#✷Wanted Dead Or Alive✷[Verse RDR2]✷

[beloyaltowhatmatters]

@achanceofforgiveness asked:

"I do love seeing the way you get under Mr. Morgan's skin. He tries to act all tough, but I can see how you easily irritate him the most. Out of everyone in camp, you're the one that can rile him up without having to say or do much. It excites me in the most unlady-like fashion, Mr, Bell." (Etta)

" Is that right, Angel? " Micah found himself shifting on the bench he was sitting on. None of the women here at camp could hold a candle to the fiery Vixen in front of him. Though he couldn't help but chuckle at her first remarks. " That's because I'm the only one who knows how to push his buttons. The truth of the matter is it drives him crazy that he ain't daddy's right-hand man no more. " Micah boasted over that fact. He hadn't been with the group anywhere the amount of time Arthur or John had and yet it was he Dutch now came to when it came to planning or when it came to getting advice on what moves they should make next. It ate Arthur up from the inside out and Micah enjoyed every second of it.

Reaching out he took Etta by the hand and pulled her close against him. His hand then moved to rest on her lip. " You know what it does to me when you're all unladylike. " The corner of his lips curved into a wicked smile. " From the looks of things I don't have to say or do much to get you all riled up either. " A snicker parted his lips. If it weren't for pissing Dutch off he would take Etta right now to Arthur's tent and violate her in every way possible inside that tent just to add gasoline to the ever-burning fire that was Arthur Morgan.

[beloyaltowhatmatters]

@achanceofforgiveness asked:

"Dutch, I just wanted to thank you for treating me like everyone else. I see all of us here, men and women, and it's nothing I've seen anywhere else. No matter our color or background, you've taken us in just the same." - Charles

Dutch was sitting right outside his tent thinking about their next move when he was approached by Charles. His antigovernmental and pro-individualist idealism, combined with his natural charisma, attracted a following of people who had been downtrodden by the society they lived in and Charles was one of them. Several members of the gang were orphans, minorities, town drunks, former prostitutes, and other lowlifes ─ people who had felt they had no purpose until they joined the gang and Dutch gave them a sense of unity and family.

" Charles, My Boy, no need to thank me. It is I who should be thanking you for trusting in me enough to see what it is we're all trying to accomplish here. " His hand would raise to rub against his chin. While this wasn't exactly the perfect place Dutch had in mind it would suffice for now until he could come up with their next big heist ─ hopefully, it would be enough for them to flee this place for good.

" No matter where we come from or what we've done in our lifetimes we all share something in common, we all want and deserve a better life than what was handed to us. No one has room to judge another here. " Dutch's eyes would wonder about the camp to each and every individual noticing the ones who were working, the ones who were missing from camp, and the ones sitting on their asses doing nothing. All things for him to address at another time.

" How are you liking the place so far? "

[beloyaltowhatmatters]

Micah's vivid recollection lingered in his memory of the night he had ruthlessly stripped away every garment she possessed. With an air of brazen confidence, he proudly recalled the power and dominance he exerted over her vulnerable form. Each tearing sound echoed victoriously in his mind as her clothing disintegrated under the force of his insatiable desire. Oh, how she writhed and begged for mercy, her pleas falling on deaf ears enraptured by unadulterated pleasure. Micah reveled in the knowledge that he had reduced her to nothing but bare flesh, stripping away not just her clothing, but also any semblance of control or agency she once held. The intensity of their encounter marked a moment when they both realized that the boundaries between pain and pleasure blurred.

" And you love every single moment the hands of this nasty brute are on that body of yours. " With a bold expression on his face, he couldn't help but let out a mischievous grin as he reflected upon their last exhilarating encounter. The mere thought of it sent a thrilling shiver down his spine, igniting a fire within him that was impossible to extinguish. " Besides, I'd rather keep you naked. "

His eyes lingered on hers as she played with the buttons of his shirt, finally letting her hands rest on his stomach. The intensity in his gaze was palpable, filled with a mix of desire and control. In that moment, he made it clear that he was not one to be trifled with ─ he was confident, commanding, and unapologetically bold.

His middle finger slid between wet silky folds and he held her close. These actions were an affirmation that they refused to let societal norms dictate how they expressed their deepest desires; instead, they embraced liberation and boldly pursued the electrifying chemistry coursing through every inch of their beings. With eyes still focused on hers his fingers began working in quick circular motions. 

" Arthur Morgan couldn't get himself laid even if someone managed to pull that rather large stick from his ass. He's never been the same since ole Dutch had that Mary Linton ran off. "

Etta didn't object to Micah's touch. She always welcomed it, unlike the other ladies in camp. In fact, she was the only one who willingly went to him and enjoyed his company, even when he provoked most of the gang members. There was something about his wild personality, and self-serving attitude that drew her to him from the moment he was recruited by Dutch.

"No, you don't," Etta admitted as her dark eyes brimmed with desire for the gunman. "But may I remind you that you owe me a corset from our last encounter? You ripped the strings clean off my favorite pair, you nasty brute."

She playfully flicked the tip of his mustache, loving how rough he was with her when they were alone. Just thinking about his hands roaming over her body gave her goosebumps. She couldn't wait until they could find a place to be together again without any of the gang stumbling upon them. Seeing how close Micah had grown to Dutch in such a short amount of time, and how Dutch's paranoia was getting the better of him, she wanted to make sure Micah's needs were taken cared of. She was only content if Micah was.

Etta's fingers now danced around the buttons of Micah's shirt before they gradually drifted down to his stomach.

"Mr. Bell, Mr. Morgan wouldn't be so angry all the time if he could only… relax… with a lady friend, wouldn't you agree? I mean, look at you. You're always so focused and have your eyes on the prize."

[beloyaltowhatmatters]

Dutch felt it rather refreshing having this conversation with Charles. All he'd heard for days was questioning and doubting. The most shocking part was that it came from people he would never imagine doing so. The situation was highly irritating, to say the least. Arthur was right about one thing he said ─ things weren't like they used to be. This was the beginning of a new era, and Micah helped him see that. The way things worked before just didn't work now. Changes had to be made and things done differently. Nothing would be given to them for free except a long drop on a short rope. No, they had to take what they needed and by all means necessary.

Arthur, John, and Hosea were all stuck in the old days. No matter how hard he tried he just couldn't drive home to them that the old way of doing things didn't work anymore. They carried on and on about innocent people but there was no such thing in this world. Micah helped him understand that. What happened to Heidi back in Blackwater was regrettable but necessary for them to escape. Micah gave him more insight in a few months than reading books for years could. Dutch viewed Micah as heaven sent and they were very fortunate to have him as a member of their team.

Dutch nodded his head. One thing he did not want was for Arthur to start putting all those crazy ideas inside Charles' head. " Arthur is the most proficient shooter we have at this camp; he never misses his target. I taught him everything I know, but he's unable to adjust to change. " It was unfortunate because Arthur had been like a son to him over the many long years they'd rode together.

He needed as many people on his side as possible. They couldn't be filled with doubt and they sure as shit couldn't be disloyal. It was because of him that they all were free and could live their lives in a way they never could before. All he wants in return is loyalty to the fullest and willingness to follow his orders without question. No reason for concern had been raised so far by Charles.

" Don't mention it, my boy. " Dutch remarked as he clasped his hand against Charles' shoulder. " When you've settled in and rested, take one of the boys with you and see if you can get Pearson something good for the stew pot." With that, he gave Charles one last pat on the shoulder and headed back to his book.

Charles admired how organized this group was. Dutch was a clear thinking man. He knew how to get the job done. It said a lot about how ambitious he was, and Charles was thankful for being taken in. For much of his life, he never fit in anywhere. Everyone judged him simply of his color, and once they learned of his background, they wanted him to pick sides. Why couldn't he be both? He WAS both. Dutch valued him not as a mixed race man, but simply as a man who could be of use to him.

His eyes settled upon the lockbox as he listened to Dutch's explanation about the honor system over the camp funds. It was an easy enough to understand. If everyone pulled their weight, they would reach their end goal of wealth. In Charles' case, he simply wanted to stop running and worrying about having to look over his shoulder all the time. He wanted to stop sleeping with one eye open.

"Yes, sir, Arthur's informed me as much," Charles replied. They only spoke here and there, but so far, Arthur was a straight-forward fellow - someone the folks admired and looked up to. Like Charles, Arthur did a lot of the physical labor. For some reason, nobody else seemed to take on those tasks, or rather, they didn't WANT to…

Charles was a natural survivor, with or without others. Ever since he was brought into the group, it gave him more of an incentive to fight much harder for not just his own sake, but for theirs as well. Being with Dutch gave him a sense of purpose, and he wouldn't let him down.

"Thank you again, Dutch, for everything," he said. "If you don't need me for anything else, I'll go find Miss Grimshaw for my accommodations."

[beloyaltowhatmatters]

Dutch took a moment to light himself up a cigar. He greatly enjoyed the taste of them much like he did a good whiskey. " I admire the work you've been doing around here. It says a lot about you Charles. Just make sure you're not overdoing your part. Everyone has their part to do. This should never be a one-man deal carrying the brunt of the load. " Now of course Dutch knew there were more people than just Charles pulling their weight around the camp, but you could call that Dutch's silver tongue at work.

" Arthur did a good job in finding this place for us. Think it's been a while since any of us have slept with an actual roof over our heads. Which reminds me. If you would like have a chat with Susan a little later to see if she can set you up a room inside. I think you've more than earned it. " It was no secret that a select few received better accommodations than others. It all boiled down to who was pulling the most weight around the group. " I'm glad and just remember it only gets better from here. Soon enough we're going to be living like Kings. "

Ah, the good old ledger and lockbox. Now Dutch was a little upset that no one had told Charles about the camp funds sooner. " Take a walk with me, my boy. " He stood and waved his hand for Charles to follow where he lead him inside the building and up the stairs to the room he was staying in. Off to the side, he presented the lockbox to Charles. " I'm sure you've been told that when you make a score if you had help on the job then everyone gets a cut. The cut that remains yours the camp then gets a cut to ensure we have food, medicine, and ammunition. All the things that we need to keep us going. The ledger keeps track of everything that's been spent from the funds. " Of course, not everything in the ledger was accurate these days but no one seemed any wiser to it. Not many had the nerve to question him about it even if they noticed something seemed a little off.

Charles was one of the newest members of the group. He really didn't know anyone, thus had yet to fully immerse himself. But just the way Dutch carried himself, a man of culture, but also a fair man who took people in regardless of background and race, was someone Charles didn't think could exist in this day and age. Charles never had many friends growing up. It'd always just been himself, his mother, and father. At one point, he had an uncle. Where they all were, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that at some point, he could only depend on himself to survive, and it'd been that way for a long time until he encountered Dutch. Now, being alone was no longer an option.

"So far, I'm liking this," Charles admitted. His dark eyes scanned the camp grounds. He also couldn't help but noticed the ones who didn't exactly pick up the slack when it came to working. Fortunately, he was one to work with his hands. He didn't even have to be asked. If something needed to be done, he'd do it. Rain or shine, there was always work to be done.

Then, looking back at Dutch, he asked him, "Is there a pool of money we all contribute to somewhere?"