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aoioozora · 19 days ago

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Alive

Character: Kieran Duffy (Red Dead Redemption 2) Content: K.D x Fem reader, fluff, mild depictions of violence, very minimal cursing, mild angst Word count: 4.1k Photo credit: @risenfromagrave Note: Saving Kieran here because his death UPSET me and he didn't deserve to die the way he did.

You grumbled, looking over your shoulder to see if deputies were still at your heels.

Being paired with Micah for a mission wasn't fun, and though for once the mission went smoothly without any hiccups, it all went to shit when the two of you stepped into a saloon for a drink to unwind after the work. An especially angry drunk challenged Micah to a fight, and all hell broke loose. First, an exchange of angry words, then an exchange of punches, and then an exchange of bullets, all loud and noisy enough to wake the dead, and the law enforcement which came running. Not wanting to be caught up in more trouble than you ought, you had to grab Micah by the back of his collar and get running and galloping.

"Dutch tells us to lay low and you do the exact opposite! Can't have any damn peace with you around," you scolded as both of your horses relaxed and began to trot down the dirt roads back to Shady Belle.

"Can't blame me, Miss. That feller started it. I was in for a nice, peaceful time until he came along to ruin it," he complained, clearing his throat loudly and spitting on the ground.

You didn't hear a word he said. A quiet rustle in the woodland caught your attention, and you caught a glimpse of a rider on a horse. He was dressed in black and gray, having his hat down low over his eyes. He rode away from both of you down another dirt trail, not seeming to have noticed your presence. Micah was still talking your ears off and you hushed him.

"Shut it, Micah. I see an O'Driscoll."

He immediately stopped. "Where?" he whispered eagerly, craning his neck and peering forward to look in the same direction as you. When he spotted the fellow, he smirked.

Your eyes remained trained on the O'Driscoll, and you flicked your chin towards him. "Let's follow him."

And so the two of you did, keeping a safe distance and acting inconspicuously. Micah took the rear, not wanting to be recognized as he was seen before with Dutch by the wretches. You urged your horse forward to cover him and rode ahead.

The O'Driscoll took a winding route into the woods --a lesser known dirt trail-- and the two of you followed on behind him slowly, using the bushes, foliage, and dappled shadows for cover. The Sun, situated at the apex of the sky, shone down bright, making beads of sweat drip down your face even under the shade.

The O'Driscoll neared a run-down log cabin and hitched his horse right outside. The moss-covered cabin was shaded by the tall trees and the outsides of it were littered with broken bottles. It looked nothing like a proper O'Driscoll settlement, but rather a temporary dwelling. Only five horses were hitched outside the cabin, indicating only a few.

"He's dismounting," you whispered to Micah as the two of you stopped your horses at a safe distance.

Just as both of you dismounted, a blood-curdling scream erupted from within the cabin. You stopped in your tracks and looked at Micah with wide eyes. He looked back at you, not particularly perturbed. The scream seemed to make even the leaves of the trees tremble in fear.

"Stop! Please!" came the cry of a very familiar voice.

"Kieran!" you exclaimed under your breath. "Come on, we have to save him!"

Before Micah even said anything, you took the rifle off your back and began to stalk towards the cabin as fast and as unnoticed as you could. Micah followed behind you.

Crawling behind a crate, you asked Micah as you peeked out, "What do you think about shootin' up some O'Driscolls today?"

"Nothing makes me happier."

You grunted in response. "For once we agree."

It took you everything to not lose your cool at the shrieks echoing in the woods. You longed to burst into the cabin and shoot them all until they turned into a well-loved rag filled with holes, but you knew better than to be a fool.

Slinking away from the crate, the two of you continued to stalk towards the rundown cabin, careful not to jostle the broken bottles. You could hear the sounds of Kieran being punched, talked down to, and kicked around. Your stomach churned in anger as you ducked under the window and pressed your back against the wall next to the door. Micah positioned himself on the other side of the door, holding his guns up.

"You really thought you could escape us, huh?!" you heard one of the O'Driscolls yell from inside.

A loud thud and a groan of pain followed. "Please stop..." came Kieran's pathetic sounding wail.

You bit your lip and put your hand on the knob, trying to twist it open. It resisted.

"If you thought your Van Der Lindes would come and save you, you're dead wrong. It don't look like they care too much about scum like you," another O'Driscoll spoke. Another thud, followed by coughing and hacking.

"But don't you worry. We'll treat you real fine and head you back to them as a gift of the long standing friendship between us all," assured another O'Driscoll, laughing aloud.

You heard the rustle and scrub of cloth and wood creaking. Kieran begged, "No, no, no! Please don't!"

From within, the distinct scrape and clinking of knives was audible. Your heart was in your throat.

"I'll break this door open and you open fire," you hastily whispered to Micah, and he nodded, pushing himself off the wall and clenching his guns.

Kieran was starting to shriek. Lifting the butt of your rifle, you rammed it straight down on the doorknob, knocking it off. The door broke open from the impact and Micah sprung into action.

You followed immediately. Pulling the trigger, your first target was the head of the wretch who held his knife against Kieran's neck. He fell down, limp.

"Van Der Lindes at your fucking service, boys!" you roared.

Micah laughed aloud at your roar, pleased by your enthusiasm as he fired his bullets. "That's my girl!" he exclaimed snidely, "Finally you ain't so polite about your killin'."

"Shut your damned mouth and keep shootin'!"

There were more O'Driscolls in the cabin than you anticipated; about ten. But it was no hard task for two of the gang's most formidable gunslingers. Micah gleefully shot away, throwing down tables and using them for cover while Kieran was cowering in the corner of the room, hands and feet bound tightly in ropes. Finding an empty wardrobe next to him, you pushed it down on its side and rushed behind it.

"You okay, Kieran?!" you exclaimed as you exchanged fire.

"I-I-I'm okay!" he squeaked, hunching over his knees and trying to lay as flat as he could behind the defense of the wardrobe.

Your momentary distraction afforded a shot to the arm, but with adrenaline rushing in your blood, you felt no pain. You'd slaughter every last one of them for even daring to touch Kieran.

Finally, the last one fell, shot by Micah. The two of you breathed heavily from the exertion and Micah rose to his feet from behind the makeshift rampart, scanning the cabin once more. With a sigh, he returned his guns to their holsters. "Not enough of these fellers for me to kill," he quipped, disappointed.

You turned to Kieran, finally having the time to properly look at him. His pathetic face was red and bloodied from all the punches he took. His clothes were torn and soiled, bearing boot prints from being stepped on. Cuts were all over his arms and his neck, some shallow, some deep. Pulling out your knife, you cut off the ropes that bound him.

"You look like a mess..." you sighed, trying to keep calm for his sake, "What on earth did they do to you?"

Kieran grimaced as he explained the abuse he underwent the past two days. Sleep deprivation, starvation, beating, kicking, threatening, lashing, and so much worse else that he struggled to express. As you pulled out some clean cloth to wrap around the wounds on his neck, you felt your chest tighten with guilt that you couldn't come for him sooner.

You rose to your feet and held out your hand to him. He shakily raised his arm, taking it and rising to his feet with a pained groan. He held his back and his hip, still groaning.

"Y-You came at the right time," he said, quivering, "They was ready to cut my head off just when you entered."

Your eyes widened and you clenched your teeth. "God damn them bastards," you growled under your breath, not even meaning it vainly.

The three of you only had these few moments to breathe when more gunshots from behind the cabin-- all distant-- vibrated the quiet air. You started, looking at the rear windows of the dilapidated building.

"They must've heard our gunshots!" you exclaimed.

Micah grinned, instantly slinging his guns out of the holsters. "Leave them to me," he said, sauntering towards the windows and ramming the butt of his gun against the glass, shattering it.

"They look like too many to take alone" you said, joining him and standing by the other window. Turning to Kieran, you pulled out your Cattleman and handed it to him. "Here, use this. We're a bit outnumbered."

The roar of O'Driscolls over their gunfire was loud, but you and Micah held them back. Kieran struggled with all his aches and pains, but managed to shoot a few himself. It was a tense few minutes of heated exchange, but with the last one falling, silence immediately settled in.

Rising immediately, you said, "Let's get out of here before more O'Driscolls come."

After quickly looting the sparse cabin and the bodies, the three of you mounted your horses and rode out. Kieran sat behind you, quietly whimpering in pain as the horse rode along the rugged paths. Micah seemed to be addressing Kieran about something, but it was all muffled by your thoughts.

The thought of Kieran suffering worse than how you found him sickened you. Your stomach churned at the image of his neck sliced and his life blood spurting out. And knowing how ruthless the O'Driscolls could be, they definitely would've done significantly worse things to his dead body. You may have had a questionable relationship with the Lord Almighty, but you sure thanked Him that Kieran's warm hands still held fast to you.

It was a relief to see the familiar surroundings of Shady Belle bathed in the descending sunlight, and as soon as the three of you arrived, the sight of Kieran after his disappearance stirred excitement in the camp.

"You found him!" Mary-Beth, running up to you, exclaimed first as you dismounted and helped Kieran down.

"Those damn O'Driscolls caught him!" you roared for everyone in the gang to hear, and then told them all how you and Micah slaughtered every last one of them.

The other gang members praised you, and reluctantly praised Micah for the rare occasion of him taking part in saving a fellow gang member. As always, he was full of pompous words about how he "killed more than the little Miss".

You had no time to be offended. You and Mary-Beth helped Kieran into a room in the mansion where Ms. Grimshaw would treat his wounds.

"I do hope he'll be okay," Mary-Beth said worriedly, holding your arm.

"He'll live. That much I know."

Feeling weary, you pulled out of her grasp and headed downstairs. She followed you into the parlour of the mansion and watched as you sat down with a sigh. You begged her for a cup of water, which she promptly brought to you. As she took another chair and sat down next to you, she watched you relish the cool drink.

"I'm sure glad Kieran is back," she said softly, lacing her fingers over her lap.

You nodded vigorously, placing the empty cup on your thigh. "So am I. You wouldn't believe our luck. He would've... He would've gotten his head lopped off if we were a moment too late." You wiped your hand down your face, sighing shakily. "Thank the Lord we found him before they did."

Mary-Beth wrapped her arms around you, letting you rest your head in the crook of her neck as she rubbed your back. Your body eased against your friend's and you sighed again.

"You did a real good job, my dear," she whispered, lovingly stroking your hair.

The security tightened around the camp after this incident. More gang members stood on the perimeters of Shady Belle, vigilant. Not only was the gang up on their guard, but the general attitude towards Kieran changed too. Some of the more rougher gang members who bullied him previously seemed to express some concern for his wellbeing and recovery.

The camp was in no celebratory mood after learning that Kieran was whisked away during the party for Jack. It remained lively as it always was, but the perpetual shadow was cast by the O'Driscolls caused the heavy drinkers to sober up and keep their vigil, and Dutch to withdraw to himself to consider where to go next before they risked another kidnapping or attack.

In the meantime, you made sure to tend to Kieran in any way you could, visiting him and talking to him to distract him from the pain. Sometimes Mary-Beth and Arthur would take your place when you weren't around.

Speaking of Arthur, he was especially upset about the whole thing.

"Damn O'Driscolls," he shook his head as he lit the cigarette between his lips, "I'm tired of this feud Colm and Dutch are having. When will it end?"

"I reckon it will go on till kingdom come," you answered resignedly. This was the first time since joining the gang that you witnessed O'Driscoll brutality firsthand after only knowing it in theory.

Arthur grumbled, taking a drag of the cigarette. "That aside, I'm surprised Micah cooperated. You know how he is. Kills more people than he saves."

You shrugged. "True. I guess he happily jumped right in because it was O'Driscolls we was dealing with. He gets to satisfy that damn itch in his hands and we get to cut down their forces."

"Hm." He nodded silently, staring at the ground of the porch he was standing on. "I'm glad Kieran is okay, though. You did well." He gave you a gentle pat on your shoulder in gratitude.

Though Arthur didn't show it, you could see the relief written all over his face. How distraught he would've been if the man that saved his life was killed like a dog with nobody to save him.

It was an especially quiet night and like usual, you sat in Kieran's room by the window, polishing your Cattleman to pass your time as you kept him company. His room was small, but sufficiently spaced for him to move about. After all the nights he spent sleeping outside, you were glad that he was given a roof over his head.

The camp was mostly quiet and relaxed, and conversations around the fire rose in the air in soft murmurs. You watched the night with alertness, and your rifle remained on your back. Kieran, seated on his humble bed, preferred to watch you.

"I-I cannot thank you enough for saving my life, Miss," he blurted. He'd been saying that everyday since.

You looked at him and smiled, shaking your head. "Are you going to thank me for the rest of your life?" you asked lightheartedly.

"I sure will. It's my life you saved, after all." He twiddled with his thumbs nervously.

You paused, looking at his slouched posture, his scruffy appearance, messy black hair and all the bandages wrapped around his arms and his neck. Your eyes softened at his plight, and you felt a surge of affection for him. "I'm glad you're back, Kieran. I missed you," you admitted softly.

An embarrassed flush bloomed on his cheeks at your loving address. "You did?" he asked, surprised. "I didn't think I was... visible enough in camp to be noticed, let alone missed."

"Well, Mary-Beth was the first to notice you was gone," you told him, "and you know the rest." But sensing the insecurity and vulnerability in his voice, you said, "Kieran, I don't know to what extent the camp as a whole trusts and likes you, but just know that I'll always trust you, like you, and miss you when you're gone."

You felt your cheeks flush a little, wondering if your speech betrayed your true feelings. But he smiled, feeling reassured.

"Thank you, Miss. I'm glad, really," he looked down at his feet on the floor, "I-I try so hard to be of use in the gang. I like it here better than with them O'Driscolls," his voice quieted as if in fear of even uttering the accursed name. "They're terrifying, but you all are nicer. And- And I want to prove myself that I-I ain't an O'Driscoll no more."

"Oh, Kieran," you shook your head, "You ain't an O'Driscoll no more, no matter what any of us say. You're one of us, a Van Der Linde." You rose to your feet and moved towards his bed. Situating yourself right next to him, you took his hand in yours and squeezed it, now saying in a soft whisper, "You'll never be an O'Driscoll again."

He nodded slowly, taking in the words. You looked at him. His eyes were fixed to the starry night outside the window, distant and thoughtful. You wondered if he thought of his time with the former gang. Your heart ached for what he had to go through with them, both now and in the past and to always be in fear of them, near or away.

"If they dare touch a single strand of your hair ever again, I promise I'll do worse things to them than what they planned to do to you," you declared, squeezing his hand again.

Kieran's eyes widened, alarmed by the extent of your harshness. He put his other hand on yours, clasping it. "Please, dear Miss, you don't have to go so far just for me," he begged.

"Why not?" you demanded, "They hurt you! I won't stand for that!"

"But-But the O'Driscolls ain't the sweetest people, you know... what if you get hurt because of me? I wouldn't want that."

Your brows furrowed, and Kieran feared he angered you. He shrunk a little, pulling his hand away from yours reluctantly. Noticing this, the anger on your face melted away.

"I... well," you stammered, "It ain't fair, Kieran. You're a nice guy. You've had a rough life even before them O'Driscolls. You take care of our horses and do your best around camp. You're an honest and innocent feller unlike the rest of us and I like that about you. It ain't fair or right that they can just whisk you away and not get the consequences of their actions for it!"

Your praise made his heart soar. He didn't think you thought so highly of him.

"And I know you ain't much a fighter," you continued, "And I ain't the best and showing people I care. Protecting you is the least I can do."

Kieran was both flattered and ashamed. Protecting was his job as a man. It didn't sit right with him that you took the dominant role when it was simply your right and privilege as a woman to be cared for and protected. But he didn't say it. He knew his limitations for the moment, but vowed to himself that he'd try and get stronger and braver so that he could one day protect you.

Afraid as he was to admit it, he admired you greatly. You were strong, hardy, beautiful, and brave. You knew your way around weapons and you were smart. He'd always looked on you with a certain awe and even jealousy that he wasn't anywhere near as impressive as you were. And to think that someone so amazing would condescend to be so attentive to him at this moment was both humbling and heart-fluttering.

"I could not have asked for a better friend than you, Miss," he smiled shyly. No sooner had the words come of his mouth, he worried if he took it too far by calling you a friend.

But the grin on your lovely, weathered face eased him. "I'm happy you think so, Kieran," you said gently, looking down at your lap.

He caught a hint of shyness in your face as you looked away, and his heart jumped. You, shy? He never saw this before.

Silence filled the room. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, and from your straight posture and how you clenched the sides of the bed, you looked like you had something more to say. Kieran shifted in his seat.

"Are you okay? You look a little... tense," he finally asked.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I just... I just wanted to tell you something important."

"Of course," he encouraged, turning himself to face you.

"I- I love you, Kieran," you blurted with many blushes.

He stared at you with wide eyes, stunned and speechless. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

"I've fancied you ever since we was in Horseshoe Outlook," you admitted, "and I thought you was real sweet... even though we didn't really trust you. But I liked you."

He still stared, completely bewildered by this point. He never imagined anyone would ever like him, pathetic as he was.

"Me? A-Are you sure you do?" he sputtered.

"Of course I do. No doubt about it."

"But why me? I ain't impressive like Arthur or like Charles or-- I don't know-- John... Why me?"

"It's because you're kind," you explained in earnest, "and you're genuine. You're impressive in your own way. You work so hard to earn our trust. If nobody appreciates you for it, I do. And I even love you for it."

Nothing more could be said. He sat silent for a while, taking in your words. You watched him, worrying he'd not feel the same. You longed to ask him what he thought, but you waited for him to speak first.

"It's amazing that you'd choose me, my dear Miss, a pathetic O'Driscoll boy..."

You frowned. "You ain't an O'Driscoll boy. You're Kieran Duffy," you said firmly, "I could never love no O'Driscoll boy. But Kieran Duffy? I would."

He smiled abashedly. Though you scolded him, he couldn't help but feel so utterly over the moon. He just couldn't get enough of your repeated declarations of love. His smile dispelled your momentary annoyance, and your eyes softened, feeling the weight of your affection for him rest heavy on your heart.

His trembling hand ventured bravely to touch yours and your hand instinctively leaned into his light touch. Feeling encouraged, he wrapped his hand around yours, holding it gently. Both the touch and the confirmation of his feelings sent strong flutters and sparks flying all over inside you.

"I've always admired you," he admitted, "You're really purty, and strong. Always thought you was an amazing woman." His hand squeezed yours, and you squeezed back, "I-I really do love you too, my dear Miss."

Your lip trembled as you felt an overflow of emotions. "I'm sure glad you're alive, Kieran," you said breathlessly, "I don't know what I would've done if you was gone and I didn't never get to tell you how much I love you."

He moved closer, pressing his shoulder against yours. Without thinking, you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. His heart jumped again, but he sat still.

"It's because of you I'm alive," he whispered, affectionately rubbing his thumb over your knuckles as he pressed his cheek against your head, "And I'm glad too." His voice cracked, "I'm glad to be alive to hear you say you love me."

You couldn't take it anymore. You wrapped your arms around his waist and hugged him, something you've been desperate to do since you brought him back alive. His surprise only lasted for a moment before he responded by wrapping one arm around your waist and the other around your shoulders.

"I'm sorry to be so bold, Kieran, but I ain't never lettin' you go."

He smiled, burying his face in your neck. He could never be offended by your boldness; it was one of the many things he loved about you.

"And I ain't goin' nowhere."

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i-am-a-bad-influence-writes · 6 months ago

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Wherever I rest my head is home if it's with you

Part 3, On the hunt

Masterlist Word count: 3.2 k Charles Smith x Fem!Reader Arthur Morgan x Mary Linton John Marston x Abigail Roberts Dutch Van der Linde x Molly O'Shea Mary-Beth Gaskill x Kieran Duffy

Summary: Looking for gold is a men's world in a town run by women. The amounts of violence and suffering these men go through with the hope of getting rich is insanity. Gold fever broke marriages and relationships alike until the settlement was nearly all women. It's a small settlement, nearly a small town, next to the Elysian Pool. Most men red hot with gold fever pass through to stock up on supplies before heading down to the mines near Beaver's Hallow or Annesburg. The settlement has only one law set in stone, as lawmen do not want to come there, and it is praised like it was one of the ten commandments. You do not harm the women.

Preview

'There's something off about those fellers,' you state sluggishly, wildly swinging the whiskey bottle in your hand around, 'they ask too many questions.' Mary-Beth chuckles and puts a hand on your shoulder to distract you as she takes away the bottle with her other hand. You look up at her with furrowed brows and lean your head against her leg. While most of the women sit spread out on the three logs that are used as benches on the land behind Sadie's house, you have always been a ground person. Molly and Karen were ground people like you but now you're on the ground all on your own. In your intoxicated state, that makes you very sad but you don't hang onto it for too long as another thought grabs your attention. Normally you play a bit of guitar for the group but last time you all got together, you had lent your guitar to Mary-Beth who promptly broke all the strings while trying to tune it. God, how you miss that Javier feller that passed through a few months ago. He sang the sweetest songs and could make you sing as well. A quiet giggle leaves your lips. 'All men ask questions. Difference is that most men don't make you nervous,' she teases. Tilly and Abigail chuckle in return while Sadie rolls her eyes. 'You ain't got nothing to laugh about miss Roberts,' you state loudly, 'you're tripping over your own feet around that scar faced feller.' Abigail turns a bright shade of red as she tries to avoid eye contact with Sadie, but she's already seen and leans up against her. 'Oh, our sweet miss Roberts has finally found someone to bed,' she teases as she throws her arm around Abigail to pull her as close as she can. Abigail pushes her off and huffs while scooting away from Sadie. 'Ain't nothing like that. The boy is just... charmingly stupid. That's all.' 'No use in defending yourself now, sweetheart,' Mary-Beth teases. 'Yeah, we both saw,' Tilly adds. Abigail groans. 'Fine, yes, John is adorable. I don't know what it is about him ‘cause he's dumb as nails. He told me he can't even swim,' she vents to the group, 'but my stomach tingles around him. It's terrible.' 'Have they gone past the gun store yet, Mary,' Sadie questions as she looks over to Mary. 'No, I haven't seen them yet. Why? Are they all handsome,' she jokes with a teasing wiggle of her brow. You sigh, but it comes out as more of a lovesick groan. The girls laugh and you lean your head down to cover your face with your hat as you lean back against the log. 'That's one way to answer that question,' Mary-Beth teases, 'you got the hots for one of them, Lucky?' 'Piss off.' 'Weren't you sweet on that Mexican feller just a few weeks back,' Mary teases, taking your hat off your head to see your embarrassed expression. 'No, no, that was just another notch on her bedpost,' Abigail jokes, 'no feelings there, right Lucky?' 'I could've sworn she was in love the way she looked at him those nights at the campfire,' Tilly continues as you snatch your hat back from Mary. 'Same thing with that Charles feller, ain't it,' Sadie suggests with a grin, 'I heard you didn't even try to shoot him when he made fun of how you get on your horse.' 'Didn't need to,' you grumble, annoyed and blushing. 'So what is this I heard about you going hunting with Charles,' Tilly teases. 'Okay, fine, that's enough,' you bark. The mood drops for a second. You don't mind being the bud of the joke for a bit but you let them know when it's been enough and they respect it. Least they could do is respect it after all you've done for this goddamn town. 'Anyway, what’s this I heard about them looking for Dutch Van der Linde and Micah Bell?' The mood flips from light and careless to tight and anxious within a second. Those are not well-liked people to say the very least and none of you have good memories of them.

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depressingredemption · 2 years ago

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RDR2 Incorrect quotes pt2

Arthur: wait are we fighting or flirting?

Charles: my hands are around your damn neck.

Arthur: that doesn’t answer my question-

Dutch: do you want to know why I wanted to talk to you privately?

Sean: i assume it was the prank i pulled on john but in my defence, i did not know that much snake oil in coffee would make someone vomit.

Dutch: it wasn’t about that but now it is.

Hosea: everyone calm down! We’re grown men! Lets handle this like adults.

Arthur: so wing it and hope for the best?

Hosea: yes, now Javier hand me that shovel.

Lenny: why is kieran crying under the table?

Arthur: he took one of those “what person are you” quizzes.

Lenny: and?

Arthur: he got Sean.

Hosea to young john: where are your parents son?

Young john: what are parents?

Dutch: thats the saddest thing I’ve ever heard someone say.

Micah: you know, if you were good at shooting as you were good at whittling then I’m pretty sure you’d almost be a man.

Sean:

#rdr2 #rdr2 incorrect quotes #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #john marston #lenny summers #sean macguire #micah bell #enjoyment #for you #billy lenz x reader #fallout

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tinyfishtits · 6 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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pinkiepie20000 · 10 months ago

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"stop using every tag you can think of" SHUT THE FUCK UPPPPPPPPOPPPPPEPPSPSSPSPSPSOSOSPP

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lowfunctioningoptimist · 9 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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lazulifoster · 1 year ago

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A haunting shot I took near Saint Denis of my favorite antagonist ever. (It’s Micah, everyone. It’s Micah)

#micah bell #micah bell x reader #micah bell rdr2 #rdr2 scenery #rdr2 screenshots #rdr2edit #rdr2 photomode #red dead redemption screenshots #red dead redemption photography #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fandom #micah bell imagine #Micah bell is one of my favorite characters ever #say thank you Peter Blomquist

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grugruel · 11 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.

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