive. I want to live!”

“Good answer.” You could almost audibly pick up the voice shift from Austin to Dutch. It took you a moment to process the fact that you had answered his question. “Sorry I took on that rather rude tone. Had to test ya, ma boy!” He laughed heartily, his earlier façade melting away.

“What was that about?”

“I wanted to see if you were up for a bit of a request.”

“A request?” His smile warmed at your question.

“Well, Hosea and I have been talkin’. You’ve been a mighty fine help around here and, well, we ourselves are headin’ out west in search of land of our own. So, we wanted to ask if you’d stick around with us until you made it back home.” You weren’t sure why the gesture surprised you, in a way you had already been integrated into their lives, they treated you as one of their own. But it still left you stunned. “Hosea says you aren’t sure if you’ll ever see your friends again, but I promise we will do everything in our power to keep you safe until then. What d’ya say, son?”

“It’d be an honor…” Your response was what astonished you the most. You felt it in your gut, a sense of comradery. Dutch patted your left shoulder, signaling for you to stand.

“That’s a good man right there!” He walked you outside the tent. “Just remember one thing, my friend.” He turned you around to give you one last bit of aid. “Do good to us, and we’ll do good to you. You seem like a nice one, but it never hurts to remind.” You instinctively walked away but his words rang in your mind. Do good to us, and we’ll do to you, huh? Charles warning would come into question every once in a while. The only person to know your secrete was Hosea.

If anyone else found out, they might tell Dutch. And if Dutch finds out, then so will Micah. At this point the only reason you still kept your secret was to save your hide. If Micah was really as much of a bastard as you’d been led to believe, if he got his hands on some information of that magnitude, you’d be dead in the next hour. You sighed with your head rolled back toward the sky. How could things keep getting more complicated?

Shockingly, time skipping wasn’t as strange of a concept anymore. You may not have done much research on it, but Gina sure had. She was a big-time nerd. If you really had jumped backwards 120 years, there was nothing you could directly do to change it. But, one thing you did know was that the universe, if having the capability to do this, would eventually find a way to put you back. A trigger was what pulled to get you here, and at some point, the space of time would have to set you back with another trigger. That trigger was certainly your previous death, but there was no telling if this new trigger would be the same. And let’s just say, dying wasn’t exactly an easy risk to take here. All you can do is bide your time and hope it comes soon.

“Found him!” You heard Arthur holler from the side, followed by the grumble of the old man getting to his feet. You guided yourself to the two by the cart, Arthur standing around with his hands on his hips looking like a scolding mother.

“That’s a rather odd place to nap, Uncle.” You pointed out.

“Welp, you know what I say? A man who can sleep on any surface, has the peace of mind to be doin’ so.” He dusted off the back of his pants.

“Interesting…” You supposed he was right, in both senses that could be interpreted. “Are you ready to head to town?” You asked the both of them but only Uncle responded.

“Yep, I gotta head down to the general store to get some supplies. Was you wanting to tag along?” Before you could respond, a familiar feminine voice bubbled behind you.

“Can we come too?” It was Karen with Tilly and Mary-Beth in tow.

“We been cooped up here for far too long! We need some fun!” Mary-Beth said in her almost song-like tone.

“Well, can Miss Grimshaw spare you?” Upon Arthur asking that, they all groaned in disdain.

“Can Miss Grimshaw spare you? Come on, Arthur! Three young, healthy women want you to take ‘em out robbin’ and you’re worried about house chores!” Karen argued while Tilly crossed her arms and shot Arthur her signature annoyed eyebrow raise.

“When you’re right, you’re right, I guess. Everyone hop on.” Arthur and Uncle took the lead and got in the front seat, Arthur at the reins.

“Wait, did you see if Sadie wanted to go? She said she’s been itchin’ to get out for a bit.” You asked while Karen climbed into the back.

“I asked her, but Ol’Pearson was there saying she had too much work to do. We’ll get her next time.” Tilly assured you. A twinge of disappointment flared in your chest, but you reluctantly followed the ladies into the cart and sat next to Karen. Arthur didn’t waste time to get a move on. You saw John being passed by the cart, on guard duty. You hadn’t gotten many chances to talk to him, but it was good to see him on his feet. Apparently, he had gotten attacked by wolves while you were unconscious, which was crazy. The whole camp was out of sight no more than a minute later. They really picked a good spot, huh? The cart makes small clunk and crunch noises when rolling over the dry soil path.

“So…James?” Karen smirked dubiously.

“Yes?” You rested your elbows on your knees, leaning forward. Which you soon realized was a mistake, because now Tilly and Mary-Beth are leaning in close and Karen is hovering just above.

“What’s it like in California?” They all actually seemed interested in what you had to say, making you feel both nervous and comforted.

“Well…It’s hot, most of the time. Uh…we get a lot of fires, and they can’t be dealt with fast enough. Earthquakes, those happen. But there’s beaches! Those can be fun on the right kind of day.”

“What kind of day is that?” Mary-Beth followed.

“Let’s see…” You thought for a moment on how to describe it. “It really just depends, I guess. Some days the beach is good for having some good fun. Messin’ around and all that. But if you go in the evening, it’s a lot less hectic and more serene. People like it for different reasons.” You lost your train of thought for a moment. Miguel liked the beach, particularly in the wake of twilight. The sounds always brought comfort for him, the lull of the sea. You were pretty sure he had mentioned at some point that his dad used to work down by the beach before he died. The sound of something snapping and the curse of a man brought you out of your haze.

Arthur slowed the cart and you noticed another person’s carriage or whatever was sitting still, and a white horse was running off to the other side of the road. You were quick to slide down the long seat and hop out the back. Your boots hit the dirt with a quick thud. Arthur had the cart in a near stop, his eyes following you as you moved yourself around to where the man was. For the brief second that you caught it, there was a conflict behind his eyes.

“Are you gonna help him, Arthur?” Karen verbally jostled. He seemed to chose a side, opting to follow you.

“Do you need any help, sir?” You questioned the older man who was tightening the straps on the horse still attached. He looked frustrated but thankfully relieved that you offered.

“Would you please go get my horse? He ran off over there.” He pointed out toward the base of a hill with some trees where the white horse you noticed before was shifting around frantically. Arthur surveyed the situation.

“Alright, I’ll go to the front, try to get ‘em to calm down. You ease your way over from the side and get his reins, lead ‘em over.” He scratched at his beard, which saw was shorter since you started paying attention. “Got it?”

“Got it.” He moved first, you going diagonally behind him. His steps were slow, methodical. It was always strange to see him act so gentle. Maybe you were just being nosey or over-analyzing him, but Arthur always seemed like he put on a tough guy persona. His demeanor went through shifts that you recognized easily, they were the same for you. The way his posture softened, his voice soothed, his eyes rounding down at the bottom. You’d only caught it a few times, and you wondered if anyone else ever paid enough attention to notice that. You could just be projecting, or acting way too creepy. Either way, it was just something you caught on to.

“Easy…” His voice mulled, accent rolling gently. “Easy there…” The horse was still fidgeting but at least it wasn’t running around anymore. “That’s it…” You inched closer to the animal staring down at Arthur with big, black eyes. The grass squished under your soles but was near silent to everyone else. Until you heard a small snap. You’d stepped on a twig. The attention of both sets of eyes was on you now. The horse shifted to its back hooves, letting out a fearful wail. You threw your hands up and froze.

“Woah there!” You exclaimed, knowing if you did this wrong you could easily get trampled. “Hiya…” You kept your voice delicate, which you weren’t exactly worried about in the moment. The horse breathed heavily and twitched through its snout. You lowered your posture, seeming less offensive. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be scared…” You inched a little closer to test the waters. Though the creature seemed to still be on edge, it appeared to be unphased by your new closeness. You kept going, until you felt the sharp breaths against your cheek. “You’re alright, buddy.” Your fingertips met the smooth fur of the horse’s neck, petting it reassuringly. It accepted your touch, and let Arthur take hold of its reins.

“You uh…” Arthur turns away from you, beginning to walk as you continue to sooth the horse. You were unable to gauge his expression. “You did really good with- with all that.” He let out a fake cough in the middle of that sentence. “You have experience with horses? I’ve seen you ride, not very well but still.”

“Eh, a little. Not very much.”

“Well, you got mighty lucky then, boy.” He remarked.

“Woooooo! Nice job you two!” You heard Tilly call, followed by the assured chants of the other two women. Arthur surrendered the leather straps to the older man.

“Thank ya, good sirs. You’ve done a good deed today.” The old man smiled approvingly.

“I just did it to impress the women, no thanks needed.” Sure, you did, Arthur.

“It was no trouble. Have safe travels, mister.” You waved him off as you changed your direction back to the cart, joining the ladies once more. Everyone waited until you all were out of earshot of the man and back on track to Valentine.

“That was real kind of you boys.” Mary-Beth grinned with a dreamy tone.

“See, Arthur? You got a heart! Unlike this old lizard.” Karen pointed up at Uncle.

“Lizards have hearts!” He remarked with offense.

“Honestly, if you three prob’ly hadn’t been there, I’da prob’ly robbed him.” Arthur corrected. All three of the women rolled their eyes.

“And I didn’t know you were so gentle, James. Not with the stories I’ve heard.” Mary-Beth was clearly trying to lead you in, and in that she had succeeded.

“What stories?”

“Micah talkin’ out of his ass. Normal stuff.” Karen reassured you.

“He’s got a brother out in California, says he’s heard of your little posse.” Tilly explains. “Says you were traded off to the O’Driscolls. Probably with us to try and get your friends back.”

“Pardon my French, but that’s horseshit.” You cut to the chase. It didn’t seem that any of them believed Micah’s lies, but they clearly wanted to hear your input. “Micah doesn’t know a damn thing about me, or my family. It’s literally not possible.” You felt yourself instinctually grip the mask bound to your hip. You took a deep breath through the nose. “I don’t know what his problem is with me. I haven’t done anything to him.” Tilly noticed the tenseness in your hand and appeared to make a mental note of it.

“Micah’s a bit like an infection. Likes to get under your skin and make ya sick.” Mary-Beth spoke knowingly.

“He’s hard to look at too.” Karen chortled. Arthur did his usual half laugh, half grunt.

“I’m surprised none y’all invited Molly with this kind of talk. Only person that hates that bastard more than me is prob’ly her.”

“Oh no, Miss O’Shea is far too high and mighty for the likes of us. She’s a society lady now.” You recognized the tone Karen held as contempt with a hint of mockery. The stench of a barn suddenly hit your nostrils.

“That’s sheep alright!” You cough from the sudden shock.

“You a city boy, James?” Uncle questions.

“Can’t really be much of city boy if I don’t live anywhere, huh?”

“Fair enough.”

The cart rounded the corner, exposing semi-busy streets. Everything was a little dirty, but not in a rundown sort of way. Women were wearing long dresses and skirts, most with their hair covered. And near the same could be said for the men except with pants, not skirts. The cart pulled down the main street and turned into a small clearing between what looked like a big stables and a small building still under construction. You sighed, rubbing your temples. Why does this shit gotta happen to me? The Great Depression has arrived early, I fucking guess. You pushed the knowledge you’d had for a while into the back of your mind and got out of the cart to help the girls down.

“Alright, I’m gonna go to the general store and get some things. Arthur, James, you come with me.” Uncle instructed.

“We’re gonna see what trouble we can stir up. There’s bound to be some dumbasses around here. Just imagine we’re in Paris, girls.” Karen lead the women back down the street and you followed behind Arthur. You heard fragments of his conversation with Uncle. Something about Uncle being called the ‘one-shot kid’ back when he was younger and him being Arthur’s third favorite parasite. You were still reeling a bit, so you mostly zoned out. Focusing was always harder when you were having your tenth existential crisis this month. The trip was fairly quick. You only saw Arthur pick up some coffee grounds and a chocolate bar. I didn’t peg him for a sweet-tooth. Uncle got a bottle of something, that’s all you ended up noticing. You opted to just buy some food and had enough money to buy an extra pair of pants. You were tired of wearing the same pants every single day. Even if you were used to it, you happily took the chance to have a spare pair and finally be able to wash the other ones.

After that whole point of your trip was over, you sat beside Arthur on the bench outside, deciding not to drink anymore after tasting how strong the booze really were. At least one of you should be fully sober for this trip. Designated Driver for a real one. One Drink Y/N, they call me. You rested the side of your foot against your knee and leaned back against the wall, getting comfortable.

“Y’know what you outta get? A hat.” Arthur suggested.

“A hat? Why?”

“You look young when yer not wearin’ one. That’s why most people think yer a kid.”

“Really? That’s why? That’s really stupid.” Arthur shrugged his shoulders.

“Maybe so, but it’s true. We should pick you up one sometime soon.” I’m gonna look like an idiot. Arthur and Uncle shared another swig while you rhythmically tapped at the beak on your mask. The two men continued on with a conversation, mostly consisting of Arthur being annoyed, while you sat in silence. An eerie sensation crawled up the left side of your face. Glancing around, it didn’t take long to notice the cause. A black hat quickly retreating behind a wall. You turned your head to the right, pretending to search for something near the Hotel.

You felt it again.

You were being watched. They were either spying or trying to examine you. You tapped the side of Arthur’s knee with the back of your hand to get his attention.

“Hey Rabid Man, I’m gonna go take a look around. I’ll be right back.”

“Ya sound like you’re tryna ask for permission.” He raised a brow, eyes scrutinizing your face.

“Nah, just lettin’ you know. There’s a black hat I need to check out.” You over enunciated the phrase black hat. “Because it seems to be taking a heavy interest in me.” He seemed to at least partially catch your drift. You stood up with a walking step, longer strides than you’re used to. You saw a staircase on the side of the hotel when you first parked.

Passing by the butcher and cutting around his stand, you took a confident gallop up the stairs. You’re meant to be here, this is like second nature. The wood creaked softly beneath you before rounding the white and blue painted corner. Your sight grazed over the area you saw the hat duck away to. Prepare for trouble and make it double, I guess. You ducked down behind a crate and peeked out the side.

There were two men, one walking over to the other. What are you doing out here? Besides being creepy, I mean. The one who had been watching you was pointing back towards Arthur and Uncle, he seemed to be interested in the little group. He was blond under the hat, the other guy looked grey with a bald spot. You assumed they were discussing the men sitting at the bench by how hush-hush they acted. Not that you’d be able to hear them from this distance, you could just tell by their demeanor. You could smell the suspicion from a mile away.

For a moment you debated what you should do. If they were willing to spy, who’s to say they won’t try and follow your tracks? You and Arthur would get blamed for sure. If they’re O’Driscolls, then that’s only add acid to the rain. You didn’t need any more issues than you already had. They were definitely packing, they might try to start something if you provoke them. How do I go about this? You certainly weren’t gonna take the chance of them following, which meant you’d have to be careful. Intimidate, but be smart about it, make them paranoid, make them nervous to not let it escalate.

With that choice in your mind, you quietly trotted down the steps once more. Once on the ground again you locked eyes with Arthur. You gestured over to the direction of the men and held up the number 2 on your fingers. He nodded in recognition. You pointed to your eyes, then to where the men are, and finally pressing your pointer finger to your lips. Watch. Them. Quietly. You turned and walked away, going around the backside of the hotel.

The blond one was now leaning up against a tree with the almost bald one pacing around. You interlaced the hook of your thumb into the front beltloop of your pants, walking with a bold impression in your step. The nervous one noticed your approach first and kicked the shin of the nonchalant blond to get him to do the same. You decided to take a friendly disposition initially, letting a smile spread across your face. You stopped a few feet in front of them.

“Hiya there, fellas. I don’t suppose I could ask y’all a few questions?” You slipped into the accent you and Javier used in conversation.

“We ain’t got no answers for no Van der Linde meater!” The blond hacked and spit at the ground in your direction. What the hell is a meater? “Now scram like the pigeon-livered fool ya are.” You kept eye-contact with him the entire time, not budging.

“Now, I’m just tryna be civil here, boys. And let me tell ya, my civility is a privilege, not a right.” You took a step forward, now only a little more than a foot away from the agitated blond. “I ain’t gonna ask anymore, I’m tellin’.”

“Go to hell before I send ya there myself.” He drew a small revolver from his holster, the barrel pressed gingerly into your belly. You were unimpressed.

“Wow, you must really be an idiot-“

“What did you just say?” The other butted in.

“I said he’s an idiot. Not only is he dumb enough to try and watch me, but it also seems he’s so stupid that he’s try ‘nd point a weapon at me with the Sheriff’s office just around the corner.” You lowered your voice. “Your escape rides are a lil far to be actin’ like you own the place, aren’t they?” They gave each other a worried glance after hearing you say that. “I just wanna know what gives you the nerve to be spyin’ on someone like me.”

“This here is O’Driscoll territory, boy.” The Friar Tuck looking one verbally spit.

“Well, excuse me, I don’t see your permits of established territory. Now I’m not sure you noticed this or not, but I got eyes everywhere. You see, friend, I’ve got a certain way with words, and got enough skill to get people to do as I ask. Try anything funny and I won’t hesitate.” You push the offending arm that held the gun away, he gave no resistance. “I’ll give you a word of advice, keep you eyes to yourself.” You reached up, plucking the hat off his head by the brim. “And don’t wear hats. You ain’t big enough for ‘em.” You took a few steps back, masking the cautionary nature of them with cockiness. “I’ll see you two around.” You put the black hat on the crown of your head and waved them off.

You could already hear both men huff from frustration as you left. You decided to cut into the alley between the hotel and another building.

“That was quite possibly the best outcome you coulda got.” The sound of his accent surprised you. Arthur was leaning his shoulder against a blue beam but was about a foot taller due to him standing on the hotel’s platform. “I’m actually a little impressed. Never seen an O’Driscoll give up so easily.” He tipped his hat. “Especially not when you’ve so thoroughly disrespected ‘em.”

“Well, you did say I oughta get a hat, yeah?” Your throat was glad to be rid of the way too below your octave voice you’d taken on.

“I did indeed. It ain’t quite right, but it’ll do for now. Except for the fact yer wearin’ it all wrong.” Arthur dropped down to one knee, which was even more surprising than when he spoke up out of nowhere. It was unclear to you if it was just all the contemplating you’d done of him previously or what, but his eyes looked more unguarded than you were used to. Clear and questioning, they were honest. You could feel the ghost of his hand take the top of the hat and move it forward so that the sweatband met the top of your forehead.  “Much better.” He made what almost sounded like a sigh of relief.

“Oh, thanks…” Your voice came out softer than you meant for it to.

“Yer welcome. Now, let’s go check on Uncle. That old fool mighta drunk himself to death by now, here’s hopin’.” He stood to his feet and cracked his neck.

“Don’t be so hard on him, Arthur. He used to be the ‘one-shot kid’. Have a little more faith in him.” Your joke made him groan.

“Now you sound like Dutch.” You could practically hear his thoughts go ‘ew’. Together you walked back over to find a passed-out Uncle.

“Huh…Bill told me Javier and Charles are still here, you wanna go find them?”

“Eh, no, let’s just wait for the ladies. They’re usually pretty smart, but you can never be too careful.” You both took a seat on the shop’s wooden steps since Uncle was now sprawled on the bench.

“You’re very protective. You know that?” You asked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. It’s not a bad thing either. Just something I’ve noticed. You care a lot.”

“It’s not-“

“You’re not gonna fool me, Arthur Morgan. I’ve gotten pretty good at reading people over the years. I personally think it’s a good thing.”

“Really?” You expected his inflection to allude annoyance, but it was rather sincere.

“Yeah. I’ve been around you guys for a while now and let me tell you, the macho gets old. That’s why I appreciate the calmer and more caring outlook you have. It means you’re reliable.” He went silent after your last comment. This made you think you may have overstepped and made him uncomfortable. You forced out a laugh to try and lighten the mood. “Sorry about that, I talk without thinking sometime-“

“I never thought about it like that before.” What? “You know you’re real strange, West.”

“That’s what I’ve been told.” This time the chuckle at the end was legitimate. “I’m used to it though.”

“Y’know, everyone’s real interested to hear more about you. Ya don’t say much about yourself, and when you do its all vague. You scared of somethin’?” You weren’t sure why his question shocked you initially, they said the same thing earlier.

“I don’t think scared is the right word.”

“Then what is?” There was a newfound dulcet way in his speaking. You pondered that question for a moment. You weren’t trying to get killed just because someone was nice to you.

“You all have been so kind to me, and I’m sure it’s frustrating to not know practically anything about me, but for safety’s sake, until proven otherwise, it’s best that I don’t say.”

“You got someone after you or somethin’? ‘Cause if you do, we really need to know what to look out for.”

“It’s complicated. The less you know the better. Besides, I’m too far gone and far too different for that to matter.”

“You really know how to be cryptic, don’t ya?” He scratched at his beard.

“I’ve been told that as well, yes.”

“In any case, you can trust us. I know they don’t seem like it, but most of them boys, and almost all the ladies, they’re real good listeners.”

“See what I mean? You care an awful lot. It’s actually really impres-“

“Arthur! James!” And elated voice called out. You looked to the right and saw Mary-Beth making small and quick steps toward you. Arthur picked a pebble off the ground and snapped it at Uncle, hitting him in the stomach with a light ‘pap’ sound and efficiently waking him from his alcoholic slumber. He let out a sudden yelp, and Arthur pretended he wasn’t the one who threw a small rock at him.

“By god, what are ya shoutin’ for, old man?”

“Something just hit me!” He squealed.

“Damn birds, amiright?” His words slurred through his accent. You didn’t respond to him.

“Hey Mary-Beth. What have you been up to?” You greeted her with a smile.

“That’s actually what I was comin’ over to tell y’all about! I found this big, fancy house and snuck in, pretendin’ to be a servant girl. It usually works.” She gestured with her hands. “Anyway, I heard some talk about the lady’s sister goin’ on a trip to some getaway vacation. A train full of rich bigwigs cruisin’ along the empty countryside at night to get to Saint Denis! To avoid the tides and all.”

“I don’t know about that, Mary-Beth. Seems a little risky.” Arthur was hesitant.

“Oh, come on, Arthur! There’s bound to be enough money on that train to keep us movin’, yeah?”

“I guess…Say, where’s Tilly and Karen at?”  

“Oh uh, Karen picked up some drunk fella to try and rob, took ‘em to the hotel.”

“Why?!” You joined in.

“Seemed easy…She has been gone for a while, though. Oh! There’s Tilly right there!” You followed her line of sight and saw Tilly get pulled into the alleyway you came out of earlier. You couldn’t hear much from where you were, but she was clearly getting yelled at by a man you didn’t recognize. “That don’t look good.”

Help Tilly or Help Karen?

Return here after choice is made

“Yeah, he only punched me. He got it worse, trust me.” She smirked.

“Uncle, can you take the girls back to camp. I think that’s been enough adventure for one day.

“I saw Bill ride in earlier, should we get him too?” Tilly asked.

“I’ll check on him here in a bit.” Everyone agreed to going back and things seemed pretty chill. Then some random guy on a horse slows down next to the group.

“I…I saw you in Blackwater!” What?

“No, no you didn’t. Let’s talk about this here-“

“I’m getting out of here!” What the fuck is going on? His horse made a quick turn in the opposite direction.

“Shit! Uncle, get the girls out of here!” Arthur hopped onto the back of a ginger horse and chased after the mystery man. Someone in the distance yelled,

“Hey! That’s my horse!” but didn’t go after them or anything. You stood in complete bewilderment for a moment.

“What are ya doin’, son? We have to go!” Uncle snapped you back into reality.

“No, you all get out of here. I’m gonna make sure Arthur doesn’t get into any trouble.” You waved them off and jogged off to figure out where they might’ve gone.

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 fanfic #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #bill williamson #tilly jackson #karen jones #mary-beth gaskill

[yeehawsimulator]

A Long Lost Love

Arthur Morgan x Female Reader (3/?)

Part 3 of my long Red Dead Fix-It~

You do some mingling around the campsite, getting to know them better, and Arthur has a drunken confession to make

No warnings

Requests for one-shots always welcome :)

•

“Ah there she is, how’d it go?” “Got the little fuck, Arthur’s dealing with the money” “Get him to do the boring work, aha” Sean laughed, making you throw him a nasty look. “Watch it irish man”

“So what about the bank? Any good?” “Was just like you said, very well guarded at the moment, but it should be doable now that we have you back” Dutch replied. “We should wait it out until we wrapped up business here in Valentine, things can always go south so we should be able to leave immediately when it does” Hosea added.

“Well here’s a start of our great adventure into riches” Arthur’s voice sounded as he walked up to the table, smacking the fifty dollars down in front of Dutch. “Seems like we might be able to go to Tahiti after all”

“You guys up for a round of poker?” Charles asked, everyone but you and John agreeing and leaving the table.

“So, Abigail and Jack, a lot has happened since I was gone hm?” “Sure has, he’s a great kid but god, Abigail is going to end up killing me over the fact that I don’t spend enough time with him. She’s been saying Arthur’s been more of a father to the boy than I’ve ever been, and goddamn her for being right” “It ain’t a competition John, you’re his dad, no one else. I can already tell how much Jack loves ya by the way he looks at you, you just can’t see it yourself because you listen to Abigail too much. Arthur taking him fishing every once in a while doesn’t make him any better than you” You told him, making John sigh at the truth of your words. “Thanks Y/N, I ah, I needed to hear that”

“Shall we head back to camp? Wanna do some catching up with you, and those boys aren’t planning on leaving anytime soon” Dutch spoke as he walked over to you, John standing up as well. “Yeah sounds good, I’ll catch up with you outside” You replied, John and Dutching heading to their horses.

“Hey Arthur!” “Oh you’re leavin’? Let me-“ “No it’s fine, stay, I’m going back with Dutch. Just don’t dare wake me up when you get back” You laughed before waving him off, pushing open the doors and getting up on your horse.

“John already went ahead” “I feel bad for him, he almost sounds like Arthur, the way he’s talking down about himself” You spoke as you rode out of town. “Abigail’s giving everyone a hard time at camp, but she’s even worse to John. Yet those two couldn’t live without each other.” Dutch told you, making you chuckle as you shook your head.

“So what about you and Arthur? Was a nasty situation he left you in” “What we had is long in the past Dutch, I ain’t sure I can even forgive him for what he did, even though I understand why he did it” “He never told me you lived on that farm, Hosea and I would’ve visited you as soon as we could” “I know” You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you readjusted yourself on the saddle.

“But the gang, holy hell what a difference to when it was just the five of us doing some small jobs” “Yeah, we’ve come quite a long way. Seems like I inspire some faith into folk after all” “You already were good in that” You laughed as you got off your horse, hitching it before wishing Dutch a goodnight, heading off to speak with the girls.

“Oh there she is, the lady of the night” Tilly laughed as you joined them at their caravan. “Please don’t take anything they’ve said of me serious, you know how dramatic Dutch can be” You told them. “So how did y’all get joined up with the gang? Dutch never was one to put women in danger” You continued, listening to the stories all of them had to tell. “Hey, could we- could we talk alone for a moment? Want to ask ya somethin’” Sadie asked, the other girls too deep in conversation with each other to notice. “Of course, c’mon”

“I didn’t dare ask Dutch about this, cause I’ve only been with ‘em for a few weeks. But could I join you when you ride out sometime? Working here just ain’t for me.” “I.. I don’t know Sadie, Dutch only allows it because I’m as good with guns as any of ‘em” “Trust me I can handle myself, my husband and I always rode together until.. until those goddamn O’driscolls murdered him”

You sighed as you averted your eyes from Sadie, shaking your head before agreeing. “Okay then, sure. I don’t see why not. I’m going to have to tell Dutch though, don’t want him kicking my ass for taking you with me.” “Thank you Y/N” “Javier and I were planning to rob a stagecoach tomorrow, some guy in Valentine apparently tracks ‘em. You can come along if you want?” “Yes! Yes, I’d love to” Sadie told you, the two of you wishing each other goodnight as you walked over to Dutch and Molly’s tent.

“Dutch you up?” “What is it?” “Sadie asked to ride with me and Javier tomorrow, woman seems to be able to handle herself quite well so I’m taking her with me” “She was already complaining about being bored at camp. But sure, just don’t come to me if she gets herself shot” “Always the optimist mister van der Linde” You laughed before walking back to Arthur’s tent.

“Oh shut your mouth Lenny!” Arthur’s loud voice sounded, making you jolt upright with a sigh, hearing other people complaining about the noise the men were making when they came back to camp.

You pushed herself off your bed, walking over to the commotion to see Arthur stumble drunkenly with his arm wrapped around Javier’s shoulder. “I’ll take him from you Javier, thanks for bringing him back safe” “It’s no bother Y/N, good luck with trying to sleep tonight” Javier laughed before walking to his own tent.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed” You sighed under Arthur’s weight now leaning on you. “Do you-, Do you know how beautiful you are? God, I love you” Arthur slurred as you carried him to his tent, making you sigh at his drunken words. “How drunk are you? Jesus”

“Whaddaya mean? Not at all..” He mumbled as he pulled you against him, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist. “Arthur..” “I’m so sorry, I-I never.. never should’ve left ya”

You let out another sigh as you wrapped your arms around his neck, Arthur burying his face into your shoulder. “You either will forget about everything you said tomorrow or regret it immensely, I’d just stop talking if I were you” “I know, I know.. I mean it though”

Arthur let go of you but held his hands on your arms, leaning down to press a kiss on your cheek before sitting down on his bed. You wanted to help him take his jacket off but he had already fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. You chuckled as soft snores started to leave him, running your fingers through his hair, “Goodnight”

#arthur morgan #fanfic #fanfiction #rdr #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #romance #slow burn #red dead redemption #writing #fix it #dutch van der linde #javier esquella #sadie adler #sean macguire #hosea matthews #abigail roberts #mary beth gaskill #tilly jackson #charles smith #micah bell #angst #fluff #arthur morgan x you #arthur x reader #arthur morgan x reader #john marston

[beaverhollow]

Is it alright if I ask your headcanons about what the Gang thought of Kieran around the start of chapter 4, or possibly some scenarios featuring the gang warming up to him?

I did the headcanons for the entire gang and their opinions on Kieran and I also wrote a short scenario so I hope this is fine!

Also, I’m only on Chapter 3 but I sort of know what’s going on in Chapter 4 so it’ll be a mix of Chapter 3 and 4. I’m also going to assume he’s doing well so no spoilers but you can interpret these in any way you like. :)

Keep reading under the cut:

Arthur: Enjoys teasing him and frightening him out of his poor wits (😭 my poor muffin) but he doesn’t really mind him. He did save his life and he’s very grateful but since Kieran is rather distant he doesn’t have to worry too much.

Hosea: Will put him in his place if he does something wrong/badly but other than that he’s cautious but accepting.

Dutch: He’s wary of him but he did agree to him joining so he is somewhat acceptant of his position within the gang. He hasn’t proved to be distrustful yet so he doesn’t really mind.

John: He has other things to deal with right now so he doesn’t really care much about Kieran but does appreciate his presence and helpfulness.

Javier: Sometimes he’ll say threatening things in Spanish to him to scare him a bit but other than that, he enjoys his enthusiasm for fishing and the two have gone once or twice together. It’s one of the only times Kieran comes out of his shell a bit.

Bill: He was violent and aggressive to him at first but he’s relented a bit since Hosea has chastised him a few times. The two don’t really talk and Kieran avoids him at all costs.

Micah: He wasn’t present when Kieran arrived but he’s made it his task to torture the poor guy. Unlike Bill, he hasn’t stopped and Kieran actually really fears him. Arthur used to just let him be hurt by Micah but now he steps in and stops things from getting too serious.

Uncle: He often jokes about Kieran’s forecoming death (by one of the gang members) but relates because he feels like an outcast sometimes as well.

Pearson: Often asks him to carry a huge piece of meat around forgetting he’s not built like Arthur which often results in him tumbling to the ground. Enjoys his presence for the most part.

Lenny: Talks to him a bit but not that much. He thinks he’s alright but shy.

Charles: Offered to take him hunting once when most of the gang was out and about but Kieran was so intimidated he refused. Appreciates his calmness.

Jack: Kieran is often awkward around Jack but the latter always gets extremely excited when he sees Kieran around the horses so he ends up relenting and teaching him all he knows about the species. Jack drew him a picture of a horse once and Kieran treasures it because he knows he’ll never have children since his clock is ticking; it’ll be either the O’Driscolls or Dutch’s gang.

Sean: He might see him as a bit of competition since he’s obviously sweet on Mary-Beth and Sean is afraid Karen might get interested. He’ll threaten him a lot and Arthur always has to come around and put him in his place.

Mary-Beth: She really appreciates his company and she likes to read stories to him but she hasn’t really asked herself how she feels about him. She’s vaguely noticed his feelings toward her but hasn’t really thought too much of it. Kieran probably spends most of his time with Mary-Beth.

Karen: She doesn’t really care about him because she rarely sees him but she does make an effort to be slightly interested since she does know that there’s something going on between him and Mary-Beth.

Abigail: She appreciates the fact that he spends time with Jack and teaches him new things. He’s grown on her.

Molly, Tilly, Susan, Trelawny, Reverand Swanson, Strauss and Sadie: They don’t hate him nor do they love him. They’re sort of neutral. He’s grown on them since the first day and Sadie understands his shyness to a certain extent because she’s one of the newest additions to the gang as well.

Here’s the scenario:

‘They’re all gruff and rough on the outside but they won’t kill you… well… not unless you do somethin’ real bad,’ Mary-Beth teased as she took a sip of her soup.

Kieran couldn’t help but let out an audiable gulp as he looked around himself hesitantly. ‘I ain’t done nothin’ wrong though!’ he exclaimed, feeling the need to defend himself

‘Oh really?’ muttered a voice from behind him. Kieran turned around slowly to find himself face to chest with a sceptical-looking Arthur. He was standing over him and had his arms crossed - the poor ex-O’Driscoll now feared for his life.

He started to get up in hopes that he’d be able to make a quick getaway when Arthur pushed him back down. ‘Not yet, partner.’ He grabbed a cigarette and lit it before taking a seat between Mary-Beth and his victim. ‘We need to talk about your recent contact with Colm,’ Arthur stated calmly.

Panic flashed across Kieran’s eyes as he stared at Mary-Beth in the hope that she would defend him. ‘I ain’t done no such thing,’ he argued.

‘Dutch told me Colm paid him a visit the other day, how did he find this camp?’ Arthur continued as Mary-Beth watched on at the entertainment.

Kieran shook his head and his panic was just getting worse and worse. ‘That wasn’t me!’

‘D’you know what we do to traitors?’ The intimidating cowboy asked as he took a puff from his cigarette.

‘We skin ‘em alive.’ Kieran looked over at Mary-Beth as she uttered those words and his eyes went wide; he was close to blacking out.

Before her could do or say anything, Mary-Beth burst out laughing and Arthur couldn’t suppress a smirk. ‘I’m just jokin’ with ya, I now trust you wouldn’t do that?’ Arthur asked before standing up and leaving the table.

Kieran stuttered as he couldn’t find the right words but Mary-Beth spoke before he could continue struggling:-

‘You’re growin’ on him,’ she remarked and Kieran wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not. He nodded cautiously before grabbing his soup and finishing it off.

Was this the start of a new beginning? Who knew, but Kieran was at least sure that this new gang couldn’t be worse than the last one.

I apologise for my long texts but I just love writing and maybe if I eventually got more requests or run out of time I’ll make them shorter but for now I can spend time on these. I also hope the scenario was good because it’s my first time writing these characters so I hope I’ve done it well. :)

#RDR #RDR2 #Red Dead Redemption 2 #Ask #Arthur Morgan #Hosea Mathews #Dutch van der Linde #John Marston #Javier Escuella #Bill Williamson #Micah Bell #Uncle #Simon Pearson #Lemny Summers #Charles Smith #Jack Marston #Sean Macguire #Mary-Beth Gaskill #Molly O’Shea #Tilly Roberts #Susan Grimshaw #Karen Jones #Abigail Roberts #Sadie Adler #Kieran Duffy #Red Dead Redemption

[hysterialevi]

When the Devil Cries pt. 17

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

From Arthur’s POV

A COUPLE HOURS LATER

SHADY BELLE

Practically leaning my entire body against Eddie due to fatigue, the boy hurriedly rode through the thick woods surrounding Shady Belle as we approached the abandoned mansion, instantly catching the attention of the guards.

Things seemed peaceful enough ‘round here, and it didn’t look like Atticus had reached the camp yet which was a huge relief considerin’ the shit Eddie and I just went through with the O’Driscolls. Though, that only made me wonder whether it was because they didn’t know our location, or because they was simply bidin’ their time. I supposed we would see soon enough.

Slowin’ down to a halt, Eddie transitioned into a steady trot as we got closer to the camp’s entrance, causin’ someone to block our path. It was John.

“Who goes there?” He called out, readying his rifle.

“Relax, Marston!” I replied, my voice a lot more hoarse than normal. “It’s me, Arthur.” I gestured to Eddie. “Don’t worry ‘bout him. He’s a friend. He means no harm.”

John took a better look at me, his eyes widening in concern once he noticed my wounds.

“Jesus...!” He exclaimed. “The hell happened to you out there, Arthur?”

“I’ll explain later...” I slurred out, struggling to keep myself upright. “Right now, I just need to speak with Dutch. Y’know where he is?”

Marston pointed to the mansion. “I think he’s in there with Hosea. He’ll wanna see you. You’ve been gone for quite a while. But...what about your friend?”

I held back a pained groan. “Like I said...he can be trusted. He won’t breathe a word about this place to no one. I wouldn’t have brought him here if I thought otherwise.”

He still appeared somewhat hesitant, but allowed him inside anyway. “Well...if you’re sure. Just keep an eye on him. Folk ain’t gonna be happy you brought a stranger to us.”

I nodded, holding onto Eddie as he took us into the camp. “I know...I know.”

Proceeding through the barricades, the pianist hitched his horse just outside the entrance and helped me down as the gang slowly gathered around us, all of ‘em curious to see what was goin’ on while Eddie guided me to the mansion.

From all different directions, I could hear the other members murmurin’ to each other in both relief and alarm as they speculated about the situation, skeptical to trust the new face I had brought along with me.

“...Is that Arthur?” Mary-Beth asked, pokin’ her head above Charles’ shoulder. “Has he come back?”

“Looks like it,” the man replied in a stoic tone. “He’s not alone though.”

Micah let out an annoyed yet somehow amused scoff, casually sharpening his knife. “Pfft. Leave it to Morgan to make a grand entrance like this.” He raised his voice slightly. “Welcome home, Arthur! I’m sure things’ll be just fine now that you’re here.”

I threw a glare at him, doin’ my best to keep up with Eddie’s pace. “Shut your mouth, Micah.”

He grinned. “A gentleman as always, my brother.”

Sadie jumped in, both her and Pearson’s eyes nailed onto me as the pianist was forced to come to a stop with how many people was surrounding us.

“Arthur!” She greeted, her brow furrowed in anxiety. “Goddamn, what happened to you? Was it them Pinkertons?”

I shook my head, growing weaker by the second. “...No.”

A sense of anger ignited her already wild eyes. “Well, whoever it was, they’re gonna have hell to pay.” Sadie turned to Pearson. “Don’t just stand there! Get him somethin’ to eat, for God’s sake. The man looks dead!”

The chef complied, briefly acknowledging me before taking his leave. “Right, of course. Mister Morgan.”

“Pearson.” I said back.

Bill and Javier hopped in the minute Pearson left, bombarding me with even more questions.

“Well, you’ve seen better days, amigo.” The latter remarked.

I let out a frail chuckle. “I’ve also seen worse.”

“Who even did this to you?” Bill asked.

“And more importantly, did they follow you?” Javier added.

Again, I shook my head. “No. I don’t think so. We didn’t see anybody on our trail.”

“Yeah,” Bill commented grumpily, “people like to make sure you don’t see them when they’re followin’ you, Arthur.”

I sighed. “I don’t have time for this, Williamson. I just need to speak with Dutch.”

A voice of pragmatism joined the conversation, breaking up all the commotion.

“Well, here I am.”

Pushing his way through the crowd with Hosea in tow, Dutch’s presence alone instantly caused the entire gang to fall silent as the two of them walked up to me, immediately recognizing the boy standing by my side.

Both of them looked distressed upon seeing my injuries -- Hosea especially -- but in Dutch’s face, I could also see a hint of anger and uncertainty. It was pretty damned obvious he didn’t approve of my bringin’ Eddie into the camp, and I didn’t blame him one bit for it.

I mean, here I was, lookin’ like a corpse come back to life with God-knows-what chasing me, and a man who was a stranger to most of the people in the camp. They didn’t know a damned thing about him, or the men who wanted him dead, and yet, I had allowed this boy to enter the heart of our operations. Not only that, but I had also possibly led Atticus and gang here, too.

Goddamn, I really was a fool. But I was a fool with no other choices.

Taking a step towards me, Dutch examined my burned and cut body, his brown eyes flicking up and down.

“Oh, my boy,” he said, “my dear boy...what happened to you? And why’ve you brought your friend here?”

“He saved me, Dutch,” I answered, my words almost incoherent at this point. “...He saved my life.”

The man glanced at Eddie. “Is that true?”

Eddie nodded, adjusting my arm around his shoulder as I hung like a noose. “Arthur was kidnapped,” he explained. “By the O’Driscolls. They were holding him in their camp. I got him out though.”

Dutch cursed. “Colm’s involved in this? Shit. I shoulda known.”

Hosea gave the boy a sincere expression of gratitude. “Well, you certainly have our thanks, young man. It was brave of you to do that.”

“Indeed,” Dutch agreed, “but I hope you don’t mind, Arthur, I’m still gonna have someone keep an eye on your friend here.” He turned to a random member. “Micah?”

I mentally groaned to myself. Out of all people...

“Sure thing,” Micah said, moseying on up to the boy. “Don’t you worry, Arthur. I’ll take good care of him.”

I glowered at the sleazy man. “Oh, I’m sure you will.”

Dutch promptly took Eddie’s place and allowed me to lean on him, sensing the growing tension between me and Micah.

“In the meantime...” he continued, “let’s you and I head inside, and you explain what all this is about.” He glanced at his friend. “Hosea? Come with us, would you?”

The older man rushed over. “Of course.”

Helpin’ me inside the mansion, Dutch and Hosea guided me through the front doors while the rest of the gang stayed behind, all of ‘em watching with a newfound curiosity.

I didn’t much like the idea of leavin’ Eddie alone in a camp full of outlaws -- especially not when Micah was the one guardin’ him -- but I knew the kid could handle himself, and I trusted most of the people here to keep things civil. I only prayed I was right.

After all, folk here had been stressed recently, and Lord only knew what they went through while I was away. I doubted it would take much more to push ‘em over the edge, and the last person I wanted them to be takin’ out their anger on was Eddie.

Jesus. I really hoped I did the right thing, bringing him here. He was a fish outta water among us criminals, and if somethin’ were to go south, Eddie didn’t exactly have any other places to hide. This was his only viable option at the moment, and Atticus already had his men crawlin’ all over the wilds. If he went back out there, he would get killed.

I supposed our only choice now was making things work...no matter how hard it would be.

Assisting me to the closest couch, Dutch plopped me down on the cushioned piece of furniture as I sighed in relief, finally able to relax a little ever since escapin’ from Colm’s camp.

After endurin’ the kidnapping, the beating, the shooting, and the longest goddamned ride of my life...honestly, I could’ve fallen asleep standing up. But I had to discuss things with Dutch and Hosea first, and hopefully, if I got lucky, convince him to let Eddie stay.

Dutch examined my broken body, the more vengeful side of him comin’ out as he looked to me for answers.

“Now...you mind tellin’ me just what the hell is going on? How did Colm find you?”

I clutched my wound, tryin’ to keep myself from keeling over. “He weren’t alone. Colm’s teamed up with another gang, Dutch. The same gang that wants Eddie dead. They was plannin’ to use me as bait to lure him in.”

Dutch glanced outside. “Eddie. That’s the boy you brought with you?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Eddie Ryan. You met him briefly at that gala a while ago. The people who sent them assassins after him -- they’re finally here. And they’re doin’ everything within their power to kill him.”

Hosea raised another question. “And who are ‘they,’ exactly?”

I coughed a few times, suddenly feelin’ extremely parched. “...Atticus Rose. That’s the gang’s leader.”

A sense of familiarity twinkled in the old man’s eyes. “Atticus Rose?”

I perked my head up. “You know him?”

“Not personally,” Hosea replied, “but back in the days of the Wild West, stories about him used to circulate, especially around New Austin. They say he’s an extremely skilled gunslinger. Was raised by the very same outlaws that killed his parents. And once he was old enough, Atticus killed the ones responsible in return. Formed the survivors into his own gang. Though...like I mentioned before, these are just stories. They’re probably more mythical than factual. Most-likely nothing more than tales created by outlaws to scare civilization from spreading to the west.”

I leaned against the back of the couch. “Well, I can assure you: he’s very real. And he wants Eddie dead.”

Dutch gave me a stern glare, gesturing to the mansion around us.

“...And so you bring the boy into our home? Into our sanctuary...?! Even knowing who’s after him?”

A pang of guilt hit me. “I know, Dutch. I know. It’s dangerous, and it’s risky...and I’m sorry for doin’ it...but that boy ain’t got nowhere else to go. They’ve surrounded his house, and they’re searchin’ all over the wilderness for any signs of him. Eddie may be tougher than he looks, but even he can’t go against that many men. He’ll be killed out there.”

Dutch sighed in frustration, unconvinced. “Well, like I said before, Arthur, we can’t afford taking a risk like this! We don’t have the time or the resources!”

“Eddie could be of use to us, Dutch,” I assured. “He’s a good shot, and he’s lived in Saint Denis for years now. He knows that city better than any of us combined. We’ll need that knowledge if we’re still plannin’ to hit that bank. And most importantly...Eddie’s loyal. He’s got no reason to turn his back on us, and he trusts me. We’re the only option he has left. He won’t give us away.”

Dutch’s mind still wasn’t swayed.

“I’m sorry, Arthur, but we got our own enemies. Our own battles. Our own problems! And that boy ain’t one of them!”

Hosea joined in, voicing his own opinion.

“He is now.”

Dutch suddenly cocked his head towards him, clearly upset about the situation.

“Hosea, we can’t--”

“--You would’ve done the same for Annabelle!” The older man fired back, almost looking disappointed in his brother. “And I would’ve done the same for Bessie. Arthur’s right. This is a dangerous move, and it is risky...but that don’t matter. People like Eddie are the reason we started this gang, Dutch. You’ve said it yourself: we shoot fellers as need shooting, save fellers as need saving, and feed ‘em as need feeding. We aren’t perfect, but we can protect the people we love. ...I say the boy stays.”

Making his position clear, Hosea went quiet after that and took a moment to calm himself, causin’ Dutch to glance back and forth between the two of us as he made a decision, obviously torn by the dilemma.

He didn’t look as eager to take Eddie in as he did when we sheltered Mac, or Jenny, or even Sadie, but I could tell some part o’ him still cared, and he knew how much that kid meant to me.

At the same time though, none of us could ignore the threat of the Pinkertons closin’ in on us more and more with every passing day. Agent Milton had already found us twice, and there was no tellin’ how many more of them was watching our every move.

Having to worry about them as well as Atticus and his gang...it was gonna stretch us thin. It was gonna make the tensions in camp escalate even higher, and there was also the fact that I didn’t know how the rest of the gang would accept Eddie. If they’d accept him at all.

It was a choice that was gonna end up dividing us one way or another, but all I wanted was to keep the boy safe. That was it.

Rubbing his chin in thought, Dutch turned back to me and took a breath, his eyes narrowed in skepticism as he pondered the decision.

“...You really care about this boy?” He asked. I gave him a sincere look.

“I do.”

“And you think he’s worth it?”

Again, my answer was the same.

“...I do.”

Dutch took the response to heart, appearing to have finally changed his mind as he peered through the mansion’s windows, examining Eddie for a second before announcing his conclusion.

It was pretty evident he didn’t think much of the boy, and he had a hard time seein’ the same things Hosea and I saw in him, but deep down, I could tell he was still hurting from losin’ Annabelle. He understood more than anyone how hard it was to lose a loved one, and despite how much we may have argued recently, Dutch didn’t want the same thing to happen a third time.

He let out a reluctant sigh, seemingly willing to give Eddie a chance at least.

“...Very well,” he agreed. “If both of you think this man has a place here...then I suppose we can keep him around for a while. Least until he sorts things out.”

I looked up at him with a hopeful gaze. “So you’re lettin’ him stay?”

Dutch nodded, resting his hands on his hips. “Yes. Mister Ryan...is now part of the gang.”

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

[unofferable-fic]

The Flower & The Serpent (Arthur Morgan x OFC)

Chapter 5 - To Go For a Drink is One Thing

Summary: In the early 1890s, the Van der Linde Gang were truly at their finest. Experts at stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, they’ve made a name for themselves across the West. Two of their newest recruits, a pair of rebellious Irish siblings with an unknown past, slowly find their footing and settle into their new lives as outlaws. And yet, as they grow older, threats from all sides begin to appear. A strained relationship with Colm O'Driscoll spells disaster for the gang, and no matter how far they roam across America, the world continues to change around them. If they want to survive, difficult choices must be made. No one is as they seem and the impending arrival of law and order threatens to tear the siblings, and everything they hold dear, apart. Is it too late for anyone to find a happy ending?

Originally posted by lotherings-rose

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Pairing: Arthur Morgan x OFC

Warnings: Language, alcohol, violence, some fluff and drunken cowpeeps.

Word Count: 5,051

Previous Chapter    Next Chapter

Playlist: “The Railroad” — Goodnight, Texas, “Randy Dandy-Oh” — The Dreadnoughts, “Little Sadie” — Crooked Still, “Devil Do” — Holly Golightly & The Brokeoffs

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A/N: Also available on AO3. Chapter five comin’ at y’all.

Evening descended upon Madison County. With the dwindling sun setting the clear sky alight with vibrant yellows and oranges, the Van der Linde gang were already cracking open some beers and celebrating their successful venture in Winterset. After her earlier conversation with Arthur, Maebh had managed to convince Dutch to let her take her new horse out for a short trot outside camp. He seemed a little hesitant, but willingly relented when she insisted she felt much better after resting for so long. His one condition was that William go with her, and for some reason she got the feeling that her brother would have insisted anyway had Dutch not suggested it.

“I’m pretty sure she’s a Thoroughbred,” William announced as he made sure her saddle was securely strapped to the animal’s back. “If I was to take a guess anyway.”

Maebh was busy brushing the horse’s dark mane and raised a brow at her brother. “How can ye tell? Cause she’s mad tall?”

“That and the distinctive brindle coat. Plus, look at her — she’s all lean muscle for racin’. You picked yourself up a beaut.”

She grinned at the prospect of owning such a lovely animal. “Guess I finally had some luck with horses for once.”

“I guess you did.” He took a step back and pulled himself up on to Banquo. “Alright, up ye get. Let’s stretch their legs a bit.”

With slightly stiff arms, Maebh managed to climb atop the mare. Once seated comfortably, she let out a breath and rubbed the side of her neck. “Maith an cailín. Let’s get you movin’.”

As they lead their horses out of camp, William called to her over his shoulder. “You got a name for her yet?”

“Well, I was thinkin’ ’bout it, and then I realised I can’t give her a simple name like Bonnie or Biscuit because she’ll be surrounded by horses called Banquo and Dantés, so that wouldn’t fly.”

“Is that a sly dig at me?”

“It’s not sly if it’s true.”

Once they reached the outskirts of camp, they lead the horses around the outer perimeter at a slow trot. Her new mare seemed easy enough to direct and tolerated her more than Banquo ever had.

“Alright,” William admitted. “I’ll give you that. What names did you have in mind for her then?”

“I’d been thinkin’,” she began. “’Bout one of my favourite stories that ma used to tell during Samhain. You remember the Dullahan, yeah?”

William eased his horse so that he was trotting alongside his sister. He seemed amused by the suggestion. “The headless horsemen? Very clever.”

“I think it suits her. And this way, she’ll be on the same level as your two.”

“I’m kinda jealous I didn’t come up with that myself...”

Maebh chuckled and looked down at her mount. “You hear that, Dullahan? I think William wants to steal you off me. Not that I can blame him.”

After a short silence, William spoke up again. “What d’you think they’d think of us now?”

Maebh turned her head to find him watching her with a serious expression. “Who?”

“Ma and Da.”

She gripped the reigns firmly in her hands as they turned over a slight bend in the road. “I think they’d be proud of us.”

“Ye think?”

“Yeah,” she answered with certainty. “I do. Think about it — did you think we’d get this far after what happened to ’em? I don’t think most kids would’ve. We were lucky enough that we found the gang when we did.”

“What ’bout all the robbin’?” he asked thoughtfully. “I like to think that they don’t mind it.”

“I’d say as long as we don’t rob the innocent, then they’re all for it. Robbin’ the rich to give back to the poor? That’s basically like all those Robin Hood stories they used to tell us.”

“You’re in my boat so.” He smiled at the fond memories, seemingly miles away in his head. “Yeah, I think we’re right; they’d be proud of us.”

“Once we don’t lose ourselves in any of this or literally lose track of how we’re survivin’, they’ll stay proud of our choices.”

They didn’t stay out riding for long. Once they had done a few laps around the outer perimeter, the horses were lead back the way they came. They returned just before nightfall, as Dutch had asked, and went to his tent to announce her return.

“How was the ride?” Dutch asked upon their return, casually smoking a cigar with a glass of whiskey in his free hand. “Any trouble?”

“Us? Trouble?” Maebh asked, feigning innocence. “No such thing.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He stood up and pulled two beer bottles from a nearby crate and passed them on to the siblings. “How’s that new mount comin’ along?”

“She’s doin’ great,” Maebh replied, glancing over to where the horse was hitched beside their tent. “Really nice horse to ride too. I think I might actually have a name for her now.”

“Is it also somethin’ Shakespearean?”

“Nah, but it’s somethin’ Irish.”

Dutch let out a small laugh. “Well, why ain’t I surprised?”

“I’m goin’ t’call her Dullahan.”

Dutch appeared thoughtful before repeating the name himself. “Sounds like a good choice to me. Now I ain’t got a clue what it means, but I like it.”

“The Dullahan were famous horsemen from Irish mythology,” William explained between sips of beer. “Usually known for bein’ headless and ghostly. I think it suits her.”

“That it does, son. A fine choice for a fine stead. Just make sure you don’t lose your head anytime soon, Miss Maebh.”

At that moment, Mac Callander came strolling over to Dutch’s tent. He had already had a few judging by his slightly slurred speech. “We headin’ into town or what, Dutch?”

“O’course,” Dutch replied while getting to his feet. “I was waitin’ for these two to come back first.”

Maebh’s eyes lit up at the prospect. “Wait, are we finally celebratin’ the take from the bank?”

“Damn right,” Mac replied. “I’ll let the others know we’re headin’ out.”

As their companion walked away, William asked curiously. “We aren’t headin’ into Winterset itself, are we?”

“Indeed we ain’t. We’re headin’ north to De Soto instead. They got a decent enough saloon up there for such an occasion.” Dutch grinned at the siblings. “Y’all best get those horses ready again.”

De Soto, over an hour’s ride from their camp outside Winterset, was a small enough town. Only a few of them had been in and out of it in comparison to some of the other bigger places around the county. It was certainly a more practical idea to drink there instead of going back into a town they robbed mere days ago. As they arrived at the local saloon, Maebh looked on at the gang in amusement. Most of them were already half cut and singing songs as she hitched her horse next to William’s. Inside, the place was already hopping. A musician played away at the saloon piano, managing to rouse some of the more inebriated patrons into song and dance. Noisy chatter filled the room and barely any notice was taken of them as they arrived. Some of the gang including Mr Pearson, Hosea, Miss Grimshaw, and Uncle commandeered the Black Jack table while others surrounded the bar. Before Maebh could make a decision about where to go, a hand on her arm pulled her towards the bar. A slightly tipsy John Marston guided her to a small opening amongst the crowd and helped ease her to the front of the bar before standing beside her.

“It’s a tight squeeze in here,” she commented, pressed between her friend on her right and a stranger on her left. “Gettin’ drinks is gonna be a pain.”

“Whatchu drinkin’?” John asked her as he tried to count the coins in his hand with one eye closed and his tongue sticking out between his lips. “First round’s on me.”

Maebh gave him an incredulous look. “What, you dyin’ or somethin’, Marston? What’s with the generosity?”

“Guess I’m just feelin’ generous for once. That, and you nearly died a few days ago.”

“I’m only messin’,” she assured him with a gentle half hug around the shoulders even though they were already packed together like sardines as it was. “Thanks. Next one is on me.”

“I ain’t gonna refuse that.” Just then, the barman had a spare minute to take their orders.  John took it upon himself to order four beers — two each — given the slightly longer wait.

She had been about to go join her brother when John struck up a conversation. “How you feelin’?”

“Much better than how I felt a few days ago,” she admitted after having a sip of her drink. “The rest did a lot for me.”

John’s brown eyes appeared focused despite the fact he was usually a massive lightweight. “I know the feelin’. I’ve gotten in and outta plenty of scraps with my fair share of knocks. Sometimes rest will do ya a world of good, even if ya hate doin’ it.”

She chuckled slightly. “I definitely hated it. So I plan on gettin’ excessively drunk tonight to make up for lost time.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He clinked his bottle against hers and had another sup. “I intend on joinin’ you.”

“How much’ve you had to drink already?”

He shrugged. “A couple beers back at camp. Why?”

“I’m just surprised you’re not on the ground already.”

John rolled his eyes, though the small smirk on his face told her he didn’t take it to heart. Slagging him for being a lightweight was a common occurrence at that point. “You best be careful, Miss Hennigan, or I’ll drag you down there with me.”

“Always one for the dramatics—”

The arrival of William cut the conversation off. He had a whiskey in hand and a slightly sour expression as he addressed his sister. “Are you goin’ t’stay at the bar all night or come join the rest of us?”

Maebh looked at John and nodded her head towards the rest of the gang. “You comin’ to rejoin civilisation?”

“I’ll catch up. You two go ahead.”

Once more thanking him for the drinks, Maebh grabbed her beers and allowed William to usher her to a nearby table where Dutch, Arthur, and Bessie were sitting. Upon seeing the siblings, Dutch enthusiastically requested a song. The demand left no room for refusal, and when Hosea and Uncle encouraged it from their Black Jack game, William shrugged and slung an arm around Maebh’s shoulders.

He started them off with a classic their father had taught them as children. “Now we are ready to sail for the horn!”

Maebh let out a hearty laugh and joined in at the chorus lines. “Weigh hey, roll and go!”

As William took the lead, he gestured for the others to join in with whatever words they knew. It certainly wasn’t the first time they had sung this song. “Our boots and our clothes, boys, are all in the pawn!”

Bessie’s voice joined Maebh at the chorus again. “To be rollicking Randy Dandy-O!”

Soon, other members of the gang were joining in, mostly with each second line, and a sing-song had well and truly started.

“Heave a pawl, o heave away

Weigh hey, roll and go!

The anchor's on board and the cable's all stored

To be rollicking Randy Dandy-O!

Mac appeared at the table with more rounds of beers, passing pint glasses around the group.

Man the stout caps'n and heave with a will,

Weigh hey, roll an' go!

For soon we'll be drivin' her 'way up the hill.

To be rollicking Randy Dandy-O!

Heave a pawl, oh, heave away,

Weigh hey, roll and go!

The anchor's on board an' the cable's all stored,

To be rollicking Randy Dandy-O!

Soon, the glasses Mac had provided were being used to bash the table top, keeping a steady beat as William lead them in enthusiastic song.

Heave away, bullies, ye parish-rigged bums,

Weigh hey, roll and go!

Take yer hands from yer pockets and don't suck yer thumbs.

To be rollicking Randy Dandy-O!

Heave a pawl, oh, heave away,

Weigh hey, roll and go!

The anchor's on board an' the cable's all stored,

To be rollicking Randy Dandy-O!

John appeared at the tables, rousing more welcoming cheers from them. Now with everyone joining in, the chorus reached an impressive volume, flourished with intermittent cheers and whistles between lines.

We're outward bound for Vallipo Bay,

Weigh hey, roll and go!

Get crackin', me lads, it's a hell of a way.

To be rollicking Randy Dandy-O!

Heave a pawl, oh, heave away,

Weigh hey, roll and go!

The anchor's on board an' the cable's all stored,

To be rollicking Randy Dandy-O!

Heave a pawl, oh, heave away,

Weigh hey, roll and go!

The anchor's on board an' the cable's all stored,

To be rollicking Randy Dandy-O!”

The gang cheered in delight as the song came to an end. Applause were shared as people settled into conversation once more.

“You’re quite the showman, son,” Dutch complimented young William as he downed the end of his drink. “For such a reserved and hardened criminal.”

“It takes one to know one, right?” William shot back in jest, offering his bottle up in a gesture of cheers.

Arthur chuckled. “He’s got ya there, Dutch.”

Their leader found the response amusing. “That he does! C’mon, lemme buy you another drink.”

As the pair left for more alcohol, Hosea joined Maebh, Arthur, and Bessie at the table.

“It’s far too easy to lose money on that game,” he announced as he took a seat beside his wife. “Far too easy.”

“Don’t tell me you bust out already, old man?” Arthur asked incredulously.

“No, I just have enough sense to know when to call it a day.”

“That’s certainly debatable,” Bessie argues with a wry grin. “I can remember you emptying your wallet on more than one occasion.”

“My beautiful wife defendin’ my honour as always!”

“At least we’ve got some extra cash to spend on drinks and games this time,” Maebh added with a shrug and raised her glass. “To us, for actually gettin’ away with it despite a bit of a mess.”

The four of them clinked their drinks together, a small chorus of positive responses raising above the noise. As she took a sip of her drink, she noticed Arthur sitting with a slightly sour expression at the mention of the robbery. He cleared his throat suddenly. “I gotta ask, Hosea, what happened back in the bank?”

Hosea’s brow raised slightly. “What d’you mean?”

“While we was grabbin’ the money,” he elaborated. “We come back and suddenly a lawman is dead. That ain’t exactly like us.”

“I thought Dutch said he had to do it?” Maebh said. “That our cover would’ve been blown otherwise?”

“That’s what he says.” Though Hosea was merely repeating her words, there was something in his tone that left her unsettled. “I thought there might have been another way to go about things, that killin’ should’ve been a last resort. And maybe he panicked when he saw that man sniffin’ about. He says he saw us and was runnin’ for backup. Hell, I didn’t see any of it until I heard Dutch smashin’ the window and unloading a bullet into him. Regardless of whether he shot him or not, we were in trouble the second that lawman saw what was goin’ on. About the only good thing was that he couldn’t tell his friends how many of us were involved, which helped us escape afterwards.”

Bessie chose that moment to add her own thoughts. “If he was goin’ for backup, then surely it was a case of bein’ either you or him?”  

“I don’t ever agree with it unless it’s either you or the guy pointin’ the gun in your face, but trust in Dutch. I mean hell, he got us outta there alive.”

Maebh nodded her head towards Reverend Swanson, who sat nearby gulping down a whiskey. “With a little help from God.”

“I guess we also had some luck too.”

“Ain’t nothin’ to worry ’bout,” Arthur said rather dismissively. “It was a once off.”

“He ain’t steered us wrong yet,” Bessie added. “As long as we don’t start killin’ willy-nilly, we’ll be fine.”

“As long as that’s how things remain then I’m fine with it,” Hosea agreed. “No unnecessary killin’ or robbin’; we ain’t petty criminals. D’you remember what Dutch said to you when you were younger, Arthur? When you stole from that poor man’s house?”

Arthur nodded, lit himself a cigarette and then offered the box to his friends. “If we go ’round robbin’ and killin’ aimlessly, then we’re no better than the government that’s corruptin’ this land. We help people.”

“What does he say?” Maebh asked with a small laugh as she accepted a cigarette for herself. “We gotta have faith, right?”

Hosea nodded. “Exactly. Keep the faith in him and you’ll be fine. He’s a great man; one I’m proud to stand alongside.”

“You’s don’t fancy tryin’ to get out of it all again, then? I remember you told me that you tried before.”

“Ain’t no gettin’ out,” Bessie answered and placed her hand on her husband’s. “But I go where he goes. I agreed to a lot of things when I married him, and stickin’ by him through thick and thin is part of it.”

Her words had Maebh feeling curious. Her thoughts wandered to her parents and their attempted escape from a similar lifestyle. “You really think there’s no gettin’ out?”

“When you’ve been in it as long as we have, no. These old men don’t know any better. Can you see Dutch becomin’ a farmer one day? Maybe a ranch worker? Ain’t no chance.”

The notion was amusing to her, and she certainly agreed that it wasn’t a very likely future for the gang. She threw a glance in Dutch’s direction, seeing him speaking intently with William at the bar. His hand lay reassuringly on the younger man’s shoulder. Whatever they were talking about, it seemed intense.

The next time Maebh drunkenly waddled her way to the bar, she saw Marston and Davey talking to some working women. John, ever the prolific ladies man, already had his arm wrapped around one of them. Originally she had gone in search of him to pay him back with a drink, but decided to leave them to their escapades. She chuckled at the sight while asking the barman for some more beers.

“I know an Irish accent when I hear one,” a voice called from her right and she turned her head to see a man standing next to her. He nodded to her from beneath his worn flat cap. “Howiya, Miss.”

“Do I know you?” she asked as she handed the barman his money.

“No, but hopefully I’ll get to know you.” Though she didn’t know him, the stranger spoke in a distinctive Northern Irish accent.

“Oh! You’re a Paddy too.”

“Ah, see? Ye do know me, Miss…?”

“I don’t give my name out to strangers, Mister,” she replied with a wary smile. “Even if they come from Éire too.”

The man grinned at her. “Well how ’bout you let me get to know you better so I’m not considered a stranger. My name’s Padraig.”

At that moment, the barman set down her order on the counter and Maebh noticed Arthur take up a spot on her left at the bar. She knew what he was doing — usually if she or any of the other ladies were being bothered by pushy lads, Mr Morgan was more than happy to stand somewhere nearby just in case they fancied a hand in telling them to clear off. She heard him make an order, but pretended that she didn’t know him.

She instead replied to the Irishman. “Well, aren’t you forward, Padraig.”

“I am when I know what I want, Miss, so how much will it cost me to get yer name?”

Her brow piqued, and she could feel Arthur tense slightly behind her. “Cost?”

“Yeah. I don’t mind spendin’ a pretty penny on you. I’d say you’re up for anythin’ by the look of ye.”

A smile slowly tugged at Maebh’s lips. The man clearly mistook that for a good sign. He should have known better.

In as sultry a movement she could muster, Maebh slide up the side of the bar to stand a little closer to the clueless chap.

“Well, Padraig,” she began, and lightly traced his clean-shaven jawline. “You really know how to make a lady blush.”

“You aren’t no lady,” he replied with a smirk, probably thinking he was about to get lucky. “I can spot women whorin’ a mile off. Told you I knew ye.”

“I uh, think you might be right. I certainly amen’t no lady.”

In an instant, her demeanour changed. Padraig hardly had time to react before she grabbed him round the back of the head and slammed him face-first into the countertop. The crunch and cry that came from him grabbed the attention of those nearaby, while some were distracted by the booming music and rabble filling the bar. The barman let out a shocked profanity as Maebh stood over the whimpering stranger. “How ’bout you clear out of here before you insult someone else with your rude assumptions, ye bleedin’ gobshite.”

Padraig, clutching his blood-stained nose, glared up at her in anger. “You mad bitch—!”

“You heard the lady, boy!” Arthur growled, choosing that moment to take his place by her side and send the man a look that could kill. “Get the hell outta here!”

Now everyone in the saloon had noticed the ruckus, setting down their drinks to see what might happen next. Dutch got up from his seat at the table, silently backing up his gang by placing a hand on his holstered pistol. William stood too, entirely ready to defend them if needs be. A man she presumed to be a friend of Padraig hurried to his side and helped to haul him to his unsteady feet.

“Hey!” the barman exclaimed as he pointed a finger at the pair. “I thought I told you lot to stay outta my establishment!”

“Leave it, right,” Padraig’s companion urged him. “Let’s go!”

“I’ll get you back for that,” the injured man sneered as he allowed himself to be dragged out of the saloon. “Mark my words!”

“Proddy bastard!” Maebh called after him with a glare.

As the two men left the building, slowly but surely the music began to play again and people returned to their earlier conversations. It was right back to business.

“You okay?” Arthur asked her with a small smile on his.

“I’m fine,” she replied before looking back at him. “What’re you smilin’ at?”

“Just replayin’ how you broke that bastard’s nose in my head. I found it quite amusin’.”

Knowing he was getting a kick out of the confrontation, Maebh couldn’t help but smile too. “He definitely deserved it, right?”

“O’course. He needs to learn when to shut his damn mouth.”

“Right then, I don’t feel as bad about it now.”

“But I gotta ask… What the hell is a proddy?”

From his spot behind the counter, the barman cleared his throat to gain their attention. “No more fights in my saloon, please. I don’t want no more trouble in here effecting my business.”

“I can assure you, Mister,” Arthur began, holding up his hands. “We won’t bring no more trouble ’round. That feller was insinuatin’ some nasty things to the lady.”

“It won’t happen again,” she added, seeing the man frowning at them from beneath his bushy beard. “We can promise you that.”

“Good, I appreciate that. Now go make sure your friends behave.”

On that note, Marston and Davey appeared before her. They wore visible frowns, and the former was the first to express his displeasure. “Our company up and left thanks to your brawlin’.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and clasped his belt buckle in his hands. “You mean your expensive company? I doubt you’re missin’ much.”

“They was company no less, Morgan.”

“That they was,” John grumbled, looking rather unamused. “Thanks for the damn help, Hennigan. It’s not like I was tryin’ to get my frustrations out or anythin’.”

“A few more nights of your hand won’t kill ye,” she replied dismissively. “And knowin’ you, you’ll find more willing women in the next town over.”

Despite his threats, Padraig and his friend didn’t return to the saloon that night. With a brawl avoided, Dutch’s boys continued their celebrations and drank into the early hours of the morning. When they were finally forced to leave, they slowly stumbled out into De Soto’s streets and regrouped. Somehow, Maebh and John ended up in a harmless scuffle, which is turn led to William giving her a jockeyback, while Arthur did the same with John. They ended up drunkenly wrestling in these positions, with the loser being the first one to fall from their partner’s back. The whole thing had been hilarious in their drunken stupor, and it was only broken up when Hosea reluctantly got involved and said they needed to return to camp. While John tried to get down without falling flat on his face, William let Maebh stay where she was, and opted to carry her to her horse. In the haze of clambering on to Dullahan’s saddle, she caught a glance of Dutch speaking to a woman she didn’t recognise. She wasn’t entirely surprised to see him placing a kiss on her knuckles — he and Miss Grimshaw had called it quits last year, and though they had remained on good terms, Dutch’s didn’t stop his womanising ways. Though it was difficult for her eyes to focus, she seemed to be a pretty blonde, closer in age to Arthur than herself. She watched as Dutch saw her off and she rejoined the small group with whom she had come. Though unusual to see women in saloons at that time of night, she wasn’t surprised that Dutch had seen an opportunity to talk to a beautiful lady and subsequently taken it.

The ride back to camp was filled with singing and people nearly falling off their horses on to the dusty road below. Thankfully there were no injuries and everyone made it back in mostly one piece. On the outskirts of camp, people were either rearing for more alcohol, or already half passed out and ready for bed. Maebh, however, was dying for the loo.

“Anyone else need to take a leak?” she asked the group as she brought Dullahan to a stop. “I’m burstin’.”

“I do,” Karen replied in a slur and nearly stumbled off her horse. “Gotta make room for more beers.”

John’s face wore a drunken smirk. “I think I’ll join you ladies in the bushes.”

The statement earned him a smack around the back of the head from William, who glared at him from atop Banquo. “Ye will in your hole. Get t’fuck into camp, you.”

“Little Johnny Marston!” Karen teased him as he rubbed the back of his sore head. “Ever the ladies man!”

Maebh handed William her horse’s reigns while Mac grabbed Karen’s and the two stumbled off into the nearby bushes. Together they squatted amongst the shrubbery, and Maebh began to regret her decision to wear trousers instead of a skirt.

Around them, the small thicket was alive with whatever nocturnal animals made this spot their home. Above them, owls hooted and crickets sang their own tunes in response. The wind had died down, causing the leaves to lightly rustle every now and then. In the moonlight, it was difficult for either of them to see very far ahead. Even still, the night was calm and the atmosphere relaxing.

“I think John might’ve been comin’ on to us,” Karen pondered casually as they were left alone. “That boy is one messy drunk.”

Maebh shrugged as she finally relieved some pressure on her bladder. “He doesn’t mean anythin’ by it. I’m pretty sure he’s just desperate for his hole after I ruined his chances with yer wan.”

“I saw that! Jeesh, how’re you after breakin’ that fellers nose?”

“I’m grand. He was bein’ a right prick, if I’m honest.”

“I heard. Arthur told me he deserved it for bein’ a little shit. You know we always have each other’s backs in those nasty situations.”

“Thankin’ you. And if Arthur says that, then you know it’s bad—”

Maebh’s reply was cut short. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” she asked as she pulled her trousers back up. “All I can hear is you pissin’.”

“I thought I heard a twig snappin’,” Karen replied as she too stood up. “I’m sorry — the beers are gettin’ to me. I had way too many…”

“I’m sure it was just a racoon or somethin’.”

“Or maybe it was John comin’ back to try his luck?”

Maebh let out a barking laugh at the suggestion and slowly began to make her way back to camp in Karen’s company. “If that’s the case then I’m makin’ a run for it now!”

“Ugh, I ain’t able to run,” the blonde grumbled and linked her arm around her friend’s. “You can’t leave me out here while I’m drunk and sleepy.”

“I think we best get ourselves to our bedrolls.”

The women went back to camp with empty bladders and full intentions on going to sleep. But, Karen’s resilience broke as soon as Uncle offered her another beer, and suddenly Maebh was being dragged back into the throng, a whiskey finding its way into her hand. Yes, she had definitely planned on retiring to her tent and trying to sleep off the copious amounts of alcohol she had consumed, but her gang mates were bursting into song and dance yet again, and as Mac Callander pulled her into a jig around the campfire, suddenly rest was the last thing on her mind. She was more than happy to stay up with her friends and see the sun rise to begin a new day.

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