#Micah bell fluff

[tinyfishtits]

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.

[svgarwitch]

whoever sent me the fluffy ask about micah bell, please kindly come off anon. i just want to talk.

[allthemeniveloved]

Little Rat

Summary: Arthur Morgan saves you from an uncomfortable encounter with Micah.

-

The fire crackled low in the center of camp, casting flickering shadows against the trees surrounding Clemens Point. Most of the gang had turned in for the night, save for a few stragglers nursing drinks by the embers. You were tidying up your things near your tent, the quiet hum of the crickets offering a small sense of peace—until you heard the unmistakable drawl.

“Well, look who’s all alone in the dark,” Micah Bell said, stepping into your line of sight with that irritating smirk plastered across his face. His eyes glinted in the dim light, and you instantly felt your guard go up.

“Micah,” you said tersely, keeping your tone neutral. “What do you want?”

He feigned offense, holding a hand to his chest. “Now, that’s no way to greet someone, is it? Just tryin’ to be sociable, sweetheart. Seems like you could use the company.”

You shot him a cold glare. “I don’t need anything, least of all from you.”

Micah chuckled low, ignoring your clear discomfort as he took another step closer, his presence pressing in on you. “Now, now. Don’t be like that. I think you and me, we could get along real well if you’d just stop actin’ so high and mighty. Ain’t nobody else around, anyway. What’s the harm?”

You stepped back instinctively, your pulse quickening. “Back off, Micah,” you warned, trying to keep your voice steady.

He didn’t listen. Instead, he reached out, his hand gripping your arm as he leaned in closer. “Aw, c’mon, darlin’. Don’t be like that. I don’t bite.”

Before you could push him away, a deep voice growled from the shadows. “Touch her again, Micah, and you won’t have a hand left to use.”

Both of you turned toward the source of the voice, and there he was—Arthur Morgan, standing at the edge of the firelight. His hat was pulled low, his jaw set tight, and his hand rested casually on the butt of his pistol.

Micah straightened, sneering. “Well, if it ain’t Arthur Morgan,” he spat. “You always gotta stick your nose where it don’t belong cowpoke?”

Arthur didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a slow, deliberate step forward, his gaze locked on Micah with a look that could freeze the blood in your veins. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, but it carried an unmistakable weight. “Ain’t no need to explain yourself, Micah. Just walk away.”

Micah raised his hands in mock surrender, a smirk tugging at his lips, “I was only paying her a compliment, that’s all.”

“You keep your compliments - and yourself - far away from her, or you’ll be eating the dirt under my boots. Got it?”

Micah hesitated, his eyes darting between you and Arthur. He opened his mouth to protest, but Arthur’s hand moved slightly on his pistol, and that was enough to send Micah scowling back toward his tent with a muttered curse.

Once Micah disappeared into the darkness, Arthur turned to you, his expression softening ever so slightly. “You alright?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

You nodded, though your heart was still pounding. “I am now. Thank you.”

Arthur grunted, his hand falling away from his holster as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean to get involved, but… couldn’t just stand there watchin’ him bother you like that.”

You offered a small, grateful smile. “I’m glad you did. He’s… persistent.”

Arthur’s jaw tightened again, and he glanced toward where Micah had gone. “He tries it again, you let me know,” he said, his tone sharp with barely restrained anger. “I’ll make sure he don’t forget his place.”

There was something in his gaze when he looked at you—something fierce and protective, but also hesitant, like he wasn’t sure he should let you see it. You didn’t know what to say, caught off guard by how much safer you felt just standing near him.

“Thank you, Arthur,” you said again, softer this time. “I mean it.”

He looked away, his cheeks tinged red beneath his scruffy beard. “Don’t gotta thank me,” he muttered, almost embarrassed. “Just… don’t like seein’ you get hurt, is all.”

As he started to walk away, you caught yourself staring after him, wondering why your heart felt a little lighter, even after what had just happened. Arthur, on the other hand, kept his back to you, his fists clenched as he cursed himself for not saying more—for not telling you the truth about why he couldn’t stand the thought of Micah or anyone else getting too close to you.

-

a/n: I’m feeling so unbelievably productive & creative this week and the thoughts are just flowing but I just know I’m going to crash this weekend or next week and not write again for another 7 years

[javierssidechick]

How RDR 2 characters would react when you say I love you for the first time

Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Charles Smith, Dutch Van Der Linde, Javier Escuella, Micah Bell

Arthur Morgan

Arthur would be taken off guard. He’s not used to hearing those words, and for a moment, he might not know how to respond.

He would look at you deeply, trying to read your intentions. His initial response might be a simple, gruff "You don’t have to say that." But if you insist, you'd see his tough exterior start to crack.

He’d eventually admit, "I ain't good at this stuff, but I care about you… more than I thought I could." His voice might be soft, unsure but genuine.

John Marston

John would probably get flustered, not knowing how to react at first. He’s loyal to those he loves, but expressing emotions is something he struggles with.

He’d awkwardly rub the back of his neck, muttering something like, “Well, I reckon I love you too…”

The more you push, the more sincere he gets. Eventually, he’ll say it with more confidence, though he’ll still be a bit embarrassed.

Dutch van der Linde

Dutch would smirk and take your hand, bringing you close. He’s a charmer, so he’d probably have something poetic to say, like, “Ah, darling, I’ve known it all along.”

He’d follow it up with a smooth monologue about how your love fits perfectly into his grand vision of the world, making it feel like part of a bigger plan.

But deep down, you can tell he’s genuinely touched. Dutch loves deeply, even if he doesn't always show it in traditional ways.

Charles Smith

Charles would smile gently when you tell him you love him. He’s calm and thoughtful, and he would take the time to process what you said before responding.

He’d likely say something like, “I’ve been waiting to hear that,” followed by a heartfelt admission of his own feelings.

Charles is the type to cherish the moment, making you feel deeply appreciated and respected.

Micah Bell

Micah would probably laugh it off at first, dismissing your feelings with a sarcastic comment like, “Well, ain’t you just the sweetest thing?”

He’s not someone who openly expresses love, and he might even twist your words to manipulate the situation in his favor.

If he does say it back, it’s likely more of a power play than a genuine expression of affection.

Javier Escuella

Javier would be smooth about it. He’d flash you a charming smile and respond with something like, “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

He’s a romantic at heart, so he’d follow it up with a passionate embrace or a serenade if the mood was right.

You’d feel completely adored in that moment, with no doubt about his love for you.

[agyraty]

Ohh can you do Javier x reader angst?? Where in the last fight where the reader chose Arthurs side instead of his and they like reunite somewhere in the future where the reader has a kid now but is taken a back when she meets Javier again because they both still really much love each other but never really said anything just one finale goodbye

I love this!! I’m definitely thinking on adding on to this and making a part two because I love the concept.

(Btw I need more requests 😔 I have no ideas on what to write at the moment and need help)

—

Old goodbyes, New beginnings

Wc: 1.6k

—

You never thought that you would see the day the Van Der Linde gang had its fallout. But here you are, pistol in hand, Arthur and a wounded John standing by your side. Dutch, Micah and his friends stood just a few feet away from you, their guns pointed and ready to fire. But your eyes were on Javier.. it hurt seeing him in the opposing side, although you should have known this would happen by how he’s been acting.

You joined the when you were just 19 back in 1994, and you were there when Javier first joined in 1995. you two were practically inseparable from the moment you met. He was a very skilled and charming man, not to mention he was extremely handsome. And over the 4 years of knowing him, you fell in love. And so did he.

A relationship blossomed between the two of you two years ago from now, and at first, it was amazing. He was such a loving man, and he cared deeply for you. Just as you did for him. Each time he’d go on a mission, or vise versa, you’d both be thinking about each other the whole time, and how much you missed one another. He’d even put his life on the line if it meant you were safe. He loved you, and you loved him.

But recently, as everything began to fall apart, Dutch, the gang, everyone began to turn in each other and the pinkertons were close to capturing you all, you had noticed him becoming.. distant, easily irritated. At first you thought maybe he was just stressed or worried about what would happen, but now you are begging to think that he’s choosing Dutch. That he’d rather be on his side than be with you since you disagreed either Dutch. Overall he had completely changed from the man you once knew..

Your glossy eyes scanned his figure as he stood across from you, his pistol pointed upwards at the air, unsure of what to do.

Your lip quivered slightly as you spoke. “C’mon Javier.. don’t be dumb. Please, Just listen to me.” You pleaded, not even bothering to hide the desperation in your voice. You loved him for Christs sake, even if he had changed, you couldn’t just stand around and watch him make a mistake.

His deep brown eyes stared at you, lips parting, not exactly sure on what to say. You could see he was trying to figure it out, to make a decision.

You tuned out Micah and Arthur’s back and forth banter, all your focus directed to the man you loved, standing a few feet in front of you. You could feel your heart splitting. Why was it so hard for him to make a decision? surely he hadn’t lost his way completely..

Surely he still loved you..

He shook his head, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he clenched his teeth. “No.. no you’re the one being stupid.” He gestured at you with his gun that now aimed at you. “Dutch fed us, clothed us, gave us a place to stay and you’re turning on him?”

Your shaky hands tightened around your gun, eyes narrowing. “No Javier.. he betrayed me, betrayed us, when he started listening to that rat.” You gestured to the blonde standing beside Javier.

“Please.. just come with me, don’t do this.” You pleaded desperately, eyes glossy with tears, the pain you felt growing as you saw him look at you with a cold look in his eye. There was no love in his expression. He was betraying you just as Dutch had.. why?

“Javi..”

He looked away as soon as you spoke his name which you called him often. He used to love it when you did.

“Don’t,” he started, but before he could speak another word, a large group came rushing into camp, interrupting the stand off. It was none other than the Pinkertons, lawmen who had been chasing after the gang for months. They found you.

“Damnit, Go!” You, Arthur, and John went one way, while the others went the opposite. You looked behind you, eyes catching Javier’s figure, who was behind the others, firing some shots at the men on their horses.

You didn’t know at the time that it would be the last time you saw Javier, for many years.

—

“Norman, stop Messing around, you’re gonna bump into someone.” You sighed, attention loosely on the young boy that ran around the streets of black water. You shook your head as he continued to chase around the golden dog that yelled and panted, it’s tail wagging vigorously behind him.

“Alright, anything else I could get you, Ma’am?” Asks the store clerk as he steps over to you, placing the peach you had asked for in your hand carefully. You shook your head, a small polite smile gracing your features. “No, this’ll be all.”

You dug into the pocket of your weathered pants, pulling out a few cents and handing it to the man. You turned your attention to your horse, stepping carefully over and dropping the plump peach into the saddle bag. A huff escaped your parted lips, you just wanted to go home and rest. These past few days had been even more eventful then normal, You were exhausted.

Cecil barked, his paws pattering against the dusty stone floor as Norman chased behind him, giggling loudly. But suddenly, you heard the boy let out a grunt, and a loud thud, along with a soft curse, a voice that sounded so familiar.

You quickly turned away from the horse, eyes searching for your son, who was now sitting in the floor covered in dust, along with a man in front of him who you didn’t quite get a good look at. Hurrying over, you reached down, grabbing Norman just below the arms, helping him up to his feet.

“I am so sorry, I told him to watch out—“ you stood up, eyes turning to the man, and paused, breath hitching in your throat upon seeing who stood before you.

“Y/n..?” He uttered quietly, in clear disbelief, just as you were.

You studied his face, noticing the smile lines and soft crows feet he had beside his eyes, along with how his frame filled out more. You couldn’t be seeing things, could you? At first you doubted it was him until you called his name. “Javier?”

If it was him, He sure didn’t age much.

Javier’s wide eyes traced the soft features of your face, the bags beneath your eyes, and the hint of smile lines that began to form. He noticed your hair had grown longer, and grew slightly lighter from days in the sun. Although it’s been 12 years, you were still just as beautiful in his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” You stood up straighter, not seeming to be able to take your eyes off of him. You could feel your heart thudding against your chest, as swirl of emotions happening within you. You missed him, god you missed him so much. Seeing him here.. it brings back old feelings you tried so hard to push down. But you’re still angry, angry at the fact he chose Dutch over you all those Years before.

“I’m looking for a place to stay.. figured I’d look here. I always liked Black water.” His voice still carried the same thick accent, not wavering a bit.

You nodded and hummed a sound of understanding, looking down at the stone road. There was so much you wanted to say, but you couldn’t find the right words. You wanted to jump into his arms, but you also wanted to scream, tell him how badly he hurt you.

“So uh.. is this your boy?” He asked, eyes casting down to Norman, who stood a bit behind you, patting your golden retriever.

“Yeah.. this is Norman, I had him 5 years back.” You glanced behind you, before meeting Javier’s eyes once again. You felt your heart jump, just as it did all those years back.

“Oh, his father must be a lucky man, Having you at home,” He said softly, a hint of something in his voice you couldn’t quiet pin. “And knowing he has such a handsome son.”

You shook your head, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “No uh.. his father isn’t here anymore. He left when he was born.” Back then, you had met a guy named victor. He was very handsome, and he was good for you. And you tried to love him like you did with Javier and push your memories behind, but you couldn’t. And then he got you pregnant.

And once he did, he switched completely from a charming man, to a rude asshole. And he left after you gave birth, leaving you alone to take care and sustain for your child, and let’s just say it has not been easy.

“Oh,” Javier didn’t exactly know what to say, a bit shocked at your words. “I uh, I’m sorry.” His dark eyes traced your face, watching as you shook your head.

“No, it’s okay.” You pursed your lips together, taking in a deep breath. “So.. how have you been?”

The Spaniard scratched his chin, shrugging a bit. “I’ve been doing okay. I went to Mexico after what had happened. Let’s just say I got into some trouble. Which is why I’m here. Lookin’ for a new start.”

You nodded and listened to his words intently, humming. “This is a Great place. Maybe I could help you, Y’know, find a place.” A small smile graced you features as your gentle eyes met his once more.

“Yeah, that’d be great.” His lips curved into a smile just as yours did. For a moment you two stood there, looking at each other, your cheeks burning with a soft blush, stomach doing flips. You missed him so much over these past years, you don’t even care how angry you were, you’re just glad to see him again.

“Why don’t you come over? I’m making Peach Cobbler.” The words just fell from your mouth, but you didn’t care. All the exhaustion you felt before disappeared, the only thing fueling you was the hope that he would say yes so you could spend more time with him. Get to know what he’s done in 12 years. And maybe even become friends or, hopefully something more with time.

He nodded, smile growing. “I’d love too.”

—

[unmaskthewriter]

Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You {Arthur Morgan x GN!Reader}

Summary: Arthur realizes he’s in love with you.

A/N: As suggested/requested by @photo1030 . I apologize for the delay as I’m packing for travel and also I just got into Read Dead online for the first time all while completing RDR1 (first time) and RDR2 (second time). I know you suggested a different song/title but I couldn’t stop thinking about Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You by Frankie Valli. also did just watch Jersey Boys this weekend so that could be why. Anyways, despite it all, I hope you enjoy.

Warnings: none, just pure fluff as requested <3 except for Karen threatening to commit violence on Sean 👀

Word Count: 650+

It was nearly evening as Arthur returned from the bank robbery in Valentine. As the sun sank lower in the sky, it created a beautiful array of colors on the water. He approached the savings box behind Dutch’s tent, placing half his take into the box. Micah sat with Bill and Javier at a table, talking them into yet another round of Five Finger Fillet.

“You’ve taken nearly all my money!” Javier whined.

Mary Beth and Tilly were sitting in their tent, working on laundry and clothes that needed mending. Karen was sitting alongside Sean around the campfire, a bottle of whiskey in her hand.

“Ah, c’mon lass, just one kiss!” Sean leaned closer to Karen, pointing to his cheek as she looked on, disinterested.

“Only thing you’ll be getting is this bottle over your head if you don’t quit your beggin.” Karen warned, taking a swig of the whiskey. Sean only laughed.

“Where would I be without ya, Miss Karen?” Sean questioned, to which she rolled her eyes.

“Dead, hopefully.” She mumbled, looking away from the Irishman.

“Oh, don’t play at that, lass. Ya know ya love me.” Sean teases the young woman.

Arthur ventured throughout camp in search of you. On a typical day, you were often around the campfire either listening to Javier’s music, or talking with the girls at their tent. He wandered out to the lake, leaning against a tree at the edge of the wood line. He lights himself a cigarette, taking a long drag as he watches on.

You were standing in the water, barefoot, with your pants rolled up to your knees. Jack sat nearby, making a necklace with small, coral flowers. Too focused on the line in the water to realize Arthur’s presence, Jack giggled as he looked at Arthur. The gunslinger only held a finger to his lips, smiling softly as the cigarette dangled there.

“I know I’m not quite the fisherman as I talked myself up to be. It’s okay, you can laugh.” You tease unknowingly. Arthur’s heart skipped at the sight, something he didn’t think possible. Prior to this evening, Arthur always believed he’d belong to Mary, even if she had moved on and married someone else her father approved more of.

Though now, seeing you there in the water while the setting sun reflected off of you and gave you this wonderful glow… all thoughts and dreams of Mary vanished in that very moment. All he could feel in this moment was a strange swelling of his heart when he looked at you. Now, Arthur never considered himself romantic but in this moment, doing something as simple as fishing and barely doing that gave him this light, fluttery feeling in his heart, a feeling he hadn’t experienced in quite some time. As you stepped out from the water, you turned to see Arthur standing there.

“Oh!” You held a hand over your chest, startled. You relax as you put the fishing rod away, “Didn’t see you there. How’ve you been?” You ask as Jack stands and gathers the flower necklace he had made.

“Good… was wondering what you were up to. See you’re teaching him all you know about fishing.” Arthur teases as he steps forward, putting the cigarette out beneath his boot. A blush creeps across your face as you look away, trying desperately to avoid his gaze.

“Don’t think I know too much on the matter, Mr. Morgan.” You admit shyly. Arthur’s lips part to speak, only to be interrupted by the child.

“Let’s go, I’m hungry!” He insists, now standing between the two of you, “Can you swing me?” He questioned excitedly. You look to Arthur who nods to you in return.

“Anything for you.” You ruffle the boy’s hair. Each taking hold of the child’s small hands, you and Arthur swing Jack gently between the both of you as you return to camp, like one happy family.

[cemetery-sunset]

Hat Thief pt. 2 - Micah Bell x Morgan!Reader

Summary: After Reader stole Micah's hat playfully, Arthur catches her wearing it and is not happy.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings / Tags: morgan!reader, she/her pronouns, fighting

A/N: i said this would be just a oneshot and look at us now, im not even mad about it. divider from: @saradika-graphics

After she ran away from Micah’s shouts, she went around the big, white house to the other side of the camp. She saw Mary-Beth, Tilly and Karen sitting at their wagon, working on their sewing and washing. 

“Hey, ladies!” Her smile was nearly splitting her face as she tipped her hat to her friends. They immediately took notice. 

“Honey…” Mary-Beth started, trying to approach the subject respectfully. 

“Where’s your hat?” Tilly cut her off.

“Oh, it’s just inside, why?” She turned and gestured to the big house. 

“No reason…” Mary-Beth tried to play it cool, glancing at her friends. They all had matching looks of concern donning their faces. 

“Why the hell is you wearin’ Mr. Bell’s hat?” Karen rudely asked, spitting venom on the man’s name. She always said it like that, everyone did. Nobody ever called him his name kindly, or with respect. It was always venomous… and he was always venomous in return, it was a never ending cycle. 

“I stole it from him.” She smiled, slightly laughing as she said it. She made it a point to be over dramatic and pose with it. 

“I think it looks good on me, right?” The trio sat stunned, looking up at their friend. 

“If your daddy sees you in that-” Mary-Beth tried to remain civil. 

“What the hell is Arthur gonna say?!” Karen got all too worried and loud. 

“You gotta give that back.” Tilly kept her head and only spoke logically. 

“Why would you even take his hat anyway?” Tilly added as Mary-Beth looked around their friend, trying to scope out if Arthur was anywhere in sight. He was not. 

“Well, I just…” The thief trailed off, her face flushing as she failed to find the words to admit her intentions. 

“I thought it would be funny to mess with him!” She shook her head and tried to keep up a cool facade. 

“There are plenty of ways to mess with Mr. Bell that don’t require givin’ your father a heart attack OR spreading rumours ‘round camp….” Karen said, glancing at Tilly and Mary-Beth for a moment before focusing on her friend. 

“You… do know what it means to wear a man’s hat, don’t you?” Karen asked, not wanting to embarrass or scare off her friend. 

“Karen Jones! I would not- I mean I don’t- That’s improper!” The thief flushed bright red. The truth was that she did know what it meant, she knew it all too well. Her intentions were only to flirt with Micah and mess with him a little… she didn’t plan this far, after her moment with Micah.

The girl all erupted in a chorus of laughing and comments in disbelief. They tried to ask her more questions, but the thief was too embarrassed at being caught. 

“You can’t like Micah, honey, he’s horrible!” Mary-Beth said, trying to comfort her. 

“I don’t like him!” The thief tried to retaliate, but got cut off. 

“Then why’d you take the hat?” Tilly asked. 

“And more importantly, why is you still wearin’ it?” Karen nearly laughed. 

The thief’s face could not possibly get any more red. She threw up her hands, and pushed the hat further onto her head. 

“That’s IT! I’m done with y’all! I don’t like him!” She stormed off like a child being caught red handed. 

“This isn’t going to be good. I hope she gets rid of that thing ‘fore Arthur gets back.” Mary-Beth said, worried about the possible chaos. 

As the thief was walking, she reached up and touched the brim of the large, off-white hat. The feeling of the hat, the texture of it felt nice on her hands. It felt different than her hat, it was nice. She didn’t realise a small smile was on her face until she reached the main campfire in front of the big house. 

The thief sat down on the log by the fire, just enjoying the sight. Nobody else was around the fire, there was just Reverend on his bedroll, but he was passed out. The thief just gazed into the fire, and sat back, crossing her legs and humming a tune, enjoying the peace and quiet. 

She heard someone walking around, she didn’t care enough to look up and see who it was. She failed to see Micah come around the side of the house, coming closer to the fire before redirecting to sit at the main table. Micah gave up on chasing his thief, he knew that she was just playing, there was no harm. For once, he was content to just let her have it. 

Pearson was busy chopping food and preparing dinner. Uncle came stumbling to the fire before plopping himself down in a seat and starting to ramble to nobody in particular. The thief watched Kieran walk around and tend to the horses. 

It was nice to sit and enjoy the peace and quiet for a while. 

As she was watching Kieran brush The Count, she saw her father come riding down the long pathway with John and Charles right behind him. She smiled and waved, but didn’t bother to get up from the log. Micah didn’t look up at all, he was too enraptured by his own thoughts as he watched the knife in his hands slide against a piece of wood. 

“Hey, Pa!” The thief said cheerfully, before greeting his two companions. 

“Get anythin’ good?” Arthur vaguely gestured to Charles as the man held up a string of fish. 

“Got some nice bass, mostly.” Her father responded, distracted from his own tiredness. The trio tied up their horses and walked further down the entry’s path. 

Arthur stopped dead in his tracks when he looked up to see his only daughter wearing the hat of the man he hated the most. The thief herself had her eyes closing and her head leaning back, enjoying the last licks of sunlight on her face. 

“Darlin’.” He spoke, his voice cold. The thief’s head jumped up and looked at her father, knowing something was wrong just by that tone, but not realising what it was. Before she could even ask what was wrong, he cut her off. 

“Why the hell are you wearing that hat?” John and Charles looked at each other before Charles put the fish down on Pearson’s table, focusing his attention back onto his best friend. 

The thief jumped out of her seat, immediately standing rigid. She looked up and went to step over the log and take the hat off of her head. At that point, Micah’s attention was captured. He stood up and tried to defend himself. 

“Hold on now, Morgan. I didn’t do nothing-” 

“Pa! It’s not what you’re thinking! I was just messin’- I mean- I stole it! He didn’t give it to me, or nothing!” She tried to comfort her father, but his vision turned red. 

“Micah, you sonuvabitch!” Arthur moved so quickly, he grabbed Micah by the collar and swung at his face, clocking him hard on his nose. 

“You bastard! You touch my fuckin’ daughter?!” Arthur screamed in his face. 

“No! Wait- Pa!” The thief tried to reason with her father, but it was no use. Arthur pushed the man away and swung at him again. This time he missed, but Micah retaliated with the knife in his hand, trying to scare Arthur away. Micah kept trying to shout that he didn’t do anything, but everybody’s shouts were lost in the hustle. 

As Arthur and Micah fought, Charles and John jumped forward to try and pull them apart. The thief held onto the hat over her chest and could do nothing but watch. 

Each man got a few good licks in before they were pulled apart. Micah’s bottom lip was busted and bleeding. Arthur had a new cut on his arm from Micah’s knife. 

They kept shouting at each other even as they were separated. 

“You’re so stupid, Morgan! I didn’t do nothing! Your girl stole my hat!” 

“If you ever touch her, I will make sure it’s the last thing you ever do, Micah! Keep your dirty paws away from my daughter!” 

The thief could only stand there in shock, completely frozen at the scene in front of her. This was all her fault. Her father got hurt because of her…. Micah got hurt because of her.  

Charles had his hands on Arthur’s shoulders and steered him away from the area, instead pushing him to the doors of the house. Arthur thrashed out of Charles’ arms, only to grab his daughter. He grabbed her arm and ripped Micah’s hat out of her hands, throwing it to the ground.

John pushed Micah away, toward the side of the house, cursing him off. Micah grumbled and stormed away, cursing off everyone that looked at him. 

“What the hell did you do?!” John’s voice was less cold, like her fathers, and more genuinely concerned.

“You’re lucky I didn’t just kill him!” Arthur struggled to control his volume as he, his daughter and Charles walked up the stairs to the Morgans’ room. 

“I know- I mean, I didn’t mean for this to happen-!” She tried to explain herself before her father cut her off. 

When they got to their room, Arthur pushed his daughter to sit down on his bed. He, and Charles, towered over her. Charles remained silent as his friend scolded her, his arms crossed over his broad chest. 

“Okay. Let me just try to wrap my head around this…” Arthur rubbed his hand over his face, with a hand on his hip. 

“You… you…” Arthur struggled to find the words, not wanting to say something embarrassing or weird about his own daughter.

As much as she wanted to just sit there, her head hanging in embarrassment, she knew she had to explain. 

“I was just bored, Pa…” She started, looking up at her father. 

“I thought it would be funny to steal his hat. We didn’t…… He didn’t do nothing, I promise.” Arthur took a deep breath and looked at his daughter, his only child, his pride and joy. 

“Can you just promise me one thing, darlin’?.... Never go near him again. Keep your distance. Do not involve yourself with Micah. He ain’t a good man, hun…” The thief looked disappointed, yet covered it up by smiling at her father. 

“Of course, I know he’s trouble, Pa…” She stood up and held Arthur’s hands. His voice softened. 

“I’m just worried about you, sweetpea. You know that.” She smiled and hugged her father, acknowledging his anxieties. 

“I know, Pa…. I got to go clean my guns ‘fore our job tomorrow.” She smiled sweetly and said her goodbyes to her father. 

As she was walking down the stairs and out the doors, she heard her father’s voice yell once more. 

“If I ever catch him touchin’ you, I’ll kill him!!” The thief winced at the warning as she snuck out the front doors. 

[cowboyfromh3ll]

Charles smith is usually a very quiet, reserved man. But when he hears Micah insult fem!reader (Whom charles is sweet on) for rejecting his advances, the reader pushes him away, which he responded with slapping her hard enough for her to fall down.

Charles couldn't help himself, and he tackled Micah and would have beat him to death if Arthur and John didn't pull him on.

Afterwards, after his adrenaline seems to wear off, he starts to feel pain in his knuckles. The reader pulls him aside to set his broken knuckle back into place and to wrap his hand up. She thanks him with a kiss :) fluffy, angsty, the works <3

Million Dollar Man

(Charles Smith x Fem!Reader)

This was so cute. I love my followers' reqs. Also I have a near identical request after this which is kinda freaky but they are literally asking for the exact same thing and idk how to do a different spin on this so this will be for both of y'all anons whoever you are.

Warnings: Man on woman violence, then man on man

There was something about the vulgarity of a man that made you all the more appalled with them. Often when Micah would be near you, you’d have to swallow hard in fear that you might abruptly throw up on your shoes. There was nothing appealing about the man. Whenever he spoke to you, you would’ve liked to wring his neck for disturbing your peace. And his tepid attempts at flirting were described as otherwise laughable. His initial advances were turned down politely, not something you wanted to make a big deal out of. But he was consistent, so much so that your patience began to wear down with him. 

You once giggled and waved your hand dismissively, repeating reluctant no’s over and over until Micah finally got tired and left you alone. It seemed to be a ticking time bomb though, because the next time he approached you his advances would increase tenfold. Walking around freely in camp felt like walking on eggshells, and you’d often have to duck behind someone anytime you heard the familiar raspy, drawl of Micah. Your polite refusals slowly transformed into you demanding he leave you alone, hoping and praying that one of the men in camp would come over and help you get rid of him. Occasionally it’d get as bad as Micah calling you a whore, before throwing a flurry of other insults at you and storming off angrily. It was times like these you wished you were a man, so you could possess the same mass as one to hopefully beat the hell out of Micah. But your limber body provided no such abilities. 

“C’mon sweetheart, just let me take you on one date.” He invited himself over to your tent, leaning on the wagon situated behind it with crossed arms, eyeing you uncomfortably. You were sitting there with Mary-Beth, who was just as uncomfortable, and frankly scared, as you were. She offered you a sympathetic look, mouthing a “sorry” to you before averting her gaze back to her sewing. 

“Micah, for the last time, leave me alone already. I said no.” You were firm in your inflection, your body rigid and shaking out of irritation and fear. As much as you hated the man, he also intimidated you. You knew how violent he could get, and the fact remained in the back of your mind always. 

“You don’t know what you’re missing out on.” He insisted, chuckling afterwards in a way that made you swallow a gag of disgust. His attempts at having a sugar sweet laugh that could seduce you were fruitless, sounding instead like the metallic screech of a train braking. 

“I could show you a real good time…” He added.

You stood at once, gathering your things to move elsewhere in camp and bidding Mary-Beth a silent farewell. You bunched your fabrics and sewing materials against your lap, moving to walk away until you felt Micah clamp his hand down on your upper arm. You tried to push him off but he was using all his strength. 

“You ain’t going nowhere.”

“Micah, you're hurting me.” You warned him, your voice inflected with actual fear. It wasn’t so much the pain but the act of him holding onto you that felt so awful, the knowledge that he was the one in control of the situation. You weren’t sure, despite his violent streak, if he’d actually hit you right now. But he definitely wasn’t opposed to using applied force.

“This is the last time you say no to me, you hear?!” He yanked you towards him by the arm, looking to Mary-Beth, who had already gone up and left to retrieve someone for help. When your chest met his, you dropped your materials and instinctively put up your arm between the two of you, your elbow acting as a protective barrier. You shoved as hard as you could, just barely managing to push him off of you. 

“Let me go you fucking creep!”

Before you could even register him stepping forward, he delivered a heavy slap to your face. Your body jerked to one side from the force of the slap causing you to fall on your hip. You raised your elbow once again to protect yourself from the fall, promptly moving to cup your stinging cheek. You were seething at this point. 

“What the fuck?!” Your voice trembled in your rage, squeezing your eyes hard with each blink so as to not allow tears to escape. You dare not look up at him again in fear, only staring at the ground beneath you. You hoped to god people from around camp had noticed by now. 

God himself seemed to have answered your prayers, because not a second later you turned to see Micah tackled by Charles. With a guttural yell, he pinned Micah down to the floor, swinging his fists at him with his full force. You weren’t sure of the force intended by Charles, but the impact of his fists alone caused Micah’s flesh to lacerate, forming raw gashes that began to bleed in seconds. Charles’ anger was near animalistic, seeing red and blinded by rage as he continued to strike Micah’s face, who was helplessly clawing at him in an attempt to get him off. You’re sure he would’ve killed him, if not for the fact that Arthur and John had to pry him off. You hadn’t even registered the horrified screams of people around camp, some even clicking their tongues and slyly commenting that Micah was asking for it.

You felt two gentle hands lift you up, presumably Miss Grimshaw, who was frantically asking you if you were alright. You whispered out a yes, the stinging of your cheek reduced to a throbbing warmth. No one offered Micah any help in getting up; everyone was far too focused on getting Charles’ to calm down so he wouldn’t charge him again. 

Once the dust settled, you insisted you were fine and walked past Miss Grimshaw, approaching Charles who still seemed to be grappling with his anger and keeping it in check. In unison, the two of you looked at eachother and asked, “Are you okay?”

The two of you stared at each other, and you felt a small laugh bubble up in you at the coincidence, Though your amusement was replaced by horror when you looked down at Charles’ left fist, which was swollen and bruised. 

“Oh my god!” You cried, moving to cradle his hand but promptly retracting your own when you heard him hiss. “Your hand! It’s broken!” You looked back up at him in concern, feeling the heavy weight of guilt settle within you like a boulder thrown into a lake before sinking to the waterbed. He shook his head, wincing as the pain became more prominent as his adrenaline wore off. 

“Don’t worry about me. Are you okay? Micah hit you pretty hard… I…” Charles pursed his lips at the very mention of his name, having to suck in a deep breath before he looked back at you. You shook your head, grabbing Charles’ arm and leading him to your tent. 

“I’m fine! But we need to tend to your hand asap.” You sat him on a crate just outside your tent, briefly venturing inside before remerging with some bandages you had sourced from your satchel. You sat before him on your knees, taking his massive hand into your own. You felt your heart swell in tenderness for him, wanting to throw yourself on him as an embrace to thank him for the valiant act. 

“You didn’t have to do that…” You began carefully coiling the bandages around his knuckles, looking back up at his face occasionally to spot any signs of pain you might be causing. 

“He had it coming anyways. It was bound to happen. But I’m sorry it had to happen this way.” He motioned to your cheek once again, which was still a flush red. You were sure it would bruise, but you tried not to think about it. As you tightened the bandages around his fist, he hissed, his body jerking slightly. 

“I’m sorry…” You stilled your ministrations, looking up at him with a pout. 

“No it’s okay… Thank you. This means a lot. And it was worth it to defend you from the scum bag Micah.” He smiled warmly at you in a way that made you giddy.

“Well.. thank you for that. It was actually quite satisfying to see.” You admitted with a sly smile, breaking into laughter. 

“Anytime, I mean it. Anytime.” 

You finished wrapping his knuckle up, planting a gentle kiss on it to finish your care off; a bold act that left you internally panicking. But he found it rather cute, and continued to hold your hand as he moved to stand.

The final act of your boldness would be you leaning forward and landing a kiss on Charles’ lips, leaving him standing there in bewilderment and pleasant surprise. 

“Thank you, again.” You cooed, your face burning up and blending in with the shade of your already red cheek. In the morning, your cheek would ache with the memory of the pain inflicted on you, but your heart would swell in remembrance of your salvation.

.

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.

.

.

.

Million Dollar Man - Lana Del Rey

[monsterbeetlebug]

Never steal from Micah Bell

Fem reader

Tw: mentions of guns, violence, fire, blood, sexual tension.

Tilly came running into camp. She was full of panic. Eyes vide and out of breath. She started screaming that you had been kidnapped by a gang. They had been after all of you for some time. They managed to get their hands on you wanting to get info on where the Van der Linde gang was residing. Everyone dropped their stuff and came running to Tilly. Asking of everything she knew. Miss Grimshaw took her away to clean her up as the fellers started talking. Dutch, Hosea and Arthur was scrambling about to gather their stuff. They quickly turned around when they heard the sound of hoves racing away. They all stood frozen looking confused between each other as Micah raced away. He had never shown any interest or care to save anyone but himself. Micah rodes as fast as he could. Rage was fueling him. The reflection of the sunset was like flames in his eyes. There was no mercy to be shown. Nobody who steals from Micah Bell had a life ahead of them. His laugh erupted. He felt like he would go insane if anything happened to you. "Ain't no one stealin from me who gets to stay alive."

You were locked in a small shed. Left in the dark small room. They had roughed you up a bit trying to get you to speak. Your head hanging down as you focused on sounds outside. You had shot up as you heard an all too familiar laugh and yelling. Micah! The cold bastard actually cared enough about you to come and save you. "I'm going to burn this place to the ground! Time to meet with your maker boys!" His maniacal laughter came through as you heard glass breaking and shots fired. You could see the slight glow of fire from outside. There was screaming and gunshots all around.

Then suddenly, it fell silent. No talking. No footsteps. Only the crackling of fire growing. You feared the worst. Then, the door of the shed swung open. Your eyes widened, and relief filled you. There before you stood Micah. The glow and sparks from the fire wild behind him. The dark silhouette was disturbingly impressive. His eyes felt cold and dark. Blood was splattered across him. Luckily, it wasn't his own. You jolted up and ran towards him. You hugged yourself around his neck. He hugged back and patted you back. "You came for me, you cold bastard, you actually came." Micah let out a soft chuckle as you pulled apart. He looked at you with eyes that told more than his words. "Couldn't let them get away with stealing the only thing I care more for than my guns." You felt a tingling sensation go through you at his words. You hugged him tighter with your head under his chin. Smiling to yourself hearing those words. That evil asshole actually has some feelings beneath is vile exterior. Something he would never show to anyone else, especially not back at camp. He couldn't let them know he actually had a heart. He would never hear the end of it if they found out he was a human after all.

Micah grinned to himself feeling how close you held onto him. He held you just as thight back. Feeling relaxed knowing you where safe with him again. He slowly slid his hand down your back to place it on your butt. Softly squeezing. You felt a cribling inside. A warm feeling that was building. He placed a kiss on your head before he moved to kiss at your neck. He let out a hum of appreciation. Your breath got heavy as you closed your eyes. You could feel him grow harder against your stomach. He pulled away and placed a kiss on your forehead. A soft smirk visibleas he spoke. "C'mon, let's get you out of here, we'll finish this later doll."

He gave you a pat on your butt as he helped you up on his horse. Then suddenly you heard a stampede of hoves arriving. It was all the fellers from camp. Arriving just as you were about to leave this place. They saw you sat on top of Baylock like a trophy. All safe and content. Your cheeks stilled flushed red from Micah's actions. They looked at the burning camp behind you. Half the place was burned already, and things had begun falling down. Arthur looked angry at Micah. "What tha hell, Micah?! Was it really necessary to burn the place?" Micah led his horse towards them with a prideful saunter. His sleazy grin taking it's usual form. He leaned a bit back and put his hands out to his sides, exaggerating his words. "You're late to the show boys. Everything's dealt with, and I've saved our dear damsel in distress. But I didn't take you for a slow guy in a rescue Cowpoke, or should I say slowpoke instead?" Micah mocked Arthur as he passed by everyone. You couldn't help but find it funny. You tried your best to hide it so Arthur wouldn't get more upset than he already was.

Micah eventually hopped up behind you. Making sure you were sat close to him. You could feel his still hard member pressed up against your back. Making sure you could feel how much he craved you. As Baylock started trotting away and back home, he put a secure hand on your thigh. Stroking at your inner thigh. It made your warm tingle feel like a flame stared inside. Melting you closer to him. He needed to feel you to know you where there. That you where safe within his hand. He had a grin on his lips. With a rough but loving voice he spoke. "Let's get you home and taken care of princess."

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Ch 8 - Or Down Affections Cloudless Sky

Summary: A blissful sunny day after a long hard night.

Ao3 Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.9 Ch.10

AN: Longer chapter, ~7k words Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Kate woke the next morning to the quiet serenade of songbirds and the soft caress of a gentle breeze through the leaves. The day embraced her with warmth, a welcome comfort after a long exhausting night. Sitting up, she found herself on Arthur’s cot, but he was nowhere in sight. A twinge of guilt tugged at her for taking his bed. Her waist was bound in cloth, the pain from her wound lingered but it was nothing she was not used to by now. 

Her gaze drifted to the shoreline, where Belle and Lorena nibbled on cattails, exactly where they had been the night before. She sighed in relief, sensing that calm had returned and a semblance of normalcy had settled over the camp. The smell of eggs and pork filled the air, and her stomach made its hunger known. 

Heading towards the chuck wagon, Kate noted the camp was now organized, a silent testament to the efficiency of her companions. However, Micah was nowhere to be seen. She made a mental note to have a friendly discussion with him later. Seizing a plate, she settled at the wooden table to eat, only to be joined by Abigail moments later.

“Mind if I sit with you?” She asked politely. 

Kate shook her head, swallowing a mouthful of food. “Not at all,” she replied, gesturing for Abigail to join her.

Abigail smiled warmly as she settled onto a wooden crate, pulling Kate’s revolver from the pocket of her dress and sliding it across the table. “I just wanted to say thank you,” she admitted, her gratitude shining in her eyes, “for what you did for us last night.”

Kate accepted the revolver and holstered it, waving off Abigail’s thanks. “No thanks needed, Abigail. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

Abigail sighed, her gaze drifting towards Jack in the distance, skipping rocks across the water. John was nearby, unloading the wagon while keeping a watchful eye on their son.

“I keep prayin’ for this all to end,” Abigail confessed, her voice tinged with weariness. “My boy deserves a better life than this.”

Kate empathized deeply with Abigail’s longing for a different life for her son. This was no environment to raise a child, but it was the hand they were dealt for survival. During her time here, however fleeting, Kate vowed to find a way to help them break free from this cycle of violence. They deserved a chance at a peaceful life, far removed from the shadows of death.

“I’m not a religious woman Abigail,” Kate began thoughtfully, “but in my life I’ve found that a prayer always has one of three answers; yes, not yet, and I have something else planned for you. I have faith that your boy will turn out just fine.” After all, he had the entire camp as his protectors, willing to sacrifice everything for his safety.

Abigail’s expression softened into a solemn smile. “I know that bravery is found in living,” she replied earnestly, “but sometimes I don’t feel very brave. I felt useless back there. If you hadn’t come along and given that rifle to John, I don’t know what would have happened.” She shuddered at the memories.

“That’s nonsense,” Kate retorted, squeezing Abigail's hand reassuringly, “you’re the bravest woman I know. There’s nothing more courageous than a mother willing to lay down her life for her son. And last night, I saw a strong woman fiercely protecting her child. I knew you would stop at nothing to defend your boy.”

Abigail’s smile deepened at Kate’s words, and she looked down bashfully as she placed her hand over Kate’s. “I hope that’s true.”

“I know that's true,” she interjected with conviction.

With a quiet laugh, Abigail stood to depart. “I think you would make a great mother, Kate,” she said, her words carrying genuine warmth. It meant a lot to Kate to hear such kindness, especially after everything she had been through. Her thoughts drifted back to Arthur and their conversation from the night before.

“Thank you,” Kate said sincerely. Before Abigail could leave, she added, “Have you seen Arthur this morning?”

“I think he’s sleeping against a tree over by the water,” Abigail pointed in his direction, and Kate could see the outline of his legs stretched out beneath a shady tree.

With an extra plate of breakfast and a cup of fresh coffee in hand, Kate made her way over to Arthur to express her gratitude for his service the previous night. As she approached, she was a little surprised to see that he was already awake, writing something in his journal. He closed it with a thunk when he noticed Kate’s figure approaching. 

“Mornin’ sunshine,” Arthur greeted with a warm smile.

Kate couldn't help but smile back. “Good morning, Arthur,” she said, bending down to hand him his food and drink.

“That for me?” Arthur exclaimed with surprise. She nodded as their hands met to pass the plate. His hunger was palpable. “Aw shucks, Kate, ya didn’t have to bring me breakfast,” he said bashfully, taking a grateful sip of coffee.

Kate settled into the sandy grass beneath the tree next to him, “it’s the least I can do, for patching me up last night,” she explained, “and for letting me steal your cot.” She added with a hint of embarrassment. She didn’t remember when she had fallen asleep. 

Arthur chuckled, taking a bite of his eggs, “don’t mention it. How ya feeling anyways?” He inquired about the bullet wound in her side. 

“I’ve been through worse,” she admitted with a bitter laugh, her hand grazing the side of her hip where he had squeezed the bullet through her flesh. 

Arthur sighed, and gave her a sympathetic look, “I’m so sorry Kate, that is a hard life,” he said sincerely, recalling her recount of her past. “No one deserves to go through that.”

Kate waved off his apology. “I’ve made my peace with it,” she professed, her eyes meeting his own, “but I owe you an apology for how I acted at the ranch.” Arthur wanted to speak up and tell her he was the one who should be apologizing, but he let her continue.

“For what it’s worth. I know what it’s like to hate yourself just as much as you hate the world. And whatever darkness your past carries, I do not think less of you for it.”

His face softened, and his heart pulsed. Arthur felt like he was looking into a reflection of himself, or what he could have been. He concluded last night that Kate is the bravest woman he had ever met, braver than he could ever be. And he greatly admired her for it. Darkness and damnation was nothing new to him, but he believed in his heart that he was already too damned to be brought back to the light. He is a person who has caused so much suffering, he believed he didn’t deserve happiness. He had fully convinced himself of his own cruelty. 

“Kate, I think I’m the one who owes you an apology. I -” he began. Suddenly, Arthur’s name was called from within the camp. His duties never ceased; even on quiet mornings. “Damnit,” he muttered. With a grunt he chugged the last of his coffee before standing. Turning to her he promised, “I’ll come find you later.”

Kate smiled sympathetically with a nod, offering him a parting reminder, “don’t keep hidden what matters Arthur, even from yourself.” 

He placed his hat on his head and tipped it to her in a warm gesture before taking off back into the camp. Kate settled against the tree and was about to close her eyes just as her loyal mare Lorena came trotting over to her side of the beach. Eager for attention. She chuckled at the sight, “how ya doin’ pretty girl.” 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

After valentine, we fled the country and headed even further south and east, camping by a lake. This is pretty much new country for me. If only we had fled west out of Blackwater, we could be free now, out where we belong beyond civilization with the savages and the animals. Here, we won’t ever be at home.

By some miracle, my mean nasty ugly self has yet to scare Kate away. Even after that debt collecting mess. That kinda work is revolting, and it shames me, and I think she is the first woman to ever see me and set me straight. Mary saw this side of me too, but she knew I would never change, so she left me. I could not offer her the life she deserved. Oh Mary, what a couple of fools we were. 

Kate said she came back for Abigail and her boy, from one mother to another. She wants peace for them too, away from this nonsense and lies. Ain’t that what we’re all seeking? Not sure I know myself anymore. Dutch don’t seem too worried that the law keeps finding us, I’m beginnin’ to doubt his wisdom. 

I had never seen a woman fight so brutally as Kate, and now I know why. I can handle the unkindness of existence. But to hear it from the lips of a good honest woman, it damn near broke my heart. I don’t know how she does it. After everything that life handed her, goodness comes naturally to her. Like she does not oppose GOOD vs EVIL as it rages within me. I’ve seen her rage and bloodlust and it frightens me, but she is ashamed of that part of herself. Perhaps we have more in common than I thought. 

Arthur made his way through camp in search of Dutch, a slight annoyance lingering from his interrupted conversations with Kate. Yet Kate seemed understanding; she knew he was a busy man and showed sympathy towards him. Last night, as he tenderly stitched her back together, he saw a different side of her—she had bared her heart and soul. He realized why it was important for him to know this side of her; she saw someone she could relate to. But Arthur believed he was beyond saving.

Unlike Kate, Arthur was born into the flame. Blood and violence had been his companions since childhood; he never experienced the loving embrace of a mother or father. A child born in the flame loves the fire and becomes its fuel, perpetuating its rage.

Kate, on the other hand, was burned by the flame. She had a loving family, a proper and honest life with her husband and child—all stripped away. Then, the fire engulfed her. She had to become the flame to ensure it would never burn her again.

Arthur found Dutch by the lakeshore on the opposite side of camp. "How are you doing, old friend?" Dutch asked, calling out to him.

"Fine," Arthur retorted, his frustration evident. Last night's events and Micah's actions toward Kate weighed heavily on him, and he felt Dutch bore some responsibility. Since arriving at the new hideout, Dutch hadn't even acknowledged Kate, let alone thanked her for her help.

"It's funny... us ending up down here," Dutch continued, his voice reflective. "My daddy died in a field in Pennsylvania fighting this lot. Did I ever tell you that?"

Arthur nodded wearily. "Many times, Dutch."

Dutch noticed his disinterest. "I see I'm boring you, Arthur."

He blew out a breath, his frustration simmering. "No, you're worrying me. We could've lost people last night. Why didn't you send some men back to help us?"

"We have lofty goals, Arthur," Dutch replied, his tone rehearsed. "Our primary objective was to escape the law."

“Our primary objective is to keep everyone safe!” Arthur's voice rose with anger. “Kate took a bullet for the Marston’s, that's more than I can say about you Dutch.” 

"Society is reforming, son," Dutch said, sounding like he was delivering a sermon. "We're trying to make it better, kinder, and truer. There will be casualties..."

"The world don’t want us no more. Why aren't we heading back west? What are we even doing here?" Arthur pressed.

Dutch sighed, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "We are dreamers in a world of facts, Arthur. But come on, let me make it up to you, son."

Typical Dutch, always deflecting when he didn't have a direct answer. Everything was a strategic move in his mind, and he always had to be the one in control. Arthur followed as Dutch led him further down the beach, where a large rowboat was waiting ashore with Hosea and John standing nearby.

"We've got the day, and it's beautiful out. Thought it'd be nice to take my boys out fishin' like the good old times," Dutch said with a smile. "Hosea says there's a creek around here, probably full of fish."

Arthur tipped his hat to his father and brother as they approached. John looked just as perplexed as Arthur. They weren't kids anymore, and it had been ages since they did anything together that didn't involve something illegal.

"You don't look too rosy, old friend. I thought this warmer weather would—" Dutch began, turning to Hosea.

"My days of looking good are long over, Dutch," Hosea admitted with a chuckle, then turned to Arthur. "How's the young lady? Heard she got shot last night."

Arthur sighed. "She'll be alright. Nothing too bad. But I'm gonna have some words with that sack of shit Micah," he added bitterly.

"I'll do you one better and put a bullet between his eyes," John quipped, earning a chuckle from Arthur. "I owe Kate that much. She seriously did me a solid by lending me her rifle."

"Nobody's shootin’ nobody," Dutch's gravelly voice cut through. "Now c'mon, help an old man get this in the water." He gestured toward the wooden boat.

Arthur and John exchanged a look. Hosea rolled his eyes. "Always bursting the bubble, you. C'mon, boys, let's go catch some fish." He joined Dutch in pushing the boat into the water.

Together, they climbed aboard the wooden craft. John took up the oars and rowed toward the supposed creek Hosea had mentioned. As he rowed, Arthur took in the surrounding scenery. It was a beautiful, cloudless day, the sun beating down warmly. It had been a while since he could relax and enjoy himself, so he set aside his grievances with Dutch, if only for the afternoon.

Dutch was the first to break the silence, as usual. "You know, before any of them back there," he began, gesturing toward the other gang members, "it was just us. The curious couple and their two unruly sons." He chuckled with a grateful sigh. "This feels good, thanks for doing this with me, boys," Dutch added, his expression full of pride and gratitude as he looked at his two sons.

He continued, "I feel like we can really breathe here. As thick and soupy as this air is, it might even do your whistling pipes some good, Hosea."

Hearing Dutch comment on Hosea's health worried Arthur. Since they left Colter, Hosea's health had been declining. The harsh cold had taken its toll, and he feared his father figure was nearing his end. Hosea had a rattling cough that struck fear into Arthur's heart every time he heard it, imagining the worst as Hosea struggled for air.

"I was once in this country with Bessie," Hosea ignored Dutch's comment, lost in his memories of his late wife. "Oh, it feels like a lifetime ago."

“It was a lifetime ago,” Dutch chimed, “what a life we have lived. How well we have fought, especially you two.” His gaze finding Arthur and John’s. “With just a little more money, we’ll be out of here in no time. We just need to stay hidden.” 

Hosea raised a brow, “oh, is that so?” 

“I have a plan Hosea, I’ve got ideas hatching I just,” he hesitated a moment, “I need you with me, not against me. All of you.” 

Arthur nodded, “ ‘course Dutch.” 

“We’re always with you Dutch,” John piped in from the back of the boat. 

The unlikely family rowed the rest of the way in comfortable silence. They listened to the lapping of the water, the song of the seabirds, and felt the gentle breeze tickle their hair. It truly was a beautiful day for fishing. Arthur tilted his face to the sun and relaxed his shoulders. Moments like this made him believe that maybe things would turn out okay for them in the end.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate spent the morning tending to her mare, staying close to the shoreline, brushing and washing the blood from Lorena's coat. She hummed a quiet tune, feeling Lorena's affectionate sniffs on her face. Guilt gnawed at Kate for pushing Lorena too hard the previous night, though the horse seemed unfazed. Memories flooded back of when they first met.

Lorena was found in an abandoned barn, where she and River had chased down horse thieves. Just a frightened filly, barely a year old, she had been left tied up after the thieves fled in a hurry. It took Kate months to earn her trust, enduring every buck and bite. But the bond they forged was unbreakable—Lorena would stop at nothing for her rider, just as Kate would gladly lay down her life for her baby girl.

As Kate combed Lorena's dark mane, she noticed the mare's ears flickering back and forth, as if sensing something. Kate was about to ask her what was wrong when Sadie's voice erupted from within the camp.

“Say whatever you damn well please, but I tell you, if you ask me to chop one more vegetable I’m going to kill you!” She shouted, her frustration evident. 

Mr. Pearson answered her in equal anger, “and if you don’t stop hissing at me, I’m going to kill you!” He retorted. 

Kate spun on her heel and sprinted back into camp toward the chuck wagon. There, she found Sadie and Pearson squabbling, with Sadie brandishing a knife and Pearson looking ready to explode.

“Can’t somebody else help you cook for once? I ain’t your damn housewife!” Sadie shouted, pointing the tip of the knife at Pearson.

“You put that knife down or you’re going to be missing a hand, young lady!” Pearson roared back.

Kate approached the wagon, hands on her hips in disappointment. “What the hell is wrong with you two?” she shouted over them.

“I ain’t chopping vegetables for a living,” Sadie answered, slamming the knife down on the cutting board. She threw her hands up in frustration. “And I ain’t being lazy neither. I can work, but not like this!”

Kate sympathetically tilted her head. Despite their differences, she could understand Sadie's frustration. She'd gladly handle the simple duties and stay out of trouble, but Sadie thrived on adventure. You couldn’t keep a woman like her cooped up for long.

Sadie moved to the other side of the wagon, taking a deep breath before turning back to Pearson and Kate. “My husband and I shared the work, all of it,” she explained. “I tended to the fields, hunted, carried a gun, and used a knife.” Her voice rose in anger. “If you keep me here, I’ll skin this old coot and serve him for dinner!”

“Watch your damn mouth, you crazy goddamn fishwife!” Pearson retorted, pointing an accusing finger. Sadie looked ready to pounce.

It was about time Kate stepped between the two, “that’s enough!” She yelled, using her hands to distance the two feral cats from scrapping, she placed a hand on Sadies shoulder to hold her back. She turned her gaze to Pearson, “that includes you too.” 

The old man raised his hands in defeat with a grunt. Kate turned to Sadie. “Why don’t we ride into town today? See what we can stir up,” she suggested. “Need anything while we’re out, Pearson?”

The cook reached into his wagon and handed over two pieces of paper. “Here’s my list. Could you also post this letter for me?” Kate nodded, tucking the items into her satchel. With a tip of her hat, she let Pearson get back to work.

The two widows climbed into the empty supply wagon, Kate taking up the reins. Together, they departed from camp and made their way toward Rhodes.

“I guess I’m back to bein’ the mailwoman,” Sadie grumbled. “At least we get to go shoppin’.”

Kate chuckled, nudging her knee against Sadie's. “Oh, come on. It ain’t so bad. We just earned ourselves the entire afternoon to do as we please,” she said with a playful wink. Sadie met her gaze and grinned.

Once they were away from camp, Kate broached the conversation again. “You cooled down now?” she asked, her voice gentle and concerned.

“I guess,” Sadie sighed. “I just hate taking orders from that sweaty half-wit. Hey, what did you do with that letter?” she inquired.

Kate chortled, “oh so the mail woman is also reading people’s letters now?” She asked with a laugh, slightly concerned that she may have snooped in Arthur’s personal letter from Mary. 

“Not particularly, I just wanna see who that old bastards writin’ too.” 

Kate shook her head, sighing as Sadie eagerly took the letter. In a mockingly low voice, Sadie began to read aloud. “Dear Aunt Cathy,” she started, “I haven’t heard from you in some time, so I pray to the Lord above that your health has not deteriorated further…” Her mocking trailed off as she read the first half of the letter.

Kate sucked in an awkward breath. “Maybe you should, uh, stop there, Sadie.”

The woman pressed on, her eyes scanning over the pages. “Blah blah blah, it’s boring. Oh! Wait a sec, listen to this; since we last corresponded I have traveled widely, making no small name for myself. Before you ask, I am still yet to take a wife but I can assure you it’s not for lack of suitors…”

Kate snorted and quickly covered her mouth, unable to contain her laughter. Sadie’s infectious chuckles mixed with her own amusement. “You think he ever talked to a woman he didn’t pay for?” Sadie managed to say between laughs.

“I guess we’re all hiding behind something,” Kate replied, meeting Sadie’s amused gaze. The laughter bubbled up again, and soon they were both hysterical. The wagon veered off track as Kate was distracted, but she quickly yanked on the reins to right themselves.

“Oh, you are something else Sadie Adler,” Kate gasped, trying to compose herself.

Sadie chuckled and affectionately slapped Kate’s knee. “I think we’re running with a bunch of idiots dressed up like outlaws.” She handed the letter back to Kate as the wagon pulled into town. They guided the horses over to the general store and hopped down.

“I’ll mail this while you do the shopping,” Kate stated, nodding as they parted ways.

After all these years, Kate still held out hope that her aunt would someday write back to her. In every town she passed through, she asked the post office to mail a letter for her. She continued to write to her aunt, but she stopped receiving word back almost a decade ago. She could only assume her aunt was no longer living, but she enjoyed writing her letters nonetheless. 

It didn’t take long for them to finish their assigned errands; the post office was a short walk from the general store. As Kate walked back, she saw Sadie and the store clerk finishing up loading the wagon. Sadie had purchased a new outfit, her old worn-out jeans and top replaced by a nice pair of black dukes and a fresh yellow button-down. She looked more at ease after getting out of camp, but Kate suspected the fun wasn’t over yet.

"Alright, anything else we need to do here?" Sadie inquired, dusting her hands and placing them on her hips.

Kate smiled, “Care to join me for a drink?” She nodded towards the saloon up the street.

Sadie followed her gaze and turned back with a grin, “After you, Miss McCanon.”

The two widows settled on the porch of the saloon facing the sun, each with a chilled glass of spiked sweet tea. It wasn’t enough to get them drunk, just enough to take the edge off. It was a beautiful day, so why waste it running errands? Kate’s cheeks were flushed, both from the beating sun and her drink, but her heart felt light. After the hell they all went through last night, she felt she deserved this.

Sadie, equally deep in her glass, ran an idle finger around the rim. “You know, my Jake would’ve loved it here. He was always complaining ‘bout the cold, but I told him a hundred times we could move south and he refused,” she said, lost in the memory of her husband.

Kate nodded somberly, “My husband would’ve liked it here too. He was from Kentucky but moved to Boston when he was a kid. I know he missed the country dearly.”

After a moment, Kate asked a question that had been on her mind, “How come you and Jake never had children?” Despite rarely having time together, they enjoyed sharing pieces of their lives with one another. Kate had told Sadie about her husband and daughter over one of their many late-night poker games. It brought them closer, and they had more in common than she realized.

“We thought about it, but where we lived up in the Grizzlies, it was no place to raise a child,” Sadie explained, scanning the town and its bustling people. “Although, I think this country would’ve been great for us. The owner at the general store said they were building a school here.”

“Can’t say putting kids in school won’t make the world better,” Kate said with a somber sigh.

“At least it’s progress,” Sadie added.

“I’m not even sure I know what that word means anymore,” Kate retorted, taking a sip from her glass.

Sadie leaned in close and whispered in her ear, “This town is full of drunks, Kate. I’m not sure anybody here knows what that word means.” Kate looked over at Sadie and couldn't help but let out a laugh. The two girls chuckled as their laughter fed one another.

After an hour, they decided it was time to head back. Sadie took up the reins this time; she was a little tipsy, as were they both at this point. But it was nothing they couldn’t handle. After a few minutes of riding, they left the town perimeter and entered the plains again, when a few men on horses approached them.

"Hey there," one of the men called out, "what you ladies up to?"

“Just headin’ home,” Kate answered politely.

One of the men maneuvered his horse in front of the wagon, causing Sadie to pull the reins to a halt. “You’re in Lemoyne Raider country. You need to pay a toll to pass through here,” the man declared.

Lemoyne Raiders? Kate's mind raced as she connected the pieces from last night; these people must be from the same group that attacked them. Her demeanor shifted, and she gazed at the two men before her from under the brim of her hat.

“Oh, is that so?” she began coolly, “I don’t think I’ve heard of you.”

“We’re gonna need you to pull over this wagon right now,” the man on Sadie's side of the wagon demanded. Kate caught the flash of iron from his gun as it glinted in the sun. Sadie noticed it too; she turned her head to meet Kate’s gaze. They shared a moment of unspoken understanding, nodding ever so slightly. With a wink, Sadie signaled to make their move.

“Here’s your toll you son of a bitch!” Kate shouted. In unison the two women upholstered their revolvers and shot the men dead, on either side of the wagon.

The raiders tumbled out of their saddles as Sadie cracked the reins, sending the wagon careening forward at a relentless pace. More men appeared from behind, closing in on them along the dry, dusty road.

“Let’s keep this little squabble between us,” Kate chuckled to Sadie, preparing to deal with the raiders. She aimed her pistol and fired, missing her target. With a frustrated grunt, she took another shot, hitting a man in the shoulder this time. She made a mental note to retrieve her rifle from John when they returned.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Laughter echoed through the secluded creek, startling birds from the trees. Four fishing lines bobbed idly in the water as the two older gentlemen reminisced about embarrassing tales from their boys' younger days. Despite catching only a few perch and bass, the fish weren’t biting much, perhaps due to their wooden watercraft rocking from their rowdy chuckles. But they couldn’t care less; nothing could spoil such a pleasant afternoon.

"Remember when little John got so spooked holding a fish that he fell right out of the boat? Thank God Arthur was with us or the kid would've drowned!" Dutch chuckled heartily, slapping his knee.

John shook his head, laughing at the memory. "Yeah, well, at least I didn't go to the market, buy the three biggest bass, and try to pass them off like I caught 'em," he teased, nodding towards Arthur. "Dumbass didn't think we'd run into the guy who sold it to him!"

“Oh, not this again,” Arthur grinned, feigning annoyance. "Maybe I should toss you overboard right now, Marston. Let's see how fast you can swim to shore," he playfully threatened. "Oh, that's right, you still can't swim!" He chuckled heartily.

The four men shared another round of laughter. As their giggles died down, Hosea noted the time, “We’ve been out here a while, boys. What do you say we head back and get this cooked for dinner?”

The group nodded in agreement, and Hosea picked up the oars. He was about to lower them into the water when Arthur playfully tapped his arm. “Let me row, you two are getting too old for real labor,” he said with a grin. Remembering how weak Hosea was getting, Arthur wasn’t about to let him do the work. He wanted Hosea to enjoy the evening without tiring himself out.

“And you’re too dumb for anything else,” Hosea quipped back with a smile.

Arthur let out a hearty laugh as he took his seat and lowered the oars. “You’re still too quick for me, old man!”

Hosea playfully bopped him on the top of his head. “I just enjoy picking on children,” he winked. Their banter flowed effortlessly; Arthur always enjoyed spending time with Hosea. He loved Dutch too, but he saw Hosea more as a father figure. Hosea was his role model, and Arthur was his biggest fan.

“Well, I guess we didn’t have much luck fishing,” Dutch remarked after a moment, looking at their small haul.

“Bad luck and stupid fish,” John mused.

“Or maybe the fish had good luck and we’re just stupid,” Arthur added with a snicker.

As Arthur rowed steadily, following the shoreline back to camp, Hosea let out a sigh and gazed out at the water. After a moment, he spoke up. “How do you boys feel about a song?” 

The boys launched into a hearty old sea chanty led by Hosea, with Arthur and John joining in on the chorus. As they neared camp, laughter escaped them, a shared contentment settling in. Dutch and Hosea took the fish, signaling they would bring them to Pearson, while Arthur and John guided the boat to a secluded spot on the other side of camp to safeguard it from prying eyes.

Pushing the boat through the shallow waters, John broke the quiet. “I had fun today. Wasn’t sure what Hosea was up to dragging me out of bed this morning, but I actually enjoyed it.”

Arthur chuckled, a hint of playful jab in his voice. “Maybe now you’ll remember to take your own son fishing sometime.”

“Maybe, if someone wasn’t already taking him,” John shot back, irritation creeping into his tone.

Arthur straightened, his expression serious. “Don’t give me that shit, Marston,” he spat,” If you’re not stepping up, what’s the difference? You’ll just run off again.”

“Why are you so interested in my life? Don’t you have your own?” John retorted. 

Arthur sighed, his tone softer, “just figure yourself out John, you can’t be two people at once.”

John scoffed, a touch of bitterness coloring his voice. “You’re one to talk, Morgan! At least my kid is alive. Can’t say the same about yours.” He immediately regretted his words as Arthur’s eyes darkened, and he moved closer through the water.

“I am one to talk Marston,” Arthur replied, his conviction mixed with regret. “You left that boy, your family, for nearly a whole damn year!”

John grimaced, avoiding Arthur’s gaze. “You know it ain’t that simple. I wasn’t—” He paused, then continued with a lower voice. “I wasn’t ready to be a father.”

Arthur softened, sympathy in his tone. “And you think I was? Look how that turned out.”

“See? You and I are the same,” John remarked.

“No, we’re not,” Arthur countered with gravity. “You have a family, John. For the love of God, don’t abandon them.”

The boat finally rounded the bend, hidden from strangers’ view. Arthur said nothing more as he left John and headed into camp, his mind heavy with old memories and lingering regrets.

As Arthur made his way toward the fire, ready to settle in for the evening with a cold beer and fresh fish for dinner, rowdy laughter near the chuck wagon caught his attention. To his surprise, Kate and Sadie were busy unloading supplies for Pearson.

"What’s got you girls laughing like a couple of hyenas on caffeine?" Arthur asked with a smile, relieved to hear Kate’s laughter lifting his spirits. He found himself thinking of her more and more, even wishing to be the reason behind her smile.

Sadie chortled and exchanged a look with Kate. "Don’t worry ‘bout it, cowboy," she replied with a laugh. Pearson waved off the girls, and Sadie bid them farewell, mentioning she was off to freshen up before dinner. Kate turned back to Arthur with a smile, and the two of them made their way to the fire to catch up on their day's adventures.

"Heard you caught us some fish for dinner," Kate noted.

Arthur chuckled. "Well, it ain’t much, but it'll do. What were you up to today?"

Kate leaned back against the log, stretching her legs toward the fire. "Posted some mail, did a little shopping, got some drinks with Sadie…" She trailed off, then added, "and, uh, may have run into those raiders again." Arthur sat up, shooting her a worried look.

"Easy there, cowpoke," Kate reassured him, giggling. "Sadie and I took care of it. Just a couple of dumbasses trying to make a quick buck." She shook her head with annoyance.

As the rest of the gang members gathered around the fire with the setting sun, Arthur and Kate continued to chat about their day. The smell of fried fish filled the air, and everyone eagerly awaited dinner. Bottles of beer were passed around, and Kate accepted hers with gratitude. It felt like the perfect way to end the day—crisp drink, good food, and great company.

Javier settled in with his guitar, but before he could strum a tune, he turned his attention to Kate. "Why don’t you play us something tonight?" He offered her his guitar with both hands. Surprised by the gesture, Kate shook her head bashfully. "Oh c’mon, cariño, don’t be shy! Arthur told me you used to play."

Kate shot Arthur a teasing glance, and he held up his hands defensively. "Alright, I’ll give it a go," she caved.

As Kate tuned the wooden instrument to her liking, she caught sight of a familiar face entering camp—Micah. Arthur noticed him too and started to rise, but Kate gestured for him to stay put. "If you do all the talkin’ for me, Morgan, I’m gonna forget how to talk," she said with a reassuring grin. She slipped a small bone knife from her satchel, concealing it from the others. "Be right back," she said as she got up to intercept Micah before he could find Dutch.

With purposeful steps, Kate approached Micah. Threatening him in front of the entire camp wouldn’t work, and brute force had already been attempted—she needed a new approach.

"Micah!" Kate called out in a bogus friendly tone, drawing the attention of everyone around. She saw the confusion in his eyes, tinged with arrogance. "Well, looks like you’re still here. Guess I should apologize for my aberration," he said, his voice like a hissing snake.

Kate chuckled as she closed the distance between them. "No apology needed, Mr. Bell. It was just a misunderstanding," she said loud enough for the others to hear.

To his surprise, Kate draped her arm over his shoulder in a seemingly affectionate gesture, their heights nearly matching. Before Micah could react, he felt the sharp tip of something against his neck.

"Walk with me," Kate said in a low voice, her grip firm on his neck. She led them away from the camp, speaking directly into his ear, much like he had done to her when she first joined the gang.

"I’m not here to hand out gold stars for your sudden epiphany, Micah. Try me again, and I promise you, I will return the favor tenfold," she spat, the knife pressing dangerously against his jugular. One false move and he would be bleeding out in the dry grass. 

Micah chuckled, his demeanor shifting. "Is that an invitation?" he retorted dryly.

Kate brushed off his insinuation with a steely gaze. "I assure you, I've dealt with far scarier men than you. You're nothing but a coward hiding behind your pawns. I've faced men like you, tortured men like you. You relish in others' suffering, but you haven't known suffering yourself. And I won't show you mercy."

With that, she withdrew her hand, flicking it upwards in a swift but gentle motion that left a shallow cut on his chin, drawing blood. "Consider this your one and only warning."

With a dismissive flick of her boot, Kate pivoted on her heel and strode back toward the welcoming glow of the campfire, leaving Micah to nurse his wounded pride. As she moved away, she caught a glimpse of him rubbing his chin thoughtfully, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips, ““you and I would make a good team Kate.” She rolled her eyes and continued her walk. 

Seating herself beside the crackling flames, Kate casually picked up Javier's guitar, her movements deliberate yet nonchalant. The instrument felt familiar in her hands, providing a comforting distraction from the lingering tension.

Arthur leaned in close, his voice a low murmur against her ear. "How'd it go?" he inquired, his eyes glinting with curiosity.

Kate couldn't help but laugh, her confidence unwavering despite the encounter with Micah. "Oh, you know," she replied with a mischievous glint in her eye, "the usual threats and warnings. I might have mentioned something about plucking his eyeballs out and serving them for dinner... but I was only half serious." She shot Arthur a playful wink before turning her attention to the rest of the gang.

Seated comfortably around the fire, the gang members welcomed Kate's return with warm smiles and eager anticipation. She glanced around at her companions, a sense of camaraderie settling over the group.

"So, what'll it be tonight?" Kate asked, her fingers beginning to pluck at the guitar strings. 

As the flames danced and shadows flickered, memories of her father's cheerful tunes filled Kate's mind. She recalled a particular song he used to sing on balmy summer evenings, a lighthearted melody that brought joy even after the toughest of days. Adjusting her grip on the guitar, Kate launched into the familiar tune, her voice carrying over the crackling fire with a warmth that echoed the affection she felt for her makeshift family.

I dream in the morning, that she brings me water,

And I dream in the evening that she brings me wine.

Just a poor man’s daughter, from Puerto Peñasco.

South of the border, in old Mexico.

There’s a great hot desert, south of Mexicali.

And if you dont got water, you’d better not go. 

Tequila won’t get you across that desert,

To Evangelina, in old Mexico.

The fire I feel for the woman I love, is drivin’ me insane.

Knowing she’s waitin’, and I can’t get there. 

God only knows that I wracked my brain, to try to find a way, 

To reach that woman, in old Mexico.

Evangelina, I miss you so. 

[pinkiepie20000]

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

[tinyfishtits]

Need a Haircut, doll?

Micah Bell / Gender Neutral Reader

Photo by @red-dead-simp

Summary: Reader notices Micah's had a rough time since returning to camp and decides to pamper him with a haircut.

Word Count: 3,203 Rating: Teen and Up ~ for foul language Author's Note: Fluff and Flirting! I just want to pamper my boy 🥺

★ Read on AO3 ★ ☆ Masterlist ☆

It had only been a few days up at Clemons Point, but I already found myself falling in love with the place. The heartlands had their own charm, sure, but it was hard to beat the picturesque serenity of being by the water. Night was quickly approaching as I lounged on the shore, aimlessly sketching the pillowy clouds that reflected in the expansive mirror of water before me. The graphite lines didn’t do the sunset justice. 

The gravely earth at my back crunched with approaching steps and I turned to see who they belonged to. Micah Bell walked over to a tree a few yards away and leaned against it with a deep drawn out sigh. I’d only interacted with him a few times since he showed up at camp after the move, and even though the majority of the camp seemed to despise him… I kind of pitied him. 

He was obviously an outsider. Even though he played it off like he was a lone wolf I could tell he craved connection. Always provoking people, trying to get reactions out of those that would otherwise ignore him… I could only guess the kind of upbringing he had to have him put up so many defensive walls to keep people out.

Either unaware or just indifferent to my presence, he started grumbling about Mary Beth. I’d noticed her shoot him down on a few occasions, just like every other woman he flirted with. But today she’d really got to him. He was mumbling about her ‘damn smarmy romance books’ giving her all types of unattainable expectations. Upon further eavesdropping, I deduced that he had asked her to dance and been rejected. 

He reached for a stick at his feet and unsheathed his knife to start whittling away at it, still mumbling under his breath. The sun had dipped below the horizon at this point, bringing an end to my doodling. With the darkness came the cold. I hadn’t brought a jacket and the chilled breeze that wafted up from the water was already making me shiver. I wanted to head back to camp but, glancing over at Micah, I wondered if he’d be upset at me for eavesdropping on him… 

“Are you okay?” I broke the silence, which got a startled grunt from Micah as his head whipped around to me, still sitting on the ground, partially concealed by the large rock I leaned against. He gathered his composure quickly and hit me with one of his usual sleazy retorts. 

“Why darlin’? You wanna come over here and make me feel good ?” His southern drawl dragged on the last word. 

“Not as lewdly as you’re implyin'.” I said, getting up and walking over to him. From what I’d heard from the others, he’d been locked away awaiting the noose up in Strawberry until Arthur broke him out. Spent a month camping up in the mountains before showing his face back here earlier this week. All that time out in the wilderness was obvious on his appearance. His hair had grown out past his shoulders, the stubble on his chin threatened to turn his mustache into a full on beard, and his entire body was caked in layers of dirt and dust. Micah let out a low hum as he watched me inspect him. 

“I have somethin’ in mind” I finally said, to which his brows raised. His light blue eyes peeked out from the brim of his hat and I reached out to tip it up, revealing more of his face. He seemed wary at first, his body stiffening as I got closer to him, but he didn’t stop me. 

“Oh yeah?” He said, his tone attempting to reach its typical tinge of cockyness, but it came out a bit too breathy to accomplish it. After a hard swallow, he continued, “What did you have in mind, doll?”  I ran my fingers through a lock of hair that cascaded over his jaw and down to his collarbone. His eyes followed the movement and I could hear his breath hitch at the unexpected contact as my fingers brushed against the exposed skin on his chest.   

“That I could cut your hair.” I said, tugging lightly on the strand I was playing with. A laugh burst out of him and he seemed to regain his normal air of arrogance. 

“What makes you think I’d trust you with a blade by my neck?” He said, a grin plastered on his face. His stick and blade were forgotten at his side now and I took advantage of his distraction to slip the knife out of his hand and throw it quickly at the tree beside us. The blade landed snuggly, smack in the middle of the trunk with a satisfying ‘thud’. 

“Cause doll” I said, taking his hat off and placing it on my head, “If I wanted to kill ya, I would have done it already.” The corner of his mouth twitched up at that, and before he could come up with a retort I started off back to camp. “Meet me by the fire when you’re done strokin’ your stick!” I yelled back to him. A low chuckle rang out behind me as I walked away. 

I had always loved doing things for people. It was a gift and a curse. The feeling of helping somebody with a task big or small, taking a weight off their shoulders, surprising them with something they needed - that feeling was close to the best in the world. But it also meant I often found myself putting other people's needs and wants before my own. I would work myself into the ground if it meant someone else got to take a break, go above and beyond for the simplest tasks… and that’s how I found myself boiling water at the scout fire with the hope of giving a disgruntled outcast the best goddamn haircut he's ever had. 

“All this for me?” He said, sauntering over to the log I sat on and eying the various supplies I’d gathered for the task at hand; scissors, comb, powdered shampoo, towel and a pot of water. 

“Mmhm.” I hummed, starting to feel a bit embarrassed about all the effort I was going to. I kept my eyes on the fire as he sat beside me, holding the glass of shampoo in his hand. 

“You gonna give me a bath?” He asked. I could feel my cheeks flush at the implication and hoped the heat of the fire camouflaged it enough that he wouldn’t notice. 

“I was rather hopin’ you’d keep your clothes on for this.” I said, removing the small pot of water from the fire as the first bubbles started to spring to the surface. I dumped it into the larger pot of cool lake water I'd collected and dipped my hand in to test the temperature. It was warm enough that my skin reddened at the touch, but not too hot. “Perfect.” I continued, collecting the supplies in my arms and nodding at the pot of water, “Grab that and follow me.” 

I led him back down to the lake and had him set the water beside the large boulder I had rested against earlier. He waited patiently for me to set up my supplies. When I was ready, I patted the flat top of the boulder and motioned him over. “Okay, lie down.” I ordered. He glanced between me and the rock skeptically, but relented with a grunt and came over to sit on it. 

Standing behind him, I pulled him down by the shoulders to lay flush against the rock. “Scoot toward me so your head hangs off the edge a bit.” I said, tugging at his shoulders until he obeyed. 

“You sure are a bossy one ain't ya?” He said, to which I gave him a soft laugh in acknowledgement. With his head resting in my hands, I knelt down beside him, the vat of water nestled between my legs. Taking cup-fulls of the warm water, I began pouring them over his hair. I could feel him relax into my hand as I went. “Damn that feels good.” He admitted with a whistle. I laughed, he was so easily pleased. 

“Ain’t even got to the good part yet.” I said, sprinkling some powdered shampoo in his hair. It was my own stash, something I was gifted by an herbalist out in Cumberland Forest after I’d helped him find some sage, which is what the shampoo smelt of. I personally loved the scent, it wasn’t too floral or perfumy, it had a nice earthy musk about it that just felt so natural. 

The moment my fingers started massaging into his scalp he let out a gravely moan, followed by a string of expletives as my hands continued to travel around his head, kneading out the tension at the base of his skull. “ Fuck darlin’.” His voice came out in a whisper. I gave him a generous head massage, lathering his long hair far more than was really necessary. But the poor man seemed so peaceful for once, I wanted to make it last. 

I dipped a hand in the water between my legs, checking it hadn't gone cold before I rinsed his hair. Luckily it was still lukewarm. I slowly began washing the suds out of his hair, and with it an obscene amount of grime. Did this man sleep in the dirt? Once his hair was clean I bundled it up in my towel and gently wrung it out. Micah didn’t move a muscle or make a sound while I worked. 

Seeing as he was being so cooperative I decided to go ahead and comb through his hair before having him get up. Working as gently as possible with his - not so surprisingly -  tangled mess of hair, it took a good half hour to get it all smoothed out. He let out a few soft grunts during the process but was otherwise quiet. When I was finally done, I patted him on the shoulder and stood up. My legs tingled a bit having kneeled in an awkward position for almost an hour, but with a few testing stretches they calmed. 

I expected Micah to get up or at the very least say something, but he was completely still. I leaned over him and noticed he was dead asleep. His mouth hung crookedly agape and his eyes fluttered under his lids. I almost didn’t want to wake him, but I knew sleeping strewn out on a rock with his neck hung over the edge would be a bitch of a position to wake up in come morning. Still, I wasn’t exactly sure how to go about it. 

It hit me then that I'd never actually seen him asleep before. I hadn’t seen him much anyway, sure, but the few days he’d been at camp I couldn’t recall one moment he had so much as shut his eyes. He was always moving, pacing around, polishing his guns, going off to smoke or widdle… but never sleep. He was the last one at the fire before I went to bed and the first up in the morning making coffee.

Without thinking, my hand reached out and lightly caressed his sleeping face. His skin was surprisingly smooth for how rough he appeared. My fingers traced along his thick blond facial hair, brushing down to the scar on his chin, just barely visible beneath the stubble. He looked so peaceful. His hand shot up suddenly and grabbed my wrist, holding it in place at his jaw. I let out a gasp at the quick movement. My eyes met his and he seemed to relax, realizing where he was, but he still kept a hold of me. 

“Sorry doll.” He said, his voice heavy with sleep. “Didn’t mean to startle ya.” The hand that gripped my wrist slid down into my palm and bought my knuckles up to meet his lips. He gave my hand a soft, scratchy kiss before sitting up with a groan and jumping off the rock to stretch his limbs.  I was taken back by how beautiful he was in the moonlight. 

His normally golden blonde hair was darkened with moisture, falling over his broad shoulders in shiny wisps. He was a nicely built man, the perfect inbetween of muscle and thickness. I could tell he was strong and sturdy, but soft as well. Not like Arthur or Charels who were mountains of men and muscle that towered above you and seemed like they could kill someone with a single punch. Michas strength was more subtle. Someone at first glance you’d think you could pretty easily take in a fight, but his quickness and dexterity would soon prove you wrong. 

“Are ya tired? I can cut your hair tomorrow if you’d rather go to bed.” I said, trying to shield the blush burning on my cheeks under the brim of his hat. He was silent for a moment before closing the distance between us and pushing the hat up with his thumb. 

“You offering to go to bed with me?” He smirked. My cheeks were on fire now and I was sure he could tell, as his smirk grew into a full on beaming smile. He let out a chuckle and tapped the brim of the hat so it sunk back down over my face. “I’m just messin with ya darlin’. Like seein ya get all red.” A part of me hoped he wasn't jokin’ around. The kiss he’d given my hand still tingled, and mixed with his flirtatious words I felt a warm churning in the pit of my stomach. 

I let out a sigh, trying to exhale the tension that was building up under my skin to no avail. “Sit down, would ya?” I gestured back to the rock beside us and he did as I asked. I brushed through his hair once more, evening it out. “How short ya want it?” I asked, taking the long strands that framed his face in my fingers. 

He hummed, his lids drooping the more I touched his hair. I took the ends of one strand between two fingers and held it up to him, about two inches of hair poking out at the ends. “That okay?” 

“As long as ya don't go cuttin’ all my hair off darlin’, it’s okay.” He said, closing his eyes and letting me work. I started snipping away at his hair, trimming it just enough that it still grazed his shoulders. The long look really fit him, though his features were sharp and strong enough I was sure he’d look just as good with a really short cut. 

“Have you always had long hair?” I asked. He hummed in thought for a moment. 

“No.” Was all he said, short and firm, like the topic wasn’t something he wanted to dip into. 

“Hm.” I said, and decided to push my luck. “Is this the longest your hair’s ever been?” He started to turn his head to look at me but I put a firm palm on his scalp and kept him in place. “Don’t move.” 

“Why so many questions?” He grunted. I didn’t answer at first, letting the silence around us fill with the rhythmic snipping of hair. 

“I’m just curious about ya is all. Seems the only thing anyone here knows about you is that you're an ass.” I admitted. 

“You been askin’ about me darlin’?” I could feel a grin stretch across his cheeks and circled around to face him. His smile softened as I got closer, my eyes flickering back and forth across his face as I lined up each side of his hair with my fingers to make sure they were even. I was so close to him I could feel his warm breath brush across my lips. 

“I- Um, I think that’s good.” I said, a little flustered by how close we were, my hands lingering in the hair on either side of his face. He reached up and took my wrists in his grasp, holding them in place. 

“Why you bein’ so nice to me?” He asked, his brow furrowing a bit as his steely blue eyes bored into mine. 

“Look who’s got all the questions now.” I said, trying to mask the breathlessness in my voice. He didn’t move, waiting for a genuine answer. “I- I’m nice to everyone, Micah. Why would I treat you any different?” This answer seemed to suffice and he let go of my wrists, standing up with a huff. Not that he’d ever admit it, but I got the feeling that he wanted me to be treating him different from the rest of the gang. 

The moon was a halo behind him as he stood an arms length away. He wasn’t as tall as the other men in camp, but he still had a few inches on me. He was dusted in loose strands of hair and I reached out tentatively to brush them off, approaching him more slowly than normal as he seemed to have a habit of gripping my wrists in reflex to any sudden movement. 

He let me approach, brushing my hands over his shoulders and chest to rid him of the scratchy remnants of hair. I circled him, making sure to get the hair that coated the back of his shirt. My hands lingered a bit as I brushed over the muscles on his back, feeling the dip between his shoulder blades and the tension so evident in the long muscles that stretched down from his neck. 

“You know, I’ve never seen ya sleep before today” I said, resting my hands on his back and feeling the deep breath he took. His body moved under my palms as he turned to face me, my hands now on his bare chest, unwilling to move away from his warmth. He locked eyes with me for a long moment, searching for words. I’d heard him say something along the lines of ‘sleep is for the weak’ before, and wondered if he would give me the same retort. 

“If ya keep touchin’ me like this, it may not be the last time.” He said, a smirk twitching at the corner of his lips. I smiled back at him, giving the furry skin of his chest a squeeze before I reached up and removed his hat from my head. I placed it onto his hair, cleaner now than I'm sure it’d ever been. Another breeze wafted up from the water and brushed through his hair, carrying the scent of sage to my nose. Having my smell on him sent its own chill down my spine, erupting in a burst of electricity between my legs. 

My mind went hazy with warmth as his eyes continued to burrow into my own. Not knowing what to say, I simply leaned in and gave him a soft kiss on his cheek. I could feel his skin burn under my lips. “Night Micah.” Was all I said as I gathered my things and started off back to camp, leaving him blushing and still as a statue on the shore.

★ Read Chapter 2

[messy-gemini1]

His lost Angel, returned to his heaven.

Even with an eye missin, Micah could picture you form as if you were standing Infront of him..

Your glowing (h/c) locks, bright smile and bright eyes that lit up his day any time he saw you.

But he was an arrogant bastard, too greedy for his own good. He was Icarus and he had flown too close to the sun.

He could remember the look of disappointment and sadness when Arthur arrived to call him a rat. You begged for him to be lying, begged Arthur that you man wouldn't tell you out.

No matter how much Micah wanted to tell you it was a lie, he couldn't because despite how much he loved you; he was still a greedy bastard..

he tried to console you, but the Pinkertons had arrived, guns blazing as you hide behind the table with him. The look on your face broke his heart; your eyes were cold, distand...

"please darlin, i did it for us!" he begged, firing shots. No! you did it for yourself!" you screamed at him. Micah flinched, he knew it too, he knew he did it for himself.

"(y/n)! c'mon!" John yelled, waving you to the cave. You bit your lip and looked, before meeting Micah's eyes.

"go darlin...get outta here" he said, he grabbed your hand and placed a small coin purse in it before shoving your quickly to john, who was quick to pull you along.

He remembered how he felt when he beat Arthur, how he knew you'd be so disappointed in him. How Morgans words stung him "you'll never be...good for that girl" he wheezed, and Micah knew it too.

He knew he was never good for you, and yet. You had stayed with him, even when he was in Guarma, you waited for him.

Micah sighed and threw his cigarette into the ground, snuffing it out. He never thought he'd be back in this place again.

He boots clicked across the cobblestone as he led his horse to the hitching post before walking into the store. He looked around the store before walking up to the register and hitting the bell.

"Just a second!" came a voice, and Micah could swear his heart stopped.

There you were, dressed in a black button-down vest and a red skirt. You both froze when seeing each other, Micah quick to take off his hat. "Hello, darlin..." He spoke. You gulped, carefully stepping up to the Counter.

"Hello...Micah" the way you said is name made his knees weak, as if he was that nervous man who was sacred to ask you to dance all those years ago.

You had aged beautifully to him, your hair pinned in a messy bun, eyes still shining as bright as the day he lost you.

"What can I help you with" you spoke, looking away gently. Micah cleared his throat and shook his head.

"Just need a few things" he said, pulling a list from his breast pocket and handing it to her. their fingers touched for just a second and it sent electricity through Micah.

You gingerly took the note and looked over it. "yeah, I can get this for you" You spoke. Micah smiled "thank you."

"Listen I-" he started but you stopped him "no, don't you start with apologizes" you said, pointing a finger at him. Micah was surprised by the sight of tears filling your eyes.

"Your right. But I'm still sorry. Not for what i did to the gang...But for what I did to you" he said, taking a step around the counter, moving to stand in front of you.

You crossed your arms, hugging yourself and biting back tears. Micahs heart clenched, how could he have done this to his angel, to the one girl he promised everything to.

He opened his mouth to speak, pausing when catching the light on your ring finger.

"is that.." he started, taking your hand in his own. Looking at the ring on your finger.

It was the ring he hid in the coin purse he gave to you, he was going to surprise you with it that day but fate had other plans.

Your eyes widened before you moved your hand. "shut up..." Micah grinned, hands moving to sit atop your waist. "so you have missed me.." You scoffed and rolled your eyes, lookinh away from the outlaw.

"momma! look!' a blonde-haired child ran into the shop, holding a flower out to you.

Micah was surprised, looking from the boy to you.

"Micah baby, why don't you go to the back and sit awhile momma talks okay?" you moved past Micah and ushered your child into the back room.

"Micah huh?" Micah spoke, leaning against the counter with a cocky grin on his lips.

You crossed your arms, looking away. "you...You once told me that in your family, the first-born son is named after his father."

You hated the fact Micah still had this effect on you, even after all these years. he still turned you into putty, as if he was that man all those years ago.

Micah's boots clicked across the floorboards before they stopped Infront of you.

"Can... can I stay with you for a while? ya know, meet my son and all?" he asked, trying to not sound desperate.

Your eyes widen before you shifted your gaze away once more. 'I-I don't know Micah. i don't want my son involved in the outlaw life..." you spoke.

Micah cupping your cheek gently, turning your gaze to face his own. baby blue eyes stared at you with that same old adorable look when he wanted something...and you were weak against them.

"I promise, I won't cause any trouble. and if I do, I'll let you kick my ass" he grinned.

You bit your bottom lip before sighing "fine"

Micah can still think back on that day, 2 years ago and now here he was, tangled limbs with your own as you slept soundly beside him in the bed.

He smiled down at your form, sun shining through the curtains and illuminating your form perfectly. You looked like and angel.

His angel.

His angel who had returned to his personal heaven.

He would not let you down this time, not after giving him the life he graved deep down his heart and below his ego..

Your stirred from your slumber, eyes blinking open slowly before looking up into his eyes, er rather his good eye.

Micah grinned softly, placing a chaste kiss on your brow before he ran a hand up and down your bare back.

You smiled tiredly at him, cupping his rough cheek and rubbing a thumb over his scar. No words were spoken between the two of you and yet, so many things were said at a glance.

Micah didn't need to hear those three words from you, he could see them in your eyes as you stared at him with so much adoration and affection it almost made him tear up.

Now. He'd never lose his angel. Never allow her to escape his heaven to fall to earth without him.

[allthemeniveloved]

Blood and Bonds

Summary: A special nerve was struck with John Marston as Micah questions Jack's paternity in front of the boy.

wc: 802

ao3 link

a/n: I cannot seem to consume enough "dad John Marston" content recently, and there certainly isn't enough anti-Micah Bell content out there either. Hope you enjoy!

The thick, swampy air hung heavy around Shady Bell, the remnants of the gang’s haphazard camp sprawling across the crumbling plantation. The cicadas droned in the distance, blending with the low murmurs of conversation from the gang members scattered about. John Marston leaned against the porch rail, his keen eyes watching Jack toddle around the yard with a stick in hand, pretending it was a sword.

Abigail was sitting on a weathered chair nearby, mending one of Jack’s shirts. She paused now and then to glance up, smiling as Jack swung his “weapon” at an invisible foe. For a moment, everything felt almost normal—almost peaceful.

Then Micah Bell swaggered out of the main house, his boots clunking heavily against the wooden steps. His face was twisted into its usual smug grin, the kind that made John’s fists itch.

“Well, ain’t this a sight,” Micah drawled, his voice cutting through the stillness. “Little Jack playin’ soldier, Ma sittin’ pretty, and John watchin’ over ’em like a good little lapdog.”

John’s body stiffened, but he kept his gaze on Jack, refusing to rise to Micah’s bait. “What do you want, Bell?”

Micah ignored the question, instead stepping down into the yard. He walked in a slow circle, his boots kicking up dust as he approached Jack. The boy froze, clutching his stick tightly as he looked up at the unfamiliar man.

“Cute kid,” Micah said, his tone dripping with mockery. “But y’know, John, I can’t help but notice… he don’t look much like you.”

Abigail’s head snapped up, her eyes narrowing into a glare. “Don’t you start, Micah.”

John finally turned, his jaw clenched. “You best watch your mouth.”

But Micah wasn’t done. He crouched down near Jack, his grin growing meaner. “Hey there, little fella. You sure your Pa’s really your Pa? Or is it just what your ma wants everyone to believe?”

Jack tilted his head, confused by his words, but Abigail was already on her feet, fury blazing in her eyes. “You leave my boy alone, Micah!”

John moved faster than a rattlesnake, grabbing Micah by the collar and slamming him against the side of the house. The stick Jack had been holding clattered to the ground as the boy scurried back toward his mother.

“You got somethin’ to say about my family?” John growled, his voice low and lethal. “You say it to my face, not to my boy.”

Micah chuckled, though his eyes flickered with unease. “Easy there, cowboy. Just pokin’ fun. Didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”

John shoved him back against the house one last time before letting go. Micah stumbled but quickly regained his footing, his grin returning, though it lacked its usual confidence. “That’s the only warning you’re gettin’. Next time, you’re not walking out of here.” John warned, his hand hovering over his holster.

Micah straightened, brushing the dust off his jacket, though his grin was noticeably smaller. “Touchy, touchy,” he muttered, taking a step back. “Fine, Marston. I’ll leave you to your happy little family.”

“Get lost, Micah,” Abigail snapped, pulling Jack close as the boy clung to her skirts.

Micah tipped his hat, his smirk creeping back as he retreated toward the house. “Don’t let me interrupt your picture-perfect life.”

John stood there, his fists clenched and his chest heaving, until Micah disappeared inside. Only then did he turn back to his family, his features softening as he crouched down in front of Jack.

“You alright, buddy?” he asked, brushing a hand over his son’s hair.

Jack nodded, though his wide eyes betrayed his unease. “Who was that man, Pa? He’s scary.”

John swallowed hard, guilt pricking at the edges of his mind. He pulled Jack into a tight hug, his voice soft but firm. “He’s nobody you need to worry about, son. I ain’t gonna let anyone hurt you.”

When he stood, Abigail was watching him with a mixture of gratitude and lingering anger. “You didn’t have to let him get under your skin like that,” she said quietly.

John sighed, running a hand through his hair. “He’s been lookin’ for a fight since day one. But nobody’s gonna stand there and talk about my boy like that. Not him, not anyone.”

Abigail nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. She reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “We’ll get out of here someday, John. Away from all of this.”

John glanced toward the dilapidated plantation house, shadows flickering behind the shattered windows. “Someday,” he echoed, though the weight in his voice betrayed his doubt.

For now, all he could do was keep them safe—protect his family from the wolves circling closer every day. And no matter what it took, John Marston wasn’t going to let anyone tear apart the fragile peace he’d fought so hard to build.

꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰

[agyraty]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Requests!

ׂ╰┈➤ I’m taking requests for Oneshots about Red Dead Redemption, Tlou and Call of duty!

Rules?

ׂI’ll Write just about anything!

ׂ╰┈➤ I will write Fluff, Angst, etc.

ׂ╰┈➤ if requested I could try Yandere.

ׂ╰┈➤ I might do smut? Idk though

ׂ╰┈➤ NO incest, for obvious reasons 💀

ׂ╰┈➤ I only do Male characters x Reader

ׂ╰┈➤ just like smut, I’m not to sure I’ll write about abusive relationships unless it’s like, good for the story? Idk 😭

—

Please give me any requests! I NEED something to write because I enjoy it 🙏🙏 so if you got any ideas message me!

Please don’t rush me though, I promise I’ll finish it as soon as possible. ❥

[zanazirafanfic]

Summary: In which Arthur teases Micah with some treasures found during his travels, the Marstons get in on the fun, and the cat gets his revenge.

Warnings: None Rating: General Audiences Category: Gen Fandom: Red Dead Redemption Relationships: None Characters: Arthur Morgan, Micah Bell, John Marston, Abigail Roberts, Jack Marston Series: The Merry Misadventures of Meowcah Bell III Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 3,625

@og-doeiika @micahsrevolvers @micah-bells-baby-daddy @photo1030