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tinyfishtits · 5 months ago

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Join Me?

Micah Bell / Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Reader stumbles upon Micah skinny dipping. Word Count: 2,973 Rating: Teen and Up ~ for foul language and suggestive themes Author's Note: More fluff! This is Ch. 2 of 'Need a Haircut, Doll?' ★ Chapter 1 ☆ Read on AO3 ★ Masterlist

Life in camp finally seemed to settle and find its rhythm over the next few weeks in Clemons Point. The men were out most days diddling around Rhodes playing cops and robbers and stirring up trouble… I tried to keep out of it for the most part. In fact, I was so on edge being in Lemoyne Raider territory I hadn’t left camp at all since the move, I was starting to go stir crazy.

Since joining the gang back in Colter, I'd established myself as a pretty proficient hunter. I was good with a bow and even better with my knives. I gave Charles and Arthur a run for their money when it came to clean kills and high quality pelts. I wasn’t used to being so cooped up and Grimshaw was really taking advantage of all my time loitering in camp. She knew I was an easy target for the chores everyone else seemed to avoid, and now I understood why. After weeks of scraping up horse crap, Karen's vomit, and cleaning dog piss out of bedrolls and blankets that the new camp mutt seemed intent on marking as his territory, I both smelt and felt like shit.

All this was just compounded by the fact that I couldn’t seem to get a good night's sleep. And so I found myself, for the fifth night in a row, tossing and turning restlessly for hours until I finally gave up the fight and decided to go on a walk. Bundling up in my wool blanket, I made my way down to the lake. It was still dark out, probably just nearing four in the morning. The sun wouldn’t paint the sky for at least another hour. I walked barefoot across the rocky shore, treading slowly over the uneven terrain until the pebbles tapered off to finer grains of sand and I finally felt the warm relief of water at my feet.

Listening to the soft, rhythmic lapping of the waves, I let my mind wander as I walked. I thought of what I would do when I left camp next. Perhaps I would convince Charles to go hunting with me, or maybe Keiren would finally take me up on my offer to teach him how to throw a knife if he’d show me how to fish. Being surrounded by so many beautiful and bountiful lakes, rivers and swamps in Scarlett Meadows alone, it seemed a shame that was one of the few skills I never even attempted, having written it off early in life as a needlessly boring activity. After all the chaos of the last year, though… I’d grown to cherish those simpler, quiet moments. What was once dull, was now peaceful.

A few yards out in the water I heard a faint splashing, like a large fish breaking the surface. Straining my eyes in the darkness, I could see something shiny and dark floating on the water. The longer I looked, the bigger it got, slowly emerging from the depths and coming toward where I stood on the shore. The moment the moonlight caught his skin I gasped and turned away, almost falling on my face as my foot caught the edge of my blanket.

“Jesus! Christ, I- I didn’t-” I stuttered, frozen in embarrassment as I realized what exactly I’d stumbled on to. Micah Bell was half submerged in the lake, a few yards behind me, completely naked. “I didn’t… see… anything.” I said sheepishly. It was mostly truthful. I didn’t see anything, below his waist at least… But I had seen more of him than I ever had before. My cheeks burned hot at the image cemented in my head. Micah, glistening wet in the moonlight, toned arms reaching up to wipe the long hair from his face, freshly trimmed mustache dripping water onto his chest and falling down his soft stomach, the golden hair that trailed down it to what lay just below the water's surface.

The silence following my accidental peeping was painful and I found myself desperately wanting to escape, wishing I had just sat by the fire like every other cold, restless night. Was this what he did? Where he disappeared to after everyone else was asleep? I had been surprised before when I never ran across him on my midnight walks around camp. Part of me always hoped I would…

“I- I’m sorry. I’ll go.” I said, starting back off in the direction of camp. I’d only made it a few clumsy steps before I heard my name, soft and velvety on the wind at my back. I stopped dead in my tracks, still too red in the face to dare turning to look at him just yet.

“Wait.” Was all he said, the silence that followed filled only by the subtle splashing of water as he moved through it. “Join me?” His voice rang out from the darkness. The water at my feet, once warm against my skin, now felt ice cold in comparison to the fire raging through me. I’d never heard him so… serious . He always had such a cocky air about him, laced every word in sleazy armor as to not give too much of himself away. The rawness of this one small request, just two simple words… it hung between us like a lightning bolt on the edge of a knife.

The pure shock of it had me turning to face him, embarrassment over my red face overpowered by curiosity. “What?” I gawked back at him. Even if he couldn’t see my flushed cheeks, it was obvious by the way my voice rose two octaves how flustered I was. Only his head bobbed above the water now and he met my wide eyes with a sly smirk. The moonlight shimmered off the water and reflected in his light blue eyes, igniting them like the fluorescent irises of a predator stalking its prey. It sent a shiver down my spine.

“I-” I started, feeling the need to speak when he let the silence drag on, but had no clue what to say or do. The thought of going for a much needed soak in the pleasantly warm water was all too enticing… Would he think me a prude if I waded into the water in my clothes? Or even more so if I walked away? If it were anyone else, Charles, Arthur, Bill… I wouldn’t have cared what they would think. But something in me desperately wanted to be vulnerable in this moment, not to turn away or hide myself in fear this chance would not come around again.

“Turn around.” I said, my voice much steadier than I felt. His eyebrows shot up at first, then his lips twitched with a smile and he turned away to face the horizon. I shuffled out of my clothes, setting them beside where his were, to my surprise, neatly folded on the pebbly ground. Another facet of his personality suddenly fell into place. The gruff, grimey outlaw valued order and care when it came to his possessions. It was clear in the way he tended to his weapons, his horse, his facial hair, and now, his clothes.

The water felt incredible. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gone swimming, or even had a proper soak in a tub. It’d been long enough I forgot how light it made your body, how, when the water was the perfect temperature as it was tonight, it felt close to flying. If it weren’t for the light of the moon flickering off the water's surface it’d be hard to think otherwise, the darkness of night and water were practically one in the same. Once the water met my chin and the lakebed disappeared beneath my feet, I couldn't help the laugh that escaped me.

Micah turned to face me then, “What’s so funny?” He asked, a gleaming smile painting his face as he examined my own elated expression.

“It just-” I giggled, feeling the water flow through my toes and fingers so softly it was almost ticklish. “I really needed this.” I admitted.

His smile softened and he hummed in acknowledgement. “Yer workin’ too hard. I don’t know why you let that old bat order you around so much.”

I wasn’t overly fond of Grimshaw, but I understood at the very least where she was coming from. The camp would fall to pieces overnight if it weren't for her. “She only has me do what needs to be done, I don’t see you pitchin’ in on chores.”

Micah scoffed. “I bring in cash, sweetheart, I already got a job.” He was just a few feet away from me now, effortlessly paddling his arms and legs. I wasn’t as skilled of a swimmer and could already feel my limbs growing tired at the energy I was exerting just to keep my head above water. Micah noticed my struggle and positioned himself behind me. “Lean back” His gravely whisper brushed against my ear. I did as he ordered and found myself supported by two strong hands on my back as I let my body relax against his hold.

I let out a content sigh and heard his chuckle ring out above me. “Thank you” I whispered back, my eyes closed as I enjoyed the bliss of feeling as though I truly was floating, suspended in air.

“Least I could do, darlin’.” He replied, his voice soft and soothing. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to give in completely to his hold on me. As I began to drift off, I could have sworn I heard Micah hum to me, gentle, sweet tunes. One I even recognized as a lullaby from my childhood. I wondered briefly if his mother sang to him as a boy, if he’d ever had a moment as peaceful as the one he was gifting me tonight. He held me like that for so long that by the time I opened my eyes, the sun was rising at my feet, the sky a beautiful deep tangerine.

He slowly released me from his hold once I began to stir awake in his arms. “Mornin’” He whispered, so close I could have sworn I felt his mustache scratch my ear. I turned to face him and he made no effort to move away, our bodies just a foot away from each other. As the sun lit the sky and the water, I became acutely aware of how naked we were. My cheeks reddened in an instant, it took more willpower than I was willing to admit, not to look down. As if he could read my thoughts, though I’m sure they were clearly written on my face, Micah waved a hand toward the shore, splashing the water with his gesture. “Go get dressed doll, I ain’t lookin’.”

I waded to the shore, my legs a bit wobbly as I readjusted to the weight of my body. The bite of the morning chill prickled at the soft hairs on my body and I shivered against it. Quickly pulling on my clothes, I watched as Micah dove under water. I was surprised how long he could hold his breath, staying submerged for over a minute before his golden head broke the surface again. Fully dressed and bundled once more in my blanket, I yelled for him. “You comin’ cowboy?”

Diving once more, Micah resurfaced just a few feet away from the shore, shaking his head and flinging the water from his hair like a dog. I yelped as droplets showered my bare legs and jumped back, much to his amusement. Chuckling, he rose from the water, giving me no warning as his bare body came into view. His tanned, toned, glistening body… My mouth went dry and I stumbled once more to turn around in time, giving him the same privacy he allotted me.

I walked over to one of the many large boulders scattered across the shore and took a seat, staring at my hands as he dressed. The faint rustling of fabric and Micah’s soft grunts as he pulled his clothes over damp skin filled the silence between us. The strike of a match and the subtle crackling burn that followed caught my attention and I looked up to find Micah watching me, a cigarette lazily perched between his lips, dressed except for his shirt which he left completely unbuttoned, his chest on full display.

I opened my blanket and patted the space beside me, a silent invitation. He sauntered over and joined me without a word. His body was so warm , like he had his own fire burning under skin. Micah stiffened as I cuddled up to his side, my arms automatically wrapping around his bicep, pulling him closer. Another shiver wracked my body at our temperature difference and he relaxed, snaking his arm out of my grip to wrap around my waist and bring me deeper into his embrace, pulling the blanket around us both.

We sat in companionable silence and watched the sun rise, basking in each other's warmth. That faint lakey musk clung to us both, but Micah scent was… deeper, more complex. The ashy burn of salt tingled at my nose, melded delectably with the tobacco smoke and a greener, fresher aroma, like prairie grass. I didn’t realize I was nuzzling his neck until he let out the faintest moan, just barely more than a sigh. But the vibration of it through his throat tickled at my nose and I shot up, suddenly aware how tangled up I was with him. He peeked sidelong at me, taking the cigarette from his lips and blowing a puff of smoke from the side of his mouth, away from me. “Why’d ya stop?” He asked, his voice so low it was barely more than a whisper.

Instead of searching for an answer I reached for the cigarette in his hand and brought it to my lips, drawing a deep puff before returning it to his still outstretched fingers. I could feel his eyes on me as I gazed out at the brightening horizon. “You been havin’ bad dreams?” He asked suddenly. I turned to look at him, surprise and confusion painting my expression. “I- um.” He stuttered, clearing his throat before continuing, “You haven't been sleeping…”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding and sighed as I sunk back against his warmth. “I’ve just been going a little stir crazy is all.” And when he didn’t reply added, “And it’s cold as hell here at night. I don't know how anyone gets any sleep.”

“Well go into town today, let Grimshaw do her own damn chores for once.” He said, as if it were that simple, and for him I’m sure it was. I didn’t want to admit the real reason I’d confined myself to camp the past few weeks… couldn’t bring myself to say the word, scared. I was scared. I’d made it my mission the last year to improve my knife and bow skills so I’d never feel helpless again, and I’d done a damn good job of it. But the memory of the raiders, the trauma I'd endured at their hands… It wasn’t easily forgotten. And although I could effortlessly take down an Elk, a dozen men with nothing but malice coursing through their veins was a different story entirely.

When my silence dragged on Micah added, “I can come with ya, if you want.” I perked up, my heart fluttering at the idea of spending a day with him.

“Would- Would you go hunting with me?” I asked, suddenly excited for what the day ahead of me held. Finally, I thought, something other than chores! Micah let out a breathy laugh and flicked the butt of his cigarette to the ground.

“Animals?” He said with a theatrical sigh, “It’s not really my… area of expertise.” But after a moment relented, “Alright..." He drawled, "What are we huntin’?” A wide smile spread across my face as I looked up at him, “Yotes!” I said, the excitement clear in my voice. I’d been dying to get some pelts to make myself a propper, warm bed.

Micah laughed, a genuine, deep laugh that shook me. “Coyote's it is then.” And pulled me in closer to his chest with a sigh. “Maybe I-” He started, a hand idly playing with a strand of my hair as he searched for what to say. “Could I teach you how to shoot?” He whispered into my brow.

“I know how to shoot.” I said and he quickly retorted, “A gun darlin’.”

I hummed, feigning that I had to think it over. I’d wanted to ask him to teach me to shoot the first time I saw him twirl his revolvers around his fingers. “Sure.” I said finally, “But I don’t have a gun.”

“I can fix that.” He said, getting up and stretching a hand out to me. The smile he gave me was soft and sweet, his silver-blue eyes alight. He looked like he’d emerged from a painting. The sun behind him gave the appearance that he glowed with golden light, beckoning me toward him like some rugged, gunslinging siren. I took his hand and let him pull me up, our hands lingering in each others for a moment longer than need be.

He leaned down then, picking up his hat and dusting the sand from it before placing it on my head. “Looks better on you.” He said quickly, his voice a bit rough, and turned back toward camp. Blush burned at my cheeks as I watched him walk off, my eyes lingering on his broad back, his hips… “Comin’?” He yelled back at me, and I jolted, hurrying to catch up with him.

#micah bell x reader #micah bell x you #micah bell fluff #micah bell fan fiction #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #rd2 fanfiction #micah bell #micah bell fic #fish writes #my works

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lowfunctioningoptimist · 8 months ago

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My Wretched, Bastard Sister

Platonic!MicahxSister!Reader

(Before 1899) Summary: This part details how you met your half-brother Micah and the life you lived prior to joining the Van der Linde Gang. Warnings: References to Physical ab-se, verbal ab-se, neglect, angst, unhealthy relationships (co-dependent), viol-ice, blood, reader is written as a half-sibling for immersion.

The only thing you share with your brother is a father and a name. You don’t look much like him at all, which is a blessing you’re unaware of. Before your father took you, you lived with your mother. She was the daughter of a farmer who was disowned for falling pregnant out of wedlock. His name was Micah Bell Jr., and he left not long after bedding your mother in the family barn. All her misfortune was put unto you, for she blamed you and you alone. Mother was cold at best. Her beauty helped her earn money, but not a husband. Your presence made it hard for the wealthy bachelors around town to take her hand. Over and over your mother would scream at you for ruining her life, how she didn’t want you there.

The day Micah Bell Jr. came riding back into town felt like divine providence to your mother.

You were a girl of only twelve when she dragged you into the saloon where the Bell Boys were said to be staying in. He was an ugly man, your father. Tall, grey-haired, with wild eyes and a wide mouth with his front teeth missing. At either side of him were his two sons, Micah Bell III and Amos Bell. Micah Jr. couldn’t remember your mother at all. He and his eldest son mocked you both as your mother shoved you forward. Mother insisted that you were his bastard and that he should claim you, take you away. All your father seemed to care about was if you knew how to cook a meal. When your mother said yes, you were riding out of town with them that same day.

The father who stole you had no love to give. He made clear right away that he only claimed you because you could be useful. Micah III didn’t want anything to do with you. Your eldest brother was in his late twenties when you came into his life. Micah always looked a bit older than his years to you. You suppose that’s the consequence of hard living, but Amos never looked that way. Micah barely spoke to you. Which you often preferred. When Micah did speak to you, it was to explain how much he hated that his father had a bastard. How he hated having some little girl following him around. Some bastard sister that folks would confuse for being his bastard daughter. He hated you, but he never beat you. Not like your father did. It wasn’t long after your father took you that he started to give you, “discipline.”

Amos was the gentler of your half-brothers. Alone with you, he would be kind. With the other two, he kept silent no matter what he saw. Together you would talk in hushed whispers of a simpler life. One of kindness and quiet in the far-off west. Amos had been father’s beast to blame until you showed up. If he didn’t seem terribly guilty about it, it was because he was relieved. He left in the middle of the night after an argument with father turned bad. Micah seemed all too delighted to share that Amos didn’t even look back as he ran off.

Not long after Amos left, father died of a broken neck. His horse had bucked him off his back as he and Micah were riding back to camp. That was the story Micah told you, anyway.

Since then, it had just been the two of you.

Micah is fond of reminding you that he could have just left you to die at that tiny camp father had set up. You didn’t have a horse, or a clue. And it wasn’t uncommon for them to be honest for days, leaving you to hold up camp on your own. Who knows how long you would have just sat there, waiting? When you ask him why he came to get you, he just says that you “have your uses.” He wasn’t wrong about that either. You can cook, clean, sew clothing just fine, and you’re loyal.

Years would pass by like a prisoner’s dirty nail on a cell wall. Slow, purposeful, without a clear end or goal. You grew from girl to woman but never felt all that different inside. Hair in two braids and clothes mended thrice with patches of other garments because Micah never lets you go into town to shop. Still trembling when Micah would raise his voice or fist, even though he had never struck you before. He leaves you at camp with a loaded rifle each day and expects a long list of chores to be finished before he returns. Although you always complete your tasks perfectly, he never seems grateful or impressed.

At camp, he likes to have a few drinks by the fire and tell you stories. Tales of the past, ranging from mere hours ago to decades. Micah talks and talks, you just listen. You really don’t say much at all. He says that it’s something he likes about you, "If you weren't so ugly, I could make some coin in marrying' you off. Quiet women are a rare find in these modern days."

Micah doesn’t sleep well most nights. You often saw him sitting by the fire wide awake, staring off into nothing. Sometimes, you try to sit up with him.

As nasty as he could be, you relied on him. You could shoot a gun, but you weren’t a cutthroat criminal by any stretch of the imagination. Micah was your defender, the breadwinner, and the Knower Of All Important Things. Between the two of you, he could read the best, so he would buy a newspaper and read it aloud to you if he was in a good mood. Aside from that, Micah didn’t really act much like a brother. He treated you like an indentured servant. Had you a kinder life before meeting him, that might’ve hurt you. Instead, it was all normal to you.

In 1897, Micah took two bullets in a robbery gone bad. He had one bullet in his shoulder and another in his left thigh. Micah was able to ride back to camo before he passed out. Your brother fell from his horse a bloodied mess, babbling incoherently about bankers with pistols and that he couldn’t think straight. Without another thought, you went to his side and worked to stop the bleeding. When morning came, Micah awoke to you sitting at the side of his cot. You gave him a small smile and before you could ask him how he felt he demanded to know, “Why’re you still here? I figured you woulda hopped on Baylock and been halfway to California by now.”

You replied, “I can’t leave my brother.”

He let out a scoff that made him flinch, healing shoulder wound and all, “Ain’t there another one further west?”

“I stayed cus’ you’re the brother who didn’t leave me, Micah,” his mouth slammed shut at your words. For the first time in all the years you traveled with him, you had rendered your brother speechless. “We only got each other, don’t we?” you reached out to take his hand. He let you, for a moment. That perplexed look in his pale grey-blue eyes looked almost childlike. Vulnerable. It lasted about as long as your hand holding his.

Micah snatched his hand back and sneered at you, “How ‘bout you get to fixing your good brother something to eat ‘stead of holding my goddamn hand? I’m starving!”

He was quiet for a few days after that. Angry. Things felt a bit different between you two. Micah went back to being a bully and a taskmaster, but he didn’t scare you as much anymore. You had seen behind the curtain and inside of his soul. In that brief moment where his eyes had gotten big and his heart slipped to his sleeve, you saw why he really came to get you after father died.

Micah was afraid of being alone and afraid of needing somebody all at once. What a sad way to live, you thought.

Things were mostly back to normal until about a year later. The night that Micah saved a man’s life. Something you aren’t sure he’s ever done before. And from this uncharacteristic act of kindness, you and your half-brother would enter the Van Der Linde Gang.

#rdr2 x reader #rdr2 x you #rdr2 #micah bell #platonic!micah #platonic!reader #micah bell x reader #various x reader

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grugruel · 10 months ago

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Saint, or Sinner.

Parings: Arthur Morgan x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: You've had feelings for Arthur for quite some time now, but little did you know. That he has them for you, too.

After a rowdy night in Valentine, the group flees lawmen and end up in Strawberrys hotel. Whatever will occur?

Word count: 8.9 k

Warnings: Micha being Micah, bar fight/violence, plot with smut, mutual pining, soft Arthur, pinv sex, passionate sex, oral sex (f recieving), praise, pet names (girl, sweetheart), choking, fingering, handjob, creampie, mentioned masturbation.

AN: The words ran away from me, holy shit. It's so much longer than I intended.

Muffled voices argued in the night, soon growing into angry shouts. Rousing me from my sleep, confused, I put my gown on in a hurry. Sleep ridden eyes in a dark tent were not doing me any favors. I pulled the flap to the side and stumbled out of the tent, the voices creating one hell of a commotion.

Just as I did, most of the camp had awoken and joined in on the argument, gladly contributing their own heated opinions on the matter. All except Duch and Arthur, much to my dismay.

My eyes adjusted to the scene before me, the assailants quickly becoming clear. Standing around the campfire, was Micah of course, the center of attention as usual. Stood half shouting at John, who's pot seemed to be boiling over.

Soon after, John unleashed a rant on Micahs stupitidy, throwing in every word he could manage in his steaming anger.

I rolled my eyes, what could that damned fool possibly have done now?

'You piss ridden, moldy rat bastard.' John shouts, seamingly leaving Micah lost for words.

Bill bursts out laughing, slapping his knee at the insult, 'You big fuckin nuthead Micah. . .' He sighs, catching his breath.

Even Hosea snickers, 'Hes right, and that's coming from Bill of all folk.'

I cover my mouth as a giggle leaves my lips, seeing Micah so dumbfounded really sobered my mood. The rest of the girls have a simular reaction.

Micahs eyes narrow on me, 'What are ya' laughing at sweetheart. I ought to teach ya' a lesson.' He snarls, greasy hair hanging over his face.

The camp falls silent, none too appreciative of his choice of words. My mood turn sour again and a chill runs up my spine. The first to call him out was Sadie, 'Someone hold me back.' She spits, Sean stepping in to fo judt that.

Second was Miss Grimshaw, 'The money and now you threathen the girl, have you gone and lost your mind Micah Bell?' disgust evident on her face.

The money? What money?

John took a threatening step toward him, very displeased with Micahs comment, hands forming into fists at his sides. Hosea too, gave him a a bemused look.

'Try anything Bell, and I'll cut your fucking balls off.' I spit, glaring at him, feeling incredible joy in the way his face falls.

Muffled chuckles surround me, 'Thats my Girl.' Sadie laughs, along with a low, approving whistle from Javier.

'Whats goin' on here?' A gruff voice cuts in, looking between me and Micah.

Arthur, flanked by Dutch.

Arthur, shirtless. Flanked by Dutch.

In all my anger, my eyes cant help but sneak a hasty glance at his broad chest. Then quickly averting it, afraid he'd notice. I clear my throat, trying to keep my thoughts in check, 'He threatened me.'

That was enough for Arthur, not doubting me for a second. Fixed himself straight up with murder in his eyes, then walked at the man, readying his fists for a beating.

Butterflies fluttered within me.

Unsurprisingly, Micah cowered. Taking quick cautionary steps backward before Dutch could jump in, throwing his arm in front of Arthur and stopping him in his tracks. John looks at the two men, directing an accusing finger on Micah, 'Not only that, this blasted idiot took our money.'

The moment of joy from Micahs humiliation disappear, turning into anger once again. The camp giving him a mutual glower.

Arthur runs a hand through his hair, 'I ought to kill you.' He speaks, gritting his teeth, and takes another firm step forward. Pushing the limits of Dutch's patience, who strengthens the hold on Arthur.

'Surely, there must be a reasonable explanation for this?' Dutchs says, forcing a smile and shooting Micah an expectant look. Giving him an undeserved chance at explaining himself. Although he didn't show it, he too, was bemused.

'Well- I wanted to invest it, make it grow. I just wanted to help the camp.' Micah preached, his voice sleazy and confident. Telling the sure as shit, bull of an excuse as if he was the one to feel sorry for. Despite the circumstances.

Sighing, 'He god damned gamled it all away.' John reveals, looking ready to kill the man himself. The camp erupts into a loud argument once again, everyone getting a piece in.

I sneak a glance at Arthur, his chest rising and falling in big breaths, trying his hardest to stay calm. 'Bastard.' He mutters under his breath, Dutch giving him a quick warning glance.

'Shut!–' a hoarse voice calls out, '–Up!' Dutch yells, and obediently, we all fall silent. 'Theres no use, standin' around screamin'. You fools are attracting unwanted attention.' Dutch says, hands on his hips, 'Who won the funds.'

'Some rich bastard up in Strawberry.' Micahs sly voice cut through the night.

Dutch rubs his forehead in thought, 'Then he can do without it, go back there and grab it.' An exasperated sigh leaving him, 'Arthur, John, Bill, Charles.' He rounds the men up, 'You go there with him.' He turns to go back to his tent, but pauses and shouts, 'And no!–' dragging the words out, '–Deaths!' He looks at Micah, knowing damn well he'd otherwise murder the mans entire family in cold blood, then points to Arthur, 'That means you too, Arthur.' He says, a tired tone to his words. Clearly insinuating that he wanted Micah alive.

Everyone scatters, going back to bed on edge. But I linger, tucked away behind the tentflap. I watch Arthur come back out of his tent, in full get up. Silently praying that'd they'd be alright, that he would be. I did not care what happened to Micah, I hoped the man would get shot right between the eyes. I would personally love to see to it, I hoped Arthurs hatred for the man would get the better of him. Dutch always went way to easy on Micah, I didn't understand it, but something wasn't quite right with it.

Abigail kisses John goodbye, it made me happy to see them back together and all made up. I watch Arthur leave his tent in full get up, then stride past my tent. He gets on his horse with the rest of them, and ride past the treeline of Horseshoe overlook. No doubt berating Micah all the way to Strawberry.

I laid down in my bed, trying my damndest to sleep. But worry was keeping me up, eating away at me. Something didn't feel right.

He'd heard his words to her, him threatening her. Horrifying images cloud his mind, filling him with rage all over again. No doubt things he'd done before. He glanced a glare at the man, ugly mut.

Had Dutch not been there to stop him, Micah would've found his face beaten bloody and Arthur grinning on top of him. Had he not been loyal to the camp, to his people, to Dutch. Micah wouldn't be returning from this trip. He would conveniently get a bullet to his head, or found on the bottom of a valley, beaten unrecognizable before the fall had caused the killing blow.

He didnt want any harm coming to her. He'd never felt this for a woman, not ever. He'd steal glances, admire her when she wasn't looking. Damn well kill for her. She was the light he had needed for so long, her charming smile could shine brighter than any star he'd ever seen.

'You taken a likin' to her, Morgan?'

John raised his head at that, paying closer attention to the conversation, to Arthur. Knowing the possibility of him flying off the handle.

'Shut up if you know what's good for you Micah.' Charles scolded.

He scoffed, 'The day I listen to–' Micha looks Charles up and down, lingering on the color of his skin, 'The likes of you,' he continues, 'Will be my last.' Muttering the last words.

Ignoring him, Charles didn't do as much as raise an eyebrow. Micah did not deserve a reaction.

Micah was black rot, down to his core. Destorying everything he touched. We all knew it, but all aren't so keen to admit it. Dutch was the first person to come to mind, I couldn't understand for the life of me why he was so defensive of the man.

'I can see why.' Micah spoke again, 'Pretty little thing, isn't she?' He looked at Arthur, 'Got a big mouth on her too.'

John looked between the two men, noting the way Arthur fisted his reins, no doubt knuckles turning white under his gloves. Along with the way he kept his head straight ahead, focused on not killing the man, 'Micah, keep her off your tongue.' John warned, 'I don't care for you, but I don't want the heat from Dutch when you're found dead.' His raspy voice referring to him and Arthur.

Charles looked at the men in silent agreement, he preferred staying out of camp conflicts. But she was a woman dear to the camp, touching her would bode ill for any man.

And ad usual, the big idiot doesn't listen, 'Wouldn't mind takin' her for a ride one of these nights.' He said, the self-righteous smile he bore evident even in his tone. There was no need to look at him to know it.

Bill had been staying out of it, but he could feel the anger radiating off of Arthur. Enough to switch sides, hanging back, then stearing his horse up next to Arthur instead of Micah. Just in case a bullet would come flying.

And wouldn't you know it, Arthur reached into his holster and pulled his finest revolver, aiming it at the sorry excuse of a man. All in one quick motion, he'd been labeled as a dangerous for a reason. John sighed, now he'd done it.

Micah, dropped his reins. Raising his hands in the air, keeping a smug expression on his face. But beneath, he was scared witless.

'Strawberry up ahead.' Charles called, not caring much for the action behind him. Killing Micah would only do the camp good, but a gunshot would give their location away.

'Not another word of her.' Arthur began, 'Touch 'er–' He warns, 'And I'll let her kill ya'.' His voice gravelly and threatening, but Micah scoffed at the notion.

The familiar click off a safety lever sounds out, and the color drains from Micahs face.

'House is just up ahead.' Charles cut in, 'I'd suggest you wait wait with this til we got the funds.'

With a final glare, he holsters his gun and rides up to Charles. Clearing a hill, the house comes into view. Arthur sighs, 'Damn it Micah, you didnt tell us this feller had security.'

'You scared of a little fightin' pretty boy?' Micah mocked.

With a scoff from Arthur, they hitch their horses and pull up their bandanas, setting about proving the rumors of the infamouse Van Der Linde gang.

I anxiously checked my father's old pocket watch. It had been a few hours now. I put it down, tried to think of other things, and then picked it up again. Another 5 minutes had passed. Christ. I couldn't bear losing Arthur, John or Charles, god forbid all three of them. Bill could be sweet, but only when he needed something. I couldn't even dare imagine John leaving Abigail and Jack behind. What would they do? Stay with the gang, of course, but. . . Goodness, what about Arthur? My thoughts were racing ahead of me.

A few more minutes pass, then I hear hoofbeats, relief flods through me. It's hard to count, but theres at least three horses. God, let it be the right three. I emerge from my tent, along with Miss Grimshaw, Abigail, the rest of the girls, and Dutch. I race up to Abigail, holding eachothers hands as we watch the treeline in silence. Relying on each other for support.

Eventually, they break through. All five horses returning with their men on top of them, secretly I curse. One of the could've gotten lost and the world would've been a better place for it. I stroke Abigails back while John sees to his horse, then walks up to us, taking her in his arms and spinning her in a circle. They laugh, and a tinge of jealousy spark inside me. Yet I'm more than happy for them.

I observe the rest of them, they seem to be unharmed. All except. . . Arthur, his white shirt covered in blood. The terror must've been evident on my face, because–

'Hes fine.' John spoke, 'Most of it aint even his.' He said in an effort to calm me.

I nodded, smiling faintly 'Thank you John.' And sqeezed his arm.

'Well–' Dutch called out, 'How'd it go?' He looked at them, expecting nothing but grandeur.

'We got more than we bargained for. . ' John said, grinning. But there was something else his tone.

Bill unloaded his horse and came carrying several saddlebags, throwing them at our feet, money spilling out 'We got what we came for—' He paused, then pulled out two more bags from vehind his back, 'And more!' He burst out in a self-satisfied laugh.

I had to say, they made the best out of a bad situation. And on top of it all, Micah had barely made a sound, he was strangely quiet.

Dutch patted Bill and John on the back, 'Good work, wake the rest. Let us celebrate!' He clapped his hands together, no doubt imagining Tahiti.

I searched for him in the crowd of people as the camp was waking up, and found him talking to Charles and Sadie at the edge of the camp, clutching his side. Worry gnawed at me. They joined us by the campfire while Arthur headed into his tent, not saying much of nothing to anyone else.

The festivities carried out throughout the night, Arthurs lamp remained turned on. Eventually, I just had to check up on him.

I snuck away from the folk, Abigail and John had already turned in, as had Dutch and Molly. Seemed like the singles were the only ones left drinking, and Micah had disappeared to sulk somewhere. Lucky us.

I left them to it and approached his tent, 'Arthur?' I called, but didn't get an answer. I just heard some huffing from the inside.

I risked his reaction and pulled the flap to the side, 'Arth-' I began, but got cut off by the sight. In front of me was Arthur Morgan, shirt pushed up over his stumache, cowboy hat on, stitching up his own wound. Sitting on a stool, his pants were unbuttoned and folded down by the hip, revealing that beautiful "V" shape along with a happy trail of hair leading down toward, well. . . A new cut stretched from his hip to his abdomen, blood covered his hands and side, groaning as he pulled a needle through his skin. Something set off inside me, a yearning that made my body ache. He scarcely even noticed me, not until I gasped.

He looked up, eyes widening, 'You need somethin' Girl?' He blurted out, taken off guard. His state of undress did not help.

'Arthur Morgan. . .' I sighed, slightly offended, 'You shouldve fetched me, you know im good at stitchin' wounds.'

'I know, I know. 'm sorry sweetheart.' smiling faintly, 'Didnt wanna bother you.' He drawled.

I also noticed a mostly empty bottle of whiskey next to him, hoping he used most of it to disinfect the wound. I put my hands on my hips, 'Will you let me help?'

He nodded and handed me the needle, fingers brushing against eachother as I grabbed it.

Our eyes met, briefly. Sharing a glance that was ment to be stolen.

He leaned back against his dresser, the muscle of his upper body changing and rippling with his movements.

I cleared my throat and stepped closer, 'May I?' I asked, pointing at his shirt.

'You may.' He smirked.

I leaned closer to him, unbuttoning from top to bottom. Then pushing the shirt over his shoulder so it'd stay clear from his wound. I kneeled in front of him, his legs spread so I could get closer to the cut, then resting my elbows on his strong thigh to steady my arms.

I tried to focus on the wound, but it proved hard as I was so close to his crotch and how closely he was observing me.

'Might I ask what happened?' I bit my lip in focus, threading the needle through his skin.

'More men than expected.' He answered with a grunt, looking at my lips. Blood rushing somewhere it ought not to, 'One jumped out on me.' He continued, his voice husky and strained.

'He live to tell the tale?' I asked, searching his gaze. Hoping he'd be sincere.

'He did. . .' He groaned, as I finished another stitch. Making the aching settle in my core, a pulse running through me. Every now and then, when I believed him not to be looking. My eyes roamed his chest, studying his strong pecks and biceps.

'You know anything about Micahs sudden tongue-tie?' I ask, locking eyes with him. He lowers his head with a chuckle, a smirk poking out from under his hat.

'I might've. . . Given him something to think about.' He shrugs, the corner of his lip tugging.

Sighing, a smile spreads over my lips 'Youre a good man, Arthur Morgan.' I told him earnestly, 'Better than most.' I finished the last stitch and looked at him, 'All d-' I began, but he cut me off.

His lips greeting mine in a passionate kiss, lasting a whole second. But it was the best second I'd had in years. He pulled back, a horrified look on his face. Immidietly regretting it.

Surprised, I did not quite know what to say. 'Arthur, Im- You- You're drunk. .' I blurted, thinking it was the alcohol taking action. Nothing else.

'I'm–' He looked at me, searching for words 'You're right, I- I probably am. Apologies miss.' He managed.

I cursed myself, why'd he have to be drunk? He'd never remember that this even happened tomorrow.

'No- no. That's fine, don't worry. I didnt-' I tried, I didn't mind it. In fact I loved it, is that so hard to say? 'I should, uhm- let you sleep, you need to rest.' Idiot.

'I s'pouse so.' Was all he said, shock and regret still lingering between us.

'Well, good night. . . Mr Morgan.' I said, and he winced. Quickly, I took my leave.

'Night ma'am.' He called after me.

It felt like fleeing the scene of a crime. Bashing myself for the the formal good night, we were way past such pleasantires. It felt like a blow to even utter the words, even though I usually call him Mr Morgan. But it's always in a teasing way. Never formal and distant like this was.

Goodness gracious, what had I done?

I tucked myself under the covers in my own tent, thoughts circling my mind. I could not tear myself away from the smell of him, his musk, his broad build. Or the way sweetheart sounded as it rolled of his tongue, the way his tongue felt against my own. A hand snaked between my thighs, relieving myself of the ache he'd caused. Then slowly, I drifted off to sleep. With nothing but him on my mind.

You god damned fool Arthur, why'd you have scare her away? Old bastard, he thought to himself. Seeing her by his tent had startled him, but her gentle touch and sweet voice was all the comfort he'd needed. It took the sting right out of the needle. He'd used the bottle to clean the wound, but letting her think he was drunk was easier than the truth.

He'd took a liking to her from the moment he laid eyes on her, but she would never feel the same way. She'd called him Mr Morgan, as if the last year of building a relation with her had disintigrated within a second. It stung, real bad. Worse than a knife ever would. Yet that kiss made it all worth it her soft lips against his, her sweet taste. Feeling her breath on his skin as she undid his buttons, and seein' you like that? Kneeling between his legs, so close to him. It was a memory he would cherish through thick and thin, a memory that would keep him up at night. A memory that made him hard in an instant, he let out a frustrated groan. Silenty taking care of it, pretty images of her occupying his mind as he did. Finally, he began drifting off to sleep. And he only had one thing on his mind. She'd called him a good man, that's all that mattered to him.

A week passed, and we'd had a few shallow interactions. Nothing serious, but resembling the akwardness we experienced in his tent, it made my heart sore. I always found a reason to talk to him, to be near him. So when to opportunity arrived once again, I jumped on it. We'd had a full day of chores, but needed to head into Valentine for a supply run, to stock up on things like ammo and vegetables. And just generally take a look around town, see what else we could find. But I don't have a horse of my own, and since Lenny and Sean were taking the wagon.

I found myself in need of a ride.

The sun had begun its final stretch before setting, meaning the light was golden and beautiful. The warm spring air was gradually turning chilly, but in the most soothing way. I joined the crew by the horses, 'Who's willin' to give a lady a ride.' I asked coyly.

Arthurs mouth fell open, as if he was about to speak, but quickly closed it again. 'I always got space for you, girl.' Sadie winked.

'Stop that. . You ol' charmer.' I smile shyly. Arthur couldn't help but smile, nothing but admiration I'm his eyes for you.

'Well-' Micah began, and I immediately rolled my eyes. Arthur glaring daggers at him.

'Shut it, and shave that overgrown squirell off your face.' Sadie interrupted him, Sean erupting into laughter at the comment.

'Why are we even bringin' him? We don't need that kind of trouble today.' I pointed out.

'Cause I say so, sweetheart.' He leers, smugness radiating off of him.

My stumache churns, my dinner almost catching its second wind, 'Dont call me that.' I turn serious.

Micah laughs, about to respond-

'You heard her.' Arthur stops him, making him reconsider opening his mouth again. Instead he opts to mutter under his breath, no doubt the most vile and cruel things too.

John joins us to help get the wagon in order, then sen dus off. Changing the subject back, 'Arthur got the most space.' John points out, 'I'm sure he wouldn't mind.' He winks at me subtly, and I blush. John Marston, you godsend.

'That okay with you Arthur?' I ask, looking up at him with big eyes.

'Course, c'mon sweetheart.' He jumps out of the saddle, grabs me by the waist, and helps me onto his tall, dark shire.

I yelp, unprepared for his strength. He gets back on, placing himself behind me, then grabs the reins on either side of me, capturing me in his big frame. I can honestly say, that I've never felt safer. A content smile covers my lips.

Sadie chuckles at the two of us, the chuckle turning into pure laughter when she sees Micahs expression. Gritted teeth and narrowed eyes, glaring at us, probably furious by my blatant approval of Arthurs use of sweetheart.

And with that, we begin our journey into town. Lenny and Sean were singing behind us, Sadie leading the way ahead of us. And Micah? I didn't bother finding out where he was.

Feeling Arthurs warmth behind me was all I cared about, his chest and thighs rubbing up against me with every step of his horse. It was doing something to me.

As the sun dove deeper, the cool in the air grew. Involuntary shivers took ahold of my body, 'You cold, girl?' He asked.

I shook my head, 'No, I'll be fine. Thank you though, Arthur.' My voice hackig as a particularly violent shiver shook my body, making my teeth clattered against eachother.

'Dont you lie to me, you're freezin'.' He says, worry lacing his tone, 'Take the reins.' That was an order.

I did and his hands slid between us, unbuttoning his jacket. Knuckles brushing against my back, all the way along my spine, ending at the arch of my back. Sending shivers in waves all over my body. 'Scooch down.' He orders again. Slightly hesitant, I slide backward. My ass tucked neatly again his crotch and my back flush again his chest. With his jacket still on, he wraps it around my sides, nearly covering my entire upper body. Sharing eachothers heat, trapping it between us.

'Arthur. .' I breathe, lust coursing through me. But it must've sounded as a protest because-

'-Dont start.' He said, 'My jacket is big enough for the both of us. Now hand me the reins, darlin.'

Oh you wonderful, oblivious man.

I gave them back to him and tugged his jacket closer around me, leaning impossibly closer to him. Gradually, my shivers disappeared, all thanks to the large, warm bear of a man behind me.

'See? Told ya'.' His body shook gently with a silent chuckle.

'You're somethin' else Mr Morgan.' I sighed and this time, the words felt right.

He smiled, she didnt see it, thankfully. Everything she did, made him smile. She was so close to him, and he had indirectly caressed her back. He could've leaned back and given her space, but he craved her. It was intimate and special. He'd not felt so peaceful since she stitched him up last week. Everything he did was at her service. Now she sat between his legs, grinding up against him. Not to her knowledge though, she just moved her hips to the step of the horse, riding like a woman should. But unbeknownst to her, she was feeding a hunger he fought hard to contain. Head in the lions mouth and all.

'Whats on that mind of yours Arthur?' She asked, 'I can feel you thinkin' from 'ere.' Shuddering against him, is she still cold?

If she only knew, what was goin' through his mind. How he thought of you every waking moment, a sentiment she would never return.

'Nothin' special, you still feelin' cold? I can feel you shiverin' Girl.'

She froze for a second before she spoke, chuckling under her breath, 'No I ain't cold, but thank you again.' He could hear the smile on her lips.

What was it then?

'Is the cut heelin' good?' She asked, concern and something else lingering in her voice. The memory resurfaced in his mind, his blood setting about rushing places. He shut his eyes, trying to clean his mind before he answered. Clearing his throat first, 'Good, 'is gonna be a nice 'n clean scar.' His voice lightly strained.

'Well, I'm glad. You got enough of em' for my liking.' She huffed, annoyed at the notion of him always hurting himself.

He risked it, and leaned his head forward, almost touching her shoulder but not quite. Breathing in that sweet scent of hers. Telling himself that it wasn't such a strange thing to do. 'I'll survive, I always do. With your fine stitchin' It's impossibly not to.'

She blushed, turning her face away from his, a bit shy at his compliment. He loved the way her cheeks turned rosy, 'Thank you.' She said proudly, another shudder against him.

Damn it, wad she still cold or not?

He opted out of asking again. She'd just tell him no. So he took matters into his own hands, quite literally. He moved the reins into one hand and circled the other around her waist, pulling her closer. Figuring he could blame it on rough terrain, that he didn't want her to hurt her pretty self.

But she didn't protest, on the contrary. She made a sound, almost like she exhaled a moan under her breath. Then grabbed his thigh, rough terrain too, perhaps? 'Arthur. . .' She breathed.

'I apologise miss, I shouldn't ha–' He began.

'No, no. You should've.' Firm in her words. 'You, remember much from last week?' She asked.

'I do.' He breathed, a nervous shake to his voice.

'You werent drunk?'

'No ma'am.' He answered truthfully, 'I lied.'

'Why?' There was hurt in her voice, and something broke inside of him.

He hesitated, choosing his words carefully, afraid he'd hurt her more, 'Thought maybe it'd be best, since I stepped over a line.'

She scoffed, 'You didn't step over anything, Mr Morgan.'

'Well I. . .' He paused, 'You didnt seem to like it, thats all. Didnt want you to think I was takin' advantages.' He rambled an explanation.

'I didn't want to take advantage of you Mr Morgan.' She sounded annoyed, annoyed by this whole missunderstanding, 'Didnt want you kissin' me drunk, if it was, just cause you were drunk.' She explained, 'I thought you were drunk. . .' sighing.

Puzzle pieces were finally falling into place for the both of them.

'We're here!' Sadie called from the front.

Dissapointed, I sighed. Yet, relieved, I smiled.

Arthur jumped off, grabbed my waist and helped me down. His touch lingering as our eyes met, searching eachothers gazes for answers. Wondering, where to go from here. We were finally on the same page, and knowing he kissed me from his own free will put a sping in my step.

The group broke up, I headed with Sadie as the men got about their business. We looked at the guns first and foremost, then headed for the general store. I looked for Arthur as we walked from building to building, and saw him heading into the stables. I wondered if he was gonna treat himself to a new saddle. He deserved it.

We went about our list of things to buy, then gathered by the wagon. Collectively, we decided on a bar run before we rode back to camp. Lenny and Sean were particularly excited about the idea.

We ordered whiskey, drank and laughed. Sadie and Lenny stood between me and Arthur, resulting in a whole lot of meaningful glances. Just wishing we could talk some more.

At some point a woman had approached Arthur, laying her hand on his bicep, clearly flirting. And my blood ran cold.

I stood talking with Sean, who noticed my change in demeanour and looked over at them. 'Dont worry yourself girl.' He laughed, and I furrowed my brows. Not sure what he ment.

'You gonna buy a lady a drink?' The woman asked, her voice sultry. Now, my blood boiled.

Arthur chuckeled, 'I didnt know I was talking to a lady.' And glanced at her hand, which she immediately retracted upon noticing.

She scoffed, 'Aint that a nice way to treat a woman. You taken cowboy?' She asked, her eyes narrowing on him.

'Well. . .' He huffed, 'You could say that.'

My heart swelled at his comment.

'Told ye so.' Sean smirked, and I playfully hit him on the shoulder.

The night went on, and as most nights go in a saloon, a fight was bound to happen. Arthur must've been watching me, because within the next half minute. A man had walked up next to me, and was about to touch what wasnt his to touch. But Arthur appeared out of nowhere, his outlaw instics mustve been on high alert. The man did in fact look sleezy enough to attempt such a thing, Arthur grabbed the mans wrist in a bone breaking grib. 'You keep your hands to yourself mister.' He said, his voice low and threatening.

'Or what?' The man spit, and Arthur let go of him. Lowering his head, chuckling. That shouldve been the mans warning, but he didn't know Arthur like we did.

Backing me up, Sean whispered 'Get ready.' to Sadie, Lenny and me. Nodding to a table of thugs in the corner, they were staring at our group intently, watching the scene unfold.

Arthur jerked his head to the side and smirked under his hat, then in flash he gave the man a lethal right hook. Sending him flying backward. The thugs sprung up, heading for us with firm steps.

Holy shit. A full on brawl broke out, everyone lunged themselves on everyone. I delivered a right hook of my own as two guys were ganging up on Lenny. Another man tried getting handsy with me, he snuck up behind me and grabbed me around the waist. So I elbowed him hard in the side and threw my head back. Headbutting him, I turned around and pushed him off me. Taking great joy in the way his nose was gushing blood, I grabbed him by the shoulders and kneed him in the crotch. With a whine, the man fell to the ground.

Even Micah joined in on the action, he'd been sitting still enjoying his whiskey beside us. Until he decided he wanted some fun too, apparently only he could be inappropriate with me. He smashed the glass over the head on the closest man, although im pretty sure he wasn't even apart of the brawl.

As the dust was settling and the lawmen had been called, we flew the coup. Arthur grabbed my hand and rushed us to our horses, not willing to risk leading the law back to camp, we rode hard and fast for Strawberry. Arthur was making a fuss about me on the ride there, asking if I was ok, and I assured him I was. 'Well. . . You got one hell of a hook girl.' He said, and I beamed with pride.

The gang had to act casual as we arrived to Strawberry, which proved futile with cuts and bruises as we asked for hotel rooms. But we ended up conning our way into possession of the last three hotel rooms. Bribing the clerk that is.

Arthur grabbed a key of his own, which nobody disputed. He gave me a meaningful look at and headed upstairs. Sadie grabbed a key and dragged me along with her. Leaving the last three men to argue about sharing a room, 'Shut up Micah, you're sleeping in the hall.' Sean shouted behind us. Turning around, I saw Micah slamming the doors open and storming out.

'I'll find a woman to warm me, dont ya' worry.' He shouted back, muttering under his breath.

We burst out laughing and ran to our room, but before we headed in, I grabbed her arm 'I'm just gonna go check on Arthur real quick.' I said, not thinking much of it.

'I'll not see you til the morning then.' She laughed, our stolen glances had apparently not been so stolen after all.

I rolled my eyes, 'We'll see.' And knocked on his door.

Lenny and Sean walked by, a low whistle accompanied by chuckles as they saw me standing there. But they quickly turned quiet when Arthur opened the door, standing in only his shirt and pants 'May I come in?' I asked, giving him my best puppy eyes.

'Course.' He smirked, and opened the door wider, stepping out of my way. My side brushing against him as I entered. His vest and jacket lay discarded on the bed, along with his hat.

'About before-' I began, my back turned to him. Suddenly feeling his hands slide onto my waist, pulling me into him. I gasped, not expecting it. He leaned into my shoulder, lips gracing my neck, all the way up to my ear. The warmth of his breath fanning over my skin, making me boil on the inside. It made it difficult to think.

'I want you darlin', all of ya'.' He whisperes, 'If you'll have me–' pausing to place a gentle kiss between my ear and jaw, '–'M tired off missunderstandin's.'

In a haze, I turn around and lay my hands on his chest, having to crane my neck upward to meet his eyes. I reach one hand to caress his cheek, brushing at his stubble 'So am I.'

He leans into my delicate touch, nuzzling my hand and placing a soft peck on my palm.

One of his hands sinks its fingertips into the flesh at my hip as the other grabs my arm softly, sliding his hand up to my wrist, gently holding it as he places another kiss there, right on my pulse point. His lips linger, feeling my rapid heartbeat. Gently, he experiments. Sucking and pecking the spot.

A deep ache settles in my bones, fortifying with every kiss he places, deepening with every beat of my heart. And for a second, he feels it too. Meeting my eyes with a smirk, he pulls my sleeve up to cover more ground. Immidietly I feel that my clothes are weighing me down, 'Arthur.' I whisper.

'Hmm?' He hums, focused on kissing what skin he has access to.

Clearing my throat, 'Will you–' I breathe, 'Help me unbutton?'

His eyes meet mine again, searching my gaze for certainty. 'I'll spend the rest of my days doin' your biddin' if it makes you happy girl.'

'It would–' I say, and his hands move to my ribcage, pulling me into his frame. His face an inch from mine as his hands snake around my back, making quick work of each button without batting an eye. 'Oh—' I gasp, surprised by his practiced fingers. 'Should I be jealous?' I ask under my breath.

'No ma'am, none could compete with you.' He assures me.

I feel a blush creep up my cheeks, and in the same moment, he finishes with the last button. Stroking his knuckles over the bare skin along my spine, and sighs. Content. As a shuddering breath leaves me.

Arthur wonders for but a second if shes cold again, until he realises.

'You werent cold, were ya'?'

Immedietly getting what hes reffering to, 'In the begginin' I was.' I tell him truthfully, 'Youre wonderfully clueless sometimes, especially for such a experienced man.'

He chuckles, 'You tellin' me you were all hot 'n bothered for me?'

'You were rubbin' against me, pullin' me close. How could I not be?'

'I wasnt–' He protests, '–You were on me if anythin'.'

'Oh so youre tellin' me you were all hot 'n bothered then?' I throw his words back at him, smirking happily while doing it.

Arthurs mouth opens and closes, unable to think of a comeback.

'Thats what I thought.'

He scoffs a smile, pushing my blouse off of me, leaving me in my undergarments.

His hands move to my arms, sliding upwards, leaving prickled skin in their abscence. He trails them over my collarbones and neck, his eyes following every inch of movement.

I lay my hands on his hips, holding onto him as my knees grow weeker by the second.

Forming his hands into loose fists, he caresses my cheeks with the backs if his fingers. Gently brushing the knuckles over my cheekbones, pushing strands of hair from my face in the same motion. He flattens his hands and cup my face, big hands draping around the sides of my head. Pulling me closer, he leans into my space. Meeting in the middle, his lips ghost over mine.

My breath hitches when he kisses me softly, his thumbs stroking my temples in soothing motions.

I grab onto his shirt, fisting and lightly pulling on the fabric. Arousal taking the reins completley, making it hard to think. I look at him with hazy eyes, admiration clouding every sense I have. '. . 'S your turn mister.' I breathe.

Smiling, he continues kissing me, 'At your pleasure ma'am.'

With a pleased hum, I trace my hands up his abdomen and over his chest, and Arthur groans in response. The aching pulse in my body stiffens at the sound, becoming more compressed. More focused in my core. Kissing him, I easily unbutton his shirt, making quick work of it, and slide it over his shoulders. Now hooked on his arm folds, it hangs around the small of his back. I sigh happily, what a sight it was.

'You expercied taking men's shirt's off?' He jokes, laughing. Then moves his hands to my waist, clawing softly at my skin.

I slide my arms around his neck, up into his hair. Scrathing his scalp tenderly, 'Well–' I begin, but he bites my lip suddenly, warning me. I yelp, accidently pulling on his hair, and a whine escapes him. My core dripping at the sound as I release a shuddering breath, '. .'M a woman Arthur, I have needs.'

'Yeah?' He questions, 'You needin' right now, woman?' The gruffness in his voice making my fingers curl.

'I am. .' Whining, my kisses turn needy, 'I need you Arthur, always.' I moan.

At that he wraps his arms around me, pulling me tightly into his embrace, his fingers digging into my flesh. He kissed me, hard. Hard like he might just die if let's me go.

'Skirt. . .' mumbling against me, 'Needs to go.' He manages. Without another word, I snake my hands behind my back, untying my skirt a let it fall to the floor. Arthur walks forward, forcing me back until my chins hit the bed and we fall onto it. He puts his weight on me, although supported by his forearms. 'Pants.' He orders, but I was already one step ahead. My hands already moving quickly to undo the buttons on his pants as hes kissing his way down my jaw and neck. Focusing on my sweet spot, hes sucks bruises, turning me into a moaning mess under every breath. Meanwhile, I shove my hand into his boxers. He grunts and shoves his forehead into the crook of my neck as I palm him, overwhelmed by my long lusted for touches. His member was already harder than a rock, and leaking juices. I bring my thump to his tip, stroking his seed in circles. He groans breathely into my neck, his warm breath causing further heat to pool in core. He leans onto one arm, sliding the other along the curves of my body. Cupping my breast through my brasier, 'I want to look at you sweetheart.' He groans and unfolds his arm so that hes above me to meet my eyes, 'Can I look at ya'?' He asks, voice pleading.

I nod, '. . 'Course.'.

Waisting no time, he snakes one hand under my back and lifts me up. I gasp, always surprised by his strength. 'Please, ma'am.' He begs, and I take the hint. My hand leaves his his member and move around my back, undoing the brasier. Throwing it on the floor, he sighs in relief, 'Wanted to see ya' for so long.' He breathes, lowering me back onto the bed and himself onto of me. Immidietly taking one breast into his mouth, and palms the other. Squeezing them, playing with my nipples, using teeth, tounge and fingers. Automatically, my back arches. Pushing my abdomen against his, and accidentally making my mound rub against his crotch. He hums under his breath, his hand leaving my breast and slowly slides down my body, then pulls his mouth off of my breast with a pop. 'Now.' He whispers, kissing his way up to my jaw, then leveling his head with mine, 'Wanna se all of ya'.' his free hand cups my cunt. I gasp from the sudden touch, there's no friction, no movement, yet the aching grows stronger from the warmth of his palm alone. I shut my eyes, trying to come up with an answer. But the presence of him takes up my entire mind, all I can manage is a nod.

Not satisfied, he pushes his palm firmly against my core. 'Look at me girl.' He orders, sliding his middle finger over my slit, undergarments creating a barrier. Making my wetness soak into them, and he chuckles when he feels it. Whimpering, I open my eyes to look at him, and he smirks, 'Good girl.' And plants a kiss on my jaw, 'Use your words this time.' He pecks my lips, then slides his finger over my clit. Lately circling it through the fabric, I swallow hard. Jolts of pleasure surge through my body as something finally gives. 'Want. . . You.' I manage.

'Yeah?' He breathes, and I nod. To which he raises his brows, and pushes two fingers against my core in warning.

Another jolt, '!Mmm, meanin'. . .' Humming a stutter, 'Yes–' I pause, '–Please Arthur. I- I want you.'

'Atta girl.' He praises, then begins trailing kisses down my chest, over my nipple and abdomen, ending at my mound, right above my clit.

My back arches, 'Please. .' I whisper, pleading with him. He pushes back, shakes his already half off shirt completley off, and his pants follow. My eyes go wide at the size of him, hello cowboy.

His hands slide up my thighs, giving reassuring squeezes until he gets ahold of my undergarments. Hooking his fingers under them, he gently slides them off, and the both of us gasp. 'Beautiful.' He murmurs, admiring me. Then bends down, kissing his way up my inner thigh. Winding his arms under my legs and grabbing my waist, then hovers over my cunt, giving me one last look before diving in.

He licks one long stripe up my folds, gathering my wetness on his tongue. Then attaches himself to my clit, generously sucking and circling his tongue around it. I'd been on edge since the night in the tent, hyper sensitive from always wanting him, and finally feeling him on me? It's purely magical, I have to bite my cheek to keep from screaming when he shoves two fingers inside me. Thrusting in and out, curling with every withdrawal. I was already close, 'Arthur, 'm so close.' I moan.

He nods, furthering the movement of his tongue, 'Tell me what ya' needin' girl.' He mumbles against my folds, the vibrations of his voice deepness have me gripping my sheets, clawing it them like a wild animal.

'Need you, need you in me.' I blurt out.

He laughs, 'Im already in you sweetheart.' Causing my back to arch again, oh sweet, sweet vibrations. I throw my head back into the pillow, and his hand slides from my hip to my lower abdomen, 'Be good and lay still now.' Then pushing down with his palm. That combined with his fingers, were– were enough. . .

Blinding pleasure surges through me as I come on his fingers, walls clenching, fluids flowing. I breathe heavily as he laps it up, 'In me Arthur, please.' I whine.

'Youre gonna have to be clearer girl.'

I loose my patience, 'Christ, Arthur! I need you cock in me.'

He smirks, 'Well why didnt you just say so?' His hands push my legs over his shoulders and he climbs on top of me, face to face, he kisses me passionately. Tasting of salt.

His tip graces my entrance, 'You sure, aint you?' He asks, kissing my jaw.

I bury my hand in his hair, 'Mmh, 'm sure.' And with that, pushes inside me. A breathy moan leaves our mouths simultaneously.

'Feelin' just as sweet as you taste sweetheart.' He whispers against my jaw, nuzzling his nose into my cheek and forehead against temple. The pulls out, to the tip, and shoves himself back in. Hard and passionate, he sets perfect pace. Rocking our bodies with every thrust, going deeper than I ever thought to be possible.

'Christ.' I groan, he's hitting that spot inside me with every motion. One hand moves though his back, scratching at it loosely, pulling on hip to get him even deeper. He grunts, in my ear. Might aswell be music, wouldnt be able to tell a difference. He snakes one hand up my torso, grabbing my throat gently and squeezing just enough. Brushing his thumb over my my jugular. Outlaw indeed.

I pull on his hair, to level his face with mine, I wanted his lips, his tongue. 'Kiss me cowboy.' I order, and he follows.

Kissing me deeply, in rhythm with his thrusts, In rhythm with the aching that was finally dulling in my body. Finally, I had I'm. Truly had him. Bliss flows through me as the knot in my stumache tightens, on the verge of my second orgasm. And telling by Arthurs thrusts, he wasn't far away either. In a few more thrusts we both topple over with a breathy moans, Arthur whispering, 'Good girl.' Over and over as his seed was filling me to the brim, seeping out around his member as he collapses on me. My legs falling to the bed. We gather our breaths in a comfortable silence, just enjoying the closeness of the other.

He lays and arm around me, pulling me close as we fall asleep. Both thinking of the other, just not having to imagine what holding the other would feel like anymore.

At some point during the night, Arthur had rolled me off of his arm and snuck out. I was to tired to think much of it, especially since he returned shortly after. By morning I had all but forgotten it, brushing it off as a dream.

As we got dressed and ready the next day, I handed Arthur his hat. He took it, but looked at me, 'Put it on, wanna see you in something of mine.' He says, smiling.

'Gladly.' I chirp, and put it on.

His smile slants, turning into a smirk, 'Now, girl. You know what that means don't you?'

'Why'd you think I was glad to put it on. If not just to tell Micah to shove it.' I chuckle.

'It suits ya' He ruffles my hair with the hat.

We walked out and fetch our horses, the grup giving us mixed looks as the spot us. Arthurs hat declaring to the public of his intentions, that I was his and that we would have a busy night. Sadie smirked knowingly, winking at me. While Sean and Lenny looked happy for us, Micah was the only one who glowered.

'I got a surprise.' He says as he saddles his shire.

'Yeah, whats that?' I tilt my head.

He nods to Sean who runs off, I quirk my eyebrow at Arthur, 'Whats all this?' I ask.

'You'll see, keep your eyes peeled sweetheart.'

Eventually, Sean comes back into view, leading a horse I don't recognize. A beautiful mustang, tan coat, and white forhead. I don't connect the dots at first, 'Sean got a new horse?' I ask, confused.

'Now why would I surprise you with a new horse for Sean?' He asks, chuckling. And the pieces snap into place.

'For me?' I ask, dumbfounded. A million questions circling my head.

'Got her yesterday, had Sean ride and get her earlier this morning. Since I was. . . Occupied.' He smirks.

'That's why you snuck out in the night, then?'

He hums, 'Mhm.'

'Well I'll be. . Arthur Morgan, thank you.' I smile, hugging him. He wraps his arm around me, holding me tightly, afraid I'd otherwise slip away.

'. .'S nothing.' He pecks my cheek, 'Go meet her.'

As we arrived back to camp, we got busy. Late into the night we spent in Arthurs tent, defining the meaning of cowgirl.

The next few hours we rode next to eachother on our way back to camp, flirting and laughing as Saint and I got used to eachother.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #rdr2 #rdr2 smut #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 smut #rdr smut #red dead redemption #arthur morgan fanfiction #rdr2 fanfic

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laylasredemption · 3 months ago

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Wtf so I now can post long fics? Well, thanks Tumblr I guess the beef between us didn't last long. Here's the sad Arthur fic I wrote, hope you like it guys<3

arthur morgan x dutch's daughter!reader 3,9k words chapter 6 spoilers, death, violence

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

Until the last breath

Never in a thousand years would have Dutch van der Linde thought his own daughter would betray him. He would suspect anyone - recently even John or Arthur. But not [Y/n]. She was his daughter, his only child, the only thing he had left of Annabelle.

And yet there she stood - a gun in hand, pointed at her father, who had his own guns pointed at Arthur and John.

"You're on these two rats' side? That's what I get for raising you?" Dutch asked, his angry gaze fixated on his daughter. "You ungrateful brat."

"You didn't raise me!" [Y/n] countered. "Hosea was more of a father than you. To you, money has always been more important. You always had a plan to get more, and more, and more. I'd be in Tahiti if I had a dollar for every plan of yours that didn't work out."

"I gave you everything I could!"

"You gave me everything?" She had to stop herself from scoffing. "I spent my whole life trying to make you happy for once. Trying to make you proud of me. I gave my heart and my soul for this gang, and you ruined it all when you took in this rat!" Her voice started to crack, but she forced tears away. She reached for her other gun and pointed it at Micah.

Dutch asked, "You really think Micah is the reason you're turning on me?" His tone was strangely calm, too calm. "You think I never noticed the way you and Arthur were plotting something behind my back? But, of course, he didn't sneak into your tent at night just to plot. You disgust me, [Y/n]."

[Y/n]'s mouth fell slightly open as she attempted to form a sentence, and yet she wasn't able to. How did he find out? She thought her and Arthur had been sneaky enough.

"You lost your mind, Dutch," Arthur spoke up, "we were worried about you."

Dutch turned his eyes to Arthur, his anger growing at the man's comment. "I'm the one who gave all of you a home! A purpose! A damn family! And you had the nerve to get with my daughter behind my back, and turn her against me."

"All these years, Dutch..." Arthur shook his head. "Just to waste it for this snake?"

"Be quiet, Black Lung." Micah said, his gun pointed at Arthur.

"No," miss Grimshaw appeared with her rifle pointed at Micah, "you be quiet, mister Bell. And put that gun down."

It escalated in a moment. Micah pulled the trigger, sending a bullet towards miss Grimshaw. He took the last remaining mother figure [Y/n] had. Miss Grimshaw was a cold woman, but she cared for her, she cared for all the girls. And now she was dead.

But there was no time to dwell on that.

"Pinkertons are coming!" Javier ran up to the group, warning them.

"Now," Dutch spoke way too calmly for [Y/n]'s liking, "who amongst you is with me, and who is betraying me?"

"Bill, Javier, think for yourselves." Arthur spoke, but they didn't listen.

The both of them were too blinded by the doomed loyalty to Dutch. They sided with him, while Arthur was left with just [Y/n] and John. Besides them, there was also Micah and his own friends he had brought to the gang recently. They were outnumbered.

"My own flesh and blood has turned against me." Dutch concluded in a cold voice [Y/n] hadn't heard before. He had never been a good father, but now... his transformation was complete. The man who had once been a leader, had been replaced by a ghost of himself, driven by greed and paranoia

"You brought it upon yourself." [Y/n] spat.

Micah sneered, "And here I was thinking blood runs thicker than water. Seems a good fuck can change a lady's mind so easily. Wouldn't suspect that of cowpoke, but seems this day is full of surprises."

[Y/n] winced at Micah's remark. She wanted nothing more than to shoot him then and there.

And she tried to. But her hands were trembling with anger, and she missed.

"Put your guns down!" An unknown voice yelled out.

The pinkertons. They ran into the camp, or whatever was left of it, and started shooting. The Pinkertons had arrived, their shouts and gunfire piercing through the madness. The world started to crash down. [Y/n], Arthur, and John found places to use as a cover. The girl didn't even care what would happen with her father now. She had to focus on the pinkertons.

After a few minutes, when the trio knew they won't get out of it this way, John called out, "[Y/n], Arthur, into the caves!"

They didn't think twice before running inside the cave, following the gloomy and scary passages. The pinkertons ran after them and [Y/n] hoped John was leading them to some second entrance. They couldn't afford hitting a dead end.

"Micah was a rat, Milton told me." Arthur confessed as they kept running.

"We should've let him rot in that jail in Strawberry." [Y/n] thought out loud.

There was a ladder, leading them upwards. And another one, and a third one. As the surroundings started to become lighter with the outside's air, [Y/n] thought they might be getting out of that cave before the pinkertons get them.

"John," Arthur turned to his friend when the trio reached fresh air finally, "Abigail is safe, Jack too. They're with Sadie." Then he turned to [Y/n], and tried to stop a cough before speaking to her, "You, [Y/n], I want you to go and–"

"Go where?" The girl interrupted him. "Go and do what?"

"We have to separate here. John and I will go this way, you'll go join Sadie."

In the meantime, John called for their horses. Except that [Y/n]'s didn't come, which could only mean one thing.

"They killed her..." [Y/n] mused, and for a moment she couldn't fight the urge to cry. A few tears had escaped. "Now I have to go with you."

But, again, there was no more time to think. They mounted their horses, Arthur insisting [Y/n] rides with John in case they had to go separate ways. She didn't mount John's horse, she sat on the back of Arthur's. She knew that he knew there was no time to argue.

And they ran again. Ran, followed by the bullets shot by Dutch, Micah, Bill, Javier, and those men Micah brought to the gang. Dutch van der Linde was many things, and he never played the role of the father well, but even now [Y/n] was shocked to see him chasing after them, not afraid of the risk to shoot his own daughter.

When they escaped them, they kept running into the pinkertons. They seemed to be everywhere, as if they knew their next moves.

The trio tried to escape running up a mountain, but they were stopped. [Y/n] saw John falling off his horse, and no sooner the same happened to herself and Arthur.

"Buell!" The girl called out, seeing the animal lying on the ground with a bullet wound. "These motherf–"

They had to shoot now. There was no way out if they didn't kill all those pinkertons. And, fueled by the rage, [Y/n] felt as if she could shoot them all by herself. Hell, she would gladly choke all of them with her bare hands if she got the chance.

"Come on!" John called out after they have dealt with pinkertons. He knew this wouldn't last long.

[Y/n] ran up to Arthur, who was kneeling next to Buell, gently petting the horse's mane. The girl didn't even get to be with her mare when she got killed, so she had to be at least with Buell.

"Let's go!" John repeated.

"Give us a moment!" Arthur shouted back.

[Y/n] touched the horse gently and Arthur leaned over his head. This was such a heartbreaking thing to witness. Arthur received this horse from a man who had lost his leg in the war. Found him randomly in the woods, when the horse bucked him off and his leg got stuck in a stirrup. Arthur helped him and became friends, visiting from time to time. They went hunting once, and the veteran got attacked by a giant boar. With his last breath, he asked Arthur to take care of Buell. And Arthur did, until the horse's last breath, too.

With one last final, "Thank you," that Arthur whispered to Buell, they were ready to run further.

"Let's go." John said for the third time.

Arthur asked, "What about the money?"

"Money?" [Y/n] sobbed, wiping away a few last tears. "What about Micah? We have to get rid of him."

"I go down there, I'm dead in five minutes," John stated, "I have a family, that's more important."

"You're right," Arthur admitted, thinking John must be making sense for the first time in his life, "[Y/n], you go with John. I'm going back for the money."

"No, you're not." The girl protested firmly. She wasn't losing Arthur, not like that. "We go together or we don't go at all."

Arthur knew it was pointless to argue with [Y/n]. If she inherited anything from Dutch, it was the subborness.

Arthur also knew that he didn't have much longer left. He was actively dying from tuberculosis that he hasn't even told [Y/n] about yet. If soon he was going to take his last breath, he wanted [Y/n] to go, not see him like this. He had always been a tough man, he couldn't let the girl he loved more than anything in the world see him die beaten by a stupid illness. "Fine, let's go." He muttered and the trio started once again running. He had no idea how to get out of this. There was no way out for him, but he still could help [Y/n] and John.

They needed to find a higher ground, running up a mointain. It was very steep, they had to be careful. At least they knew they were safe from the bullets, for now. The pinkertons would come back to the cave, as Micah most likely told them about the money hidden inside.

"Keep, pushing, Arthur!" John said.

Arthur stopped running. He stood bent slightly, propping his arms on his knees. It seemed to [Y/n] like he has difficulty to take a breath. An expression of worry grew on her face. She knew he had some kind of sickness, but she didn't realize how serious it was until this moment.

"Arthur, let's go, we've made it so far." She said, the tears threatening to appear in her eyes once again.

"I think I've pushed all I can." Arthur admitted, coughing out some blood. He straightened his posture, being able to breathe a bit better momentarily.

John walked up to him, "We ain't got time for this."

"We ain't all gonna make it."

His words hit [Y/n] worse than any bullets. She ran up to Arthur, grabbing his arm, trying to make him step forward.

"Don't talk nonsense," she tried to pull him, but even in this state he was still stronger than her, "Arthur, I'm not going anywhere without you."

"You both go." Arthur insisted. "I'll hold them off. There ain't no more time to talk." With these words, he reached for his sachel and handed it over to John. Then, he took his hat off and placed it on [Y/n]'s head.

She knew what that mean. She knew Arthur was prepared to die. But she couldn't let him. She couldn't imagine a life without him. He truly was the love of her life, how was she supposed to keep going if he died on that mountain?

Arthur turned to [Y/n], his eyes softening as he took her face in his hands. "You need to keep going, no matter what happens. You understand?"

[Y/n] shook her head, tears welling up again. "Don't talk like that, Arthur. We're getting out of this. All three of us."

But Arthur knew better. He could feel the life slipping away from him with every breath, every step. "I need you to promise me something, [Y/n]."

"No, Arthur, no." She closed her eyes, hoping this would at least stop the tears.

"Look at me," Arthur said, gently placing his thumb on her chin and tilting her head up, "look at me, doll."

She slowly did as she was told, opening her eyes to meet his. Her heart was racing, knowing that these might be the last moments they have together. His gaze was full of love, as if in these seconds he wanted to love her for all the time he won't be able to in the future.

"You've been the light in my life, the good in me." Arthur told her.

"You've been my everything." She whispered, the lump in her throat making it difficult to speak.

"You get out of here with John. When I'm gone, you'll find a good man, one that'll give you the life you deserve. You're young, you can start a family, forget about me. I don't know what I did to deserve your love, but it's the time you bless someone worthy with it."

[Y/n] shook her head, her hands gripping Arthur's coat as if she could somehow anchor him to this world, keep him from fading away. "I'll never forget you. You're the love of my life."

"You deserve so much more than this life, [Y/n]. More than what I could ever give you. But you can still have it. You can still have everything you want, a future, a family, happiness."

But [Y/n] was stubborn, as always. "There's no future if you're not in it."

For a moment, Arthur looked as though he might break, as though he might give in to the desire to stay with her, to fight for a few more moments together. She tried to kiss him, and it took all the strenght his ill body had to stop her.

"I love you, [Y/n]," sounded his final words, "I love you more than anything in this world. But you have to go. For me. I'll love you till my last breath."

"And I'll love you until mine," that was the only thing she could promise him, "I'll never forget you."

The sound of gunshots echoed nearby, and the trio knew there was no more time. [Y/n] would trade anything to have a few more minutes with Arthur. She would walk down to Hell to speak to the Devil himself if he could grant her a bit more time.

John grabbed [Y/n], as much as it pained him, he had to drag her away. They had to run. That's what Arthur wanted.

As she was being dragged away, [Y/n] watched Arthur climb, trying to reach an even higher spot of the mountain.

"Arthur is doing this so you can live. Don't let it be for nothing." John said.

[Y/n] didn't reply. They had to make an escape, and they did so in silence, but the girl didn't even feel her own legs, she just trusted they were there. There was no life for her if Arthur died. This life had been all she knew. How she was supposed to live without the gang, and without him?

"John." She said firmly, somehow finding the strenght in herself to not cry anymore. "I'm going back there."

[Y/n] had been hit by the realization that she doesn't have anything to lose. Everything she had, she already either sacrificed or lost. Her mother, the gang, her father, her horse, and now Arthur, her Arthur.

John stopped dead in his tracks, turning around to face [Y/n]. "No, you ain't."

"I ain't got nothing to lose. Either I'll be dragging his dead body to the pearly gates and bribing the God to revive him, or I'll die there with him."

John looked into her eyes just to see fire in them. He understood her love for Arthur and her desperation to save him, and maybe he would have even done the same for Abigail. Except it was plain stupid to do such thing for a man, who was already dying.

"Damn it," John muttered, knowing he can't stop her, "you're as brave as you're stupid. The both of you."

[Y/n] took off Arthur's hat that he had given her, and passed it to John. "You're the best brother I could've had. When I die, I'll look up at you and expect to see you treating Jack and Abigail well. No more running away."

"You mean look down." He corrected her.

"Oh, I'm definitely going to Hell. And I'll be waiting for you, just wait at least fifty years." She chuckled and pulled John in for a quick hug. When they pulled away, she could see tears in his eyes. But [Y/n] wasn't going to cry, not anymore.

She had no reason to cry now. Her time was over. If Arthur was going to die, she was dying there with him, and she was ready for this. More ready than for a future without him.

"Take care of your family," [Y/n]'s last words for John sounded, "make sure they get the life they deserve. Make sure you get that life, too." And with that, she turned away and walked back to where Arthur was supposed to be.

John nodded, his throat too tight to speak. He knew he would carry this moment with him for the rest of his life. The night he had lost the two people who were like siblings to him. He had lost much more, but it didn't matter.

[Y/n] had nothing left to lose, nothing left to live for but this one last act of love. If she could save Arthur, it would be worth it. And if she couldn't... then at least they would die together, side by side, as they should have lived.

There were no more gunshots to follow, not a sound of any fight. [Y/n] climed up the rocks, finding the path where she had last seen Arthur. She saw someone walking her way, not someone who she yearned to see.

"You goddamn rat!" [Y/n] yelled as she grabbed Micah by his coat. She didn't know where she found this strenght in her body, but she managed to throw him such a powerful punch in the face that he had to take a few steps back, almost falling off a cliff.

"You just won't give up, will you?" He said, his usual malice still audible in his voice.

"Did you kill him?" She asked, pointing her gun at him.

"He's alive. Not for much longer though."

[Y/n] clenched her jaw, her grip on the gun tightening so hard her knuckles went white. She felt her anger building up inside her, threatening to explode at any moment. "I should've put a bullet in your head a long time ago."

"Come on, do it now then," he laughed, the sound getting into [Y/n]'s head as she contemplated the decision, "we both know you're too soft to do it. How can such a failure be Dutch's daughter? I bet your mama wasn't the most loyal to your daddy."

That was it, her breaking point. [Y/n] knew putting a bullet in Micah wouldn't fix what was already broken, but at least she could stop any further damage he would cause if he stayed alive.

[Y/n] pulled the trigger, aiming for Micah's head, right between his eyes. His body fell down the cliff, and [Y/n] watched that happen. She felt absolutely nothing. No remose. But also no ease. Not until she could see Arthur.

She ran towards where Micah came from. She found Arthur lying down, his upper body propped on a rock. His face was turned towards the east, looking at the sunrise, even though he had always loved the sunset.

"Arthur..." She said.

His eyes searched for the source of the sound, Arthur thought he was having hallucinations. He forced a smile on his beaten face when he saw her.

"You damn fool, [Y/n]." He said in a weak, raspy voice. Not the kind of rasp [Y/n] loved to hear in the mornings, but the one that emphasized Arthur's condition. "I told you to go with John."

"I couldn't leave you, Arthur." She said, losing all her power to not cry. She knelt down beside him, looking at his injuries. His face was full of little cuts and bruises, some blood. But he didn't seem to have gotten shot.

Tears shone in her eyes. And she must have been the most beautiful thing Arthur had ever laid his eyes on. The way the orange morning sunrays touched her face made Arthur feel butterflies in his stomach. It was way nicer to die when he had this sight in front of him. But it wasn't fair to her.

"Doll," he breathed out, "I'm dying."

"No, you're going to be fine." She stuttered, the pain in her voice betraying how delusional she was being. She couldn't accept the reality of the situation. She refused to believe that the man she loved more than anything was slipping away from her.

She took his hands in hers. His touch used to be so hot it could put the Devil to shame. But now his hands were colder than the coldest night in Colter.

"I've got tuberculosis." Arthur confessed to her finally.

"What?" A puzzled expression appeared on her face. "Since when?"

"Since I killed Thomas Downes."

[Y/n]'s heart dropped. She had heard rumors about the sickness, the way it slowly drained the life out of a person, but she never imagined that Arthur, her Arthur, had been battling it all this time. It explained so much, the coughing fits, the way he had grown weaker, more distant. And yet, he had never told her, never let on just how bad it was.

"I deserved to know." She replied, her voice cracking. "I could've helped you."

"I didn't want to worry you, doll. Didn't want you to see me like this. You deserved better than that."

"I loved you, I still do, and I would've stayed by your side no matter what. You should've told me. We could–" She choked on her words, realizing there was nothing they could've done to stop it.

A small, sad smile tugged at the corner of Arthur's lips. "You've always been too good for me, [Y/n]. I ain't ever deserved you, not really."

"Don't say that, Arthur. You deserve everything. And now you're dying here. Alone."

"I ain't alone." Arthur murmured, his voice growing weaker with every word. "You're here, right? That's all I ever needed."

She nodded, her heart breaking as she watched him struggle to keep his eyes open. The sunrise was casting a warm glow over his face, and for a moment, [Y/n] could almost pretend that they were somewhere else, somewhere safe, where they could live the life however they wanted to. Away from all the bullshit they had to go through.

But reality was cold and its walls were closing in on them. She could feel Arthur slipping away, his fingers holding onto hers weaker with each passing moment. She wanted to scream, to beg for more time, but it would be in vain.

Arthur stopped fighting the urge to close his eyes. "Promise me, doll... you'll find a way to live... without me." He could barely speak anymore, yet he managed to utter these words.

"I love you, Arthur." [Y/n] said instead, because she didn't want to make a promise she couldn't keep.

His grip on her hands loosened, and his chest rose and fell one last time. [Y/n] leaned in, pressing a kiss to his forehead. She held him close, cradling his head in her arms as they were bathed in the warmth of the sunrise. She stayed like that, long after he was gone, her tears mixing with the blood and dirt on his skin. Arthur was gone, and with him, a part of her died too. She had nothing left to lose, nothing left to fight for, except the memory of the man she loved.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #dutch van der linde #john marston #rdr2 #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 fanfic #red dead redemption x reader #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan one shot #arthur morgan imagines

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allzelemonz · 1 year ago

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Boys’ Night: The Van der Linde Boys X Male Reader

Dutch Van der Linde, Arthur Morgan, Charles Smith, Bill Williamson, Micah Bell, Sean MacGuire, Kieran Duffy, Javier Esquella

Fictober Prompt: Day 31, Orgy Pronouns: None Mentioned Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Orgy, threesomes, kissing, anal fingering, anal sex, oral sex, blow jobs, rough sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, Sean’s drunken mind, marking, viagra-esc tonics, almost everyone is passed around to everyone else, Reader takes both top and bottom roles Summary: Sean has an idea that leads most of the boys in the gang to a damn fun time.

Sean, in his mildly drunken wisdom, decided that a boys’ night needs more than just poker, five finger filet, and songs. With most of the older folks and women out of camp for a special con, Sean knows his only hindrance might be Dutch. So he enlists the best sycophant he’s ever met.

“Can’t tell me it won’t be fun.” Sean grins. “All a’ us-“

“I ain’t gonna be a part a’ some invert orgy.” Micah mutters.

Sean leans closer. “Oh, really? Even if a certain cowpoke’s involved?”

Micah glares up at Sean from his seat by the scout fire, then follows the Irishman’s eyes to the filet table. There you stand, arms crossed as you watch Morgan and Marston play. And Micah might be able to turn it down, let his senses say no again, but then Dutch leans a little closer and whispers something in your ear. Micah’s head swims with lewd images of the two men he finds himself pining for in his alone time despite his best efforts.

“Fine.” He snaps, holstering his gun and glaring at Sean. “But ain’t no one ta know ‘bout this, understand that?”

Sean grins with a little chuckle. “Ya mean ‘side from the boys fuckin’ ya?”

Micah’s fists clench at his sides, but he stops himself from punching Sean. He’s in too deep at this point, half hard in his pants and more frustrated than he’s ever been. “Shut yer damn mouth, cowboy, ‘for I decide ta leave ya with blue balls.”

Sean puts his hands up, giggling to himself. “Got it, big man.”

Micah stomps off and Sean watches him carefully. The blond makes his way over to Dutch, coaxing him away from the table and back to the fire. This might be easier than he thought.

Dutch is skeptical at first, concerned about how the gang might take such a proposition. But with Micah’s easy words, Sean watches the gang leader become so much more comfortable with the idea of the gang doing this for bonding and morale.

And the word spreads fast.

Folks are a little nervous at first, shuffling and unsure. Plenty of pining goes around camp on the average day, but being given the green light is a little daunting. So, Dutch being Dutch, he makes the first move. Shedding the hat from the blond’s head, Dutch pulls Micah into a kiss by the collar of his shirt. Most of the gang watches as he walks Micah back into the filet table and lets his hands wander. Sean gets the next burst of confidence, practically lunging to kiss Lenny. John bursts out laughing when they fall onto the ground together, but he’s silenced quickly by Javier. Then Bill sheepishly cups Kieran’s face before the former O’Driscoll puts his arms over Bill’s shoulders and kisses him as if he’s been waiting to for years. It’s only yourself, Charles, and Arthur left standing in the midst of the mess, looking around at the others of the gang in various states of intimacy and undress.

Arthur clears his throat, the red of his face only getting worse as he glances around. “Well… suppose…”

You look over at him, those pretty eyes staring back at you. “You…uh, you wanna…?”

There’s a weight on your shoulder and you turn to see Charles, his other hand held out towards Arthur. The workhorse dips his head, his hat hiding his face as he steps forward and takes Charles’s hand.

“We could go somewhere a little private.” Charles suggests, nodding towards Arthur’s tent.

The thought is comforting, making your pounding heart calm a bit. Most others have simply started at their partners where they happened to fall. Only Bill and Kieran have moved behind the chuck wagon. Sean nearly has Lenny out of his pants on the ground, Javier is shamelessly grinding into John against the tree, Dutch has Micah surprisingly whimpering at the attention he gets, Charles simply leads you and a bashful Arthur away from the others.

Arthur sits on his cot, rubbing a hand down his face as he takes a breath. You don’t blame him given the circumstances.

“We don’t have to.” Charles says, sitting next to him with a kind hand on his shoulder. “Just because Dutch said it would be a good idea, doesn’t make it true.”

Arthur shakes his head. “No… I been…” He sighs. “Been wantin’ somethin; fer a while.” His hand reaches up to hold Charles’s on his shoulder, his eyes finding yours as they scrunch from a smile. “Guess I got a dirty mind.”

You chuckle lightly at the joke, happily taking Charles’s hand again as he pulls you into his lap. Charles kisses you softly, one of his hands on your waist. You gasp, pulling back slightly, when he starts to rut against you with a half-hard dick. Arthur has moved behind Charles, kissing at his neck while his hands lift up his shirt. Charles’s chest is broad and built, firm to the touch when you rest your hands on him. You watch Arthur’s hand move, twisting into your shirt to pull you forward. You’re pressed flush against Charles as Arthur kisses you over the other man’s shoulder. It’s Charles’s turn to give neck kisses now, his hands firmly holding your hips so you grind down into him.

“I want ya.” Arthur mutters against your lips. “Ya wanna fuck me, partner?”

You nod, kissing him again.

“What do you want from me?” Charles asks, his hand tilting Arthurs head so they can look at each other over his shoulder.

Arthur’s breath hitches as he looks at the man. “I… I wanna suck ya off, Charles.”

Charles smiles and that in itself is a slight. “Of course you do.”

The three of you move, hands guiding and wandering as clothes are shed. In the distance, Sean can be heard begging and groaning, there’s some curse shouted in Spanish, and the camp echos with skin slapping skin and the slurping, popping, and smacking of spit. It’s all overwhelming and you try to focus on what’s in front of you.

Arthur’s on his back, Charles nearly sitting on his chest as his dick is sucked. You’ve already spread Arthur’s legs, the tube of gun oil feeling heavy in your hand. You open it quickly, spilling half of it before getting your fingers covered and entering Arthur. In front of you, Charles throws his head back with a deep groan as his hips begin to stutter and fuck into Arthur’s mouth. You can’t help your free hand pumping yourself as you watch, your other scissoring Arthur open. It’s premature, you know it is, but you can’t take it anymore. You should stretch him more, but your dick aches in your hand and you retract your hands to grip Arthur’s hips instead.

You press into him and hear a muffled moan as Charles shivers from the vibrations it brings. Both of you still, giving Arthur time. You watch his hand grip at Charles’s hip, pulling him forward. Charles sits up, propping himself on the box behind Arthur’s cot so he can get the proper angle to fuck down into Arthur’s mouth. You start your pace, rough and fast like Charles. Arthur’s legs shake as he wraps them around your waist, his hand squeezing at Charles’s ass. You wish you could see their faces, but you can imagine. Charles’s is likely twisted in pleasure and concentration, Arthur’s might be slobbery and tear stained.

It’s Arthur that comes first, his dick untouched as it releases a flood of cum onto his stomach, a few spurts hitting Charles’s ass. Arthur’s body goes still as he whines, being used as a set of holes by now. Charles is next and you watch the bounce of his ass lose its nice rhythm as he shoots his release down Arthur’s throat. Charles seems to bury himself deep and Arthur grips his hips as he swallows what he’s given. You double your efforts, wanting to fill Arthur from both ends. You gaze falls downwards to watch yourself fuck into Arthur’s tight hole. Charles catches you off guard, tilting your head up for a kiss as he straddles Arthur’s stomach. His hand reaches down, passing your furious thrusting to fondle at your balls as they bounce off of Arthur. The heat builds fast and you release just as Charles bites at your lip.

When you let go of Arthur’s hips, he falls back down to his cot completely. Charles continues to kiss you as you pull out, smiling into it. You can hear Arthur’s labored breaths beneath you and you’re so in your own head that you don’t register the footsteps.

“Mind if I try somethin’, fellas?”

You turn from Charles to see Micah leaning against Arthur’s shaving stand. He only has his red shirt on, half buttoned, and a smirk rests on his face. Charles’s hand has yet to leave your balls and you feel him squeezing slightly as his other turns your head back to him for another kiss, silently telling you to ignore Micah.

“Aw, come on, Smith.” Micah drawls. “Lemme have a turn.”

Charles pulls back, his lips wetted and dark from all the kissing. “A turn?”

You hear Micah take a step forward and Charles moves fast. He leaves you and you nearly fall onto Arthur, only just catching yourself before collision. You look over your shoulder to watch Charles push Micah down to bend over Arthur’s weapon’s chest. A new pool of heat starts when Charles sucks on his fingers before shoving them into Micah, eliciting a moan from the older man.

“Shit…” Arthur mutters under you.

You turn to look down at him, chuckling. “Don’t think it’s what he had in mind.”

Arthur smirks. “Yeah, I doubt it.”

His hand finds the back of your neck and pulls you down for a kiss. Micah’s whimpers and curses fill the tent and you feel yourself getting hard again. Arthur grunts against you, pressing up until he brushes his dick to yours.

“‘m gettin’ too old fer this.” He mutters, blushing at his still soft dick.

Behind you, Micah gasps and you look back to watch him bury his face in his arm as Charles enters him roughly. Charles thrusts like a beast, fucking every last pathetic noise he can out of Micah. Kind of serves him right.

“C-Charlie…” Micah gasps, his voice light and breathless. “Ah! Fuck…”

Arthur hisses, his hand wrapping around his dick and trying to get himself going again. You trail your hand down, helping him stroke himself, but to no avail. After a few seconds a bottle lands beside Arthur on the cot, a tonic bottle. You look up as Arthur cranes his neck in the same direction. Standing to the side is Bill, a timid looking Kieran right behind him. Both of them are bare besides a blanket draped over Kieran’s shoulders.

“It helps.” Bill mutters, his eyes trailing over to watch Charles and Micah for a moment. “Works fer whiskey dick at least.”

Arthur looks the other outlaw up and down strangely. “Thanks.”

Bill clears his throat. “Ya wanna trade, Morgan?”

You look down at Arthur who glances between you and Kieran. He catches your nod before looking at Bill. “Sure.”

Kieran steps forward, a sheepish grin on his face. You give Arthur a final kiss before standing. As you pass him, you chance giving Kieran a kiss and he accepts it, melting into you for the few seconds it lasts. When you pull away and turn to Bill, the large man has taken himself in his hand at the sight. Your eyes catch on that motion, swallowing thickly at the size, nearly as big as Charles. You find the sense to step closer to Bill and kiss him. Behind you, Kieran squeaks from something and Arthur mumbles an apology. Bill’s hands find your hips, pulling you against him well enough to smush your dicks together between your stomachs.

Charles practically growls behind you and you hear Micah gasp again. “How’s that for a darkie, Micah?”

There’s a thud and you imagine Charles let Micah go or maybe even threw him on the ground. A few beats later, Sean calls out to Charles with a drunken shake to his voice. Bill pulls you with him, keeping his lips busy on your neck until he turns you around to bend you over Staruss’s little table. Bill fumbles, finding a tonic on the ground and pouring it over his hand before he pushes his fingers inside. You spread your legs for him, raising your ass a bit now that you’ve lost whatever care for shame you had at the start of all of this.

“Gentlemen.” Dutch greets, settling himself against the tree behind the two of you. “Don’t mind me.”

Bill’s finger’s stall for a moment, likely nervous about fucking someone in front of his boss, but he continues after a few seconds. You try not to think about Dutch watching you, feeling that same set of performance nerves. Bill fumbles more as he moves, spreading your ass cheeks apart with one hand as he guides himself inside. Both of you groan as he enters and pushes himself in fully. Bill leans forward, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before he starts thrusting. You fix your feet steady on the ground when the table under you shakes from the combined weight. Bill’s thrusts are moderate and steady, hitting deep and brushing heavenly every time.

There’s a small groan, sounding like Kieran, that makes you shiver when you think about what Arthur is doing to him. A few more thrusts from Bill makes you grip the table tighter as your legs feel shaky. Then there’s a shout of Spanish with Charles’s name mixed in. Bill’s hands wander up your body a bit, caressing your sides as he keeps up his steady fucking. A low groan reminds you that Dutch is watching and you have half a mind to look back at him, but Bill picks up his speed and you bury your face into your arm instead. Bill’s climax pumps you full, the trickling feeling distinct as his dick already starts to push the excess out with a few final thrusts.

Only a moment after Bill has stepped back there are hands on your hips. Sean pulls you to him, falling to his knees in front of you and taking you in his mouth too fast for you to think. Your hands go to his soft hair and he relents immediately, letting you fuck his mouth without question.

“Arthur!” Kieran cries somewhere in the background.

Behind you, hands grip your hips as kisses are pressed to your neck. The tickle of a mustache tells you it’s likely Javier, but you’re too occupied with fucking Sean’s willing mouth to think further. You release for the second time, letting Sean take everything you have. In the midst of your high, Javier presses inside of you and starts fucking without inhabition. His hands on your waist hold you still, his lips beginning to suck in a mark to your neck. Sean stands, grinning at you before he runs over to Arthur and all but jumps on the older man’s dick. Javier wraps his arms around you, filling your ears with mumbled Spanish that is slurred by ecstasy.

Your eyes move around camp, finding several things to admire. Bill has Micah in his lap, stroking him with one hand and fingering him with another. John and Lenny each have each other in hand as they kiss, Charles watching them from the campfire. Dutch has Kieran on the ground, fucking him roughly as he mutters about O’Driscolls but Kieran moans all the same. Arthur stares from afar, Sean bouncing on his dick as he watches the sight of Javier finally burying himself deep and mixing his cum deep inside of you with Bill’s.

“You’re so warm, cariño.” Javier mutters in your ear before he chuckles. “Who’re you seeing next?”

“Not sure.” You take a few breaths. “Haven’t seen half of them yet.”

Javier pulls himself out, causing the mixed cum to leak out. “John’s a good hole, dirty mouth too.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

You turn in time for Javier to kiss you before he heads over to Arthur, teasing words spilling out as he climbs onto the older man’s lap to replace a spent Sean. When you turn back, Dutch is a few feet away. He beckons, gesturing to the ground and some part of wanting to please your boss makes you sink to your knees without question. Dutch guides his dick to your lips and, once again, you don’t hesitate. You only get a few bobs in before Dutch clutches at your head, beginning to use you without care.

“Shit!” Bill yells, not sounding pleased. “Wagons!”

Dutch pulls you off and you turn your head to peer through the trees. Glimpses of horses, a few colorful dresses… shit indeed. Everyone scrambles, hiding in tents, pulling clothes back on, trying to clean up cum from various surfaces. You all but fall into your tent, rummaging for at least a union suit or some kind of underwear. Pants, you find pants and pull them on.

“Dutch…” Hosea calls. “What’s gone on here?”

From your tent you can see Bill hiding behind a tree, not a thing covering him. Dutch comes out of his tent, somehow fully dressed, and greets Hosea as if he hasn’t fucked half of his men in the last hour. Miss Grimshaw looks around, sniffing with a crease in her brow for a moment. She’s distracted by Tilly asking a question and you take the opportunity to grab the union suit you know to be Bill’s on the ground in front of you before running over to him in the trees.

“Owe ya.” He mutters, pulling on the covering.

You nod, turning to leave, but Bill catches your arm and pulls you closer to kiss your cheek. You give him a smile before circling around the trees, acting like you’d gone out to piss. Passing Lenny and Sean hiding out by the lake with a single fishing pole as an excuse, you sneak as best you can to Arthur’s tent. As if expecting you, a half dressed Arthur with a bulge in his pants, hands you the clothes you’d shed earlier. You dress the rest of the way next to the munitions, eyes checking for onlookers on occasion.

The camp settles, the secret kept. Everything is well and most of the boys have elected not to bring it up, others whisper and snicker about it. It’s dark when Micah sits next to you and you look at him, finding flushed cheeks for only a moment before he kisses you. It’s surprisingly soft despite the chapped and bruised lips. He pulls back, glancing to see if anyone saw before looking back at you with a sparkle in his blue eyes.

“Didn’t get the chance, cowpoke.��

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