#RD2 fanfiction

[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

[6emo6zombie6]

Whiskey tales PT. 2

Quick part two because i liked the plot :p

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

Your legs had gotten stiff from sitting down for too long, so you decided to stroll around the camp, whiskey in hand. Once you found the edge of the overlook, you peered out and watched the moonlight reflect off the river below. You thought nothing of it at first, but eventually, you thought of jumping in the water.

You happily stumbled back over to the campfire, where Arthur and John were still sitting and drinking their way through the night. You stood beside Arthur and bent down to his ear, your hand on his shoulder.

“I was thinkin’ of takin’ a swim in the lake,” You slurred, grinning from ear to ear as Arthur looked at you, clearly intrigued. He smiled and nodded softly, looking the other way toward John and prodding him on the shoulder.

“Hey, John,” He mumbled. Once John focused on the two of you, he noticed your mischievous grins and immediately assumed you were up to something. “We’re gonna go take a dip in the river, care to join?”

John contemplated visibly, eventually shaking his head. “No, ‘not in the mood.”

“Suit yourself.” Arthur giggled, letting you pull him up on his feet.

“Wait here, I’ll go get my lantern.” You quickly scurried off to your tent, grabbing your lantern and lighting it. Arthur was still waiting by the time you came back, grinning as he slung his arm around you and started walking off camp. The two of you stumbled through the small patch of trees until you could go downhill. It was mostly dark, the only source of light in front of you being the shimmering water.

After a few minutes of stumbling, you heard swift footsteps behind you. It was clear someone was coming after you, running down the hill. Arthur let go immediately and pulled his gun from its holster, pointing it toward the noise.

“Hey, don’t point that at me,” John’s rough, scratchy voice said as he slowly walked into the illuminated circle around your lantern. Arthur stashed his gun again, scoffing.

“Wait up,”

“You scared me,” He murmured, turning back around to walk toward the river. John quickly caught up with the two of you, walking on your side opposite Arthur.

“Change of heart?” You questioned John.

“Yeah—no, hm,” He tutted, waving his hand in front of his face as he struggled to find the right words in his drunken state. “Miss Grimshaw had somethin’ to complain about again.” He said, annoyance lacing his tone.

“So you’re still not goin’ in the water?” Arthur grinned.

John shook his head, sticking both thumbs in his jeans’ pockets as the lot of you walked toward the water.

A couple more minutes had gone by before you’d reached the small sandy shore. The air was crisp and smelled fresh as it grazed your bare arms. You looked at Arthur, then at the rippling water in front of you, then back at him. He chewed on his lip absently, also glancing at the water.

“Are you two goin’ in or not?” John huffed as he let himself fall in the sand, his legs crossed as he lit a cigarette.

“Maybe it’s too airish to get in—” You murmured, mostly to yourself.  

“Nonsense,” Arthur grumbled in your direction, already taking off his boots once you looked at him. He struggled to balance on one foot, however. You stared at him for a minute, contemplating what to do.

“What?” He grinned, slipping his suspenders off his shoulders before unbuttoning his shirt. “Too chicken to actually swim?”

You tsked at him, setting your lantern down in the sand and taking off your boots in a rush. “To hell with you, Morgan.”

“That’s the spirit,” He chuckled deeply, successfully peeling off his shirt.

You grinned as you started unbuttoning your dress, slipping it off in no time. You thought you had the upper hand in this little “who’s quicker at undressing” race, but Arthur was already stripped bare and in the water by the time you were in your bloomers. You cursed softly, pulling off the remainder of your clothes before running into the water and joining Arthur.

“You sure you’re not joinin’?” You called out to John after having walked out further into the water until it reached your shoulders. You were shivering due to the cold air and even colder water, sure, but it was fun.

“No ma’am, I’d like to keep my dignity.” John joked, taking a drag from his cigarette.

“Wuss!” You teased, laughing as you swam toward Arthur. He didn’t bat an eye, even while you were in front of him--naked as a jaybird.

He glanced at you with a grin before splashing a bunch of water at you, immediately wetting the entirety of your hair. You gasped, shivering as the cold water ran down your neck.

“Arthur!” You scolded, splashing water back at him. He retaliated by taking a couple of big steps toward you and hooking his hands under your armpits to lift you above the water and throw you backward a couple of feet. You yelped, slicking your hair out of your face as soon as you were above water again.

You heard both Arthur and John laughing once the water was out of your ears. You pouted jokingly and swam back toward the shore. John looked at you with slight confusion, trying his hardest not to look at your breasts. Alas, he, in his woozy state of mind, couldn’t help but take a peek. You noticed him and teasingly kicked him in the leg.

“Ow, geez, sorry,” He chuckled.

“You’re goin’ in the water for that.” You wiggled your eyebrows at the man.

“No, absolutely not,” John retorted.

“You know you want to.” You kept teasing, standing behind John and prodding him in the back. “Arthur, come help me out!”

“No, no, I’m not goin’ in the water.” John kept insisting, though you could tell from the slight chuckle in his voice that he was just putting up a fight for the sake of it. It took you a few more minutes of poking, prodding, and sly remarks to finally get John to slip out of his clothes and join you in the river.

Soon enough, the three of you were joking around in the water, everything around you pitch-black. You could barely make out which man you were looking at. Being naked around each other also meant a fair share of flirting, even if the majority of it was meant as a joke.

You decided to get out after maybe half an hour of splashing around when the water really started to feel cold. You chattered your teeth and your lips were purple as you rushed to pull your dry clothes back on. John and Arthur followed suit, eventually accompanying you on your walk back up the hill, stumbling drunkenly—and cold as shit—toward the camp.

“Damn, It’s cold as a witch’s tit,” Arthur murmured, shivering as you walked back to the camp. A decent chunk of the gang had abandoned the campfire to head to their tents. You figured this was the perfect time to sit down and warm up. You and Arthur sat next to each other on a cowhide, snuggling up as Dutch threw some extra wood on the campfire. He chuckled and shook his head at the two of you, seemingly together every time you got the chance. 

“I’m gonna head to my tent to get us a blanket,” John announced, his boots thumping against the sand as he trudged toward his tent. He came back a couple of minutes later with a neatly knit wool blanket and three uncapped bottles of beer. He handed you and Arthur your bottle and set his down on the ground so he could drape the blanket over the three of you. You looked at him as he sat down, smiling softly and nuzzling his upper arm appreciatively.

John gulped his beer, smiling back at you. He still felt damp.

“You look tired,” Arthur tapped your thigh. You knew what his remark meant, he wanted attention. You giggled ever so slightly before leaning up against his broad shoulder, letting him drape his arm around you. You could feel the heat radiating off of him like usual, even if you had just swam in the coldest water possible.  

John chimed in on the other side, letting his head rest on yours as he scooted closer in an attempt to warm up quicker. 

[roamingtigress]

My sappy Vandermatthews playlist which features Thomas Newman, Danny Elfman, RDR2 themes, Buddy Holly, Willie Nelson, Big & Rich, America, Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra, Barry Mann, REO Speedwagon, and ABBA. Based on their goofy exploits Online and in my sappy fic ❤️‍🔥

[ssa-daddyhotchner]

I played the entire story to rd2 and when I say I need some fucking Arthur first I mean it😭😭

Why do I have to get attached so damn easy

[fanfictionfairground]

When The Devil Tips Their Hat Chapter 2: Where the Fork splits in Rhodes

If the Devil saves you from the kiss of death, don’t expect their kiss to be any sweeter.

The ink blue tongue of dusk licked the light clean off the plains of Scarlet Meadows. The last light on the road was the burnt end of a cigarette hanging from the mouth of a wagon driver, hypnotized by how the Arabian horses turned pink to silver with each flick of their braided tails matching her own swinging in tandem.

Her hand itched to light the lanterns on either side of her, but in Lemoyne the only thing more dangerous than a woman traveling in the dark would be for other travelers to see the darkness of her skin.  

A spidery hand shot out from the back of the purple wagon’s curtain, causing the cigarette to fall down her plaid shirt like a firefly.

“Shit!”

“Bert, can you slow down a bit more? I’m having trouble extracting the bullet,” the hand said, patting Bert’s shoulder reassuringly.

“I’m going as slow as I can; we’ll be in Saint Dennis by Christmas at this pace!” Bert said, her braids thumping against neck.  She lit another cigarette, putting it in the spidery hand to allow her companion the first puff.

The hand sucked into the curtain, a cloud seeping between the green drapes. A head popped through the curtain this time, joining the hand. Dr. Morningstar, with the mustache washed off with blood and black eyepatch swapped for a silk one, became Moira once more. Her black hair was pulled tightly on top her head, almost looking like a bottle.

She took another drag, wiping her bloodied hand on her pants before setting the cigarette between Bert’s lips.

“How’s the patient you purchased?”

Moira’s sharp nose wrinkled, her face puckering. “Don’t say it like that.”

“How am I supposed to say it then? $50 for another mouth to feed. His dead body ain’t even worth that much,” Bert muttered, cracking the reigns as soon as the doctor settled into the back of the wagon.

“If I can cure him of the hole in his head, he’ll be worth that ten times over!”

“If anyone can do it, it’s you, Doc. It’s a two-day ride to Saint Dennis; let me know if we need to stop to dump him, don’t want him stinking up the whole wagon.”

“Yeah, yeah, now let me work, woman!” Moira’s voice muffled behind her second-hand surgical mask.

She stopped the bleeding before pulling the bullet out of his head, setting it aside in a tin cup. His headshot wound was nearly fatal, but if he were blasted with a shotgun he would have surly been dead.

What began as a supply run on the way to Saint Dennis turned into blood bath. Moira hadn’t gotten a word in with the local pharmacist before he was shot through the head as a shootout erupted outside.

The front window burst, glass showering her and her companion Liberty “Bert” Miller. The glass shimmered in her braids like spun sugar.

“I told you we shoulda went to Saint Dennis instead!” Bert yelled over the shot gun blasts, pulling Moira over the pharmacist counter with her.

“Well we sure as hell can’t leave now,” she replied, crawling along the floor to loot the deceased doctor’s pockets. “How was I supposed to know this was going to happen?

The gunslinger rolled her eyes, counting off on her calloused fingers. “What didn’t tip ya off? The Lemoyne Raiders that greeted us with a lynch mob, the feud between those families over whose more in-bred, or the gang hanging in the woods that almost shot us?”

She turned him over, opening his mouth to check his teeth. Smiling grimly, the doctor pulled a pair of dental pliers out of her back pocket, extracting the gold molars. “Idle hands, Ms. Miller…”

“As if your hands are any better,” she muttered, focusing on cleaning out the pharmacy between gunshots as Moira worked. Pills, morphine, bandages, cash filled the empty rice sack found in the supply closet.

“Should we take his femur? I have an order for one in New York that I haven’t filled yet.”

“I’m sure we can find one off of the bodies out there; keep your head down, lady!”

The silence between shots fired and the groans of men slowed, like waiting for to tell how far off thunder was. Bert crept to the busted window, watching the group of men left standing argue in the town square. Moira knelt beside her, pulling a spyglass out of her breast pocket.

At their feet lay a redheaded mad, blood pouring out of a headshot wound. The men gestured to him frequently as they argued.

“I think they’re leaving, let’s go—”

Her companion held up a hand.

“I think that man’s still alive.”

“What? How?”

“Let’s find out.”

“Moira!”

Bill Williamson hoisted Sean over his back, grunting beneath his weight. His dead weight. He hadn’t taken two steps toward Brown Jack when he heard a voice behind him.

“Excuse me, sir!”

His gun was out of his holster before he turned, pointed at the six foot, bespectacled man in a white coat with curly black hair tied behind his head with a ribbon. He held up his hands, scratching his pencil mustache.

He cocked his gun behind him to see a dark skinned woman joining the man’s side with her hands up, but low.

“I mean no harm; I’m a doctor, actually. I just want to help your friend,” he continued, nodding at Sean’s back.

“Look, Mister—”

“Doctor Morningstar—”

“Look, Morningstar,” Bill huffed, lowering his gun to his hip. “I don’t want whatever snake oil you’re selling. Get lost and loot off those inbreeds behind ya; I need to bury my friend in peace.”

“Your friend is alive, sir. I can save him!”

Bill’s hand twitched on his revolver. “You ain’t one of those perverts are ya?”

“I can assure you sir, Dr. Morningstar fucks like a corpse but he is not a corpse fucker,” Bert chimed, earning a steely glare from her companion.

“I’ll give you $50 for him.”

“Doc!” Bert hissed.

Bill glanced down at Sean, the wind blowing dust into the blood pooling from the back of his head.

“$70.”

“Christ, is he a prince?”

“He ain’t a prince but he’s a friend.

“If he ain’t alive, bury him in Clemen’s Point,” Bill said, carefully placing Sean’s body on the back of the doctor’s purple medical wagon.

“My card, Sir. I’ll tell you either where I’ve buried him or where I’ll drop him off; regardless, he will be yours again.”

“You’re a lucky man Mister Maguire,” she murmured, reaching above their heads to steady the lamp with one hand while the other opened one of his eyes. Blue as the sky, the iris twitched to adjust to the invading light. “Lucky, lucky, lucky.”

Star waited for the wagon to stop completely before grabbing her cutting shears and setting to work trimming his matted hair. It wouldn’t look pretty, least not until they got to St. Dennis and a barber could clean it up. His long red hair caked in mud and blood fell into a steel pale till he resembled more of a poorly shearn ginger cat.

“Gotta disinfect you before I patch you up,” she said, uncorking the bottle of vodka with her teeth so her free hand could hold the side of his head in place.

Fire filled Sean’s head, leaking down the side of his scruffy face with no hair to catch it.

He was in Hell, surely.

Skull stitched together without morphine, cauterized with a candlestick and gunpowder.

“Fuck,” he grunted, barely able to summon the strength to grimace.

His nails dug into the cot he was strapped to.

A voice, low and steady in his ear washed over him. “Stay with me. We’re nearly there.”

“Fuck!”

“Almost through,” the voice said, pulling the needle through the skin one last time, snipping it off with a small hunting knife. “There, let me bandage you up and you can rest.”

She wound the white bandage carefully around his head, tying the knot at the back of his head before laying his head back on the cot.

“I’m leaving your waist strapped lest you roll off, but I’ll undo your hands,” she said, undoing the leather cuffs on either side of the cot. She extinguished the lamp above them before stepping through the curtain to the driver’s seat of the wagon.

Sean’s mind grew fuzzy before sleep swallowed him whole.

Sean flitted in and out of conscious for the first week.

His eyes only stayed open enough for the blur to feed him or bathe him.

The air grew hot and soupy as the journey went on, the incline of his body suggesting they were going up into a swamp.  He was surely in hell now.  

[rav3n-pascal22]

Can someone please do a Ezra western AU I’ve been playing a lot of RD2 lately and I thought of it, it’ll be much appreciate thank you ☺️🙌🏻✨💖✨

[wolfarrowepz]

Winterhawk Bingo rd2 (post 4 of 4) MASTERPOST

Hi everyone. So while I did not manage a bingo this round of @winterhawkbingo, I did complete more than one fill. Which is improvement for me! So bear with the formatting on this one because I'm on mobile and not sure how well this will look with 4 bingo fills involved.

Fill number 1: Moodboard

Square: I-1 Meddling Best Friends

Type of Fill: Moodboard

Word Count: N/A

Rating: PG

Link:

Fill number 2: Moodboard

Square: N-1 Werewolves AU

Type of Fill: Moodboard

Word Count: N/A

Rating: PG

Link:

Fill number 3: Moodboard

Square: G-3 Magic AU

Type of Fill: Moodboard

Word Count: N/A

Rating: PG

Link:

Fill number 4: Fanfiction

Square: G-1 Domesticity

Type of Fill: Fanfiction

Word Count: 1136

Rating: PG-13

Tags: Pre Winterhawk, Valentine’s Day, Clint Barton Feels, Clint being negative about himself, also it grew and I haven't finished yet so somewhat tiny cliffhanger. It will, when I finish it, it will end fluffy and happy.

Link:

[flamingfeathers]

I don’t know where else I can mention this where someone who cares will hear about it--I’m not sure how many of my mutuals here were active on RD2. I wasn’t really active on that forum (or anywhere else, for that matter) but it did matter to me. I spent so many hours as a teenager reading the threads and the fanfiction, and I was grateful to be part of a rh community where fangirls wouldn’t be spat upon. I haven’t listened to rh in a while and I’ve been wanting to remember what it was like to be moved by it. The music and the fandom made me feel so passionately back then--I got so excited to read what people had to say, and to see what was going on...I haven’t felt that strongly about any interest of mine in a while. Naturally people grow up and move on to new things, so I can’t say that I’m surprised. But I am sad to see it go, and I’d like to wish all the best to anyone here who was part of that community. 

[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.