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unusual-raccoon · 2 years ago

Text

Few More Like Her by Unusual_Raccoon

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Sadie Adler/Arthur Morgan

Additional Tags: Chapter 4: Saint Denis (Red Dead Redemption 2), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, Dubious Consent, Violent Sex, Dry Humping, Vaginal Sex, Anal Sex, Wrong Hole, Painful Sex, Low Honor Arthur Morgan, They're both crazy to be fair, Sadie is Feral, (Implied) Past Rape/Non-Con, The Author Regrets Everything

Word Count: 6k+

Ao3 Link

Summary: After fighting off an ambush at Shady Belle, Arthur sees to it that they don't suffer any more loss by tending to their resident unhinged widow...in his own way, of course.

A/N: This is the next submission in the Widow Collection. Since i have no clue how to organize literally anything on tumblr, the posting of the series itself is going to be on Ao3. Been looking forward to and also dreading posting this installment! It's a messy one.

As per usual, I don't own any characters (they belong to R*) and please don't mind any mistakes!

There was the stink of death in his lungs, so cloying beneath the humid cling of the air in the swamp.

There were bodies everywhere, their own little turncoat amongst the dead, head lopped off and eyes gouged out - all courtesy of Colm O’ damn Driscoll.

The attack had stirred most everyone into a panic. Those few not swept up in fear burned white-hot with hate.

After the hell Colm and his boys had put Arthur through, he counted himself amongst those not shaking with fear, but with rage.

Weren’t only him though, Mrs. Adler was still yowling like a goddamn wildcat, dressed in blood. Her knife in hand, dripping red into the soil. There was scarcely a patch of her skin that weren’t painted in crimson pigment. Made the greenish brown of her eyes look all the more deranged, bugged all out of her head like a rabid dog.

There was a haze about her, something in her demeanor that Arthur knew. An itching sort of bloodlust that he’d been known to fall prey to.

She damn near spelt it for ‘em when Marston moved to grab at a body, stepped too near to her, and she bared her teeth in a purely primal snarl. Slashing with her knife blindly.

Arthur lunged at her, wrestling the blade so she didn’t gut the sorry wolf-bit bastard. Near certain if she managed to kill him, Abigail would find a reason to foist the blame on John.

Sadie had started screaming her head off once he managed to get her knife out of tacky bloodstained hands, not a word to be found in the hoarse howl that ripped from her lungs.

She’d killed a fair few O’Driscolls with the long tapered blade by the time he’d got to her, a rifle in one hand and his cap and ball revolver in the other. He’d found her on her hands and knees, blouse torn, tryin’ to castrate one of ‘em in the middle of a goddamn firefight. And Arthur had been tempted as hell to drop his damn guns and hold the miserable waste of life still for her.

He’d tried to encourage her inside, with the rest of the women and folk who’d only be a liability in a fight. Keep ‘er safe like he would the rest. ‘Course she’d been too stubborn and too hateful to listen, and he’d been too hungry and delighted to fight her on it.

They carved through the rest of the bastards just fine, smoother than her knife through that feller’s pecker.

Her blood was still runnin’ hot and the same as he tried to get ‘er inside to keep her safe, Arthur knew it’d be best to haul her outta camp for the same reasons.

At least if she snapped out there with him, he knew he could handle her.

So he dragged her out and away from Shady Belle, kickin’ and screamin’ as it were; and not a soul objected. Didn’t bother him none though, her little angry fists wailing on his back. He tightened his white-knuckled grip on the back of her thighs where he’d gone and slung over his shoulder.

Arthur took her far enough away that he wasn’t worried folk might shoot her like a sick animal if they saw her hit him.

He paused by the shoreline, right in between where the ground turned soft and waterlogged, and where it was still whole. He tried to lower her slow enough, ‘course she was still causing a ruckus, they slumped the pair of them into the mud.

“Liked this shirt,” Arthur grumbled as he hauled himself up in time for her to leap on him, and clenched fists and cracked nails and bared teeth.

He flung her off easy enough, she kept his adrenaline soaring tho’, kept it rushing through his veins and that part weren’t so bad.

“Go on,” he goaded, “get this outta yer system. Can’t have you cuttin’ the cocks off folk at camp,” he paused with a growing smirk, “‘cept maybe Micah, reckon we could do that one together, though I’m sure he ain’t got much to cut.”

Made him feel kinda lightheaded and drunk at the same time. A bit invincible even as she raked her torn-up nails down his forearms and clawed for his face.

Arthur staggered back with a curse, trying to hold Sadie in his arms was like holdin’ a tornado. She was a goddamn force of nature. He stared down at his forearm where his sleeves had been rolled up and saw the bleeding shape of her teeth dug into the sinew.

“Careful now,” Arthur growled, “ain’t gonna put my hands on ya, Mrs. Adler, but I’ll bite back.”

He made a single vain attempt to wipe some mud off his face before she yowled and leapt at him again.

There was mud and blood and moss stuck to ‘em both.

When she ran at him yet again, Arthur caught her by the neck, held her still with one hand long enough to catch his breath. Every breath in the god forsaken swamp felt like some kinda rot in his lungs, ‘tween that and the bugs nipping at him, he already felt like a corpse.

She staggered back when he put a bit of force behind his shove, her boot was sucked in by the mud, ground under her had gone lopsided and she toppled back near the shoreline. He kept his eye out for gators and snakes ‘fore Sadie was on him again, clothes soaked, hat missing, and hair goddamned mess.

She’d gotten her hands on a rock, tried to bludgeon him with it. She weren’t in her right mind, he knew the feeling, knew that all that goddamn hate usually left him with more corpses scattered around him than he cared to acknowledge. He’d spoken about it with Tilly time and again, how he’d gone and lost his mind in this civilized land. He was meant for dusty open roads and hot sun, the wilderness. Not this.

He weren’t sure if Sadie could properly see him, what with her vision a blurred haze of red. He supposed she was just attacking, reverted to something primal and feral. And if she could see him…well, she picked a mean enough bastard to sink her teeth into.

Her little hands heaved her rock up, it was cumbersome and would break something for certain. Took some quick thinkin’ and a bit of his own body weight to hold her still. She writhed and kicked and screamed under him, but Arthur’s skull was still in one piece, mostly. They was one big bruise writhing in the dirt. He hurled the stone into the swamp with a weighty thunk and a splash of green water.

He’d admit, there was something powerful about her. Tiny little thing filled with so much fire, like a stick of dynamite. Maybe it was the way she was movin’, clawing and bucking under him. Or maybe it was seeing a woman - a widow with nothing, no home, no husband, no virtue, nothing but her own rage to keep ‘er warm at night. Or maybe it was just her.

He’d be lyin’ if he said a part of him hadn’t craved her in some demented way since seein’ her wildly sawing a steak knife at Micah, with half her house on fire. Even then she’d been pure Hellfire.

“Hold still,” Arthur gritted through his teeth, damn near pled with her to quit her tryna buck him like a bronco. Her hips knocking into his, in a violent sway. The coarse scrape of friction between her body and his, in the bubbling mud and grotesque frothing green water foaming at the sopping shoreline, surged right to his belly.

The feeling was gripping, a coil of heat that throbbed to his toes.

Her legs tangled up in his, a savage rolling twist of her hips, “Christ woman,” Arthur hissed. His hands dug into the dirt, wet handfuls of mud were compressed under the snug clench of his fists. Anything to keep from giving into the brutal desire she’d beat into him, tinting the corners of his vision. A primal rhythm they both rocked to in the muck.

He tried to press some space between them, but any gap he managed to dig in was swiftly closed with stinging blows and a bloody rake of her nails.

Her legs locked around his middle and squeezed like she meant to bust his ribs. She gave him no reprieve. Delicate, filthy little hands clawed at his back.

She managed a fist in his hair, teeth bared before she lunged up at him. Arthur thought she finally meant to tear his throat out, with all her hate and Hellfire. Woulda been a fine enough way to go for a bastard like him. Those wild greenish brown eyes stared up at him in her frenzy, wide and unblinking. But her mouth missed its mark and mashed unceremoniously against his.

He tasted blood and his jaw ached, but Arthur delved in deeper at the taste of the very thing he’d been denyin’ himself. He pressed his hips down to glide against hers in a swooping, instinctual need. His head slumped against her shoulder as she arched and clawed and cried, his teeth closing over the available skin made bare by her torn blouse. He bit back as he’d sworn and her hips rushed up to rock against his.

That haze of red was one with him now, not a product of a hot-blooded gunfight, but because of her. With hazy eyes and the taste of her blood on his tongue, Arthur admired the shape of his teeth pressed in a neat circle around the jut of her clavicle.

Her legs clutched him tighter as his hips ground down hard, chasing the coarse, wet scrape of friction between her body and his.

He lifted his head, mouth stained red when he pressed it over hers. Arthur knew in some rational way that what they was doing weren’t right, but she tasted wild and free, and the right thing weren’t enough.

There was a picture in her head of the woman she used to be, the woman she’d been before she’d been made a widow. With the taste of blood in her mouth and clinging to her clothes, a heavy body layin’ over hers, she could scarcely see the woman in the photo, the bright eyed bride of years past.

She was a stranger. An anomaly unknown even to herself. She wore the same skin and perhaps more scars than she had months prior, sequestered up in the cold of Ambarino. The cold had a way of preserving things, freezing them, prolonging them, stagnating them. But she was a long way from Ambarino and it’s biting cold. Out here in the soupy heat of Lemoyne. With no cold to preserve her as she’d been, she was meat left to spoil, something sweet now gone rancid; nothing more than carrion, a meal for a starving animal.

Blue eyes pitched now black as oil blinked dazedly above her, mouth agape with the sort of hunger that she knew. She could see her reflection in the sheen of Arthur’s wanting eyes.

Her heart seized painfully in her chest, a hot throb of agony pulsed down the length of her sternum. It was a pain so vibrant it was nearly tangible, the perfunctory thump of her broken heart, all its conflicting edges clashed behind the confines of her ribs.

Weren’t somethin’ she needed reminding of, this bitter, hateful thing she’d turned into. Jake had been so good. He was a man like any other, sure, he could make mistakes as well as she could. But he’d such a heart, so potent good intentions.

Sadie didn’t know if she had it in her to accept goodness like his again, if she had room for the loss of that kind of light again.

She was a stranger to herself and unbalanced without Jake’s goodness, without his tender guiding hand.

She stared up at Arthur, felt the weight of him pressing her into the muck. There was no goodness to be found in a man like him and she took comfort in that certainty. Perhaps deep down, he possessed a stunted kind of good that had been clubbed into infancy time and again - by men like his father, most certainly by Dutch, the sycophant.

But she’d seen the look in his eyes when he found her in the reeds, knife in hand, trying to hack the pecker off an O’Driscoll who’d stopped screaming at the first twist of her knife. He hadn’t looked at her with the kind of disgust most men fond of their own parts would. He’d looked at her with a sort of intrigue, surprise perhaps, to see what she was capable of; to see the repellant thing she had devolved into.

If there was goodness in him, she’d not look for it, nor mother it.

She had become herself, or become him, or like him; a killer, an outlaw. Or the loss of her husband had unveiled in her this truth, like a snake shedding its skin.

Her nails bit into the flesh at the back of his neck, dug in until he growled against her throat in warning. A thrill of heat raced through her, staving off the chill of death that had found her in this miserable place.

She rocked up against him impatiently, the warm chafe of friction left a pleasant burn between her thighs. She wanted more, she wanted him. She wanted that kinship she found in his eyes every time they’d been in a fight together.

His mouth bore down on hers, rough and unkind and everything she ached for.

She writhed against the mud and loose soil as he fumbled with the clasp of his trousers. Large, powerful hands trembling as he battled with the buttons. Sadie hardly had any room beneath the crush of his weight atop her to pluck at the opening of her own pants.

Arthur had shrugged off his suspenders, lowered his pants just past the round swell of his buttocks, all firm and pale. His manhood stood out, thick and cumbersome between his muscular thighs; the exposed stalwart muscle of his legs were covered in downy blonde hair.

He seized her by the hip, his grip tight. There were smears of blood on the dark fabric of her trousers, blood and a generous caked layer of mud. Weren’t long until Arthur was batting her hands away, tearing the rest of the fabric down himself. They were awkwardly bunched around her knees, revealing more pale flesh.

He settled swiftly between her spread legs, hands braced on either side of her head pulling up chutes of grass between his fingers. His hips were rocking impatiently, an impulsive series of shallow thrusts. The thick tip and pulsing shaft pressed against the crease of her inner thigh, gliding between the flesh with a growl. The grate of his sex pressed so close to hers earned a strangled sound from her, a hungry, impetuous whine.

He seemed drunk on the sensation of her skin, rutting against her thigh and hip blindly. Sadie dug her nails into the stern, round muscle of his rear. Held herself there until his hips stuttered and the whole, throbbing length of his cock spasmed against her slit. She gasped and cried out a starved sound.

His thrusts turned sloppy and slick rocking against the abundant wetness of her sex; content to scratch his own itch. It was damn near impossible to get her legs around him with her pants tangled up about her knees. Sadie panted, scrabbling a hand to press between them.

She managed to spread her slit open with two fingers. The next delicious glide of his cock grated against her plump clit before snagging at the velvety entrance she held open in offering. A pitched gasp caught in her throat as the bloated tip of his cock pressed into her heat. They shared a labored breath, Arthur exhaled a grateful sound into her hair.

His hips surged forward swiftly, burying the entirety of himself into her. Sadie clawed at his back in retaliation, feeling the ache of her body accommodating him. The burn and stretch was a pleasant sort of sting, urging her to rock up against him, head thrown back and throat exposed.

He endured each grinding swivel of her hips for a handful of moments, shaking above her as her tongue rolled out and arms clung around his neck.

She exhaled a breathless sound when he pressed her into the dirt, hands gathered around her hips. The loss of him was astounding, leaving her with an emptiness at her very core before Arthur plunged back inside. The pleasure was a blinding burn that skittered up every taut muscle of her abdomen. His thrusts were fast and deep and came without warning. The sound of their coupling was a sloppy sordid thing, the wet and violent clap of their bodies became a blur in the swamp.

The quake of his every thrust, the tremble of his body ground down on her swollen clit, aggravating the bundle of nerves endlessly.

Sadie clung to him, sex stretched full around him, clenching and flexing and dripping.

She reached a shaking hand between them, groaning at the swell of her distended belly, pressed a palm over the shape of him inside her.

It’d been so long since she’d felt so good. Felt pleasure creep along every notch of her spine and tingle down to the soles of her feet.

Arthur pushed in deep, a twinge of pain joined her pleasure, and her walls fluttered tight around him. She rubbed at her bloated belly, hypnotized by the shift of each thrust under her fingers.

He meant to steady himself in the dirt, but the ground was unsteady and he slipped. His forehead whacked against hers and they scarcely acknowledged the slight blur of his vision nor hers while he kept fucking her savagely. His nose pressed against hers, breathing her air and tasting her pleasure.

The motion of his body wasn’t a smooth roll, but the violent thrust of a knife’s blade, uncompromising and fulfilling. Her whole body jerked with every push, breath knocked clean from her lungs every time.

Pleasure crept higher in her, spilled over her chest and filled her lungs. She clawed and clenched and cried something resembling speech, something close to his name.

Her mouth hung open and his tongue dipped into the warmth of her open mouth, desperate hands pulling her in time with each plunge of his cock; stretching her body to its limits, blurring that delirious mix of pain and pleasure.

She felt so full she could scarcely breathe, so thoroughly used, he ground his hips forward where he’d buried himself down to the root. He spread her at new angles, scraped raw new nerve endings. Arthur managed a few more harsh digs before Sadie was screaming her way through an orgasm.

Arthur felt Sadie spasm and clench and go boneless beneath him, watching as her expression contorted further with his cock still stuck deep in her belly. She’d wrung out every bit of pleasure, stroking over that plump jewel ‘tween her legs. He stared movin’ after a minute, chasing his own release with a growl. He damn well deserved it, all the good he’d done, keepin’ everyone safe from her, and keepin’ her safe from everyone.

Her sex drooled all warm and wet while he fucked her, clung to him tighter even while she whined and squirmed in her sensitivity.

Rough hands spread her legs wide as her tangled up trousers would allow, as he sank into the slippery squelch of her wrapped around him. She felt so goddamn good, heaven for sinner like himself.

His nose pressed to her temple, her breath beat against his throat, cock dripping all her mess. His hips surged forwards, gliding in the abundance of her liquid desire. He managed a few dripping thrusts, the rough pace of which left them both panting, pleasure throbbed along his scalp. Sadie tugged on a nipple, plucked and rolled the pert bud as he slipped out, thick, throbbing cock, grinding over her swollen sex and plump clit.

He growled and shot his hips forward, rampantly searching for the warm clench of her velvety embrace.

Sweat dripped down his brow, sluiced down the dried dirt on his cheek, left ugly graying droplets clinging to his jaw. The pulsing, drooling head of his cock snagged at the tight furl of her entrance, overcome with impulse and need, he pushed.

A scream tore out of her as he managed to cram nearly a third of his length into her on the first frantic jerk of his hips. There was a primal sort of relief that came with bein’ back inside her.

Sadie shook beneath him, hazel eyes wide and brimming with tears. The sound she sobbed out was more pain than pleasure.

Every muscle in her body had gone taut, the hole he’d gone and stuck himself in cinched tight and heat surged vibrantly in his belly. Arthur ran his tongue over his cracked lips, tasted the salt of dried blood and the bitter grit of dirt.

He leaned back from between her legs, angled his head back and saw the ruined state of her puckered hole stretched open around him. It shouldn’t have done somethin’ to ‘em, but it did.

The angle had him pressing inside her different, weeping little hole spread open. Sadie’s chin quivered and her belly dipped concave with the deep breath she sucked in.

“M’almost done,” Arthur muttered apologetically, even if it felt hollow with the way his hips inched forward incrementally, shameless in his intention.

He anticipated Sadie tryin’ to kill him again if he deigned to move in any direction that wasn’t out. But her expression creased and her mouth curled up, lower lip trapped between her teeth and she nodded and soldiered on.

He lowered his mouth to hers one last time, lathed in wet, hungry strokes of his tongue. Sucked up the sound she crooned straight into his lungs. Swiftly, he rolled her onto her belly, her trousers were snagged around the shaft of one of her boots. Arthur settled between her legs, hips pressed up against her round buttocks when he breached that ruined little hole again. Her spine went stiff and she grunted out a small, muffled sound against her little torn up knuckles.

Sadie had gone all limp beneath him while he sank further into her rear, his pants pushed further down to accommodate the new position.

His rhythm was slow at first, rocking in a steady back and forth until enough blood, sweat and filth could ease his movements. Weren’t pretty, but lord did it feel good.

Every thrust loosened some tension in her until her bowels clung to him just as well as her cunt had; tighter even.

Arthur’d soon lost himself in the bliss of her untouched flesh damn near bursting at the seams with him inside her; he reckoned her own man had never had her there, and he never would. A shiver trickled down the length of his body like a waterfall, cold and exhilarating at the foul thought. This was a delight only Arthur’d know. Sadie yelped and gasped into the mud and every sound, every sensation was urging him faster and harder.

He pressed his nose into her hair as he sank down to the root of his manhood without warning, she squirmed and scratched and spread her legs wider. She smelled of sweat and salt and death.

She scrabbled for purchase, for anything to cling to but the oozing, waterlogged earth beneath them. He wrapped his arm around her delicate neck, thick bicep bulging against her throat, pointed chin digging into his brawny forearm. She briefly went rigid, held in such a vulnerable position, before his breath beat against her ear and she went lax under him again. He held her there all the while, muscles in his thighs and lower back burned with the effort of taking her in the way he wanted, the way he needed.

Sadie’s mouth hung open, puffing out little breathless sounds as she drooled down over his arm with every twist of his hips he sank into her loosened entrance.

The hard clap of his body impacting hers scared off a couple of spoonbills down by the shore. His bloated balls slapped against the sticky seam of her sex, still dripping slick.

Heat coiled in his abdomen and throbbed like an open wound. Her sticky, pale thighs trembled and she wheezed and gasped. The sharp incline of her back bowed further, her spine curved and muscles contracted.

That white-hot gouge of pleasure torn across his belly bled anew, his nerves were alight and his muscles ached in that sweet delirium that blurred pleasure and pain.

He seized her back against one final slam of his hips with a snarl, savoring the soft, ragged creak of her breathing. Her filthy little fingers flexed and curled at funny angles as she whimpered and went stiff, thighs shook like they’d soon give out as he seated himself inside her with a long groan.

They swayed and sucked in greedy breaths from the exertion, sweat uncomfortably adhered their clothes to their skin.

He breathed out something hungry and guttural as he pumped every bit of his release into her ruined hole. He watched with hazy eyes as the reddish tinted excess spend overflowed, oozing out like sap from a tapped tree. And lord, he weren’t sure if he’d ever seen anything quite so pretty.

Sadie whined, breath raspy as her scarlet, ruined rim clung tight to the thick head of his cock still stuck in her.

Arthur spread her cheeks apart, hypnotized by impression of his fingers dug into the supple flesh and the milky mixture of white and red that spilled out slowly with every lazy wink of her gaping hole to join the slick that dripped all watery from her swollen sex.

It was the kind of sight he’d sooner commit to paper lest his memory fail him, though he doubted he’d ever be able to forget this.

So thoroughly spent, they slumped, one open wound, into the dirt.

Sadie’s body buzzed with pain and pleasure and sanity. Or some semblance of it. She felt more human laying in the dirt, dripping blood and come, than she had in the past few hours.

She felt a twinge of guilt for the rampant, savage thing she’d turned into; for the thing she’d turned him into. Like them fairy tales she used to read as a girl, ‘bout folk changing into fiendish animals and unlovable monsters under the cover of night.

Those O’Driscolls had grabbed ‘er and she’d just - well they’d rattled her cage, and she weren’t fond of what had crawled out. One minute she’d been tryna shake one of them off, the buttons of her blouse torn, then next she recalled kneeling in the reeds with her knife in her hand and the feller’s trousers around his ankles when Arthur found her. It’d been like waking from a dream in a way when she’d seen him.

There was still blood on her hands, rubbed into a pale coppery sheen that stuck between the creases of her palms, old residue buffed into place by the gritty dirt.

Arthur…

She followed the deep shape of his footsteps left in the mud, straining her eyes where the trail careened towards the placid shore.

He was washing himself clean, clean of her, clean as he could be in the fetid water of the marsh. She’d been the rust red sheen of blood smeared down the length of his wilting manhood when they’d finally found the strength to untangle the mess of limbs they’d become.

She’d yet to right herself by the time he’d returned, her trousers still snagged around the legs of her worn boots. Arthur came back, and Sadie felt a bit of relief at that; whatever he was, he hadn’t left her there in the swamp. He was a loyal dog, one that bit more often than not, but loyal still.

He had a few fat little bullhead catfish stuck on a stick, like some sorta wild man. His shirt was undone, hanging loose off the breadth of his torso, with its well defined brawny and generous smattering of blonde hair.

Sadie still felt like some sedate creature, with all her fight snuffed out. She just laid and watched as Arthur managed to coax a little fire out of some reeds and damp twigs. He fed it with some fragrant leaves of some burdock root he’d found on the shore. She watched those vibrant violet little buds shrivel and die on the fire, eaten up by the wavering flames that danced like blood-stained teeth.

He didn’t have much on him to work with, so he set about fileting the frumpy little bottom-feeders with her knife. He roasted the first yield of gritty meat over the fire until it darkened to a toasty sun-burnt red and blackened at the edges.

Wordlessly the fish was passed to her.

Sadie picked at it, minded the bones. The meat tasted like dirt, though, she supposed an argument could be made that it was just her mouth that tasted foul. She’d spent too long in the dirt of the swamp.

Arthur roasted the next bit of fish meat on the same stick the fish had been stuck on. The stick nearly caught fire, but Arthur seemed content that the meat was cooked through.

She caught his gaze over the shimmer of the flames and felt something fiercely warm grip her, a fist tangled in her innards, the feeling was a violent tug and a surge of warmth low in her belly.

He swallowed a bit of poorly chewed fish in the aftermath of her gaze, nose wrinkling like a bit of bone had gone down too.

She’d been so caught up staring at him, that she grazed her own lower lip with the blade of her knife. Nicked the soft flesh until a vibrant bead of scarlet dripped down her chin. She hissed at her own foolishness, lowering her knife and suckling the broken flesh into her mouth, until all she could taste was the coppery sweetness of her own blood. Her whole body itched like a wound just starting to heal, the kind of flesh begging to be torn open all over again. All because Arthur’s gaze burned unrepentantly on her. In her peripheral Sadie watched him tease open a scabbed over cut on his lower lip, almost subconsciously. Her well used holes tightened around nothingness, spent body aching…partially for him.

She stared at her knees and picked some dirt out from under her nails with the tip of her knife. Arthur fried up the last of the fish and offered her some with a grunt. She took a bite, chewing slowly, tasting the clash of the meat’s inherent flavor, like something that lived in a swamp, against the crispness of sweet blood still sucked in from the graze on her lip. Her gaze was once more pulled to the awkward jut of her bare knobby knees, the delicate glitter of blonde hairs on her legs that shimmered under the sinking sunlight that bled through the boughs of moping willow trees.

The rest of the fish had been passed back to Arthur and the stern grip in her belly twisted on her feeble, foolish insides like tugging on reins. He took bigger, more brutish bites, chewed in a way that made some veins on his sun-burnt neck strain beneath his rosy, freckled skin. Something about it made her mouth water. Sadie swallowed, savoring the strange taste in her mouth, knowing his tasted of the same, blood and fish.

There was a quiet sort of kinship that she found in his company, something that she didn’t want to lose now that she’d known it. It was a painful connection that they shared, one that riled them into monsters.

She bore her own hate for that god-forsaken gang led by Colm O’Driscoll, bore it real and true, it was something even this miserable heat couldn’t decompose. It was something that had survived the migration eastbound. A white-hot kind of hate and snarling panic that drove her senseless.

She’d never known the look of it on her own face, in truth. Never known the face of her hate, until the weeks Arthur had ridden in half-dead on horseback after being taken by the same animals that had taken her…that had made her a widow.

She knew the twitchiness she’d seen in him as she were lookin’ in a mirror, the aversion to touch that paled him like a ghost, the sleeplessness that could only be dulled with liquor, the rage.

Sadie had learned it then, in those weeks that followed, and in the look upon his face when Arthur had knelt beside her in the reeds of Shady Belle.

Her mangled reflection was one not so mysterious as it had been before, before this, before him.

They’d scarcely said a word to one another in the time since he’d dragged her out of Shady Belle like a rabid dog, frothing about the mouth.

“Arthur,” She croaked, voice worn thin and tongue shifting to accommodate proper speech, not the rankled howls she’d offered in her spiral of wild madness.

His gaze lifted, weathered lines along his brow deepening with the curious furl of his expression beyond the faint glow of the flames.

“This don’t change nothin’,” Sadie said icily, praying the swamp wouldn’t melt away the cold of this as his bluish eyes with striations of gold and green squinted back at her.

He scratched at his cheek with a broad thumb, head bobbing with a resigned nod.

“I know,” He hummed, the bruises she’d given him had darkened on his sun-beaten skin.

He wasn’t her man, nor had she become his woman. She’d never be more than what she was; Sadie Adler: widow.

They had resided in the swamp well beyond sun-down, listening to the music such a foul place could make. Fireflies swirled in the air while miserable little fire was fed more twigs and reeds.

Sadie had done her best to clean herself up, too stubborn to ask for his help, to set in her own ways.

“Skirt woulda been easier,” he remarked as she struggled back into her pants, picking at his teeth with a bit of fishbone.

Sadie glared at him murderously and Arthur couldn’t help but smile in return. “Ain't never been one for doin’ things easily, Arthur.”

“Oh I learned that the hard way, princess.” He said, lifting a bloody forearm. His body was a lattice of her scratches and bites and in his way, he wore them with pride.

Sadie had joined him by the fire with a wince. The tired, spitting flames made her freckles glow.

Maybe she was right, things wouldn’t change, they’d carry on as they had.

She leaned back with a sigh, in her soiled clothes, her snarled blonde hair half loose from its plait.

Arthur watched as she rooted around her pockets, the withering firelight gleamed off bronze metal.

She dusted something off with reverent little fingers, wetting her lips with a distracting velvety pink tongue.

She lifted the vague bronze shape to her mouth, pressed her wet lips to it, and breathed out notes. Her harmonica…the one he’d found for her.

Arthur sat up a little straighter, toes of his boots knocking together excitedly. The tune she played was a mournful one, lilting and whistling and folksy and lively all at once. He’d heard her play it before, through Shady Belle’s rotted walls.

He was sure the song had words, but he melted into the metallic rasp of the notes she played.

Sadie was wrong…for better or worse, things had changed.

___

A/N: Hope you enjoyed the fic! Also, For those interested about the song at the end, it is the stripped back version of Break My Baby by KALEO, which just felt like the perfect fit for this fic.

#my writing #my fanfiction #arthur morgan #sadie adler #sadithur #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan smut

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whyyouacknsocraycray · 2 years ago

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Dutch is a terrible gang leader who shouldn't do jobs!

Like... he should not be in charge of the gang based on this track record alone! His plans do not go right, he has terrible management skills, and thinks way too much. Spoilers underneath.

The ones that go okay (I guess... Arthur makes it go okay):

Old Friends: no one dies and they get the robbery plans from Colm, BUT Dutch's insistence on not killing Colm when they have the chance causes problems later.

Who the Hell is Leviticus Cornwall?: again, technically successful, but puts Cornwall on their tail. Though, does it really count as Dutch's mission if he stole the plans from Colm?

The New South: impromptu, which means Dutch couldn't overthink things or make it too over the top. Trelawny got out of jail, so that's a win.

Goodbye, Dear Friend: (grumbles) the disguises worked.

Our Best Selves: does it go wrong? Yes. Should Dutch have bailed? Probably, but the job itself is still successful. Dutch leaving John to die was spontaneous.

The ones that show Dutch's poor decision making:

The Sheep and the Goats: Dutch apparently decides then that the gang doesn't run away from danger and pushes a wagon down the main street to kill as many Cornwall men as possible.

A Strange Kindness: yes, let's listen to Micah's idea of a camp and have Arthur scare people away from a dried up creek bed out in the open.

American Distillation: without even going into the mess that is making Arthur work with both families while being deputized, when the Lemoyne Raiders show up and attack, Dutch does nothing??? He just stands by the liquor wagon with Archibald!

Angelo Bronte, Man of Honor (also, The Gilded Cage): Ah, sure Dutch, you are just going to walk in to this new city, find the criminal in charge, and charm him. You could have left after getting Jack back, but you had to go the party, didn't you?

The ones where Dutch is just stupid:

Urban Pleasures: Sir, did you really think Angelo Bronte would just be cool with you robbing the trolley station? Really?

Country Pursuits: Why did Dutch need a boat from Lagras to navigate the swamps? Angelo Bronte's house is like right on the river they could have rowed their themselves.

Banking, the Old American Art: going through with the bank job after the whole mess was a terrible idea, but it goes in this category because Hosea was also pushing for it. But also robbing a bank in a city without a good escape plan? Come on, Dutch! And I saw you steal Charles' chair.

The ones that BOIL MY BLOOD:

Blessed are the Peacemakers: DID YOU REALLY AGREE TO MEET ARTHUR AT THE CROSSROADS AND THEN WHAT? NOT REALIZE SOMETHING WAS WRONG? OR DID YOU LEAVE HIM BEHIND ON PURPOSE???

Revenge is a Dish Best Served Eaten: Dutch, you could have ransomed the man and not even needed the bank job but you had to get your stupid revenge, didn't you?

Guarma: Why are you sending Arthur to both rescue Javier and the workers, you have two other men with you! Make Micah and Bill work for once. Especially Micah, since you think he's sooooo amazing!

Just a Social Call: SURE, DUTCH! JUST LIE TO ARTHUR AND SAY IT'S JUST A TALK WHEN YOU CLEARLY WERE PLANNING ON KILLING HIM THE WHOLE TIME!

A Rage Unleashed: NO! DO NOT USE OTHER PEOPLE WITH THEIR OWN COMPLICATED PROBLEMS FOR YOUR STUPID PLANS!

Favored Sons: BECAUSE THE ARMY WAS JUST GOING TO LET THEMSELVES GET TARRED AND FEATHERED. YOU KNEW THIS WAS GOING TO HAPPEN!

My Last Boy: Dutch COULD HAVE HAD ARTHUR SNEAK INTO THE FACTORY LIKE BEFORE INSTEAD OF GETTING INVOLVED WITH THE WAPITI JUST FOR THOSE DUMB BONDS! UGH, this is why you should involve Arthur in planning he knows things! Not to mention leaving Arthur to die, but again, spontaneous decision and not a planned job.

(Honorable Mention) Money Lending and Other Sins: if you wait too long to start that mission, Dutch orders Arthur to do it EVEN THOUGH ARTHUR SAYS HE'S BEEN WORKING HARD, IS A SENIOR GUN, AND SHOULDN'T BE DOING SUCH A BASIC TASK IN THE FIRST PLACE! POOR MANAGEMENT SKILLS, DUTCH!

#rdr2 #rdr2 spoilers #dutch van der linde #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2

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purplecatdad · 3 years ago

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Of Bears and Friends (RDR Reverse Bang)

Written for the @rdrbigbang reverse bang for the wonderful picture of @mgcoco

Arthur sighed as he closed his journal. He had just finished up the sketch of their new camp at Clemens point as he reminisced about the things that had happened.

Colm had attacked them, right in the middle of the little town of Valentine. That bastard had taken John (and Strauss, but Arthur wasn’t very fond of the feller), and had threatened to shoot him right in front of them. Gladly both him and Dutch were skilled enough with their guns to get the situation under control, even when they were heavily outnumbered.

Arthur still had been worried about John for a moment, even if he’d never admit that to the other man. He’d become like a brother to him and he’d never forgive himself if he had been too slow to protect Jack from losing his father or Abigail her husband.

He lit himself a cigarette after his journal was safely stored away in his satchel again and took a long drag, feeling his lungs filling up with the smoke before he breathed out again. He still had to sell that gold bar that he had gotten from that weird German guy. Arthur had thought about just donating it to the camp funds for others to take care of the selling, but right now he felt like taking a break anyway.

Cigarette dangling between his lips he got up, stretched until his bones cracked and shouldered his satchel.He didn’t plan to stay away too long but he knew that sometimes things went differently than you plan them and so he packed up some cans of beans from Pearson’s wagon. He was usually good at hunting his food but sometimes it was nice to just heat up a can instead of crouching in the bushes.

“I’ll be gone for a bit. Maybe a week or two,” he announced to Dutch, who rested in his little tent, the gramophone blasting some random tune that Arthur had heard one too many times before.

“Alright. Be safe, son. And better come back with a good lead or two,” the gang leader responded and Arthur just tipped his hat in response. He wouldn’t promise anything but of course he’d keep his ears open and his mind sharp. Life as an outlaw had taught him that there was money to be made at every corner and that one shouldn’t miss out on the opportunity.

He tacked up the Black Shire he had named Thor, packed his bedroll and some more supplies to make camp before heading out. Firstly he would make his way up north. He had discovered this little, almost dead town called Van Horn before and knew that he’d make good money with the gold bar there. He also realized that it had been a while now since he’d last visited the widow Charlotte who lived up north the Roanoke. He decided to pay her a visit as well, just to make sure that she was alright and skilled enough to take care of herself.

The sun was still rising as he made his way out of camp, setting a steady pace but making sure not to push his horse too hard. Arthur loved riding fast but it had cost him too many good horses when he was still young. He had learned when it was time to push them and when it was better to let them choose their own pace.

"You‘re a good boy,“ he praised the stallion as he patted his neck. Back at Horseshoe Overlook, Thor had been quite the brute. One time he had even kicked him hard enough for Arthur to land on his ass. He had thought about selling him when Hosea told him to but something had told Arthur that he should keep his horse. He still missed Boadicea and longed for a horse that he could rely on. The Shire didn‘t seem to be that kind of horse at first but Arthur found him far too beautiful to just give him away to end up in front of some poor farmer‘s wagon.

He had taken Thor out with him into the Heartlands, naming him after the god of Thunder as the sounds his hooves made when galloping over the endless meadows. It had taken them a while to properly get along, to train him to come when he whistled and to follow up. After two weeks of back and forth between them, Arthur knew that he could rely on Thor, though. Some daring Bounty Hunters had been chasing him, nearly getting him by ambushing him as he was making camp. But Thor didn’t let them. He had kicked them right off of their horses and stomped one of them to death as Arthur had shot the other.

Since then, they had only been separated whenever he had been at camp or sleeping in a hotel rather than on his bedroll.

His first few hours of travelling were calm and uneventful. The people he passed didn‘t seem interested in him and he also wasn’t interested in them as none of them looked like they were carrying great amounts of cash. He knew that there weren‘t many rich folk up Roanoke Ridge so he hadn‘t expected it anyway.

As he had passed the swampy area around Lagras the ground became more firm again and the road was taking him through the forest. Arthur felt better here, without the high humidity, surrounded by trees. He generally enjoyed being in nature, especially if it was the forest or the desert … but he hated the cold that they had in Colter as much as the warm and humid air around Lagras. He took a deep breath to enjoy the scent of the trees around him when he heard a familiar voice mumbling.

"Where are they … I‘m sure they must be some somewhere here …,“ Arthur brought Thor to a halt and looked around the trees until he spotted the man with his camera. A smile spread over his lips as he watched him searching for something. Albert Mason was a strange man but he had actually become a good friend of his during the last few weeks. He had met him several times before, trying to photograph wolves, horses, and alligators. Albert seemed to be that rare kind of person who was born into wealth and still seeked out the adventurous outdoors - without being disgusted by its reality. Arthur still remembered that “gentleman” he had met on his way to Strawberry who had demanded to get a ride into the town while constantly complaining about it. It had annoyed Arthur immensely, so much that a part of him had actually thought about just robbing that man blind and leaving him behind. But Albert was different. He saw the beauty in nature, saw the dangers that lay in it, but also the wonders. And that was why he had started taking his photographs - and why Arthur thought of him as a friend.

“Did ya lose something’?” Arthur called over to Albert who jumped and almost threw over his camera. He looked around until he saw Arthur and a wide smile appeared on his face.

“Mr. Morgan!” the photographer exclaimed as he walked up to him and Arthur got down from his horse. “It’s good to see you again. Have you been well?”

Arthur thought about the shootout in Valentine and the German family that he had rescued from the O’Driscolls. “Hmm, mostly,” he mused with a faint smile on his lips and lit himself a cigarette. “So, whatcha lookin’ for?”

“Oh, uh …”, Albert seemed to need a moment to remember what he had been doing. “I was looking for bears. I’ve actually found quite a few black bears already but I’d like something more …” he seemed to be at a loss of words and just waved around to indicate something big.

“More … impressive?” Arthur suggested.

“Impressive, yes! They are pretty alright but something like … like a grizzly! That might be a great motive for a picture!”

“A grizzly?” Arthur barked out a laugh in disbelief and shook his head. “You really do wanna die taking pictures, don’t cha?”

Albert chuckled at that and it almost sounded a little nervous. “Well, now that you’ve stumbled upon me … Maybe you want to make sure I don’t just yet?”

Arthur looked back at him. “Ya know that we’d better head up to the Grizzlies for that, yeah? Ain’t many grizzlies around here. And I first gotta get some business done in Van Horn and then go visit a friend up at Brandywine Drop …” He wasn’t sure if Albert would be up for so much travelling but having some company actually sounded kind of nice.

“Oh, if you don’t mind me traveling with you I’d love to join you on the road. I’m sure there will be some more opportunities for me to take pictures on the way.” Albert seemed to be delighted about the prospect of traveling alongside him and Arthur wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that. What if Albert would realise what kind of person he actually was and decide that he wasn’t a person he wanted to keep around anymore? What if he himself got annoyed at him? What if … but Arthur stopped his thoughts, took a last long drag from his cigarette and flicked it away.

“Alright then … do you … have a horse?” Arthur had realized that he had never actually seen him traveling around and looked around until he saw a small Criollo hitched to a nearby tree who looked over at them like it was aware of him asking for it.

“That’s Daisy,” Albert said as he followed Arthur’s gaze on the horse. “She might be small but she is very reliable. Has never let me down so far.”

Arthur walked up to the little horse and offered his hand for her to sniff. Her fur looked like red and grey marble, her mane a dark brown. She gently nudged his hand as if asking for treats and Arthur chuckled low in his throat. “She’s quite the sweetheart, ain’t she?”

After Albert had packed up his camera, eager to get moving to find some grizzlies up north they crossed the Kamassa River. It already started to get dark, the sun slowly setting over the horizon in the distance. It would have been possible to get to Van Horn and rent out a room somewhere there but considering the state of the town, Arthur preferred to make camp before heading in there.

“You know, we actually should make camp somewhere. I’ll hunt us something. You can …,” he hesitated, not sure about Albert’s survival skills. “Can you make a campfire?”

Albert looked up at him from Daisy’s back. “I, uh … can certainly try.”

Arthur sighed at that, only now realizing that he would have to do the muscle work on this trip. “How did you survive in the wild up until now?”

“Well, I was always staying over in Hotels, mostly. But I’d happily learn a thing or two from you.”

“There’s an old fort close by … if there’s nobody else right now we can use it as a camp for the night,” Arthur suggested and Albert’s face lit up.

“An old fort? Oh, how exciting!”

They headed over there, Arthur holding the big doors to the fort open while Albert rode past him inside it. Luckily there was an old, abandoned campfire right next to a small hut within the fort that Arthur brought back to life with some matches and dry twigs that were lying around.

“You can find some more wood and add to it so it’ll last us overnight. I’ll be back in a bit, there are plenty of turkeys and rabbits here,” Arthur announced and left the fort after Albert nodded.

After their time in Colter, Arthur actually preferred to hunt on foot with his bow and arrow, at least when it came to harmless animals like deer or rabbits. He had become good at it, thanks to practising it a lot with Charles, but not good enough to guarantee him a kill on attacking wolves or cougars.

He went into the nearest line of trees and gave his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light there before he looked around for animal tracks. Arthur heard a turkey’s gobble coming somewhere from his right side and ducked down so he wouldn’t get their attention. There was a small group of four of them, so he had a good chance of getting at least one.

He slowly got closer to them, raising his bow with an arrow ready when he was in shooting range. He was a good sharp shooter but he still needed a little more time to prepare for a shot with the bow. Arthur breathed in, pulling the bow back at the same time and released it as he breathed out again. The arrow hit the turkey at the base of the neck and it fell to the ground with a gentle thud. The others ran off immediately and Arthur went to collect his prey.

When he got back to the fort, roughly ten minutes after he had left, Albert was gone. Sure, he had told him to collect firewood but Arthur hadn’t seen him around the fort as well and he wasn’t anywhere near the line of trees. He dropped the turkey on the floor, worried that something had happened to his travel companion.

“Mr. Mason?!” he called out, looking around the fort for a hint where the photographer could’ve vanished too. Both Daisy and Thor, who were hitched at the corner of the fort, looked at him like he was disturbing their peaceful evening. Arthur cursed under his breath, hoping that his friend hadn’t been taken by some ill meaning asshole.

There weren’t really any tracks on the ground that he could make out as it hadn’t rained in a while. He noticed that Albert had left his equipment at their little campsite though so he figured that he was either still closeby or that somebody had taken him.

“Mr. Morgan! I’m down here!” He heard a voice calling from … somewhere. He approached the little cabin that was still somewhat standing and looked inside. There was no trace of Albert still but he was certain that it had come from this direction. He walked into the dark room, holes in the wall and the ceiling shining dim light into it. Soon it would be too dark to see here. He made out a ladder that led downwards and peeked inside, noticing a shadow and a dim light.

“Mr. Mason?” he asked again and got a “you should come down here, Mr. Morgan. Check it out!” Arthur sighed and climbed down into the basement, wondering if the building would collapse and bury them underneath and if whatever was down there was actually worth it. When he turned around, there was a dagger directly pointing at his nose.

“This must be the last few remnants from the war!” Arthur took a step to the side and gently removed the knife from Alberts grip. It was big, like an actual hunting knife. There were traces of blood on the blade, long dried out, the victim probably dead for decades by now.

“That’s a pretty knife alright. You want to keep it? I’ve got my hunting knife but this might come in handy for you some time.” “But .. it belonged to someone!” Albert seemed shocked that Arthur suggested to him to just take it and the outlaw was reminded that not everyone grew up just taking what they needed. Arthur shrugged and stored the knife in the sheath of his hunting knife.

“He ain’t gonna need it no more. But I’ll take it if you don’t want it.” He might as well just sell it at the fence, along with the gold bar he had found.

“I also found this …” Albert noted and held up a cigarette card of a black panther. “Isn’t it a fine specimen? Oh, I’d LOVE to take a picture of one some time!”

Arthur chuckled gently, shaking his head along with his. “You really wanna die, don’t cha?”

A few minutes later Arthur was finally settled around the fire, strips of turkey meat roasting above it and an opened can of beans slowly warming up right next to it. Albert had excused himself to take some pictures of the fort from the outside and left him alone for a bit.

Arthur looked up to the stars and enjoyed the silence for a moment. This was what he had longed for when he had left camp. To not be surrounded by nearly thirty people, all chatting and babbling, everybody wanting something from him or expecting him to bring in money. He didn’t mind helping people and he loved the gang like a family. But sometimes it all got too much. Sometimes he just wanted to travel, see the world and enjoy nature. Sometimes he didn’t want to be the great enforcer of the Van der Linde Gang. Sometimes he was content with just being Arthur. A wandering soul, ever moving, traveling to wherever his horse carried him.

“This really is a lot more … rustic than I am used to.” He heard Albert’s voice coming from the side and was suddenly pulled out from his thoughts. For a moment he had forgotten that he wasn’t completely alone. “But this is very exciting! I’ve always wanted to sleep outside when I was a little boy. Never gotten around to actually doing it.”

Arthur blinked at Albert who settled down on the floor next to him, the camera neatly packed away again. “You’ve never slept outside?” It seemed so strange to him, like a completely different world.

“Well, I grew up in the city. There weren’t any good spots to sleep outside in New York, Mr. Morgan. And as I said, so far I’ve usually slept in hotels. I’m glad to have this opportunity now, I hope to venture even further out west some time but I’m certain I’ll need more uh ... outdoor skills for that.”

He wondered if the photographer had any idea about how dangerous the west really could be. “The west ain’t a place for city folk, Mr. Mason. Especially not if they’re all on their own.” Of course, it would be Alberts decision alone but Arthur really didn’t want him to get hurt because he was foolish enough to venture out alone. “Better get yourself someone who knows their way around and who you can trust.”

“What about you, then, Mr. Morgan? Would you like to join me some time?”

“Join you? Out west?” Arthur hadn’t expected Albert to just offer it like that... or to be quite so serious about it all.

“Yes. You obviously know your way around, and I like your company. Of course, I can pay you for your time and the protection as well! I imagine it must be quite the trip there. As long as you don’t have any responsibilities here … I mean … I don’t really know how involved you are around here, of course. It just seemed to be like you’re … well, you seem to be quite a free spirit, in a sense...”

Albert was babbling again, like he sometimes did. But Arthur didn’t mind it, it gave him time to think about the offer. What if he took it? Earning some honest money for a change and still doing things that he loved sounded good. But he knew he couldn’t just leave the gang behind. He wasn’t John who just left for a whole year or Trewlawny who didn’t even stay with them most of the time. He belonged in camp. What if something happened when he was away for multiple weeks, maybe even months?

“I’ll think about that offer. Let’s first see how we’ll get along on this trip, shall we?”, He suggested. So far they had only ever spent an afternoon together. Maybe they wouldn’t even get along if they’d be around each other for longer. Arthur knew that he could tolerate a lot - after all, he was in a gang with Sean MacGuire for several years now and had only almost strangled him once - but he wasn’t sure if Albert would still like him if he got to know the real Arthur Morgan. Outlaw, killer, bastard. Nobody a proper man like Albert would usually keep around.

“Yes, you might be right. But I’m sure we’ll get along just fine. So, my good Sir, what will we have for dinner, if I may ask?” Albert asked, his tone shifted from his usually happy babbling to something that resembled a fine gentleman in an even finer establishment. It made Arthur chuckle and forget his grim thoughts for a moment. Maybe Albert really could stay his friend.

The night had been uneventful and calm, just like Arthur had hoped. After they had eaten the turkey with the beans, Albert had shared his last bit of chocolate with him. There had been some smalltalk, mostly Albert telling him about places he had been before and places he still wanted to see. All those that Arthur had never seen and probably never would. New York, Chicago, Philadelphia. Crowded places that he’d rather avoid.

They had packed up their things after a quick breakfast with coffee, leftover meat and a shared bread roll, saddled their horses and made their way up to Van Horn.

“So, what’s that town like? Van Horn, you said? I’ve never heard of it,” Albert asked him as they were moving along the path.

“It’s a shithole, really,” Arthur explained as he lit himself a cigarette. “Not many people left there aside from some whores, gamblers, and alcoholics. Ain’t sure what happened to the town but it died out at some point and now there’s just the scum left.”

“Oh…” Albert didn’t seem to have expected that kind of answer. “So, what are you doing there?”

“Well, a German fella that I’ve helped get rid of some … nasty folk .. he paid me with a damn gold bar. And I know I can sell those to a gentleman in town.”

“Oh, there's a bullion dealer in town?”

“Something like that, yeah.” It wasn’t exactly the truth but Arthur didn’t want to elaborate any further right now.

They rode in silence for a while, occasionally stopping when Albert found something he wanted to photograph.

The first thing they saw was the lighthouse of Van Horn. Once built to guide ships at the broad Lannahechee River it now started to rot away since it got neglected by the townsfolk. Arthur suspected that they simply ran out of funding. Most ships would probably rather find a harbour in Saint Denis down south, with more people being able to board in such a big city and more trades to me made with the large warehouses. He had seen plenty of towns like Van Horn in his life. Promising little settlements who had died out for various reasons. Bad investments, too many outlaws passing through and robbing the place, illnesses and sometimes for no reason at all. Sometimes, like here, there was still business to be made but other times it was best to just stay away.

He noticed that Albert had grown more quiet since they had passed the last road bend. Arthur suspected that he was a little shocked due to the state of the town, despite Arthur warning him beforehand. He wondered if it was Albert’s first time in a place like this.

“Don’t worry, we ain’t gonna stay long. Just stay close to me and don’t talk to anybody,” Arthur assured him and he felt Albert’s gaze on him for a moment.

They rode past the fallen down houses and the saloon. He could see some lonely patrons in there, those who probably hadn’t left during the night and were still there in the late morning, slowly waking up to start drinking again as they had nothing left anymore. Arthur averted his eyes, painfully reminded of his own father. Sometimes he had waited for him in their shabby room right down the street from the saloon. Lyle had often promised him to come back with money that he’d win gambling but Arthur had to learn early that it were mostly empty promises, the money oftentimes just spent on liquor and women while he had waited at home with a hole in his stomach.

Some women who stood next to the remains of the hotel looked at them with hope in their eyes for a moment, probably hoping for some money from lonesome travelers who wanted to let off some steam but they soon realized that Arthur and his companion were just passing through the town.

He stopped next to the old post office, telling Albert to wait while he was doing his business. Arthur hitched Thor to a nearby post and walked up to the building in which he knew the fence did his business. It didn’t feel right leaving Albert behind in such a place and the photographer did look a little lost but he preferred it like that. He didn’t only have the gold bar with him but also a few pocket watches and belt buckles that he had taken from some unfortunate souls on the streets. He didn’t want Albert to just see it if there was no need to.

“I’ll give you 550$ for that,” the fence said after Arthur had put all of the items, including the old knife he had found, on his table.

“50$ more and we got ourselves a deal,” Arthur responded. He wouldn’t let the fence cheap out of this.

“560$, last offer.”

He took out his gun and held it up to the fence's face. “600$, or I’ll take the money and the merchandise. We both know there’s no law around to help you.”

The fence stared at the gun for a second, then nodded shortly. “Alright. 600$. I don’t want any trouble here.”

“No trouble at all,” Arthur agreed with a content smirk and holstered his gun again before he grabbed the money that was offered and stashed it away in his satchel.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” He tipped his hat and left the small warehouse before heading back to Albert. Arthur lit himself another cigarette, glad that he turned the gold into some money now. He frowned as he saw Albert in the distance who was being surrounded by some women who seemed to be a little too interested in him.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Arthur heard one of them say as he got closer. “I’ll give you the time of your life. Just two dollars, you won't regret it, I promise.”

Albert’s face was red as a tomato, stammering something unintelligible and raising his hands in defense. It seemed like this was his first time being approached by prostitutes desperate for money and so Arthur walked up to them to rescue him out of that situation.

“Leave him alone,” he snarled. “There’s cheaper ways to catch syphilis. Get lost!”

“That’s rude of you, Mister!” One of the prostitutes said but she also scuttered off like the rest of them when Arthur placed a hand on his gun and said “I ain’t gonna ask again.”

Arthur unhitched Thunder and jumped up on his back again as Albert collected himself. “You alright, Mr. Mason? They’re a little obtrusive here sometimes.”

“Y-yes .. I’m okay. Thank you.”

They headed out of the city again, up North and following the Lannahechee River that was glistening from the sun standing high in the sky. Arthur knew that there were lots of mean folk around here but he still loved the area for it’s lush greens. They rode in silence for a bit, sharing the occasional oatcakes and Albert stopping to take pictures now and again. It was a calm, beautiful day and Arthur enjoyed the ride a lot, even with Albert babbling about some rare species of bird that was rumoured to be seen around here. His babbling was simply different from the buzzing in camp. He didn’t expect anything from him and instead of complaining about too many chores or not enough money, Albert just seemed to be … excited about the things he saw.

In the beginning, Arthur had found it childish for a grown man to get so excited about animals or nature's beauty. It reminded him of Jack who sometimes got all happy about dandelion seeds in the wind, even if it was such a mundane thing. After meeting Albert multiple times though and getting to know him a little better he found it endearing. It was contagious to see him all excited and Arthur had often caught himself smiling about the same things and always ended up sketching the animals that Albert had taken pictures of. Nature was beautiful, after all. And Albert had reminded him of that.

“Not long until we’ll reach Annesburg,” Arthur started after a couple of hours of riding. “Should we rent a room there to spend the night?”

Arthur noticed Albert blushing for a second and wondered why but before he had the chance to come to a conclusion the other man responded. “Ah, I enjoyed camping out with you far too much to get back to the confines of a hotel room just yet. If you don’t mind.”

Arthur chuckled at that, amused that Albert seemed to have found some joy in staying outside now. Unusual for a city boy like him, he mused. “Sure, we can. I’d say we look for a good spot after we passed Annesburg then. Have you been there before?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t been, no.”

“It’s a mining town, air’s awfully dirty there. But you’ll see it soon.”

Arthur chose the path that wouldn’t lead them directly through the city but rather around it. He wasn’t in the mood to pass through the town, not long ago he had a little argument with the Sheriff because he had accidentally run over a miner. The man had been fine and so Arthur had refused to see it as a crime. He didn’t want Albert to get mingled in that if the Sheriff saw him again and decided that it was a day of justice to be served.

As they got closer to the city, the air started to taste of smoke and stone. It was a strange thing that Arthur had never experienced before and while he was an avid smoker, this just didn’t seem right to him. It got harder to see into the distance as well.

“I see now what you mean, Mr. Morgan,” Albert said as they approached the town. “It really is awfully dirty.” They passed the entry of the mine above the town and both of them shortly looked at the men walking past them and towards the mines. Their faces and clothes black with the dirt, their expressions tired and bodies hunched over from the hard work.

“Oh, what an awful job this must be …,” Albert mused and Arthur hummed in agreement. “Not seeing the sun, always in danger of being buried alive … There must be better ways to earn a living.”

“Some ain’t got no choice, Mr. Mason. And this is what civilization does to us - we got bad air and awful jobs.” It was the reason he preferred to be out west. The air was clean and there were less people. Less big towns, less crowd … and less law to get in trouble with.

“Well, it also gives us modern technology and science!” Albert exclaimed, patting his camera equipment that was strapped to his horse’s saddle. “I wouldn’t be able to do my job without it.”

Arthur thought about it for a moment. Yes, he enjoyed the photographs that Albert had shown him so far and their little adventures together but was it really worth all the hassle of civilisation? “I think I’d much rather miss out on some pretty pictures if that means I can stay away from cities. They’ve never done me any good. But I get that they’re important to you.”

There was a soft smile on Albert’s face on that and Arthur wondered if the other man could even understand him all that well as someone who was born and raised in the city. There was no way he could understand what it meant to always roam free and to do what you want. “Maybe you’re right, Mr. Morgan. Maybe there really are things that are more important than pretty pictures.”

After a little while they passed a cabin on the road. It was painted red and Arthur remembered that he had looked through the place before. Nobody had been home back then and there actually hadn’t been all that much to take. It seemed like there still was nobody at home and Arthur wondered if the place might be deserted for good now. He figured that it would be a bad idea to check again, just in case somebody would come home and Albert was still around. So they just passed it by and moved to a small incline behind it.

“This should be a good place to stay for the night,” Arthur decided as the sun set on the horizon. “Brought some salted meat with me, we can eat that tonight so I won’t have to hunt.”

Albert agreed and together they set up a tent. Last night they had slept within the confines of the old fort but tonight they weren’t protected by any walls. Albert really had two left hands when it came to setting up the tent so Arthur just told him to tend to the fire while he set it all up. He spread their bedrolls within the tent and realized that there really wouldn’t be much space between them. Arthur wondered if it would make Albert uncomfortable or not, he probably wasn’t used to sharing his breath with another man at night so he started to remove his own bedroll from the tent again, intending to sleep out next to the fire instead.

“What are you doing? Aren’t you going to sleep in the tent?” Albert asked him with big eyes.

“Well, there ain’t much space in there, Mr. Mason. No need to make you uncomfortable. I can sleep outside just fine.”

“Make me uncomfortable? Oh, now don’t be silly Mr. Morgan. It is your tent we will be sleeping in and it’s supposed to get plenty cold tonight. If anybody should sleep outside, it would be me. However, I wouldn’t mind sleeping right next to you, if that’s what you’re so concerned about.”

He hadn’t expected Albert to be so assertive about it and stopped in his tracks, musing over the words for a moment. Albert was right, it was supposed to get cold tonight with the sky as clear as it was and if it really didn’t bother him Arthur would very much prefer to sleep in a tent tonight.

“If you’re sure ‘bout it…”

“I am, don’t you worry about that. I don’t just say things that I don’t mean.”

Arthur gave him a small smile at that and nodded. He turned around and unrolled the bedroll in the tent again, preparing their bed for the night before he settled in around the fire next to Albert. Tonight he heated up some canned peas that he served Albert and himself with a piece of bread and the salted meat. It wasn’t fine cuisine but he somehow always enjoyed these thrown together meals at the beginning of a trip when he still had some provisions to choose from.

“So, how did you meet this lady that we’re visiting?” Albert asked him halfway through their shared meal.

“Uh, well…,” it had been a tip from a guy he had freed from a prison wagon. A lone lady in a little cabin, rich apparently and an easy way to make money. After Arthur had met her he had refused to take her money, though. “Met her when I was passing by, heard her crying ‘bout her husband. Showed her how to hunt. She was more city folk before, much like you.”

“You really like helping people, don’t you?” Albert said with a smile on her face, munching on some of the peas. “I like that about you, you know?”

Arthur hadn’t expected to get a compliment, he cleared his throat and looked down onto his plate, unsure what to respond for a moment. “Well, can’t just let her starve just after losing her husband, can I? She wanted to create a new life for her so … I helped her achieve that. Was mostly her doing.”

“I’m curious to meet her. She sounds like a very interesting person.”

“I’m sure you’ll get along just fine. And afterwards, we can find a grizzly for you. Might even see a cub or two, it’s the season for ‘em right now. Just gotta be careful around them, the mothers don’t like people ‘round them.”

Albert’s eyes lit up at that. “Oh, cubs would be so wonderful! I’m sure seeing them would help people see that they need to be protected.”

He chuckled at that. Albert’s reason for taking pictures really was a noble one. But he wasn’t sure if he could reach that goal, especially with so many people each day being attacked and killed by wild predators that roamed America.

“Maybe, yes. But remember that they are still dangerous, much like their mommas.”

“Of course! But I also have you with me to protect me, don’t I, Mr. Morgan? “Sure you do.”

They finished their dinner, easing into some conversations about nothing in particular, sharing a bottle of whiskey and some cigarettes until Albert announced that he was tired and lay down in the tent.

Arthur got out his journal, sketching their little campsite before he wrote down a few sentences about their adventure so far.

Met this photographer again on the road. Decided to travel with him for a bit. Guy wants to see some grizzlies so I’ll take him to see one. First we’ll see Charlotte again though. Will see how she is holding up.

He followed Albert into the tent after he had fed the fire one last time and tucked away his journal into his satchel again. The other man was already sound asleep, snoring very softly and his mouth hanging open a little.

Arthur entered carefully, trying not to wake the other man as he lay down on his bedroll. He sat down his hat next to himself, stretched and yawned before he turned onto his side to sleep. Albert shuffled a little next to him, mumbling something in his sleep and moved up to him. Arthur felt the heat of the other man’s body getting closer and for a moment he thought about waking him or shoving him away. Instead, he sighed and just relaxed as he enjoyed the presence of another person sleeping so close to him. Just a few minutes later he drifted off to sleep, tired from the long journey during the day.

When he woke up he felt the cold at the tip of his nose and gently rubbed it to warm it up. He frowned when he noticed that Albert had already gotten up and looked out of the tent to see if he was sitting at the fire but there was nobody to be seen. The fire didn’t even look like it had been tended to at all.

He got up, stretching and popping his bones to wake and warm up a little. Albert was still nowhere to be seen but he figured that the man probably just went to do his business in peace. He sat down by the fire to bring it back to life and to make some coffee. A lit cigarette dangling from his lips he opened up a can of baked beans to heat up as well. When he was alone on the road he usually just had a cigarette and maybe some coffee to wake up in the morning but Albert had told him that he was used to a proper breakfast in the morning so he figured he could take care of that while the photographer was still busy.

Arthur started to get worried when he had finished his cigarette and Albert still hadn’t shown up again. He got up and looked for traces of him. The bag with his camera equipment was missing but his horse - and all the other valuable things they had - was still around so Arthur figured that they hadn’t been robbed during the night. He guessed that Albert probably had seen a pretty squirrel and just wandered off.

“What a fool,” Arthur murmured, shaking his head as he started to follow what he suspected were the other man’s footprints.

The track led him down the incline they had been camping on and towards the path that they would continue their travels on. And there he saw Albert standing, fumbling with the settings of his camera.

“Morning, Mr. Mason,” Arthur said, loud enough to startle Albert and make him jump.

The photographer turned around to him, his chuckle sounding a little nervous after he got scared.

“Good morning to you as well! I’ve just ah- I wanted to capture the beautiful sunrise over the river, you know? Didn’t want to wake you up.”

Arthur followed his gaze towards the river. The sun has already risen by now but the sky was still painted in pretty colours with the river glistening in the early light. Albert was right, it was a beautiful view and Arthur had a hard time to blame him. “Could’ve still woken me up, wasn’t sure where you had gone, just like that.”

Albert seemed to be surprised about that and blinked at him for a moment. “Oh, I … didn’t think you’d be that worried about me, Mr. Morgan. Otherwise I would’ve- “ “No, no. It’s alright,” Arthur assured him and realized that it probably had been a little stupid of him to just assume the worst, especially because Albert was a grown man, after all.

After a quick breakfast they went on their way again, following the Roanoke Ridge up North. Most words between them had been spoken, so they rode in a comfortable silence, just broken once or twice when Albert pointed out a pretty tree or animal to him. Arthur usually had seen them before and if he had been alone he might’ve stopped to sketch it as well but he just wasn’t used to people he traveled with caring about the marvels of the world.

They rested at one particular interesting tree that both of them found fascinating and while Albert set up his camera to take a picture of it, Arthur got out his journal and sketched it as well. It didn’t take long for Albert to notice the Journal and what Arthur was doing. After he w3as content with the pictures he had taken, he walked over to Arthur and asked him to have a look at his drawing.

“It ain’t much, Mr. Mason…”

“Just let me have a look, Mr. Morgan … I really do enjoy art and I’m sure it’s wonderful.”

With a sigh Arthur presented the journal to Albert who suddenly made surprised sound. “Oh, that IS wonderful, Mr. Morgan! You’ve captured it so well!”

Arthur felt himself blush. He wasn’t used to getting compliments like this and he felt a bit embarrassed to be praised like that for a simple sketch of a tree. “Well .. thank you. It really ain’t special, though.”

“Oh, it absolutely is. I wouldn’t be able to draw such a thing. Now, take the compliment and leave it at that, yes?”

Arthur shook his head in amusement. Albert really was a special kind of person. “Sure thing, Mr. Mason.”

Eventually they reached the little cabin that Arthur probably would have never found out about if it hadn’t been for the tip he had gotten. Instead of robbing the place, he had found a friend there. Someone to visit whenever he needed a break from the gang. Someone much like Albert.

He led Albert up the path and dismounted the horse after he passed the little entryway. Charlotte had started to try and make something of the little garden and had also fixed up the fence. He wondered if she would follow her advice and get some goats for milk and meat, just to help her when hunting didn’t go well. They hitched their horses and as Arthur turned around he saw Charlotte leaving her cabin. She stopped in her tracks, probably surprised to see two horses on her property. But her face lit up as she saw him and Arthur smiled right back to her, equally happy to see her.

“Arthur!” she called over and dropped the basket she had been carrying onto the chair on her porch. Charlotte approached them and Arthur was happy to see that she really looked well now. Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes were bright and she looked like she was back to a healthy weight again. “It’s good to see you here. Who’s your friend?”

“This is Albert Mason. Him an’ me are traveling up to the grizzlies to see some bears,” he explained to her. Charlotte’s face darkened in worry and Arthur, the fool that he was, suddenly remembered how Cal had died.

“Oh, just to take some pictures of them,” Albert chimed in cheerfully. “You see, Ma’am, I’m a nature photographer and I’d like to capture the beauty of the American wildlife. So this isn’t going to be a bear hunt or anything like that.”

“Well, I hope that you stay safe…,” Charlotte said in a low voice while mostly looking at Arthur. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. But .. how can I help you?”

“I was actually on my way to check on you when I met Mr. Mason here, so … I suggested we make a break here first before heading West. If you don’t mind. Otherwise we can be on our way again, of course.”

“No, of course I don’t mind. It’s nice to have visitors, it tends to get a little lonely here sometimes. Feel free to come in … I even got some stew on the stove that I wanted to eat after the laundry. But that can wait, I’m not the biggest fan of washing anyway,” she admitted with a cheeky smile.

As they entered the cabin Arthur noticed a stretched out grey tabby cat right next to the fireplace. It rolled around, got up and stretched before lazily walking up to Charlotte. “Did you wake up from your nap already?” Charlotte asked and picked up the cat before she kissed its head. “This is Artemis. She helps me with the rats and I share my fish with her. If I manage to catch one, that is…” The cat started to struggle a little so he let her go again. Artemis landed on her paws rather gracefully. She ignored the men in the house and sat down on a pillow that was placed in front of the fireplace. “I’ve always wanted a cat but Cal didn’t really get along with them. He also always had to sneeze and got watery eyes when he was near them, weirdly enough… I found this one a few weeks ago and she’s really great company.”

“Well, I’m glad that she’s keeping you company,” Arthur said and pulled his gaze away from the cat who had started to stare him down like they were having a staring contest. He had never understood cats very well and usually preferred dogs over them. But he wasn’t there to judge Charlotte’s choice in pets.

They settled around the table in the middle of the room and Charlotte got out some bowls and spoons for them. “So, how have you been, Arthur?” she asked him and gave him a small smile before she got the pot down from the stove.

“Ah, it’s been a few busy weeks. I’m glad that I’ve got some free time to spend now. Just wandering ‘round a bit, seeing some folk.“

"You know, you‘ve never actually told me what kind of work you‘re doing,“ Charlotte mused as she served all of them a steaming hot bowl of stew. "Very few jobs offer this kind of freedom.“

Arthur had already wondered if she‘d ever ask him this question. Maybe, he had thought, she had already guessed it. Maybe she had been avoiding the question on purpose, afraid of what the answer might be. Albert also looked at him expectantly now, curious probably what kind of man he was travelling with now that it was brought up.

"I just … do some odd jobs here 'n there. Whatever brings in some money, really. So between jobs, I like to travel a bit. Means I see more than just one place of the world.“ It was the truth, even if not all of it, but it seemed to be enough for them for now. Arthur knew that even those folk who stayed on the legal path oftentimes went from job to job. It wasn‘t unusual to just go where the money was, after all.

"Oh, that sounds so adventurous!“ Charlotte exclaimed. "You must tell me a story or two sometimes, maybe I can put something of it into my writing.“

Albert smiled at that, curious now about Charlotte as well. "Oh, you‘re an author?“

"Well, I try to be. I haven‘t published much, just a short story or two in the newspaper in Chicago. But I‘m working on my first book now and it‘s going well. It‘s like the muse has kissed me after Arthur came to my rescue.“

"He really has a habit of doing that, doesn‘t he?“ Albert said and chuckled softly.

Arthur cleared his throat and shook his head, focusing on his stew. He wasn‘t quite used to people talking like that about him. If he was praised, it usually was for his strong fists in people‘s faces or his ability to shoot someone in the head from 200 feet away.

Albert and Charlotte eased into a conversation about Chicago and other bigger cities that they visited. Arthur had never been to any of those but to him it seemed horrible. Bigger cities like Saint Denis? That seemed like outright torture to him. More civilisation, more law, more rules to follow. No, he was content being out in the wild. And he now understood even better why both Albert and Charlotte chose to flee from all of that and built new lifes out here. Nature gave them room to breathe and to live and to just be, whereas the city restricted them.

After dinner they played a few rounds of poker. Albert had a horrible poker face and was easy to beat but Arthur was surprised to learn that Charlotte was actually really good at it. She ended up winning almost all rounds they played and smiled brightly as she stashed away the money that she won.

"I‘ve used to play a lot with my sisters and we all had to have a good poker face for when we had some higher up guests join us for dinner,“ she explained. "But it was fun to play with you.“

It was time to sleep afterwards, and while Charlotte had a spare room in her house she only had one bed to sleep on. "'s alright, I‘ll sleep here on a bedroll.“ Arthur assured Albert after he offered to sleep on the floor multiple times. "I‘m more used to it than you, don‘t worry 'bout it.“

They settled in for the night and after being woken up by a purring cat who shoved her butt into Arthur‘s face twice before settling down and rolling up on his butt Arthur actually had a pretty good night‘s sleep. He was used to sleeping outside, with and without a tent, but sometimes he actually enjoyed having a real fireplace nearby and a roof above his head.

He was up early in the morning, before Charlotte or Albert had gotten out of their rooms, so he decided to brew up some coffee for them. Charlotte actually had one of the better brands, one that he‘d probably never buy for himself, even if he loved his coffee in the morning. It was simply not a luxury that made sense when you have to feed over twenty people in a camp. He also found some eggs that he cracked open and scrambled in a pan, roasting some bread along with it. The sizzling seemed to have woken up the other people in the cabin, both Albert and Charlotte got out of their rooms shortly before the eggs were fully cooked.

It was a peaceful, quiet moment, both of them thanking him for the coffee and sitting down on the table for breakfast. Sometimes Arthur wondered what life would be like, in a place like this. Away from society but still living in a home. A place to make his own, with people to love and care about. He loved the gang, of course, but he couldn‘t call them a family. At least not all of them and not with the way they were living right now. Always fighting, always on the run. What kind of man would he become if he had a cabin like this? If he didn‘t have to fight just to survive? If he wasn‘t wanted with a bounty that could probably feed him for a whole year?

“So, you’ll be heading out again today?” Charlotte asked and interrupted his thoughts with that.

He blinked for a moment to process her words, then nodded as he put bread and eggs on each of their plates. “Yeah. Don’t wanna bother ya for too long.” “Oh, don’t worry about bothering me. Both of you. I enjoy company, especially if it’s as pleasant as yours," Charlotte assured him with a smile and again Arthur thought about how different she would perceive him if she knew how he made his money. “You can also feel free to take some supplies with you. I’ve got plenty of cans to spare.”

“Oh, that would be very kind of you, Mrs. Balfour. It was definitely a pleasure meeting you. If I’m ever in the area again I might drop by,” Arthur was glad that Albert and Charlotte had gotten along to the point that he actually considered visiting her again.

And Charlotte also seemed to like the idea. “Oh, please always feel free to come and visit whenever you wish to. My door will always be open. To both of you.”

Arthur was happy that she was inviting him but unsure if he would be able to come to her much longer. Dutch had talked about all the things that he wanted to change. About Tahiti or Australia or some other island that they would do to flee the law. He knew that it was unlikely that they’d actually go that far … but he knew that at some point he should stop coming here. Just to avoid Charlotte getting dragged into something that she didn’t deserve to be dragged into. He always hated letting go of people like that but he knew that it was for the best. The only people he could keep around for long was the gang. Because they knew what they had signed up for.

They finished their breakfast and packed some of the bread that Charlotte had baked the day before and she insisted that they had to take it with them. Arthur refused to take some of her meat though because he was “Very capable of huntin’ my own food,” and wanted her to keep it as she still was very much a beginner when it came to hunting animals. Charlotte agreed eventually and after saddling their horses they continued their travel.

They crossed the Roanoke River alongside the train tracks, passing by that weird building with the tower that Arthur had seen when he had been around these parts before. The building had been vacant though with nobody close by so he had just let it be. There had been some expensive looking machines inside but nothing that he could’ve loaded onto the back of a horse so he had figured that breaking in wouldn’t have been worth it anyway.

The further they got to the west, loosely following the train tracks, the more their environment changed into some rocky paths. There were less trees and the patches of forest weren’t as lush as the ones around Roanoke Ridge. It was easier to see further ahead - but also easier to be seen. Albert, of course, wasn’t worried about that - Arthur suspected that he wasn’t even aware of that. He kept chattering about Charlotte. About her lovely cabin, the beautiful waterfalls close to her home, her lovely little flower patch and her hospitality. Of course they also had to stop, again and again, for new photo opportunities. Arthur still didn’t mind it though, the trip to O’Creagh’s Run wasn’t too long of a ride and he was certain that they would make it in time to make camp right by the water.

And Arthur had been right. The sun just started to set when they reached the lake. They approached it from the side at which the old veteran named Hamish was living. There were no lights coming from inside though and Arthur figured that it wouldn’t make sense to tell a hunting-loving man that they would go looking for some grizzlies, not if Albert wanted to take those pictures with the bears still alive.

“What a beautiful place this is,” Albert marveled as Arthur led him around the water. He didn’t want to camp just next to the cabin, so they needed to ride a little further. “Nature really is gorgeous, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Arthur agreed, following his gaze over the water that lay almost still in the evening light. It really was beautiful and Arthur had the urge to draw again. Instead, he looked over at Albert. “What do you think of some fish for dinner?”

“Fish?” Albert asked. He sounded like he hadn’t expected Arthur to suggest fish for dinner at all.

Arthur gave him a short, crooked smile before answering. “Well, these waters are great for fishing. Have pulled out some big fellas out of here. Besides, if we want to attract some bears tomorrow, some bait will be good. And nothing’s better than some fish.” “Well, then … It sounds absolutely delightful. You’ll have to show me how it’s done, though.”

They set up camp close to the water, not quite on the shore because Arthur knew how uncomfortable it was to sleep on the gravel right next to the water. They made a small fire, mostly to make sure to keep the nearby animals that were lurking away from them. Albert had already gotten better at setting up a camp and knew how to arrange the firewood so they were finished fairly quick and still had time to catch a fish. All they needed was a little luck.

They stood at the shore next to each other, Albert holding the rod because he had requested to actually learn it. Arthur leaned in closer, correcting the grip on his hand and directing him how to throw the line out to the water.

“I see why so many people enjoy this … it is fairly relaxing if you- oh! Oh, I think one bit!!”

The rod almost slipped out of Albert’s hand and Arthur jumped in to take over. He leaned back and reeled the line in, huffing as he felt the pull of the fish.

“Oh, this sure is a big one, Mr. Mason …,” he said as he took a step back to have a better posture. “Can’t reel ‘m in too quick, otherwise the line will break,” he explained further as Albert hopped around on the balls of his feet to get a better look at what was in the water. The fish broke through the surface as he was fighting the pull, even more so when he was dragged closer to the shore.

Finally he got the fish out onto the shore. He grabbed it and killed with a quick hit on the head before presenting it to Albert. “May I present you - dinner.” “Oh, that’s a salmon, isn’t it?” Albert asked, still excited and moving closer to expect the fish. “I’ve always just seen illustrations or photographs in books. And ate them, of course. But never this fresh.” “Yeah, you’re right. They’re also the grizzlie’s favourite fish. So this should be perfect.”

He lay down the fish on a bigger stone nearby, gutted it and wrapped up the guts in a piece of cloth. Albert wrinkled up his nose, it was obvious to Arthur that he hid his disgust. He agreed that it was a rather nasty thing but it had to be done. He put the gutted salmon onto a stick and hung it above the fire to cook.

“Alright, now we just gotta wait until it’s done. Can cut up some of the bread that Charlotte gave us and we'll have a decent enough meal.” Arthur said and stretched out his legs by the fire. “And tomorrow we’ll find some grizzlies to take a picture of.”

“That really does sound wonderful,” Albert agreed with a soft sigh as he sat down next to him. He shared his cigarettes with Arthur and both of them watched the fire for a moment, enjoying the quiet and the darkness that started to wrap around them like a blanket, held off only by the fire.

“So, Mr. Morgan … is this how you live?”, Albert asked. Usually those words would have sounded like a criticism, like it was something bad. But with Albert it sounded more like he was simply wondering and trying to get to know his friend a little better.

“Most of the time, yeah. Sometimes hotel rooms, but I prefer being outside. Less rules to follow,” he said with a short smile towards Albert who chuckled softly.

“I know what you mean, yes …” he said in a low voice. “But you’re not alone all the time, are you?” Albert’s voice was gentle, almost careful. Arthur wondered if he really wanted to know the truth or if he wanted to find out if he should start distrusting his travel companion.

Arthur took a drag from his cigarette, contemplating his answer for a moment. There weren’t many groups of people living outside, always traveling around. He was sure that Albert knew this as well as any other … and it was pretty obvious that Arthur was no circus clown, even if he felt like it sometimes.

“No, I’m not,” he answered eventually, his voice low as well. “It can be a hard life and we’re always .. moving ‘round. But I’ve got my folk and they’ve got me.”

There was a little smile on Albert’s face as he looked at Arthur. “And I’m glad that’s the case. Life must be awfully lonely with nobody around when you’re living on your own. Especially out in the wild. So … I’m happy to hear that I always meet you on your own because you chose to and not because you got nobody else.”

Arthur had not expected Albert to be worried about something like that of all things he could be worried about. “You really ain’t got no reason to be worried ‘bout me, Mr. Mason,” he told him with a short smile. “I’m fine. Just needing some peace and quiet from time to time.”

“And then you choose to travel with a blabbermouth like me?” Albert laughed and Arthur joined in. Albert really wasn't good at keeping quiet but he had never minded that. If all he enjoyed the things that Albert talked about and how joyful his perspective on life was.

“Well, I tend to be a fool, you should know that by now,” he said with a grin and Albert shook his head.

“So am I, Mr. Morgan. So am I.”

They both got hungry because of the tasty smell of the fish so Arthur cut up some slices of bread that they dunked in oil and ate with some of the oregano leaves that they could easily pick from the plants growing nearby. They added the succulent fish meat as it was done cooking, both of them enjoying the texture and the warmth in their bellies.

With each evening, Arthur had enjoyed Albert’s company even more and it didn’t even feel awkward anymore to get into a tent with him. They slept side by side on their bed rolls and when Arthur woke up during the middle of the night because Albert had put his arm around him in his sleep he found that he didn’t even mind that. It was nice in fact to have a warm body right next to him and he dozed off again with a smile on his face.

“Mr. Morgan! Mr. Morgan, wake up!”

Arthur felt someone gently shaking his shoulder and he opened up his eyes, blinking in the process at the early sunlight that was hitting his face.

“There are some bear cubs!” Albert exclaimed with a shouted whisper. Arthur was awake instantly, knowing very well that cubs would always be close to a very protective mama bear.

He got up and out of the tent to see what was happening. Roughly 70 feet away from them were actually two bear cubs playing in the water at the shore and trying to catch fish. He put on his hat and watched them warily, searching for their mother.

Albert, on the other hand, set up his camera quicker than Arthur had ever seen him do it before to start to take some pictures of them. The clicking of the camera made the cubs look over to them and Albert mumbled something in excitement that Arthur did not understand in the slightest.

Suddenly there was a growl behind them, Arthur turned around and saw the mother of the cubs, standing on her hind legs and glaring at them angrily. “Shit…” he said and grabbed the revolver in his holster.

“No, don’t shoot her please!” he heard Albert plead behind him.

“Well what ELSE would you suggest?!” Arthur hissed back to him as the mother dropped down on all fours again and started approaching them. At least she wasn’t in full attack mode yet.

“Maybe we can … distract her, somehow?!”, Albert suggested and Arthur remembered the fish guts that were still in his satchel.

He moved slowly, not to piss her off in any way, and took the smelling bundle out of his bag. He threw it over to her, right in front of her big paws and she started sniffing it with interest.

“‘Right, now or never …,” Arthur said and dragged Albert behind him. The photographer was clutching his camera as they slowly moved away from the camp, the bear now munching on the innards of the fish. They reached their horses and unhitched them, both Thunder and Daisy running away on their own, smart enough to know that they were in danger. “They’ll find their way back later,” Arthur assured Albert as he tried to grab Daisy’s lead.

They moved further into the bushes, now watching the mother and her cubs on the shore from a safe distance. For once, Albert wasn’t talking and Arthur suspected that he knew very well how important it was now not to attract the bears anymore. The mother started rummaging through the things that they had left, ripping the tent and chewing up the last bit of fish bones that were left of their dinner. Eventually she decided that it was time to move on and so she did, followed up by the cubs.

Arthur took a deep breath and lit himself a cigarette to calm his nerves, offering Albert one as well who gladly took it. “Well, that was close. Hope the pictures will be worth it.”

“Oh, I’m sure they will be. Playing cubs was so much more than I expected! Thank you again for joining me. Someday I really ought to pay you for always having my back!”

Arthur shook his head. “Ain’t no need for that, Mr. Mason. Your company is reward enough for me,” he assured him and it almost looked like Albert was blushing.

“Well, if you say so …” he cleared his throat. “I really enjoyed traveling with you. Maybe you should really join me some time … venturing out west.”

Arthur looked back at Albert and thought about it again. He had his responsibilities. People who needed him. Who relied on him being there. But they’ve managed without him before, for a few weeks. Who said that they wouldn’t manage again? Who said that he had to spend all his life running with a gang of outlaws if he also could spend it with Albert? He found himself smiling at Albert.

“I think you might be right, Mr. Mason.” “You know, you can call me Albert…”

He smiled again, knowing that this would only be the beginning of their friendship full of new adventures. “Albert. I’d love to join you out west.”

#rdrbigbang #reversebang #2am #albert/arthur #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #fluff #dad writes #arthur/albert #mgcoco

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outlier-rookie · 4 years ago

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Of Blood And Greatness - Chapter 3

Chapter 3/?? - Settling In With Some Concerns

AO3 Link

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26305741/chapters/71331201

***

The next few chapters might be a bit slow pace wise because I want to build up a few more interactions between Reader and the Gang members. Don’t worry, we’ll get to the action soon enough.

TRIGGER WARNING: Anxiety/Panic Attack

***

“Wow (Y/N)! You’re as strong as Uncle Arthur!” (Y/N) paused long enough to shoot Jack a cheeky grin as they continued their path towards the horses, slowly carrying the last hay bale. The tall skittish fella, Kieran, had tried to offer to take the bales instead but (Y/N) was insistent that it wasn’t that heavy and they were no stranger to hard work and heavy lifting. Miss Karen had also had a good laugh with the other girls about the teen putting the likes of Bill and Sean to shame with how much heavy lifting they did around camp. Mrs. Grimshaw, as scary as she was at times, was also quick to praise (Y/N)’s hard work and help with the camp chores.

It had been a few days since everything that happened up near Cattail Pond and as the teen feared, Dutch was less than pleased with the total sum brought back to camp. But like Arthur had promised he was also understanding and despite (Y/N) feeling like they hadn’t delivered on their promise, Dutch welcomed them into the ragtag family of outlaws with a speech and fanciful words of things only getting better from here.

Still, the teen spent their days mulling over their failure with a hollow feeling sitting in the pit of their stomach. Mr. Hosea had sat next to them by the campfire one night with stew in hand and talked about nothing in particular. He started telling short stories from the gang's past and it didn’t click until the teen was falling asleep that night but the stories all had similar feelings to their blunder with the money. (Y/N) fell asleep smiling at the stars that night, putting the memory of Dutch’s ill-concealed disappointment behind them.

***

“Arthur! Welcome back son.” Dutch was sat by his tent smoking a cigar as Arthur led (Y/N) over to him. “So!” he started, standing with his arms extended; whether it was meant in a divine or welcoming manner, (Y/N) wasn’t entirely sure. “How’d your little excursion go?”

“’Fraid we ain’t getting to Tahiti or Australia with what we recovered.” The grizzled outlaw started. “Seems that someone else got to the stash before young (Y/N) here and took most of what we had.” Something in the teen's stomach dropped as the light in Dutch’s eyes seemed to dim slightly. The dark-haired man hummed and folded one arm across his chest, the other bringing his cigar back to his lips. He paused for a moment breathing slowly, the smoke flowing past his lips before being taken by the breeze.

“How much did you get then?” He finally asked

“Would have had ‘bout one third.”

“’Would have’?” (Y/N) shifted nervously and refused to meet Dutch’s eyes, ashamed that they had disappointed this man.

“O’Drisscols.” Arthur replied. “Weren’t the kids' fault. They ambushed us as we were crossing Cumberland Falls. Some of the money went over the falls. Didn’t want to risk staying around in case the law came snooping around. Was a pretty big scene.”

“I see.”

(Y/N) timidly raised their head to find Dutch’s piercing eyes once again focused on them. An old but familiar feeling of helplessness gnawed at their insides, causing their stomach to twist. As their instincts yelled at them to hide, Arthur stepped forward slightly and half placed himself between them and Dutch.

“It wasn’t their fault Dutch.”

“And you can be absolutely sure about that Arthur?”

“As a matter of fact, I can. If they was working with the O’Driscolls to set a trap, then they would have shot me and not three of Colm’s boys.”

Dutch actually seemed surprised by this.

“Sounds like they weren’t embellishing their skills with a gun.” Hosea’s smoother voice was like a cool balm on (Y/N)’s nearly fried nerves.

“Damn right. Them idiots didn’t know what hit em. Kid put them all down with one bullet each.” Arthur replied, stepping back some. An unexpected swift and heavy pat on the back sent the teen stumbling slightly and (Y/N) swore they saw a slight grin on Arthur’s face.

***

“You ok there?” (Y/N nearly dropped the horse brush they were using, as Charles’ deep voice startled them out of their thoughts.

“Y-Yeah! Sorry, was just thinking. Did you uh, need something Mr. Charles?” Charles smiled and the minor change in his breathing suggested silent laughter.

“You can just call me Charles you know.” (Y/N) scrunched their face-up made a noise that was a mix between disagreement and something a bit lighter than disgust which drew another silent laugh from Charles before he continued. “Pearson was complaining that the camps getting low on meat so I offered to go hunting for him. You’ve got a good eye and steady hands so I figured I’d ask if you’d like to come.”

“Really?” Excitement bubbled up inside at the thought of being able to do more than just chores around the camp. (Y/N) could only lug so much water and carry so many sacks before it got repetitive and boring. They weren’t strong enough to properly chop firewood and Mrs. Grimshaw and practically chased them away from laundry and sewing after the first hour. “When you leaving?”

“As soon as possible. I’ll ready the horses while you grab your gun.”

“R-Right! Just give me five. I need to check my satchel.”

With a soft ‘Alright’ from Charles, (Y/N) dropped the horse brush by the hitching post and jogged across the camp towards the medicine wagon. A ratty lean-to was set up next to it and under it an old bedroll. It wasn’t a whole lot but it was more than they had before joining the gang. The well-used bedroll wasn’t nearly as soft as their bed back at Estelle’s home. A small framed photograph of the woman peeked out from under the corner of the bedroll. The faint reminder of the woman who could be sweet as honey one moment and mean enough to give an angry Mrs. Grimshaw a run for her money brought a familiar pang of guilt to the teen. Bitterly they pushed the feelings and memories away and turned the picture over, hiding away from the loving eyes of a woman hundreds or thousands of miles away.

(Y/N) blindly stuffed a few items in their satchel and reached for their gun. Their fingers had barely grazed the sun-warmed metal before they jerked their hand back as if it had burnt. Glassy blue eyes stared blankly at the gun laying on the ground, seemingly mocking them from its pathetic position.

Stupid child.

What were you expecting?

These people were outlaws.

They were no stranger to killing other people.

If you want to survive in their world, it's either shoot first or get dead.

It was hard to breathe as (Y/N) felt their chest tighten like a red hot metal vice had been wrapped around their chest. An old familiar panic started settling into their whole being, starting in their stomach before it wrapped its tendrils around their bones before boring its way into their throat and brain. The air itself caught in their throat and their vision was starting to blur slightly when a hot and heavy pressure made its presence known when it landed solidly on the teen's shoulder.

“Woah there! ‘Sokay! ‘Sokay kid, you’re alright ya hear?” The voice was deep and familiar and most importantly grounding. Still, it took a second for the pressure on their chest to dissipate enough and allow a cool, fresh breath to fill their burning lungs. Blinking, (Y/N) realised that some tears had gathered in their eyes and quickly moved to brush them away, sniffling as they did. Finally, they were able to look up as see Arthur crouching next to them, his brows furrowed gently as he watched them.

“Everything alright Arthur?” (Y/N)’s eyes flicked up to the approaching figure of Hosea.

“We’re fine Hosea. I just startled them is all.” Arthur replied easily. Hosea stood by for a moment before slowly approaching the teen, not too dissimilar to how one would approach a scared animal.

“You alright?” His soft, aged voice reminded the teen of Estelle once more.

“Y-Yeah.” They mumbled. “’M sorry. Dunno what came over me.” They looked away from the two men, eyes once again landing on their repeater as once again a wave of hot white anger flowed through their veins. A weight in their dominant hand drew their attention and (Y/N) suddenly understood why Arthur and Hosea were acting so cautious towards them.

In their hand was their trusty knife, the bronze metal gleaming dangerously in the sunlight. It quickly dawned on the teen that they had pulled it on reflex when Arthur had startled them. A hot flush of shame and embarrassment flooded through them as they frantically shoved the knife back into its sheath.

“Those are some damn fine reflexes you got kid.” Arthur said. The words may have formed a compliment but the tone was wrong and questioning. (Y/N) didn’t want to answer. They just groaned out a vague noise of agreement and pointedly avoided looking at the two men and finished packing their satchel. Slinging the strap over their shoulder the teen all but bolted past Arthur and Hosea making their way back to the horses where Charles stood waiting, making some final adjustments to Taima’s saddle. His movements held some extra tension and (Y/N) just knew that he had seen their little incident and the heat returned to their chest.

“Ain’t we going to go? Mr. Pearson needs meat, doesn’t he?” They snapped.

“You don’t have to come if you-”

“I’m fine!” They cut him off. “Come on.” They huffed, barely resisting the urge to stamp their foot. They were fifteen and basically a grown-up and grown-ups didn’t stomp their feet like toddlers when they were angry. A heavy hand was placed on their shoulder once more.

“Alright then kid.” Arthur said. His gruff voice was uncharacteristically soft. “Mount up. And let’s get goin’.” Gently, Arthur nudged them towards Fortuna who nickered and shoved her nose into (Y/N)’s chest. The mare huffed as the teen half-heartedly scratched her cheeks before silently climbing on. Fortuna shook her mane out and turned as much as she could, keeping an eye on her rider. She let loose another whine as she tried to nose (Y/N) again.

“I’m alright girl.” The whispered, pulling a carrot from one of the many pockets in their satchel and offering it to the worrisome mare. Fortuna took the carrot without protest and calmed as (Y/N) stroked her neck. Tugging on the reins, (Y/N) directed the mare’s head towards the path out of camp. Charles and Arthur were on the backs of Taima and Admiral. Not obviously watching them but also doing exactly that with incredible obviousness for two seasoned outlaws. Huffing, the teen kicked and urged Fortuna forward

***

I started hitting a wall with this chapter towards the end so the ending may feel somewhat abrupt. I didn’t have the energy to beta read this or whatever so all mistakes are mine.

I have a better plan for what will happen in the next chapter or two

#rdr2 x reader #rdr2 x male reader #rdr2 x gn reader #rdr2 x female reader #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #of blood and greatness

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fedeipox · 4 years ago

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The Way of Time (Rdr2 fanfic) - Chapter 9 (3/3)

Hello again!

I tried with a little experiment this time. People on Wattpad and Ao3 appreciated that, hope you will too!

Just a little information before you start reading: I won’t be posting this here anymore (I want to focus on Gifs and photos mostly) so if you are interested you can go on Ao3, Wattpad or Fanfiction and you’ll find the rest there. <3

Part 1 here: https://fedeipox.tumblr.com/post/645629699195846656/the-way-of-time-rdr2-fanfic-chapter-9-13

Part 2 here: https://fedeipox.tumblr.com/post/646163870469259264/the-way-of-time-rdr2-fanfic-chapter-9-23

Chapter 9 /3/3) - Getting accustomed

Words: 2,3 k

Emily didn’t waste time. As soon as they untied the horses from the wagon, she run to the girl’s tent looking for Mary-Beth.

“You have no idea what I just discovered!” she almost yelled.

“What?” asked Mary-Beth raising her eyes from Tess of the d’Ubervilles.

“There is a ghost in Emerald Ranch” she whispered kneeling down next to her.

“A ghost?” she whispered back with wide eyes.

“I swear to you, I’ve seen her! She was at the window, and I might know who she is.”

Emily exposed her theory about a young woman, the lover of Mr. Wagner, the ranch owner. She was killed by his husband because of his jealousy and now her ghost didn’t leave the house until midnight, when she used to hunt the entire ranch and scare the other women out of it.

“Wow, this makes a really good story” said Mary-Beth in the end with sparkling eyes.

“Do you want to write it?”

“Can I?”

“Of course! Who knows, maybe one day you’ll be famous for it.”

“That’s the dream” sighed Mary-Beth taking out a little journal and writing a couple of lines.

Emily peeked at it trying not to be noticed, but from upside-down she couldn’t make anything out of it. Mary-Beth had a strange handwriting: small, twisted, with the words really close one to the other.

As soon as she put the journal away, Emily looked around, pretending indifference, and causally her eyes fell on Dutch in the distance, smoking his cigar and watching the camp people at work.

It was like this that she thought of asking Mary-Beth about the ‘Kieran situation’, no-one better than her to give advise. She told her about her idea of trying to convince Dutch to free Kieran, if only he had done something for Dutch in turn.

“I don’t know” answered Mary-Beth with a shrug, “you should go and ask Dutch in person. Talk to him, he will listen.”

But despite Mary-Beth’s certainty that Dutch would have listened to her, Emily was still unsure. She knew she had to speak with him: he was the boss, the ruler, the one who took all the decisions there, but she had postponed that moment because Dutch’s character intimidated her. There was something in him that pushed her away from him in a resolute way, and, since the beginning, since that moment when she had attacked him because of his camp organization, they hadn’t truly spoken again.

But Emily knew she had no other choice: she had to face him soon or later, and, after all, it was for a good cause.

Hi, Dutch. How are you? No, no, what the hell, they saw each other everyday, what a stupid start. Hello, boss! Boss? No, not boss. Just the idea to say that word made her sick. Hi, friend! Friend? What friend? They weren’t friends. Hi, we need to talk. Yeah, right. Like they were a couple and she wanted to leave him. No, no, no. She had to be natural, just natural. Which meant be an idiot and embarrass herself.

“Hey, Dutch. Can we talk?”

...

Dutch narrowed his eyes and nodded slowly. What did she want from him? She seemed nervous. Maybe she had caused some more trouble? Besides, the fact that she wanted to talk with him was strange. Generally, she looked for Hosea when she needed to talk, never for him, because Hosea had that paternalistic way of doing things that reassured everybody. It had always been like that, ever since Arthur and John were young.

The girl slowly headed to the back of his tent, away from indiscreet eyes, and he followed her.

“I-I… well, I have a proposition” she started and Dutch noticed she was looking everywhere but to him.

“It’s a bout Kieran.”

Dutch breathed deeply but tried anyway not to lose his composure. He didn’t want to clip her wings, even though he knew where she was going.

“I was wandering, if… if he proved himself to you, would you, erm, let him live?”

She looked up at him and it was at that moment that Dutch understood that she cared, she truly cared about that O’Driscoll, and she probably would have done anything in her might to help him. But he still din’t trust him, he could never trust him, he knew Colm’s boys, they were unworthy of trust. Anyway, he was intrigued.

“Prove himself?” he asked.

Emily’s eyes sparkled with hope.

“Yes, yes, like… give something to you, or do something for you. A, erm, loyalty token or something.”

“Uhm… loyalty token. The only thing that I could possibly want from him is his boss hideout.”

Then, Dutch thought about something. It was a very devious thing to do, he was aware of that, but if she was so determined to help, she would have helped, but by following his rules.

“If you are able to convince him to talk, give away this information, I’ll let him live” he said in the end.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“I can’t” said Kieran when Emily explained the terms to him.

“Why not?” she asked.

Kieran wasn’t an idiot, he knew what Dutch was doing, using that girl to get what he wanted, and he knew his options where two: if he spoke, Dutch would have found an excuse to kill him and even if he didn’t, Colm O’Driscoll would have found him, sooner or later, and Kieran would have paid for his betrayal.

But even if he tried to explain that to Emily, she was too convinced that Dutch might never kill him, and she didn’t want to listen to him.

“Are you sure that’s not just an excuse?” she asked angrily. “It seems to me that you’re not trying to help me getting you out of this situation, Kieran.”

“Why, why would I lie?”

“I don’t know, but I’ve tried to help and Dutch is meeting you halfway.”

It was at that moment that Kieran understood Emily had fallen in Dutch’s trap. “Don’t you understand he’s playing you?” he naively asked.

Emily was outraged by that statement and she left Kieran to walk as far away from him as possible. It seemed he liked to be tied to that tree after all.

...

Hosea came back the day after. He had left Arthur halfway from camp when he said he wanted to reach Javier and Charles near Blackwater to free Sean. He said the bear hunting didn’t go exactly as expected, but he had fun at least.

The first among them to come back was Charles, all dusty and sweaty, telling everybody about their success in West Elisabeth. Then, Sean and Javier showed up and it was time for introductions.

Emily found Sean incredibly cheerful and full of life for someone who had been captured and tortured: he had an everlasting big smile on his thin freckled face and as soon as he stepped foot in camp, some sort of festive atmosphere had come with him.

“Come on! Le’t celebrate the return of Uncle Sean!”

Emily was exited about all that happening. She was craving music, mental lightness and the company of someone who could ward off the heavy and dark thoughts from her mind.

Those weeks had been hard: she had done things she had never thought to do, living in that place that seemed to destroy, day after day, her good intents and rightful ideas.

The preparations implied the purchase of alcohol and for that Sean seemed to think he could take Dutch’s place, ordering to go and buy some in Valentine.

“Nah nah, Mr. Macguire, your party, yours the responsibility to buy what you want” said Miss Grimshaw putting some dollars in his hands and pushing him towards the wagons.

“I need company” complained Sean, but Miss Grimshaw’s answer was a simple gesture with her hand, like to tell him: ‘not my business, choose who you want’.

Sean looked around. He had no intention to bring Javier nor Charles. Their journey back to camp had already been boring enough. He needed someone alive, someone with a good sense of humor.

“Hey, you girl!” Sean called out loud.

Emily didn’t answered and didn’t even turned around. There were five girls in camp, how could she know he was addressing her?

He could walk closer and ask her gently, but Sean being Sean, he preferred to be rude and quirky as usual.

“Hey, the new girl! Yeah, you! You come with me to buy some booze?” he yelled and now Emily’s attention, together with the one of everybody else in camp, was caught.

“Sorry, you were talking to me?” she asked walking closer.

“Yeah, you come with me?”

“S-sure” she agreed a little taken aback for the request.

He could have asked everybody, maybe his girlfriend, but he had asked her. Why? And this fact was also noticed by Karen, who anyway had pretended not to hear nor see what was happening and kept to work as usual.

“You know Valentine, girl?” asked Sean getting on the wagon.

“Yeah, I’ve been there a lot of times.”

“Good, so you can guide me there.”

“And, my name is Emily, by the way.”

“Okay, Emily, nice to meet you. How did Dutch find you?”

Emily frowned at those words.

“They haven’t told you anything about me?” she asked.

“No, they should have?”

“Not a word about the crazy dumb girl that comes from the future?”

Sean laughed and this way Emily noticed he missed a tooth, maybe more than one.

Javier, Charles and Arthur hadn’t said anything about her since they had recused him, and Emily felt bad for that. Not that she wanted everybody to talk about her, but she would have appreciated a mention, a few words to explain her presence in their group.

So she started with her story. Sean was delighted that in the world existed someone who talked almost as much as him, and Emily was happy to have found someone who finally liked her the way she was, with her habit to speak too much, her being naive and her simple humor. A bond was created between them that afternoon, a good friendship which, unfortunately, wasn’t destined to last much.

“And you say Hosea believes ya?” asked Sean when she was done with her story.

“Actually, a lot of people believe me now.”

“Well, if they believe you, I believe you too. These weeks mustn’t have been easy for you all, since Blackwater.”

“No, not really. But from what I heard, you got the worst.”

Sean started about all the things the Pinkertons had done to him and how he had played the ‘brave big boy’ and told them nothing. Emily let him talk, glad that, unlike the other people at camp, she didn’t have to pull the information out of him.

They easily bought two crates of beer and two of liquor at the general store in Valentine and came back right before the sun was down completely.

...

When Arthur arrived, the party had just began. The first bottles had been opened and Sean was about to end his speech, half drunk already. Right after that, music started.

“Come on! Play something we can dance to!” Emily exclaimed, and Arthur noticed she had some color on her cheeks. Had she been drinking too?

“Like what?” asked Javier, taking his guitar.

“I don’t know. What you dance to in 1899?” she laughed.

“I might have an idea” said Uncle sitting on one of the logs near the campfire with his banjo.

(Music)

youtube

He started a song which Emily was sure to have heard someplace else, maybe right in the future. It reminded her of a public event, with a great crowd and a lot of flags and banners, and she remembered herself, very very young, on her father’s shoulders to watch whatever was going on on the distant stage.

Then, Uncle started to speed up the rhythm of the melody and Javier joined him with those few notes he was able to catch. Anyway, the two of them together made something great to which Emily couldn’t resist and, grabbing Mary-Beth’s hand, they started dancing.

With their skirts moving frantically to the rhythm of their jumps and the sound of their laughs, soon the eyes of everybody were on them and Mary-Beth felt so embarrassed she had to stop. Emily begged her with the eyes and tried to pull her back to the dance, but she simply wouldn’t keep on.

“Come, dance with me!” exclaimed Sean taking her arm and the two of them started swinging around.

Emily loved music, she loved to dance and sing, it was the best way she had to stop thinking and in that moment she forgot everything.

She started laughing in that sweet way that made her irresistible to others eyes and this didn’t slipped away from Karen, who was the only one who didn’t like what she was looking at. Jealousy is powerful and dangerous, and God knows how dangerous Karen could be.

The rest of them was enjoying the music and the presence of that strange girl, who brought such an unusual happiness among them, making them forget all their problems.

Emily let Sean go and reached for Tilly’s hand instead, who needed a little more insistence to join the dance, but in the end proved to be the best dancer among them.

Hosea was again proud he had insisted to keep her with them, Charles felt peaceful in looking at her dancing, Sean had finally found someone to have a fun time with, Mary- Beth felt lucky in finding such a friend, and Arthur… well, Arthur couldn’t help but still feel unworthy of her, even though he knew nothing romantic could start between them, because of his past, because of what he was, because he was sure she wouldn’t stay with them much longer.

#rdr2 #Red Dead Redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fanfiction #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female oc #Javier Escuella #sean macguire #kieran duffy #Dutch Van Der Linde #hosea matthews #mary-beth gaskill

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guigz1-coldwar · 3 years ago

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'Redemption of a Bell' : an crossover....between RDR2 & COD Cold War

What if.....Bell, the main protagonist of Call of Duty Black Ops Cold War, was in the story of Red Dead Redemption 2 ?

As the Dutch Van Der Linde gang's is on the run to escape the authorities after their botched robbery in Blackwater and trying to survive through the cold of the Ambarino region, one of their attempts against their longs rivals, the O'Driscolls, lead them to discover an woman left for dead by their leader after the attack.

However, this woman is an whole mystery for the gang, trying to find out what they could do about her, not even knowing her real name.....but Dutch has an plan for her.....and he will find an name for her.....

An crossover between Red Dead Redemption 2 & Call of Duty Black Ops Cold War

To read it on AO3, click here !

----------------------------------------------------

1899

Dutch van der Linde's gang is on the run, fleeing the authorities after what happened in Blackwater in West Elizabeth. It was the perfect occasion for all of them to get some money and everyone had plans for this to happen : Arthur Morgan & Hosea Matthews were on an easy job and it was all going to be nice but then, an bad idea from one of the gang's member and it all turned to shit, causing an bloody massacre in this town and causing everyone to flee.

The gang had no choices because of it but it was better to run than to be catched by the Pinkertons. They went up north in the snowy mountains of Ambarino and it was an nicely cover with an storm that were covering their tracks, avoiding the authorities to get them but they also lost people on the road and the morale was an bit low after these losses but like always, Dutch is here to bring up back the morale, asking everyone to have faith.

They took shelter in an abandoned town called Colter, awaiting for the storm to calm down and the snow to get lower as it was also preventing them to use the wagons to left the place. But of course, it's not that they were hiding that they couldn't try to make some moves in the mountains : Dutch, Arthur & Micah Bell has rescued an widow named Sadie Adler and next day, Arthur & Javier Escuella were saving the friend of the wolves, John Marston but now, it was more serious for Dutch.

He knew that in the mountains, there were some O'Driscolls boys hiding too and knowing the hatred he & the gang has for these peoples, there were no other perfect occasion to....see if their stuff couldn't change hands, Dutch having heard of plans about an train and some dynamite to be used so he took the chance : he brought Arthur Morgan, Lenny Summers, Javier Escuella, Bill Williamson & Micah Bell for this mission. He wanted to hit them O'Driscolls hard.

"Good." Dutch started after the posse arrived near the camp these O'Driscolls were hiding. "Now, Mr. Morgan and I, we’re going to head up here a little, see if we can’t get a sense of the layout of the camp." He explained, putting his feets on the snow, making an little sign towards the ridge that were going to allow him & Arthur to take an better look of the camp. "Mr. Williamson, Mr. Bell, you two take up a hidden position just outside the camp." He added, gesturing to the two before looking at Javier & Lenny. "Mr. Summers, Mr. Escuella, you two hold position here. Let’s go." He ordered before he start to walk towards to climb higher, followed by Arthur and then, they took out some binoculars once arrived. "There they are… That’s definitely them." Dutch said.

"Colm ?" Arthur asked, looking through his binoculars as he was focused on an man that was on an brown horse, talking to someone.

"I think..." Dutch tried to guess, moving his binoculars to look at the situation

"Yeah...that's him." Arthur stated after an closer look, recognizing the man that Dutch was hating deeply in him, still talking to that person near by.

"Who’s he talking to? He don’t seem very happy." Dutch demanded as he was trying to find out who was the person was talking and by the look of it, it was resembling as an young redhead woman, dressed like every men around her but as Colm was looking ready to go, Dutch & Arthur watched in horror as Colm took out one of his revolvers and fired 3 bullets in direction of the woman who immediately fall in the snow.

"No..." Arthur whispered, shocked by what he just saw. "That bastard !" He exclaimed as Colm was not even looking anymore at the woman he just shot down before he got up back on his feets. "Should we go get ’em?" He demanded in an voice that couldn't tell if he was angry at all about the situation

"Yes but Colm can wait. Best to get some of them outta there. And much less fun to rob him and his score if he never finds out about it." Dutch replied as he was walking away from the ridge to get back to their respectives horses....he wasn't shocked by the event, it was mostly Colm's behavior from time to time towards his followers. "Alright, let’s go pay our old friends a visit. Don’t forget to grab that rifle from your horse." He expressed his enthusiasm to get those boys, pointing out the rifle on Arthur's horse. "You boys be ready to pick them off from up there." He adressed himself to Lenny & Javier before starting on an path that Bill & Micah took to get down.

"Sure thing." Lenny told him, getting ready with Javier to greet any escapers on this path as Arthur & Dutch were going down to join the others.

"Like you said, revenge is a luxury we can’t afford." Dutch exclaimed to Arthur as the two were at the middle of the path, walking slowly to not get spot in advance by the O'Driscolls & mentioning words that Arthur said on the way to here.

"Yeah, I just wasn’t sure you agreed with me." Arthur explained, not sure of how to think about this...about everything to be honest.

"Arthur, Arthur, have you completely lost faith in me? Our needs right now are supplies, equipment and a way out of here." Dutch insisted on that 'faith', wanting everyone to keep it for the future, he was very insistant on it. "Everything else, including Colm, can wait." He added, arriving at the same level of the camp & seeing Micah & Bill awaiting in another hidden point of the camp.

"So what are we doing, Dutch? I can take this if you want." Arthur questioned Dutch after they sneaked further into the camp, hiding right below an cabin.

"Just make the call. You wanna take the lead? Go." Dutch complied, making an sign to Arthur, meaning that he was the one in charge here.

"Okay, I’ll go first." Arthur took an deep breath before going out of cover with his rifle. "O’Driscolls! You’re dead, you sons of bitches!" He literally yelled towards them, signifying the beginning of the attack against these poor devils.

At the second that he yelled that every O'Driscolls in the camp were like chille by the sound of it, totally unprepared for that situation as Arthur, Dutch, Micah & Bell were the first to open fire on every person they were going to try to fire back at them. The first victims were two guys that were going to move up the body of the woman that was gunned down by Colm himself and then, the long list was following for the O'Driscolls.

They could have tried to open fire.....they were immediately greeted by the bullets from the revolvers & the rifles of Dutch's boys. They could have tried to flee but they will be killed by the suppressing fire coming from Mr Summers & Mr Escuella, still on top of that ridge but now descending the main path to help the others in need, seeing the advance they were making inside the camp, killing every bastards that were hiding in the old cabins.

However, as it was seeming that everything was in order after an few minutes of fighting and that the group were going to search for anything useful that they had to fight again, this time, bullets coming from the trees that were in another part of the camp but it was not knowing the bravery of Dutch's men that the surprise that the O'Driscolls tried to do turned out to be the very last mistake they did in their lifes.

If they were not coming at them, Arthur and the others will come at them and like before, the surprising advance that the group did at this O'Driscolls group turned in their big favor, killing one by one everyone of them but there were also some lucky guys....cowards as Dutch proclaimed that managed to get away from the camp, not wanting to meet an bullet with their names on it. With now the camp peacefully secured, the group could finally proceed on what they came for.

"Good work, boys. Now, let’s tear this place apart. Bill, you go search that wagon there. Arthur, you take that building to the left." Dutch congratulated his men, happy about their exploits today and destroying hopes for an O'Driscoll future heist before giving the orders. "Alright men, quick! Find those detonators, explosives, anything you can. Let’s go." He ordered, causing everyone to split up to search what they needed : Micah was looting the cabins, Bill, the wagon Dutch pointed him to, Arthur, the building he was told to look at as Javier & Lenny were searching the bodies.

"Seems so good thing here." Lenny was with Javier as they were looking at the guys Arthur first killed with his rifle, holding an little silver watch in his hands.

"Don't be too greedy, Lenny." Javier scoffed as an good joke for him, seeing Lenny trying to put the watch on his wrist before something got his attention....an sound. "Wait, it's you that is breathing like that ?" He asked, hearing that loud & weird breathing near him, thinking at first that it was Lenny doing that.

"What ? No !" Lenny replied, half-joking. "I'm not Bill." He added, this time joking before realizing that Javier wasn't laughing, trying to figure out where that sound was coming.

"Must be near by." Javier looked around him until his eyes went on the woman he also witnessed to be shot but without binoculars, approaching her with curiosity but then, he fall back, scared after he put his ears near her. "My.....Dutch !" He shouted, asking for him.

"What's happening, Mr Escuella ?" Dutch demanded in an worried & serious tone, arriving at the scene, almost running.

"The woman....she's breathing !" Javier replied, his hand pointing towards the body of the woman for Dutch.

"You're kidding ?" Dutch thought that he was messing with him before he decided to verify his claims to be sure....and then, he realized that he was telling the truth : that woman with 3 gunshots wounds, one near her right kidney, one near her left lunge & the last one on her right shoulder....shots that were surely fatal...was still breathing despite the small pool of blood on the snow. "My god, the poor girl." He gasped, seeing that woman still alive.

"Hey, Dutch, found those plans you needed." The moment were interrupted by Micah Bell himself, holding in his hands some plans before he was trying to figure out what the fuck was happening by seeing Dutch, Lenny & Javier near an woman. "What are you looking at ?" He demanded, an bit annoyed as Dutch was taking the woman's body in his arms.

"That poor girl survived." Dutch responded, turning around to face Micah, holding her.

"Good and now, we can kill her, she's an O'Driscoll." Micah stated in an weirdly happy tone, wanting to draw his pistol but Arthur, who was coming out of the building he was now with Bill stepped in front of him.

"Ain't going to let you do that, Micah." Arthur defended, standing right between Micah & Dutch and it was looking like Micah was alone in this situation, despite the fact that this woman is an O'Driscoll...was.... "What are you planning, Dutch ?" Arthur asked to him.

"We're going to bring her with us, I will....take care of her with Hosea." Dutch responded, walking towards his horse that Lenny & Javier has all brought down with them during their descent on that camp during the attack. He then put her on his own horse before mounting on it. "Alright, let’s get outta here. I'm proud of you boys! All of you. Not a man down." He proclaimed as everyone was going back on their horses before leaving the camp.

They were able to get what they needed in here : dynamite for an future job and plans for an train attack, belonging to an certain Leviticus Cornwall and it was all good for Dutch but he was now also curious about the woman that they managed to find on that camp, he was trying to know how she was able to survive this long with 3 bullets in her in the middle of the snow. Everyone was very curious about it because they saw it happen too : Colm shot her in plain sight and she survived....this woman is kinda strange to say.

When the group come back to Colter without Arthur as he was charged to capture an lucky O'Driscoll guy that managed to flee the original attack, everyone in the camp was worried about seeing Dutch arriving with an wounded woman on his horse but instead of putting her with the others, he decided to....bring her inside the cabin that, Hosea & Arthur were using, stating that she needed peace to recover and that too much people around her can kill her.

Hosea, who was quite curious about this choice, resigned himself to agree to let Dutch install this woman in their cabin, taking the lead to heal her with the only tools he got to remove the bullets that was in her and luckly, he was able to save her life but she wasn't recovering, still unconscious and now on Dutch's bed. For him, he was seeing...something in her and that thought was taking over him during the rest of the day, still thinking of it when the night came, sitting peacefully in front of the chimney with Hosea.

"What are we going to do with her, Dutch ?" Hosea questioned him, breaking Dutch out of his thoughts as he was worried about that woman too but curious about what Dutch was thinking. "We can't let her like that here." He added before the front door of the cabin was opened, revealing Arthur.

"Dutch, Hosea." Arthur saluted them, entering the cabin as the two saluted him.

"Arthur, how are everyone ?" Dutch asked him, Arthur walking to one of the free chair in the room.

"Fine but they want to have news about the woman, they're worried." Arthur replied, sitting down on his chair and crossing his arms. "Like you said, I couldn't tell them that she was an O'Driscoll because of Mrs Adler's situation." He continued, remembering Dutch's advice before the group spot that O'Driscoll on the way back to Colter....guy that he was able to capture and now, kept by the others boys.

"You did good, Arthur, you did good." Dutch reassured them, his look on the fire of the chimney, thinking.

"So, Dutch, what are we doing with her ?" Hosea repeated his question to him, seeing him like that....that was strange.

"Like you said, we can't let her like that." Dutch responded, joining his hands together, peaking his eyes for an mini-second to look at the room where that woman was. "Colm would kill her if he saw her again and the Pinkertons....they could kill her too." He added, taking an breath. "No, we're taking her wih us but...." He stopped himself, trying to think about an problem. "I think that she isn't going to be pleasant with us."

"Really ? You saw what happened, right ?" Arthur scoffed, thinking that Dutch was joking, why would someone stay loyal to the person who shot you down. "You told us yourself : Colm doesn't give an damn about his men and also women."

"Maybe but there's exceptions." Dutch corrected him, raising his little finger towards Arthur. "She can still be loyal to him despite that and she can be useful to us." He stated, looking at Arthur. "Looking how though she is, interrogating her is an loss of time."

"And what are you exactly thinking her, Dutch ?" Hosea asked, now worried about what could possibly got out of Dutch's mouths after his statement.

"A while ago, I read an book about an secret experiment....something that we can try on her....mental manipulation." Dutch answered with an grin on his face, causing Hosea & Arthur eyes to go wide like that.

"What ?" Both literally protested in unison, shocked to hear that from Dutch.

"Dutch, that's crazy and almost inhuman." Arthur objected, even going up off his seat to face Dutch. "We can just let her wake up and tell her everything."

"No....we can't, Arthur." Dutch said in an clear voice, staying on his seat, thinking about that book he read....he wanted to try that and he knew that was going to be discussed in an bad way. "We don't know who she is and what she can do one she got up." He continued, defending his opinion on the subject as Hosea was quite disturbed. "You don't need to worry : I have an plan with her, keep some faith in you !" He exclaimed.

"Hosea, it's...what do you think ?" Arthur demanded, looking at Hosea that was still disturbed, looking down at his feets.

"I can't believe that I'm going to let this happen." Hosea muttered, resigning to debate with Dutch himself who has won the argument and now, if Hosea was resigning....Arthur was soon following because of Dutch's persistance to do so.

"All we need to do is to make everyone believe that the thing we're doing is for her good, that we're trying to save her." Dutch told the both of them before he decide to got up from his chair. "Keep some faith, I have an plan !" He insisted on that to the two before he decided to get out, going to get that book that was in his wagon.

That plan....it was surely crazy & inhuman but there were actually nothing that could have stop Dutch to execute it, he was going to do it, end of the story. That was fucked up but Dutch was ready to do anything because he has plans for that woman, she could help them with things and he wasn't going to let her in the hands of the Pinkerton or the O'Driscolls again. This was an big chance that was given to him.

He....he started his experiment on her the very night he proposed his plan to Arthur & Hosea who had to get along with it, everyone was going to get along with it, only Arthur, Hosea & Dutch knowing the real motives of that experiment. The others will probably thinking that this is only to help her to be better, purposely forgetting to mention an lot of details about the whole thing. It was Dutch in command here, he's only doing this to keep the morale up.

It was mostly Dutch that were making the experiment going to be true with Arthur & Hosea, often helping him along the way and he was doing that for almost 2 days straight, letting the storm going down and the others to survive while he was doing his job here. After these 2 longs days, he finally managed to succeed in his task, she was now 'changed' and now, the trio were now awaiting for her to wake up.

"So, how is she ?" Arthur asked after he came back inside the cabin after an hunting session with Charles in the forest, seeing Hosea & Dutch near the woman, still on Dutch's bed.

"Her condition is stable." Dutch replied, closing the book he has been using for two days now in his hands. "Now, we will be awaiting for us that she awake, how are the others feeling about it ?"

"You know it, Dutch." Hosea said, his hands behind his back, sounding an bit sad that he had to let his friend doing all of this. "They unfortunately thinking that what you're doing is good for her." He responded, looking at his friend. "This is going to be bad when she will find out." He added as an personal opinion.

"I'm thinking the same, Dutch." Arthur joined Hosea's thought about the situation but Dutch shook his head.

"Don't worry about this, I can make sure that she's not going to drift away." Dutch told them, reassuring them with an tap on each of their shoulders. "I have implanted something that will keep her in control." He continued before he looked back at the woman on the bed, seeing the bandages covering her chest.

"And now....I was thinking....what's her name ?" Arthur demanded in an curious voice. "We didn't find anything about her at all." He stated before Hosea look at him, raising his shoulders

"I'm guessing that Dutch is the one giving it to her." Hosea sighed, seeing Dutch thinking of an name about her with his hands below his chin before he approached the woman at the same level as her, having found the name for her....an name that is linked to something he saw in his book.....

"Bell !"

#cod bocw #cod bell #cod black ops cold war #red dead redemption 2 #RDR2 #fem!bell #dutch van der linde #arthur morgan #Sadie Adler #John Marston #RDR2xCODColdWar fic #Because....#Why not ?

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another-fxcking-rdr-blog · 4 years ago

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Can we do an angsty death thing like earlier? But with Charles, Arthur and John? The one with the reader saves their life but at the cost of their own pretty please 🙏

Trigger warnings: Death and blood

Charles:

Gif credit: @lysitheavon

"Charles!"

The panic in your voice is evident, as you see one of Colms boys raise his shotgun to Charles' back.

You jump on the guy without hesitation, wrestling him for the gun.

Charles turns just in time to see you stab the man in the neck and in retaliation the man pulling the trigger, the weapon unfortunately pointed at your abdomen.

You both fell on the ground, the O'Driscoll choking on his blood and you curling to your side, your arm holding your stomach where the shotgun blast was fired.

Charles is by your side, all concern for his surroundings gone as he cradles you in his arms.

"You fool!"

He's not angry. He's scared.

He presses a hand on your stomach but it does little to stop the blood.

You laugh weakly.

"You should be more careful~" you smile at him.

His eyes dart around for anything that might help but you hold his arm, steadying him.

You reach up your hand, caressing his cheek.

It seemed for a second like you were going to say something but the words die in your throat and the light fades in your eyes as Charles holds you.

---

• Charles is easier to anger after that.

• He snaps at the other camp members quicker if they push him, Micah especially

• He blames Dutch, partly.

• If Dutch hadn't done a sloppy job of planning, you might still be alive.

• When the O'Driscolls attack Shady Belle, Charles fights with a fury that the rest of the gang hasn't seen.

• The O'Driscolls killed Sadies husband and took you from him and now poor Kieran is gone as well.

• When Dutch comes up with the plan to rob the Saint Denis bank, he wants to argue.

• When he distracts the guards at the docks he thinks of you and your bravery.

• When Arthur and the others return from Guarma, Charles is back to being himself.

• He still mourns you everyday, but he knows you'd want him to heal and though he feels responisble for your death, he slowly learns to remember the happy moments between the two of you.

Arthur:

Gif credit: @fyeaharthurmorgan

"Shh-" you raised your hand to quiet Arthur who was in the middle of a story about his younger days in the gang.

He stops immediately and his hand drops to his holster.

You look around your little campsite, the shadows blending together in the darkness of the night, the only sound you hear is the crackling of the campfire. You cant even hear any animals around.

Something is wrong.

You can barely finish that thought when five men, bounty hunters, rush at you and Arthur from the surrounding bushes. You hear shots behind you, but you have no time to look.

Your hand finds your revolver and you point it at the nearest bounty hunter, firing your gun.

The bullet catches him in the jaw and you shoot him again. You move on to your next target who rushes at you and you both fall on the ground with a thud that takes the wind from you.

You manage to catch him in the gut with your knife and you roll him off of you, getting to your feet.

Your eyes fly to Arthur who has his back turned to one of the hunters as he fights with another.

Before you know it your feet are moving and you manage to push Arthur away just before the man fires his rifle.

Arthur turns and shoots the man through his eye and he falls to the ground.

He turns to you, ready to scold you for your reckless move, but the words don't come out when he sees you on the ground, a puddle of blood forming under you.

• He takes your body back to camp in silence.

• He insists on burying you himself and carves an eagle on the wood they use for your headstone.

• He takes flowers to your grave everyday from that day forward

• His notebook is filled with drawings of you and apologies of not being fast enough and not being good enough to save you

• He never loses his guard again, blaming himself for your death

• He can barely sleep. Images of you on the ground and the fear that if shuts his eyes for a second too long, someone else in camp might suffer the same fate

• In his final moments he thinks of your smile

John:

Gif credit: @prairiemule

Hosea was shot.

You could barely process that Hosea was really gone when you heard voices.

Someone was talking.

You couldn't be sure.

Your ears were ringing and everything was going too fast and too slow at the same time.

Someone grabbed your arm and you locked eyes with John.

He was yelling.

"-ve to get out of here! Are you listening?"

You blinked.

We have to get out of here.

You nodded and he started pulling you towards the big hole in the banks wall. When did that get there?

Something doesn't feel right and you turn just in time to see one of the bastards that were shooting at you.

He grabbed onto Johns shoulder and pulled him back.

You punch him in the face before he can put John onto the ground and feel his nose breaking under your fist.

You push him to the ground and turn to John, telling him to run. It was your fault you two had fallen behind.

You feel a burning hot pain in your side and your ears are ringing again.

Your side is wet with blood but before you can blink the end of a rifle hits you in your temple and your vision goes blurry.

Vaguely you feel yourself getting pushed to the ground and your hand being handcuffed behind your back.

You see John fighting off your attackers before he too gets knocked on the ground.

The rest is a blur of feeling sick and your heartbeat deafening you.

John is talking to you, telling you you'll be alright, that Dutch is gonna be back for you too.

You lean into Johns shoulder in the back of the carriage taking you to Sisika Penitentiary.

You never make it over there.

• John puts all his grief and anger into working the fields at Sisika.

• When Arthur and Sadie finally arrive to rescue him, he keeps quiet most of the journey.

• He's furious at Dutch for not coming sooner, though he knows you were beyond saving.

• His heart aches when he tells little Jack that you won't be coming back.

• When he hears Micah talking about you he attacks him without hesitation.

• It takes Charles and Arthur a while to pull him off of him

• "Keep their name out of your god damn mouth!"

• His grief wrecks him but he stays strong for Jack and Abigail, and he knows that you would hate to see him like this.

Hey! I hope this was atleast halfway decent and close to what you wanted :D Thank you SO much for requesting this and thank you to the amazing blogs for letting me borrow your gifs!

I hope to grow as a writer and artist and keep posting stuff like this on this blog :)

#rdr2 #rdr2 writing #rdr2 john #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 charles #tw death #tw blood #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 x reader

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the-awkward-outlaw · 4 years ago

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Hello! I'm nervous bc i never ask smth like this, but I love your fics, it kept me sane the last weeks! I love whumpy/angsty arthur fics (sorry) and I have so many ideas, but no courage to write. Here is something i literally dreamed: "Arthur getting shot in a shootout and falls in the water, Dutch doesn't know what to do, but (fem)reader dives in right away to save him. She takes care of him, because shot +getting sick from the water" Hopefully it's something. greetings from germany :)

Holy crap, this is my 100th request!!!! I truly don’t know how to feel about this!!!! I’ve thought about maybe doing something to celebrate, but can’t come up with anything. Any thoughts from y’all? I’m hoping I can open my inbox soon.

Anyways, hello Anon! Writing these fics has kept me sane as well these past few months. I don’t like thinkin’ what I woulda done without it, so I guess they’ve been helpful to both of us. I bet you have more courage to write than you think you do! Hello from Utah!

Masterlist

Read on AO3

“It’ll be fine, darlin’,” Arthur says, grabbing the boat and pushing it closer to the water.

“I don’t know, Arthur,” you reply, watching him. “I’ve got a bad feeling.”

“Your girl worries too much, Mr. Morgan,” Dutch chuckles. He bends down to help Arthur and they manage to get the boat into the water. “Y/N, we’re just going off to fish. I know a great place.”

“I’m sure it is a great place but…” you say. Arthur walks up to you and puts his hands on your shoulders.

“Sweetheart, I promise nothin’ will happen. What danger can we get from just fishin’? ‘Sides, thought you loved doin’ this.” He gives you a smirk.

“I do… and I want to. But, like I said, I’m just nervous. Feels like somethin’ bad’s gonna happen.”

“Well then stay in camp,” Dutch growls, checking the oars. “Arthur and I will go, have ourselves a good time.”

You let out a small groan, knowing your hands are tied. It was your idea to go on a fishing trip, but you thought Arthur might agree to just staying on shore, maybe even near Clemens Point. Dutch overheard and said he knew a great place where the fish would likely be plentiful and fat. Arthur heartily agreed, saying he needed to get out of camp for a while. You need to as well, but you just can’t shake this strange sense of foreboding.

“Okay, fine,” you finally say and you clamber into the boat after Dutch, taking the front seat at the front. Arthur gives it one final shove and then hops in, taking the oars as he sits down. He begins rowing and Dutch points him on where to go.

“It’s a long ways off, but I bet the amount we catch will be worth it.”

“Where exactly is this spot?” you ask.

“Just near Bard’s Crossing,” Dutch replies, pointing to the massive bridge connecting New Hanover to West Elizabeth, stretching high above the Cumberland River.

“Seriously, Dutch?” Arthur growls, still rowing. “We couldn’ta ridden there and grabbed a boat? That’s a long ways off!”

“Oh now Arthur, you’re not telling me you’re adverse to a little hard labor, are ya?”

You hate when Dutch does this because he knows Arthur will respond in just the way he wants. It’s always bothered you since you saw from the beginning it was a manipulation tactic for Dutch. However, you say nothing, but maybe you’ll talk about it with Arthur later tonight.

Arthur grumbles a bit and keeps on rowing. As time passes, Dutch suggests a song, which you and Arthur heartily agree to. Afternoon sets in and the boat finally arrives at the mouth of the Cumberland River where it flows into Flat Iron Lake, heavy and fast.

“This is the spot, drop anchor,” Dutch says, rubbing his hands together. You pick up the heavy weight and toss it into the water, watching it sink and dragging the rope behind it. “This place should be great.”

You silently agree with Dutch, looking out at where the river meets the lake. With the river flowing so fast, it’s surely bringing a lot of food down for fish and they will be congregating down here to meet it. There’s also bound to be plenty of deep channels here for them to hide. The fish that are here will be hungry and looking to feed.

The three of you stand up and bring out your poles, assembling them and attaching lures. Dutch swings out first, then Arthur, and then you. Slowly, you begin reeling in your line, waiting for something to grab at it.

You smile as you think on how it was Arthur who taught you how to fish all those years ago. He taught you many things. That was how the two of you fell in love. You’ve never loved anyone as much as him, and you’d been hoping he might ask you to spend the rest of your lives together. But then Blackwater happened and everything fell apart. Surely he will ask when things calm down?

Dutch interrupts your thoughts. “You know, my mother’s buried in Blackwater,” he says, looking over to the shore where the town sits. He tells about how she and him didn’t always get along but they still loved each other in their own ways. As he talks, the boat drifts, revolving around the spot the anchor lies. Its rear where Arthur stands points towards the nearest shore.

You’re still feeling nervous, but you’re beginning to doubt yourself. Maybe you’ve just been expecting something bad to happen for a while now. After all, plenty already has. First the Blackwater heist, then being threatened by the Pinkertons. Cornwall arriving in Valentine and driving the gang out. You’re not the only one wondering what will fall on the camp next.

“Y/N, I ever tell ya about my dog Copper?” Arthur asks, leaning his head forward to smile at you. You shake your head.

“You never had control of him,” Dutch says, almost darkly.

“Ah he was a good dog, though. Never lost the puppy in him. But one day we all came back from this fishin’ trip. I turned my back for one second and Copper hopped up, ate all the fish in one go. I never seen Hosea so mad in my life.”

You laugh heartily, easily able to imagine it. “Would you ever consider getting another dog?”

“Maybe. Not now though. Things are too hectic,” he says.

“Well, we got Cain,” Dutch says. “Though I suppose he’s more Jack’s dog than anyone else’s. I haven’t seen a boy love a dog so much since, well, since you were a boy, Arthur. Y/N, Arthur ever tell ya about his adventures as a boy? Oh I got some good ones to tell!”

“Don’t do this, Dutch,” Arthur pleads, casting out again.

“You gotta tell me now, Dutch!”

He chuckles. “Well there was one day he came back from town with these big beautiful bass. He was maybe twenty, and we congratulated him all night. Made toasts to him. Well, next day we go into town and-”

Dutch is suddenly cut off by a spot in the lake directly in front of him exploding, water shooting up into the air, a sound like thunder ripping through the air. All three of you know the sound too well: someone is shooting at you.

“What the…” Arthur says, dropping his pole and whipping his gun out.

“O’Driscolls!” Dutch hollers, shooting at the shoreline. Down the upgrade in the land leading to the bridge, men are running down. Some are on horseback, but there’s no denying it. They’re from Dutch’s rival gang run by Colm O’Driscoll.

You drop your pole with a clatter and yank out your pistol, returning fire to the men. You try to ignore how seriously outnumbered and outgunned you are, trying to reassure yourself with the thought that Dutch and Arthur are some of the best gunmen you’ve ever known. Your aim isn’t bad either as you take down three O’Driscolls on the shore.

One of the men shrieks something and walks into the lake, going all the way up to his knees. “You’re dead!” he screams and fires. You and he shoots at the same time, but as he falls, you hear Arthur give a pained grunt. He drops his pistol, clutches his ribs and hunkers down. The redistribution of his weight is too much and the boat tips, making him topple out.

“Arthur” you scream. “Dutch, Arthur!”

“Just shoot, Y/N! We’ll worry about Arthur as soon as these bastards are dealt with.”

Typical Dutch. Ignoring Arthur when he needs his help the most. You look at the black water of the lake where Arthur fell in, expecting his head to be bobbing out of the water. But it isn’t. There’s only a small cluster of bubbles.

“Goddamn it, Dutch!” you hiss and you put your pistol back. Dutch says your name but you ignore him, diving into the water.

It’s freezing in the lake. Not surprising since the water where you are is from the river, which is mostly runoff from the frozen mountains. It doesn’t help that the sun was just setting beyond the horizon when the O’Driscolls attacked. You try to scan the deep water, but your vision is heavily blurred. Then you see a flicker of blue in the area where he went down. It must be Arthur.

Quickly you weave your arms and kick your legs, swimming over to him. You’re not the strongest swimmer nor do you have the greatest capacity to hold your breath, but none of that matters. All you care about is getting Arthur.

As you get closer to the blue flicker, the rest of his body forms. Swirling with the column of bubbles is a trail of blood. Finally you’re close enough to wrap your arms around his bulky chest and you start trying to swim back to the surface. It’s harder than you expected now that you’ve lost use of your arms. Your legs kick as hard as they can, but your lungs are beginning to burn. You wish you could beg Arthur to help you save him.

As though he can hear your thoughts, his arms suddenly begin flapping through the water, slow but strong. He kicks with his own legs and since they’re much longer and more powerful, you move much quicker.

It seemed like it took minutes to get from the surface to him, but now you make the return trip in seconds. Both your heads break through the water and you gasp for breath, coughing a bit. Gunshots still echo overhead but the boat isn’t too far away. With all your strength, you begin kicking, heaving Arthur over to it.

“Dutch,” you gasp. “Dutch, help me get him into the boat.”

“Can’t you see we’re still being fired on, Y/N?” he roars as he shoots again. He’s got both pistols out now.

“Goddamn it, Dutch! Arthur, hang onto the boat.”

He doesn’t say anything, but his hands latch onto the boat. You keep one arm on him, anchoring yourself to his body, and then reach into your holster, pulling out your gun. You fire and nothing happens. Shit. The gun powder’s too wet. You holster it and look back at Dutch as a shot splashes not too far from you.

“Dutch, give me one of your guns!” you shout, but he either can’t hear you or he’s ignoring you. “DUTCH!” He finally looks at you and you repeat your request.

“I can handle them just fine, Y/N.”

“Obviously you can’t, otherwise they’d all be dead. Just give me your damn gun!”

Grumbling, Dutch tosses you one of his pistols and you turn your arm, returning fire on the remaining O’Driscolls. There’s only three of them left, all standing on the shores. One of them has a rifle, but the other two have pistols. You shoot at them, taking one down, but then you run out of ammo.

“Dutch!” you holler, feeling truly desperate. There’s a decently sized pool of blood around Arthur now that’s beginning to worry you. Dutch growls incoherently and shoots in quick successions, finally taking down the last two O’Driscolls. He holsters his gun and turns towards you, bending down to grab Arthur by the arms.

“Come on, big boy,” he grunts, heaving as you push him from the water. You’re not much use though as you’ve nothing to anchor yourself on, your legs still kicking through open water. Arthur’s not so badly wounded he can’t help himself though, he helps to hoist himself up with the arm on his uninjured left side.

Finally, you somehow get him into the boat. He falls onto his back, coughing and spluttering. Dutch bends down and grabs your arm, lifting you up, which is much easier. Ignoring the exhaustion from the fight and your swim, you bend down and inspect Arthur, fumbling with his soaked shirt to get it unbuttoned. You manage it at last and expose his wound. It’s not good, but you don’t think it’ll be fatal as long as it’s treated quickly.

“Quick, Dutch, take us back.”

You half expect him to argue, to say something that will uphold his pride, but luckily he sits in Arthur’s previous spot and begins rowing, leaving the shore littered with bodies behind. Just before he sets off, you reach down into the lake and grab Arthur’s hat.

As Dutch rows, you try stemming the flow of blood from Arthur’s wound, but there’s not much point as that bullet needs to be taken out. You look up, towards your destination, which looks miles away. Hope begins to fade away, quickly being replaced by fear.

Arthur’s hand suddenly wraps around yours. “Stay with me, darlin’,” he pants.

You look down and squeeze his hand. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere. Just focus on me.” You run your free hand through his damp hair and he smiles a bit, looking into your eyes.

After what seems to have taken a lifetime, Dutch pulls the boat ashore at Clemens Point. He immediately calls for aid and several of the others come running over. You grab Arthur’s arms and heave him up, but your exhaustion has properly set in and Arthur weighs more than you do. You can only manage a few steps, which are made extremely awkward by the curve of the boat’s bottom before the others reach you. Charles and John grab him, taking on the burden, and they help heave him from the boat.

“What the hell happened?” Hosea demands, walking over and being closely followed by Grimshaw, who barks at Charles and John to get Arthur to bed.

“Dutch is an idiot, that’s what happened,” you snap, bending over to try and catch your breath.

“You’re out of line, Y/N,” Dutch says sharply. “I had no idea those bastards would catch us there.”

“I told you I had a bad feeling about it! But did you listen to me? No. You never listen to me!” Rage courses through you. You can’t shake the image of Dutch just standing there on the boat, watching as Arthur fell in, and then him not responding. “You’re always sayin’ how Arthur’s like your son, Dutch, but when you’re required to act like a father to your metaphorical son, you are the worst-”

“ENOUGH!” he shouts, glaring at you. You’ve crossed a line. “That is enough, Y/N. Those bastards would have killed us all, and I knew Arthur would be fine. Because you were there. I knew you would save him.”

“Typical,” you hiss, your teeth shivering from both the rage and the cold caused by your soaked clothing. “You let everyone else do your dirty work all because you didn’t want to get your hat wet.”

Without waiting for him to respond, you stomp off towards yours and Arthur’s tent. You know you were out of line with Dutch, but you’re so angry and scared you don’t care. In the tent, Arthur’s surrounded by the other girls who are busy working away. He’s grunting and writhing in pain, his legs being pinned down by John and Karen while Tilly holds a thick stick in his mouth. Grimshaw and Mary-Beth are busy trying to get the bullet out of his torso.

“Let me,” you say to Tilly, taking her place at his head. She nods and stands up, letting you kneel down at the head of the bed. Your fingers brush through his hair and you try not to look at what Grimshaw and Mary-Beth are doing. You’ve seen an innumerable amount of gruesome things happen to people, but you can’t stand watching it happen to the man you love.

Arthur seems to calm down a bit when he feels your fingers in his hair, but he’s still in a lot of pain. You grip his shoulder and one of his hands comes up and grabs yours, crushing it. You let him though.

“There,” Grimshaw finally says, holding up the long pair of thin tongs, a bloodied bullet clamped in them. “It’s over, Mr. Morgan.”

He lets out a long breath, his face, neck and chest coated in sweat. Grimshaw turns away and Mary-Beth and Tilly immediately begin stitching and bandaging him up tightly. After a few minutes, they state there’s nothing more that can be done.

“Those bandages will need to be changed after a few hours,” Strauss declares, inspecting the girls’ work. “The bleeding should stop soon though.”

You pat Arthur’s shoulder, your other hand still clamped in his firm grip. You bend down and kiss his forehead, noting his closed eyes. Poor man is beyond exhausted. “Get some rest,” you whisper.

“Stay with me,” he mutters.

You promise him you won’t leave his side, but you get up and close the tent flaps, wanting some privacy. Then, gently as you can, you remove his soaked clothes. He shivers lightly when he’s fully naked, but you drape him in the blanket. When you’re changed from your own wet clothes and into a light, dry nightdress, you climb under the blanket and huddle close to him, trying to keep him warm. Despite his obvious discomfort, he holds you close. After a short period, you hear him grunt in his sleep. Feeling that the worst is behind, you close your eyes and drift off as well.

*****************************************

A few days pass. Arthur gets a bit feverish, but you manage to keep it down to a fair minimum. Reverend comforts him a bit when he voices his fears that he might not survive by telling him you won’t let him die, not even if he wanted to.

Dutch has been very respectful of the space around your tent. It’s almost as though he’s afraid you might start screaming at him again, which you’ve half a mind to. He even lets you butt in front of him at the line for dinners to get Arthur food, which he’s never done for anyone.

Hosea cam and spoke to both you and Arthur the day after the ambush. He said you were right to get after Dutch, that he’s often let Arthur take the worst hits, but he also warns you not to go ribbing Dutch about this.

“I’ve talked with him, he feels terrible. He knows he should’ve been the one to save Arthur, not you. He’s very sorry.”

“Well, I hope he doesn’t expect me to forgive him until he tells Arthur to his face how bad he feels about the whole thing,” you say proudly. Arthur chuckles from the bed. Hosea does too, but then he leaves.

After only a week, Arthur’s greatly improved, much quicker than anyone could have predicted. Hosea teases that it’s your stunning work that has done the trick and that under your care, Arthur will live beyond a hundred. You doubt this, though you appreciate it all the same. Arthur’s always been a fast healer, and you take into account the fact that the bullet didn’t hit any of his bones nor puncture any vital organs.

Arthur’s already been moving around camp, though he still moves quite gingerly. He tries to do regular work, but you quickly stop him from doing the straining stuff like chopping wood. “You’ll rip out your stitches,” you scold him lightly and make him sit down to help you with knitting. He complains but doesn’t refuse the work.

Night falls, and you’re both sitting on the log near the campfire. Your head’s lying on his shoulder, your hand clasped in his. It’s late. Much later than you usually stay up, but you’re not ready to go to bed yet.

John, who’s been sitting on the other side of the fire for a while, stands up and stretches, yawning. “Think I’m gonna turn in,” he says before leaving. Now you’re alone with Arthur.

After a few moments, your hand leaves Arthur and you wind it up his body, hovering lightly over his wound.

“What you doin’?” he asks softly.

“Just makin’ sure. Don’t want you bleeding.”

“I ain’t bled there in days, darlin’.” He kisses your head and then winds an arm behind you, allowing you to cuddle into him better. A few more minutes pass and it feels like he’s got something heavy on his mind.

“Y’know, I have to apologize to ya, darlin’.”

“What for, Arthur?”

“I ain’t… I ain’t appreciated you properly. Ain’t done for you what ya deserve. These past few days have shown me that.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask, looking up at him. Arthur’s the best companion you’ve ever had. He’s always been protective yet gentle, thoughtful and passionate. You’ve never wanted to devote your life to a person so much ever before.

“I mean… you deserve so much more than I given you. I shoulda done this months ago, but… well, I always blamed Blackwater on it, but truth is, I was scared. Then I told myself I wanted to wait until I could do it properly, make it special.”

“Arthur, what are you going on about?”

He hesitates for a second. “Darlin’, I wanna marry ya.”

Your heart stops for a second and his words echo through your mind. “M-marry me?”

“Yes. Listen, I… if you decide it’s dumb or that you don’t wanna, I understand.”

You wipe your eyes and sniff. “Shut up, Arthur. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to ask?”

He smiles a bit, his eyes shining with tears. “Too long, I’m guessing.”

“Your damn right,” you say and you stretch up, kissing him hard. His arms wind tightly around you, holding you firmly against him. As you sit in his arms, pressing your lips to his and truly appreciating the form of his body against your own, your mind wanders to how wonderful it will be to spend the rest of your life with him. You’ve never wanted anything more.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfic #red dead fanfic #awkward asks

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flamehairedwritings · 4 years ago

Text

The Fire In Your Eyes: Chapter Eighteen

Characters: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Rating: The whole series will be E, 18+ ONLY for violence, gore, character deaths, animal deaths, parent deaths, swearing, grief, sexual themes and unprotected sex.

Summary: Saved by Arthur Morgan when her town is attacked, a young woman’s past comes back to haunt her when she has no choice but to join the Van der Linde Gang.

Some scenes and dialogue have been taken from the game!

Read on AO3

The Fire In Your Eyes Masterlist

Please don’t copy, steal or re-post my work; credit does not count.

The Unlived Life

It was a scorching day, her sixteenth of being an unwilling part of their camp.

It had been dry for the past few days, but today the sun had decided to make things even more unbearable. As if she didn’t have enough to deal with.

Primarily, today being the day that all the O’Driscoll groups would reunite.

She’d gathered from Peter and overhearing other conversations that Colm’s boys would break off into smaller groups, killing and looting as they went, and then regroup sometime later to see how business was going. It seemed chaotic to her, quite frankly, but Colm wasn’t a man who cared much for order. As long as he was still their leader, they made money, and they feared him then he didn’t care.

It was nearing noon, now, the sun at it’s highest, so they were taking a break amongst the cover of trees, but even the shade didn’t make it any easier. She felt uncomfortable, irritated, like she could barely breathe it was so stifling.

She hadn’t spoken to anyone since she’d awoken. Peter was napping, the heat too much to bear for the Irish boy, and Zach was as silent as ever. That was good, she knew she’d just snap at Peter if he began one of his long conversations and she didn’t want to do that, he was growing on her.

She could feel the shirt sticking to her skin, beads of sweat sliding down her back and neck. The feel of every one sent a new wave of irritation through her.

And she found herself staring at Colm, watching him sat amongst his men, chuckling at a story one of them was telling, sipping from his flask. She knew she was in a dangerous mood, a prickling sensation running up and down her spine, her mind telling her that lashing out would soothe some of her irritation.

She was going to kill him today. After she’d confirmed Thomas was dead. She didn’t know how exactly yet but she was going to.

She’d barely slept, which wasn’t helping matters. Her unfinished plan had gone round and round in her mind, trying to think of how she could grab a gun from a nearby man, or lunge at Colm and grab the knife on his belt, stab him before he could even react. Would they kill her? Most likely. It was a price she was convincing herself she was willing to pay, though. People would be safe with Colm dead, Arthur would be safe. If he already believed she was dead, or had even let the thought cross his mind, then, she was also trying to convince herself, it wouldn’t be too great a blow.

No matter what, today she was going to get the closure she’d been wanting for over ten years, and not just for Thomas’s death.

Colm chuckled again, raising his flask to his lips, and the casual normality of it just suddenly tipped her over the edge.

“Why didn’t you come to us?”

The man speaking broke off at the interruption and the group fell silent, their heads turning to where she sat with her back against a tree, smiles and laughter pausing. Their eyes then slid to their leader. Colm swallowed his mouthful, squinting slightly as he regarded her, propping an elbow on his knee.

“What are you talkin’ about?”

“Me and my mother.” She held his gaze. “You must’ve known where we were. You knew Nicholas was my mother’s brother. You could have blackmailed him, got money, come for us.” She didn’t stop the faintly disgusted look that crossed her features. “Reunited us, as you seem so desperate to do now.”

“Hm.” He tilted his head. “You really think the worst of me, don’t you. I don’t blame you. When a man gets older, he realises he needs his family, though. Back then...” A smile pulled at his lips. “Nah, I wanted to leave ya be. I knew you’d be fine, you and your Ma. Least I could do.”

She hated him. She hated him, she hated him, she hated him. Hated that fond look on his face, how he sounded so gracious, like he’d done them the ultimate of favours. She wanted to hurt him.

“The least you could have done was loan my father the money he needed to keep us going.”

Colm scratched his cheek, his brow dipping slightly, like he was trying to figure out what was happening. “He didn’t want to be indebted to me.”

“He asked you so he must not have cared too much.”

“Yeah, but it killed him to do it.” He was smiling but there was a hardness to his eyes. “He wanted so much to make it all work out, the ‘good life’, and he didn’t.”

“He did. It was just one bad winter.”

“One bad winter gets families killed.”

“That’s why they turn to others and ask for help.” Her words were as sharp as knives but they did nothing to cut through the growing tension in the air.

Colm looked at her, his jaw moving slightly. Then, he laughed. “We just both like to argue, don’t we?”

It was a chance for her to stop, but Ada wasn’t going to back down, even though she could feel Zach’s eyes boring into her and her own voice was screaming at her in her head to stop.

“You like to argue. You like to deflect and laugh and think you’re smarter than everyone else but you’re not. You’re a cheap thief and a poor leader who cares for nobody and nothing and when you die nobody will care or remember you and not one tear will be shed in sorrow.”

Silence. A couple of the men shifted uncomfortably, some eyes on the ground.

Colm’s were fixed on her, expressionless now.

“Is that so.” The icy tone should have been enough to stop her.

“Yes,” came her instant reply.

His leg was bouncing up and down now. “If any of my men had said that I’d have killed ‘em.”

“Because you know it’s true.”

Him standing and taking measured steps closer should have been enough to stop her. “Because it’s insolence.”

She didn’t realise she’d met his unspoken challenge by also standing herself until she was on her feet.

“’Insolence’,” she scoffed, her eyes shifting to the men who were now all staring at her incredulously. “You’re all replaceable to him. If, no, when you die for him, he’ll just recruit another in your place. You mean nothing to him. Why pledge your life to and fight for a man like that? He didn’t even help his own brother, didn’t even come to his funeral, didn’t even care about him—”

She broke off with a choke as Colm grabbed her by the throat, his face inches from hers. In her peripheral vision she saw Zach had stood but he did nothing. Her hand gripped at Colm’s arm as he pressed her back against the tree, his fingers tightening, staring at her.

“You got the big family fuckin’ mouth, girl,” he murmured lowly. “We just don’t know when to shut up, do we?”

Both hands on his arm now, she sank her nails into his skin, his shirt sleeves rolled up but he didn’t even wince. Gasping in small breaths, her lip curled as she managed to breathe out, “Why are you... keeping me here?”

“You want to see your brother, don’t you?”

She could just about breathe, and her heart was pounding as her natural instincts to fight surged through her, but she kept as still as possible, managing to speak once more.

“This isn’t about... me, is it...” she gasped. “... You want... to get one over on Dutch... as usual. Well... I’m sorry to disappoint you... but he does not care about me.”

That made Colm smile, though his grip didn’t loosen. “No, he doesn’t. But Arthur Morgan cares about you, and Dutch cares about Arthur. Anythin’ that hurts Dutch in some way is a fuckin’ gift to me. If Arthur Morgan’s out there thinkin’ you’re dead? Fuckin’ wonderful.” He licked his lips as he tilted his head and paused for a few moments. “... He may have been your daddy but he was my brother. I knew and loved him a lot longer, so you watch your fuckin’ mouth, you don’t know shit.”

Tears were starting to sting at her eyes and it wasn’t just from his hold. “Why... didn’t you help him, then? Help us?”

He shrugged. “Like I said, he wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if he took dirty money. Just like his daughter, too much pride.”

He squeezed harder for a moment, before shoving her away, releasing her. She gasped in long, harsh breaths as her back collided with the tree, her hand darting up to massage her throat. Her eyes were still fixed on him, though, and she watched him walk away without another look at her, returning to his seat and sitting with a sigh.

“Carry on, Jim, before we were so fuckin’ rudely interrupted.” He didn’t even glance up at her, and the man, Jim, immediately continued his story.

Ada could already feel a headache forming from the lack of oxygen, and she coughed, her throat faintly sore.

“Hey, you okay?”

Peter was suddenly at her side, he must’ve awoken at some point, his voice quiet, concerned.

“I’m fine,” she rasped slightly, continuing to massage her neck.

“I’ll get ye some water.”

She met Zach’s gaze as Peter darted away. He sat back down as he held her eyes for a moment longer before looking at the ground. She’d seen a flicker of something in them but hadn’t known what it was from the man who barely showed any emotions. Part of her thought she should be embarrassed, maybe, cowed or wounded, but she actually felt... relieved. She could provoke him. She could wound him in some way. She didn’t fully believe what he’d said, but she believed that he thought he loved his brother.

But had she got the closure she wanted?

... Not yet.

Like it had never happened, they continued on shortly after, and, sat back in her place in the wagon with Peter, he told her rather unhelpfully that small bruises had formed around her throat. Every swallow came with a slight ache but it was the least of her concerns. The men were becoming louder, more energised, excitement growing in the air; she knew they were drawing near to the regroup.

She knew they were drawing near when the wagon turned off of the main road, jostling her, Peter and the cargo.

She knew they were drawing near when she started to hear more voices.

She knew they were there when the men riding behind the wagon urged their horses into canters, moving ahead out of view as they called out.

She’d imagined her heart would be pounding, that she’d be sweating, wanting to be sick, but instead, she felt calm, almost unnervingly so. The truth was going to be revealed in a matter of minutes. The wagon came to a halt as a cheer went up. Voices talked over each other, growing into a loud hubbub as Peter jumped out of the wagon. As always, he held a hand out to help her out and she took it, dropping down onto the grass.

“Ada!”

Lifting her head, she found Colm beckoning her over, stood by his horse with Zach and two other men. Glancing at Peter, he smiled lightly, before she looked away and headed over to Colm. Her fingers flexed slightly as she moved closer, her eyes fixed on him.

Just a matter of minutes.

“Come here, darlin’.” It was really like earlier hadn’t happened at all, with his smile and his arm going around her shoulders.

She allowed it without reaction, moving with him as he headed into the camp, Zach following at a short distance behind them. As he greeted men as they walked, she surveyed the area. It was in another clearing and sprawling, wagons dotted around, several groups of horses, different fire pits, men sat around, waving and calling out to each other. She had no idea there were so many of them, they were like a small army, and they called out their greetings to Colm like he was a king, swiftly filling him in on business they’d conducted, telling him they’d catch up with him later. He just nodded, smiled, and said a few words in reply, his arm remaining around her.

She looked at each man as they passed them, searching their features, but Thomas was dead so what was the point?

“Colm!” A man with thinning blonde hair approached, a hand on his belt.

“Dorian.” His arm left her as he reached a hand out, accepting Dorian’s hand and shaking it.

“Hey, how are ya?”

“Just fine, just fine,” Colm said as he released his hand. “The boys all come back with ya?”

“Yeah, George is helpin’ them with the Court wagon.”

“All right, come find me later, you hear?”

“Yes, sir.” Dorian then glanced at Ada, looking her up and down. “... This your niece?”

“Yes, she is.” The arm was back around her shoulders but she gave no reaction again, looking at Dorian who was smiling.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ada.”

She hated the familiarity of it. Dorian didn’t seem offended as she said nothing, just looked at Colm and tipped his hat. “I’ll see you later.”

“All right.” Then, he was moving them onward, coughing. “C’mon, then.”

His arm dropped, hand patting her back, and she glanced at him, her jaw clenching. She hated his smile. Hated the delight in his eyes. Matter of minutes. She followed a step or so behind him, inhaling a breath. He was heading towards a crammed wagon, various men unloading crates, sacks and metal boxes from it.

“Thomas, m’boy,” Colm called to one of the men, his smile widening as he heard Ada stop behind him.

A tall man, slightly taller than Arthur, his black hair falling in waves to just above his shoulders, lifted his head as he placed a box on top of a crate.

Thomas O’Driscoll smiled widely at his uncle, inclining his head as he brushed his hands together. “Hey. You were right, Jackson was fine, said we could go back in a week...” He trailed off as his gaze shifted behind him.

“That’s good, that’s good...” Colm rubbed his jaw as his body half-turned, his other hand gesturing at the young woman. “Thom, this is your sister, Adaline.”

It was said without ceremony, without pomp or thrills, without any preparation.

Thomas stared at her, eyes darting over her, still.

Colm continued, his arms folding as he watched him. “Me and the boys rescued her from some Murfree fuckers. She’s your sister.”

Frozen, the man’s brow dipped slightly. “... Ada?”

She didn’t realise she was shaking, thick tears filling her eyes. She knew him. She knew that face. Those green eyes. She would have recognised him anywhere.

Ada mouthed his name “... Thom.”

Oh my God...

She lifted her arms, reaching out to him—

His were already around her, lifting her and holding her tightly. She cried out and wept into his shoulder and she could hear him saying her name over and over. She had no words. Nothing.

She faintly heard Colm chuckle and say, “I’ll leave you kids to it.”

Ada couldn’t stop crying, could barely breathe. Then, Thom was drawing his head back and she looked at him, looked at those warm green eyes, the faint freckles that dusted his skin here and there, the nose that was nearly identical to her own, their mother’s, the strong jaw line like their father’s. His own eyes were shining and his hand was smoothing her hair down, his thumb stroking her cheek as he gazed at her incredulously and still kept her lifted.

“Look at you, my sister, my little sister. Look at you...”

All she could do was cry, cupping his face, taking him all in.

“I thought... you were dead...” she managed to say between sobs, her own words bringing a fresh wave of tears, barely able to see him through them.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, Ada, I’m so sorry...”

His hand slid to the back of her head and she pressed her face into the crook of his neck and she cried and cried and cried.

Her brother. Her brother Thomas, alive and safe.

He gently stroked her hair, hushing her softly while he began to move, walking them somewhere, she didn’t care where.

She wished Mama was alive.

She didn’t lift her head until her boots touched the ground, and then his hands were on her arms, gently guiding her to sit down on a log. She took one of his large hands in both of hers, as if if she stopped touching him for a moment then he would disappear.

Ada sniffed, biting at her lower lip as it trembled slightly. She swallowed hard, fighting off more tears. “I... imagined this moment so many times, but I never thought it would happen.”

“Me, too.” He smiled widely and placed his other hand over hers, and she just couldn’t believe how big his hands were; they were the hands of a man.

Sniffing again, she closed her eyes for a few moments, tears escaping, and then inhaled a long, steadying breath before releasing it. Looking up at him, she shook her head slightly.

“... How is this possible... What happened, Thom?”

He released a breath of his own, licking his lips. It was a few moments before he spoke. “I just... I just had to. It killed me to leave you and Ma, it really did.” A corner of his mouth lifted, his thumb stroking her hand. “How is she?”

Oh, no... Colm hasn’t told him...

Her features crumbled again as she held his hand tightly. “She’s, uhm... She died, Thom.”

“Oh.” She could see the conflicting emotions in his eyes, the love he still held for his mother, but that she was also someone he hadn’t seen in over ten years, had probably distanced himself mentally from it all, from them, to make his life easier. The look then vanished swiftly and he cleared his throat. “How?”

“I...” Oh fuck, she couldn’t tell him it was because of his own men, could she? “... I can’t... can’t talk about that now.”

“Okay, it’s all right, I understand.” He smiled gently, patting her hand. “Another time.”

She nodded, exhaling a breath, almost crying again at that because they had time now. “Go on, please, tell me everything.”

His eyebrows rose slightly, licking his lips again. “I travelled for weeks...” He laughed humourlessly. “I was just a kid, wandering around, without a clue, no where to start. I just went to towns and asked people outright, like they’d just say ‘oh, head east’...” She laughed softly with him, her heart simultaneously breaking at how determined she could imagine he’d been. “I nearly came home a couple of times, but...” His smile faded. “I thought I couldn’t live with myself if I did. Thought you’d think I’d failed.”

“Never, Thom, never.” Her heart broke again as she gripped his hands tighter.

He shook his head a little, smiling faintly. “I know, I know...” His eyebrows rising again, the smile widened. “But then I did come across some of his boys, in a bar. I made them laugh for a while and then they got pissed off at my pesterin’ and then when I kept insisting they just took me with them. Thought it’d be hilarious to see a kid up against Colm O’Driscoll. I was so damn nervous.” She didn’t laugh with him this time. “But I met him, confronted him and then he... He told me the truth, about everything. Do you...?”

She nodded and swallowed as he trailed off. “Yeah, I know.”

Thom shook his head, his jaw moving. “I still think about that day.”

“Me, too.” She took a breath, asking as gently as she could the question that was killing her. “... Why didn’t you come back to us after finding out?”

Thom gave a small shrug after a moment. “... I thought you and Ma wouldn’t believe me.”

It broke her heart because they probably wouldn’t have. If she hadn’t have heard it from Dutch himself...

She didn’t think she had any more tears left in her, so she quickly managed a smile as she sniffed, squeezing his hands. “You must’ve seen some places, then, huh?”

The wide smile returned and she loved it. “Oh, yeah. Mainly fields and woods and small towns, but I’ve been to Chicago a few times.”

“Really?” He laughed as her smile widened. “Mama always wanted to take us.”

“Yeah, I loved it. I’ll take you one day.”

One day, oh, they had days now.

“What about you?”

“Well...” She licked her lips as she inhaled. “... We were at the farm for a while and then we moved to Strawberry to be with Uncle Nicholas.”

“How was that?”

“Interesting.” A corner of her mouth lifted a little higher. “And lonely.”

His throat bobbed. “I’m sorry—”

She was already shaking her head. “Don’t be. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, I... There’s no point in what ifs.” Glancing over his shoulder, she exhaled. “You move around a lot, then?”

“Yeah, but we do have a main camp in the west, just by Little Creek River.”

She caught his slightly sheepish expression... then it dawned on her, her lips parting.

“Hang on, that’s in West Elizabeth, that’s north of Strawberry.”

Thom was nodding, the sheepish expression lingering. “Yeah, I, uh...” He cleared his throat. “... When I found out you were both in Strawberry, like I said, I... Well, didn’t think you’d take me back.”

Her lower lip trembled as, oh, yes, she did still had some tears left. “Oh, you idiot, of course we would have...” Releasing his hands, she moved forward and wrapped her arms around him, her chin on his shoulder.

His arms went around her, holding her tightly. She could feel his muscles under his shirt, could feel his strength; he was no longer the, quite frankly, scrawny boy who looked like a fair breeze would have blown him over.

“You’re so big,” she laughed thickly, sniffing as she pulled back to look at him once more. “When did that happen?”

He laughed, shrugging his broad shoulders. “Ooh, overnight, just after my seventeenth birthday.”

"Wow, what a treat,” she chuckled, and, oh, they could laugh together, he still had that sense of humour she’d loved.

"But what about you, huh? You were the size of the town cat when I left.”

She laughed, grinning as she wiped her cheeks. “Oh, for me it was earlier, after my sixteenth birthday.”

“Well, you were always better than me at everything. And look at all this!” He reached out and tugged on a curl. “You still cry when you brush it?”

She pulled a face that made him laugh. “Oh, I don’t brush it anymore, can’t you tell?”

“Well, I was trying to be polite...”

Ada laughed again as her instincts took over and she punched his arm, the action so nostalgic, so long-forgotten that if she wasn’t laughing she would have wept.

They fell into a comfortable silence as they looked at each other, both still unable to quite really believe it. The noise of the camp filtered back into her hearing and her gaze drifted over his shoulder again. Licking her lips, she smiled lightly.

“So, what’s going to happen now?”

Thom returned her smile, raising his eyebrows a little. “Well, what do you want to happen?”

She shook her head slightly, inhaling a long breath, her smile lingering. “I want to leave. I want to take you and Arth—” Ada caught herself quickly, her cheeks flushing as Thom’s eyebrows rose a little higher.

“Ah, yeah, I heard about that...” His smile was still there, though, so she relaxed, even if her blush did remain.

“Yes, it, uhm... It wasn’t exactly part of my plan, but...”

“You love him?” he asked gently after a moment.

She couldn’t believe she was talking about the man she loved with her brother. Her heart could’ve burst. “I do. I really do.”

He looked at her and her soft expression, before his head lifted and he looked away, out towards the trees, and exhaled a quiet laugh.

Her brow dipped a little as she watched him. “What?”

Thom shrugged slightly, a corner of his mouth lifting higher than the other. “It’s just strange. I’ve heard so much about him, and the gang, but I’ve never encountered them. Colm’s always kept me out of things like that, in case they got me and found out who I was. I've come to hate them, they're the enemy, but now...” He looked at her, shrugging again. “They’re just strangers, aren’t they. Can’t even really put a face to the man my sister loves. You’re a stranger, too, I guess.”

Something twinged in her chest as she looked at him, exhaling a slight laugh. “Don’t say that.”

He shook his head quickly, taking one of her hands. “No, no, I don’t mean it in a... We just lost so much time.”

Her features softened as she squeezed his hand, swallowing the lump that had returned to her throat. “Well, we can make up for it now.”

“Yes, we can.” His smile reached his eyes, deepening the small lines there, and it felt good to know he’d smiled and laughed enough for them to form.

She couldn’t stop herself from asking, though. “You knew I was with the gang, then?”

“Yeah, Colm told me. I didn’t fully believe it at first, just couldn’t believe it but... here you are.” The smile lingered.

Her own widened. “Here I am.”

Shaking his head, he released her hand and lifted his own. “Go on, then, tell me about you.”

"What about me?”

“Everything, what you like to do, what you’ve done, what you read, you can still read, right? Do you still talk to frogs and toads...?”

Her laughter carried across the camp.

—

They talked for hours, reminiscing on the memories they had and comparing the paths their lives had taken. She told him all about her recent adventures, how’d she got the scar on her face, thankfully he didn’t ask about the bruises on her neck, and the roles she played in the gang. He listened quietly and didn’t ask questions, and she left out some parts, like Dutch’s plans, her feelings about him, and just how... developed her relationship with Arthur was. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Thom, she just didn’t want anyone else overhearing the specifics of what the gang had been up to.

The sun had nearly set by the time they’d filled each other in on everything.

He let out a whistle as his eyebrows raised once she’d finished, sipping water from the cup someone had brought over to them. “You a gunslinger now, then, huh?”

She snorted. “Hardly. I just... had to get by.”

“Mmh. I understand that.”

A cheer caught their attention and they looked over towards the main area of the camp; another group of men had joined, seemingly the last by the jeers and laughter.

The event brought them both back to reality. Looking up at the sky, she couldn’t believe how dark it was getting and how much her stomach was rumbling. Thom seemed to be having the same train of thought as he stood and held a hand out to her.

“Come on, let’s get some food, I’m starvin’.”

His arm went around her shoulders once he’d helped her up and she much preferred it to Colm’s. He introduced her to every group of men that passed, proudly stating, ‘this is my sister, Ada’. She shook all their hands with a polite smile, even laughed easily a few times, because she was just so happy. She shoved to the back of her mind thoughts that told her they were only being courteous because she was someone important... and that they’d killed Kieran and countless others.

She thought for the shortest of moments about whether Thom had killed anyone, then it was gone, incomprehensible.

They ate together, and when a man came over to greet him, her gaze drifted, trying to find Peter or Zach. The former was nowhere to be seen and the latter, it seemed, had finally taken his eyes off of her for she couldn’t see him either. They were probably off somewhere, reconnecting, sleeping, or—

She stilled, staring at a man sat on the outer edge of a group. He was laughing hard, slapping his hand against his knee at whatever another man was saying. He was so familiar... where the hell had she seen him...

... Oh, God...

A coldness washed over her as she froze, a rush of breath escaping her. Thom glanced at her, rubbing his jaw as the man beside him continued talking. Frowning, he lifted his hand and the man paused.

“Ada? You all right?”

She swallowed hard, speaking before she could stop herself. “He was there.”

Thom was leaning closer, setting his bowl on the floor and taking her hand. “What?”

Everything sounded so quiet all of a sudden.

She licked her lips, unable to look away as the man laughed again. “That man over there, he... he was at Strawberry when they attacked and he, he was with a group of men who killed Mama.”

"What, that’s how she died?”

Ada finally looked away, meeting her brother’s gaze.

Oh, shit.

Thom was still, holding her gaze. He remembered a group of them had gone at Colm’s request to Strawberry, to get Andrew and Colin out of jail. He’d thought of convincing his uncle to let him go, wondering if Ada and Ma still lived there but... he hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it.

Now, it was the second biggest thing he regretted in his life.

“Which man.”

She swallowed again. “Uh...” Thom was giving no reaction, and she knew she couldn’t just suddenly dismiss this. Looking back over at the group, she pointed briefly. “That man there. The one in the green shirt.”

Turning his head, Thom followed the direction of her finger. “... With the black hair and beard?”

“Uh...”

He’d suddenly turned back to her. “Are you sure it’s him?”

This was her chance to back out, to stop whatever had come over Thom. “I-I don’t know—”

His hands were on her shoulders, gripping them as he held her gaze. “Is it, Ada?”

“Yes.” The short word exited her so swiftly it was like it had been punched out of her.

His jaw moved.

Then he was on his feet, moving towards the group. She didn’t even have time to say anything to him, a slight sound leaving the back of her throat as her body turned to watch him.

Thom's broad shoulders were squared, his hand rubbing his jaw.

“Hey, Toby.”

The man looked up, a grin still on his lips. “Hey, Thom, good to see ya!” He stood, offering his hand to him.

Thom didn’t accept it as he came to a stop, and Toby lowered his hand after a moment, his smile faltering slightly. Ada fully appreciated how tall Thom was now, practically standing over Toby. The other man seemed to realise this, too, drawing himself up to his full height as he let out a slight laugh.

“You all right, brother?”

Ada’s heart was pounding as she watched them. Thom was silent and Toby’s grin was fading with each passing second.

Then, Thom exhaled a harsh breath. “String him up.”

Men moved instantly, lurching out of their seats, others nearby standing and craning their necks to look at what was happening.

Toby let out a short, nervous laugh, his eyes darting from the moving men to Thom. “What? Wait, I— Why? What the fuck have I done?!”

Some men had gotten rope from somewhere, and one grabbed Toby by his shoulder, holding him still as another wrapped the rope round and round his wrists. Toby tried to yank his arms back but the man held him still.

“C-Come on, guys, what the fuck’s going on?!”

“Awh, shit, what’s goin’ on here?” She heard Colm call out from somewhere behind her, nearing, a smile in his tone, and in her peripheral vision she saw him drinking from his flask.

She couldn’t look at him, though, couldn’t look away from the terrified Toby and her silent brother, the small group now moving as the men began to pull Toby across the camp.

“What’s going on?! What’s happening?!”

No one was answering Toby, not even questioning Thom themselves. Rounding the fire pit she was at, her body turned automatically with them, unable to move beyond that. As they reached the trees, one of the men pulling Toby along threw the other end of the rope over a thick branch and pulled sharply, making Toby rise a foot or so off the ground. He yelled out, his eyes wide, trying to kick his legs out, flailing in the air.

“Thom?! What did I do?!”

Thom ignored him and turned as some of the men laughed, his tongue running along his lower lip as he moved towards her. The fire made light dance across her, hiding that she was trembling.

“Thom—”

He lowered down to one knee, one hand resting on hers as his other unsheathed a knife from his belt, flipped it in his hand and held the handle out to her. She stared at it, her gaze then darting back up to him.

“... I can’t.”

His features were unreadable. “Come on, Ada.”

She shook her head a few times, trying hard to take a full breath. “I can’t, Thom.”

A corner of his mouth lifted and his features softened, a terrible juxtaposition to Toby’s yelling behind him.

“It’s okay, I’ll do it.” Cupping the back of her neck, he tilted her head down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Then, he’d risen and turned away, striding back towards Toby.

She heard Colm bark out a laugh as men jeered. “Oh, you really fucked up this time, Toby! Look at that fuckin’ face! Like thunder!”

Toby was nearly sobbing, desperation saturating his tone. “What did I do?! What did I do?!”

Ada’s gaze hadn’t moved from where she’d stared at Thom’s chest, now just fixed on the ground.

“No, no, Thom, please, come on, please—!”

She flinched at the sound of material ripping, Toby’s howl echoing in the night.

Then came Thom’s voice; cold as ice. “You killed my mother, Toby.”

Curses and insults went up from the group but Colm’s voice came the loudest, jeering, taunting.

“Oh, shit, you killed my sister-in-law, Toby?”

“When?! I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to! I didn’t know!” Toby’s words were jumbled in screams, and Ada could feel tears pricking at her eyes. Within moments they were sliding down her cheeks.

She could hear the men laughing, making casual observations, drinking, some not even paying much attention.

This was a game to them.

A sport.

A regular occurrence.

She couldn’t stop her eyes from lifting to Thom.

He was stood before Toby, the man’s shirt open, a wound on his chest, blood running out of it. Toby was pale, terrified. Thom was calm.

This was nothing to her brother.

She suddenly got to her feet, her gaze dropping. As Toby screamed again and she heard a sound she didn’t want to identify, she turned on her heel and began to stride away, her fists curled tightly at her sides, chest rising and falling swiftly, staring at the ground, body rigid.

Tears fell like a stream down her cheeks as she walked away, Toby’s screams echoing in her ears.

She could hear her own breathing, jagged, gasping.

A few whoops went up as Toby cried out again, the sound so agonised, so drawn out that she released a sob and put her hands over her ears.

She walked into the trees, still able to hear the screams. Her legs suddenly gave out as a higher, panicked scream came. Her arm darting out, she grabbed at a tree trunk, sinking to her knees. Curling up against it, her hands went back over her ears as her eyes closed tightly, her breaths short, sobbed.

She murmured to herself, not even sure what she was saying, just trying to drown it all out.

Yet it was useless.

All she could hear was his screams.

—

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#arthur morgan x original character #arthur morgan x original female character #arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 fic #my writing #flamehairedwritings

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allzelemonz · 2 years ago

Text

Alone: Kieran Duffy X Male Reader

Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘boy’ and ‘man’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Non-Con elements, near sexual encounters Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, sexual assault, demeaning laguage, threats of violence, threats of sexual violence, beating, torture, blood, death, established relationship with Kieran Summary: In a job gone wrong, you and Kieran are taken by a group of O’Driscolls that are very interested in you.

They took you during a job. They showed up out of nowhere, apparently wanting the take from the stage you were robbing with Sean, Kieran, and John. You and Kieran didn’t get away, your horses got too spooked and ran off. John tried, Sean did too, but the O’Driscolls came in greater numbers. The last thing John said was that they’d come back for you. You know he will. John’s a good man, a man of his word, and Sean isn’t one to take a loss lightly. But, for now, you and Kieran are alone and surrounded by the enemy.

The O’Driscolls get off their horses and execute the people you just robbed. One of them recognises Kieran, leering over him as words fail the stable boy. He tries to reason, beg, anything, but the O’Driscolls just laugh and jeer. They hold you at gunpoint, circling like vultures.

“I bet Colm would love it if we brought a traitor back.” One of them, tall with greasy red hair, says. “The Van Der Linde too.”

“This one’s probably got a price on his head.” Another one, an Irishman judging by the accent, says as he grips your shoulder and shoves you to your knees.

“Everybody loves a good hangin’.” A blonde one says, he looks younger than the rest.

“No, no, no.” A brunette comes close, squatting down to your level. “He could be a lot more fun if we keep him.”

He reaches out and tugs your mask down. A sickly smile spreads over his face and he hums.

“No!” Kieran shouts.

The red head hits him in the stomach with the end of his rifle. Kieran falls down, clutching his stomach.

The brunette chuckles. “Soft as ever, Duffy. Ya sweet on him?”

“Please.” Kieran begs, his arms wrapped around his injured stomach. “I’ll do whatever ya want, Quinn.”

The brunette, Quinn, runs his finger along your jaw. When you try to pull away you feel a gun pressed to your back. You freeze as the man behind you laughs. Quinn grips your chin, making you look at him.

“He seems too tough for ya, Duffy.” Quinn glances over at Kieran. “More my speed.”

“Quinn, please.” Kieran begs again.

The redhead lands another blow, this time to Kieran’s side. He recoils, crying out in pain.

“Let’s take ‘em back.” The man behind you says, the Irish one. “We can have a lot more fun with ‘em back at camp.”

The gun he holds digs into your back, sending shivers up your spine. Quinn turns back to you and his eyes rake over your face, a much worse feeling than the gun at your back. His grip on your jaw tightens and his thumb runs over your bottom lip as he fixes his gaze on your mouth.

“Oh, we’ll have a lot of fun with you.”

You meet his stare and it makes him smile. Kieran groans in pain as they get him up on a horse, tied and all. Quinn takes you, tying only your hands and fixing you on his lap as best he can with a knife pressed to your stomach. The redhead gets tired of Kieran’s whining and hits him so hard in the head that he blacks out. You’re forced to endure the ride, the unsettling feeling of a particularly stiff appendage rubbing against you the whole way.

Their camp is small, only a few tents out in the woods. No one is there waiting, so it must just be your attackers staying there. Four men, all armed when you aren’t. Kieran is out cold, not much help. But John is coming back, Charles is a great tracker, Arthur will fight to the death to get his friends back, Dutch would never let the O’Driscolls win. You’re going to be fine. You have to be.

“Rory, get the traitor tied somewhere uncomfortable.” Quinn orders the redhead as they slow to enter camp. “Conor, ride on and tell Colm what we caught.”

The young blond nods and takes off as fast as his horse will go.

“Colin, come help with this one.” Quinn presses his knife harder against your shirt, digging the tip in enough to start a small tear.

The Irishman, Colin, dismounts his horse and helps Quinn get you on the ground. He holds you by your arm, one hand on your neck to direct you into their small camp. He pushes you to your knees by the fire and you can feel an ache beginning after you land on them. A few feet away is Kieran, tied to the base of a tall tree. He’s still out cold, his head lulled forward.

“Colm will want ta kill him.” Quinn says, kneeling next to you.

His back is pressed to your arm and he leans in close to your face. One of his hands rests on your waist while the other runs over the fabric of your shirt. You stay still, staring at the fire in front of you.

“Maybe if you’re as good as I think ya are, I can convince Colm ta spare ya.” His breath hits your cheek as he speaks.

“Let Kieran go.” You say, eyes glancing over to the man in question.

“Why would I do that?”

You swallow your nerves. “I’ll do what you want if you let him go.”

Quinn chuckles, pressing his head against yours. “I don’t exactly need cooperation, boy.”

“It’d be a lot more fun though.” You try to make your voice steady.

“He’s fuckin’ with ya, Quinn.” Colin says, taking a seat on the other side of the fire. “He wants his sweetheart out a’ the line a’ fire.”

Quinn inhales, taking in your scent and sighing. “I know.”

You shiver involuntarily, unable to hide the reaction.

“Just fuck him so we can turn him in for the bounty.” Colin mutters, glaring at Quinn.

“I will.” Quinn’s hand slowly starts to unbutton your shirt. “We got time.”

Rory appears from the tree line and sits beside Colin, but watching intently as Quinn undoes the final button on your shirt.

“Maybe we should wake Duffy up.” Rory says. “Make him watch.”

Quinn chuckles against your skin. “I like that idea. What do ya think, Van Der Linde?”

You glance up at Kieran. “I told you. Let him go and you can have whatever you want.”

“I don’t like bein’ lied to, boy.” Quinn mutters as his hand wanders over your bare chest. “It don’t matter what I do. You’re gonna take it, you’re gonna scream my name loud enough to wake little Duffy there, and he’s gonna sit there and watch.”

Colin and Rory laugh, evil smiles plastered on their faces. When Quinn’s hand travels down your stomach you put all of your body weight into shoving him. He falls to the ground and you roll over him, grabbing at his knife in the process. Colin draws his gun, but you’re already on your feet and running into the trees.

“Shit!” Quinn yells. “Get him, now, boys!”

You run downhill, your hands tied behind you. You turn the knife as much as you can to get it under the ropes, stopping behind a tree to free yourself.

“Here, here, Van Der Linde.” Colin says in a sing-song. “Quinn ain’t gonna be so forgivin’ now.”

You get your hands undone, letting the rope drop to the ground. You press you back to the tree and clutch the knife tightly, listening for Colin’s footsteps. A few yards away you hear who must be Rory wandering around as well. Then Colin breaks a stick as he steps just a few feet away. You peek around the tree and spot him, his back is to you and he’s walking slowly. You crouch, walking slowly, the knife flipping in your hand to be ready. You grab him, slitting his throat, and he falls to the ground. His gun is buried in the leaves, so you dig it out and check the bullets.

“Not so fast, Van Der Linde.” Rory says.

You stand and turn slowly, hands in the air, one holding Colin’s gun loosely.

Rory smiles evilly. “Let’s go. Would want Quinn ta turn ta Duffy, would ya?”

“Fuck you.”

“Duffy ain’t really his type, but he’d do in a pinch.” Rory reaches his hand out. “Gun, please.”

You lower the gun to his hand and he flips it on you, nodding towards camp. You walk, hands raised, back to the fire. Quinn kneels there, holding his hands above the flames. Kieran is awake now, a bruise forming on his cheek and a cut bleeding through his shirt.

“Bastard got Colin.” Rory says, kicking the back of your knee and making you fall on the ground.

“Colin was the nice one.” Quinn muses. “He woulda just wanted yer hands.”

Rory kicks your side and you fall to the ground, groaning in pain.

“Quinn, please!” Kieran begs, straining against the rope that binds him to the tree.

“I thought I told you ta shut it, Duffy!” Quinn yells, standing and walking to him. “The more ya talk, the more I do to your little sweetheart over there.”

Kieran holds the glare from Quinn, then he glances at you in pain on the ground and he submits, looking at the ground.

Quinn chuckles. “At least yer well behaved. More than I can say for your whore.”

Rory grabs you by the back of your collar, pulling you up to your knees. You meet Kieran’s eyes for a moment before Quinn steps in between you. His hand grips your hair and forces you to look up at him.

“You behave and I’ll let Duffy keep his fingers.”

He tugs at your hair, his other hand reaching for the fastenings for his pants. Then a loud crack fills your ears and Quinn falls to the ground, his blood spraying on you slightly. Rory releases you, leaving his rifle, but he falls too. A shot to the head taking him out just as it did Quinn. You breathe clearly for the first time in a while as a smile comes over your face.

“You boys alright?” Dutch asks, riding in on The Count like an angel.

Kieran sighs in relief. “Oh, Mister Van Der Linde, thank you. Oh my God, Mister, thank you.”

“I’m the one that shot ‘em.” Micah mutters, walking over and cutting Kieran from the tree.

“We ran into a few more of ‘em on the way.” Dutch says, dismounting. “The boys are dealing with them.”

Dutch softly helps you to your feet, his eyes look over you and he understands what was about to happen. Kieran runs to you once Micah’s fully freed him. He wraps his arms around you, clutching you as tight as he can. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and lets out a muffled sob. You hold him tightly, closing your eyes and just feeling the safety of him holding you.

“We are gonna get Colm for this, boys.” Dutch says. “On that, you have my word.”

You meet Dutch’s eyes over Kieran’s shoulder and give him a silent thanks. You press a kiss to Kieran’s head and stroke his hair to sooth him. His grip on you is tight and it hurts you both because of your injuries, but neither of you seem to care.

“I hate ta interrupt.” Micah calls. “But they wasn’t the only O’Driscolls around here.”

You let Kieran go, giving him a kiss before joining Dutch on his horse. Kieran joins Micah and you’re both handed a spare gun for the ride home. They came back for you, they found you. You’re not alone.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption x male reader #x reader #x male reader #kieran duffy #kieran duffy x reader #kieran duffy x male reader

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telltalesketch · 4 years ago

Text

What Lies Beyond the Veil

A Red Dead Redemption 2 Supernatural AU

Master List

Archive of Our Own

Chapter Three: Paying a Social Call

Warnings: Blood, Intense Gore, Language

Word Count: 2,425

Arthur groans as he feels someone gently shake his shoulder. His arm comes up to bat away absently at the hand that tries to pull him from sleep. The voice that calls to him is distant as he tries to drift back off. The one the hand belongs to shoves his shoulder harder and he yelps slightly as he feels himself almost fall over.

“Arthur, wake up.” He hears Hosea’s voice loud and clear now. His eyes crack open as he sits up and rests his elbows on his knees.

“I was just resting my eyes, Hosea.” He groans, running his hands over his face.

Hosea scoffs. “I could hear you snoring outside.” He chuckles as Arthur turns to look at him with a sour face. Though his eyes move over to Dutch and his smile falls quickly. Arthur’s gaze follows and he feels his heart sink at the sight.

Dutch lays in the bed in front of him, unconscious and looking like he’s near death’s door. His shoulder and torso are bandaged beneath a thick layer of blankets and furs. His face is pale, and his eyes have heavy dark patches circling them. His breathing is so slow it worries Arthur every time he doesn’t see his chest rise fast enough. He wonders what they’ll do if they lose him, like they’ve lost so many others the past few days. He only looks away when he feels Hosea’s hand rest gently on his shoulder.

“He’ll make it.” He says simply with a warm and reassuring smile. Something Hosea seems to have mastered over the years.

Arthur sighs, nodding as he tries to believe Hosea’s words. Though another string of thoughts come to mind as he thinks on the idea of Dutch living. The creature that attacked him, it seemed so foreign yet so familiar at the same time. Like it’d jumped straight from Penny Dreadfuls and folklore. One question eats away at him again, like its been eating away at him for almost two days.

What if Dutch turns into that thing?

The thought of Dutch becoming that monster sends a shiver down his spine. He’s only pulled from the idea when Hosea squeezes his shoulder a little tighter. “I got something for you to do, keep your mind off it.” He says reassuringly, trying to lead Arthur out of the chair. Though Arthur doesn’t budge.

“What’s that?”

“You know how Colm’s boys are camped nearby?”

“Yeah.”

“Go down there and see how many there are. Think we might want to know how worried we should be. But don’t go shooting anyone.”

Arthur scoffs a little. “I ain’t the one you need to be saying that too.”

“I know.” Hosea retorts, annoyed. “But I might as well say it, make sure it sticks in that thick skull of yours. Now get up.” He practically shoos Arthur from the chair, taking his place once the younger man is standing. “Take Lenny and Javier with you too. In case anything does go south.” He adds as he watches Arthur leave.

“Sure.”

Arthur stumbles as he exits the cabin, the light and cold hitting him all too hard. He shakes it off and treads through the snow to the main house. He pushes the door open and looks around quickly, catching sight of everyone around the fire.

“Lenny. Javier. I need you two to come with me.” He calls out before closing the door and heading for their horses. He doesn’t feel the need to wait, especially as he hears the clunking of their boots and the clattering of the door closing behind him.

“Where we headed, Arthur?” Lenny asks after shivering at the cold as he catches up to him.

Arthur looks over to Lenny as the three men reach their horses. “Hosea wants us to see how many of Colm’s boys are up here with us.” He huffs out as he unhitches his horse.

Javier pulls himself up into his saddle with a small grunt. “Shouldn’t we bring more of us if were going after O’Driscolls?” He asks, leaning forward as he waits for Arthur and Lenny.

“Nah, Hosea just wants us to count them. No guns, no killing. Unless we have to of course.”

“Sounds easy then.” Lenny adds with a confident smile.

“I hope so.” Arthur says with a small chuckle before he pulls away from the hitching posts. He spurs his horse into a trot as he starts south. “Their camp is a little ways southwest of us, just need to follow the main trail. They’re near some lake.”

Arthur leads the small posse down the trail, following the river as best he can through the wind kicked flurries of snow that fly into their faces. He can hear Javier curse under his breath, probably about the cold. They ride that way in silence for a short while, and Lenny is the first to speak.

“What the hell happened last night?”

Arthur freezes at his words as the memories flood in. He remembers John yelling. Dutch suddenly veering off to go save him. Arthur thought he’d lost his god damn mind and in the end he did. He came in just in time to see Dutch lunge to keep the beast away from John. He can still hear the elder man screaming as the monster bites into his shoulder. As the creature throws him like he weighs nothing. Arthur hangs his head as he remembers the creature turning on them. It’s piercing golden eyes were so inhuman it still sends chills down his spine. How it’s wolf-like teeth glowed in the light of their lanterns. How it yelped out when Mrs. Adler shot it. With a silver bullet.

“Arthur?” Lenny questions after Arthur goes quiet and still.

He’s immediately pulled back to reality by the younger man’s word. “Dutch got attacked by some kind of…beast or something. Can’t really say much more to it.”

“John thinks it was a werewolf.” Javier says, the disbelief clear as he chuckles a little at the idea.

Lenny scoffs. “Really? Marston has gone and lost his mind. I bet it was just some kind of lunatic lost in the woods.”

Arthur turns back to Lenny. “One thing I’m sure of is that it wasn’t a man. The only thing human about that thing was that it stood on two legs.” He watches as Lenny seems to tense at the sternness in his voice.

Javier chimes in, his tone full of genuine curiosity. “What do you think it was, Arthur?”

Arthur falls quiet again, trying to comb through his mind for the right word as to what that thing was. Yet all his mind can go back to was what John said. Werewolf. He looks back ahead at the road, opening his mouth to speak. “I…It wasn’t natural I think-“ He cuts himself off as he sees the lake. Then he catches the sight of smoke floating up into the sky from just beyond a mountain ride. “Think we found their camp. We can talk about this later.” He says as he spurs his horse faster through the snow.

The trio climbs up a mountainside just beside the smoke stack. Arthur signals for them to stop just as they near the crest. “Lenny, grab your binoculars. Want you to check this out with me.”

Lenny nods and hops down from his horse as Arthur does. Javier grabs his sawn off from its holster and keeps watch of the path they just came. The two men shuffle through the snow to the edge of the cliffside. Arthur goes to grab his binoculars, yet stops as he looks into the valley below. As does Lenny.

“Holy shit…” Lenny says, stepping away from the edge.

Below them in the valley the snow is bathed in red. Even from this distance Arthur knows its all blood. He can see the O’Driscolls laying motionless in the snow. Many of them not physically whole. He still braves his binoculars and looks down, checking for any motion. Any sign of anyone or anything down there that’s alive. He sees nothing aside from the carnage in higher detail. Organs, parts, and the torn bodies they belong to strune about the camp. At least 20 men Arthur guesses. The smoke was coming from a fire that died out well into the morning.

“We should leave.” Lenny says as he begins turning around and heading back for his horse. “Don’t gotta worry about the O’Driscoll’s jumping us if they’re all dead.”

Arthur sighs and steps away from the edge, following Lenny. “There’s still supplies down there we could take.”

“What if whoever did that is still down there, Arthur?” Lenny asks incredulously.

“Did what?” Javier chimes in as their conversation nears him.

Lenny turns to Javier. “The entire camp down there was massacred by something!” Lenny exclaims. Javier then looks at Arthur curiously. “There’s blood and bodies everywhere!” Lenny adds in frustration.

Arthur lets out a frustrated sigh. “Stay here then. I’ll head down there and see if I can find any supplies.” He says, turning toward a path he spotted.

Lenny’s frustration immediately gives way to worry. “Arthur that ain’t worth-“

“Lenny we’re running out of food and supplies. If we don’t find something we’re gonna end up facing a slower death then the poor bastards down in that camp.” Arthur’s face is pulled into a tight frown though his eyes carry a softer quality. One of worry.

Lenny simply frowns, then sighs. “I’ll wait for you, but I’m not going down there.” He says simply.

Arthur looks to Javier. “I’ll stay here too. I don’t have the stomach for seeing mutilation.”

With a nod and a small huff Arthur begins his trek down into the valley. He winds down the narrow cliffsides, careful of the pitch as he feels his footing slip more than a couple of times. He reaches the bottom of the valley and immediately has his cattleman in hand. As he walks the snow turns from white to red as the blood begins to seep closer. The carnage is worse up close.

Intestines spill from bodies that were torn at the middle. Some were missing their bottom halves entirely. Pieces of organs littered boxes and mining carts. One man was missing the lower half of his face, tongue hanging from the gap where his jaw once was.

Arthur looks away with a grimace. He trains his eyes on the building in the center as it seems like the best place to start looking for any kind of supplies. He walks cautiously to the door, his steps crunching on the snow.

Then he sees something move in the building.

He freezes for a moment, pulling the hammer back on his gun. He steels himself to approach again and braces himself by the door. In one motion Arthur kicks the door open and points his gun into the open space.

“I’m unarmed.”

Arthur’s aim immediately snaps to the owner of the voice. Though as he sees the man with his hands in the air he holds off on pulling the trigger. He stands about his same height, though his frame is thinner. He’s wearing a severely torn pair of black pants, bloodstained white shirt, and shabby black coat that is far too large for him. His skin is pale, made bluish by the cold and apparent exhaustion. Though what sets Arthur on edge is the fact that blood is smeared on his hands. His chestnut brown hair is disheveled, and Arthur sees graying on his temples and throughout the thick beard on his face. He keeps his gun aimed at the man’s head, his face pulled into a tight frown.

“I have no intention of harming you.” The man’s blue eyes are intense and tired, and Arthur catches the British accent.

“Now why don’t I believe you, Mister?” Arthur says as he looks at the man down his sights.

The stranger sighs. “If I did plan on hurting you I would have already tried.”

Arthur holds his gun on the man for a moment, but he eventually concedes and drops his aim. Though he still keeps his gun in hand and ready to fire. The man lets out a sigh of relief and drops his hands slowly. Arthur notices the man grimace as his arms come to rest by his side and finds it odd. “You an O’Driscoll?” He asks, his voice stern and accusatory.

“God no.” The stranger’s immediate and vehement response almost makes Arthur smile. Though that brings to mind a lot more questions.

“The hell you doing sticking around here then? You seen what’s outside?” Arthur says as he nods toward the door.

The stranger seems to go pale as Arthur asks that question, though he takes a deep breath to collect himself. “It’s…a complicated situation.”

Arthur is immediately suspicious again his grip tightens around his gun. His mind goes back to the stranger’s grimace from earlier and he feels a chill creep up his spine as he remembers the monster’s cries as it was shot in the shoulder. “I’m gonna need a better answer than that.”

The man sighs. “You wouldn’t-“ He cuts himself off and his gaze moves toward one of the windows. Arthur’s brows burrow in frustration as the man goes quiet. “I wouldn’t wha-“ He’s cut off as the man suddenly shushes him.

He ducks down immediately and crouches by one of the windows, grabbing Arthur’s shoulder and bringing him with him as he does, yet Arthur resists. “What the hell are you-“

“Jesus Christ! That monster tore up everyone…”

Arthur immediately ducks down next to the stranger at the sound of outside voices.

“Why the hell did we come back up here again?”

“Can’t rob a train without blowing the tracks. And we left the dynamite.”

Arthur and the stranger share a look and then Arthur’s gaze moves up behind the stranger. He sees the crate labeled with explosives. It’s more than enough to blow train tracks. The Stranger follows his look and sees the crate. Then he peaks up over the window quickly. He moves back down and looks back to Arthur.

“We’re surrounded.”

Arthur lets out a quiet sigh of frustration. “Course we are.” He looks back to the crate and an idea springs to mind. “What’s your name, mister?”

The man seems to be taken aback by the question. He seems to mull it over in his mind before he finally responds. “Frederick Abberline.”

Arthur smirks. “How fast can you run Mister Abberline?”

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 fanart #rdr2 fanfic #fanfic #supernatural au #arthur morgan #hosea matthews #dutch van der linde #lenny summers #javier escuella #frederick abberline #colter #werewolf #werewolves #tw: gore #gore tw #trigger warning gore

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emily-strange · 5 years ago

Text

Second Chances

Thank you to everyone who has shown an interest in this story :) means so much. I just wanted to note that this story won’t be “look how awful Abigail is”. I have too much love for her to do that! Everything has a reason.

Tagging @porkchop-ao3 @redeadepression and @lucacangettathisass who asked but if you’d like me to stop let me know :) <3

For the premise of this story, Jack is a little bit younger. I just can’t hurt that boy’s feelings!

Summary: You’re Sadie Adler’s 18 year old daughter who was visiting from school when the O’Driscoll’s attack. How will you cope with gang life and your increasing feelings for someone who, on the surface, isn’t up for grabs?

Pairing: John Marston x female reader

Warnings: Swearing, Mention of Blood

Chapter 2

Arthur was true to his word. He took you into Valentine with the other girls and even lent you a bit of money to get some new clothes, which was greatly appreciated. You’ve been wearing a dress lent to you by Mary-Beth and considering you were wearing a nightgown when Dutch and Arthur found you, you really couldn’t complain. But having the chance to get back into a pair of jeans was amazing.

So kitted out in some new clothes and borrowing Arthur’s rifle, you both went hunting. Which was a great success. In one trip, you already had enough money to pay back Arthur and you had the feeling he was impressed.

He spoke to Dutch who agreed to let you out of camp on a trial basis. You weren’t particularly happy about being dictated to about your comings and goings, but this gang did save you and your mother so you decide to just go with it. For now, at least.

That was about three weeks ago.

And now you’re riding into camp (after being away for almost two days with Charles) with quite a bit of stuff for Pearson and some money in your pocket. Most of which is for camp but at least you can take your mom to town and get her a few things. Treat her to some new clothes and essentials.

“Hi mama” you say approaching her after delivering the meat and pelts to Pearson. Unfortunately, your mother was where you left her. Sitting by the campfire, just staring into the flames. She wasn’t doing well.

Your mothers always been a strong woman, she didn’t take crap from anyone. So, when Colm’s men attacked that horrible night, she became ruthless. Almost feral. You’d never seen such rage. If only there’d been less of them, maybe you all would’ve stood a chance.

But you can’t think about that. No, you need to be strong for the both of you now. She kept you both going during the long, horrible days and nights with the O’Driscoll’s. Now it was your turn to do the same for her.

“How’re you feeling?” you ask softly sitting down next to her, rubbing her back. Her eyes are red and puffy, they look so sore.

“How’d you think she’s feelin’?” Abigail bites, appearing out of nowhere to stand opposite you with her arms crossed, “Her husband’s gone and her only child is gallivanting around fer days on end!”

You were stunned into silence.

By the time your brain caught up with your shock, your mother had hurried off crying. Followed closely by her new best friend.

What the hell? You think to yourself. Totally confused.

You took a moment to watch Abigail hug your mother by her lean-to and fury took over.

How dare she! You scream internally.

You throw yourself to your feet and storm off into the trees, making sure to put as much distance between yourself and the camp without actually leaving the area.

You make it to a secluded part by the cliffs edge and without stopping your fast pace, you pick up the biggest stone you can see and throw it off into the open cavern below.

Oh God. You think. What if there are people down there?

Having had the wind taken out of your sails by the mere thought of hurting a passer-by, you edge closer to the side of the cliff. Hoping to peak over the top without being seen.

You move slowly…..

Slowly…..

You peer a tiiiiny bit over the edge, when….

“You know there ain’t no one down there, right?”

You jump back from the edge and squeal. Actually squeal. You turn around to see John sitting under the shade of a big tree reading a large book.

“Oh my God. John!” you gasp holding your chest and laughing, “I didn’t see you.”

“Nah didn’t think ya did.” He smiles back.

You hadn’t really seen much of John the past couple of weeks, with you keeping your head down and him doing the same. He looks so much better than he did. His scars are healing well.

“Wanna…..talk, about it?” he asks somewhat awkwardly, gesturing to the spot next to him on the ground.

You sigh loudly and smirk at his attempt at comfort. You nod and walk over to the tree, sitting down with a very unladylike thud and grunt.

“Just….people.” you smile at him.

“People are tha worst” John replies quickly making you giggle.

You rub your forehead and John hums.

“You do that a lot ya know.” You glance up in time to see him gesture to your forehead.

Looking up at him you’d say he almost looks….concerned.

“I get a lot of headaches…especially when stressed…everything’s stressful” you answer with another sigh before looking him dead in the eye and laughing, “Anyway, you been watching me John Marston?”

John lets out a gruff laugh and holds his book to hide his face before groaning, “Ahh pleaaase don’t call me that.”

You giggle again.

“What!? It’s your name?” you can’t help but increase your laughter at his bizarre request.

He moves the book and slumps back against the tree behind him.

“Don’t remind me. S’the only thing I hear.” He huffs out.

That’s when it clicks.

“Abigail?” you ask quietly and he nods.

“And Arthur. And Dutch. God an’ Hosea. But he says it with more disappointment than the others.” He explains and you nod along, letting him know you’re listening.

He looks so sad. So pale and drawn out.

You then remember the very, very, brief conversation those weeks ago in his tent.

“John…can I ask about….the ‘Jack’ of it all? You know, what you mentioned before?” you say quietly and almost regret doing so when his face falls even further. If that’s at all possible.

You’d tried to get some information from Arthur about the whole situation but he didn’t shed much light on the subject. He seems to have his own issues with John. You stopped your line of questioning very quickly once he started questioning you back about why you wanted to know.

Being nosy didn’t seem like a very good reason.

“He’s. He’s not mine.” John says looking you in the eye without a hint of anger or uncertainty.

“But you, had a…relationship? With Abigail.” you ask choosing your words carefully and he scoffs.

“If you cn call it that. We hada thing yeah. But we weren’t….together. Not really. She was still workin’…..in camp n outta it. The timin’s don’t add up. I know people think I’m dumb n maybe I am but….I’m not that dumb.” He says and finishes with a humourless laugh.

You don’t really know what to say. So you just nod. Silently letting him know he can carry on if he wants.

“I love her….but it’s not that kinda love you know?” You don’t really know, having never been in love, so you just stay quiet. “Anyway. Boy ain’t mine. Can’t be. But she’s said he is n that’s that. Guess she figured Dutch woulda believed any of the others if they said it weren’t theirs. N’ if it were some customer from a saloon then well…..she did what she hadta do I guess.”

“But have you told anyone all of that? Like, Hosea?” you ask feeling instantly stupid when he laughs. He catches the drop of your eyes and promptly stops.

“Sorry, I weren’t laughin’ at you. Its just real obvious you ain’t never been ina gang.” he smiles.

How have you only just noticed how nice his smile is? Your face heats up but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Moment she told me, I went ta Arthur. He’s like ma brother. Was like ma brother. He told me it was time ta be a man…..but hows that fair!?” he said raising his voice a bit and without meaning to, you flinch.

That he did notice.

He cleared his throat, “Sorry.”

“No it’s fine.” you say quickly, making sure he knows he didn’t do anything wrong, “You’re allowed to be upset.”

“So’re you ya know. About, ya know, what happened.” There’s that awkward attempt to comfort again.

You nod and bring your knees up, holding them to your chest, taking a long deep breath.

“Not sure that’s true you know.” You sigh, looking out into the blue sky. Trying to remember when things weren’t so sad. John just looks at you with confusion.

“I mean. Have you seen my mother? She’s a wreck. Of course she is, who wouldn’t be? But. We can’t both fall apart. She kept everything together for such a long time….she deserves her time to grieve. I can wait.” You say hoping to convince yourself as well as John.

You sit with John in a comfortable silence for about 10 minutes when you hear his name being shouted in the distance. It’s hard to tell but it’s a good guess to say that it’s Abigail.

“God dammit” John groans and rubs his face a bit too hard, causing one of his scabs to shift and a small amount of blood to rise to the surface, “Shit.”

You put your shirt sleeve over your palm and shift closer to John. You go to touch his chin, to guide his face to look at you but like you earlier, he flinches.

For a brief moment you both just look at each other.

Without saying anything you reach forward again and this time he lets you gently pull his face forward. You ever so gently dab at his face, getting rid of the visible blood spots. All the while his eyes are closed.

When the shouting gets a bit louder you pull back but, as you do, John seems to follow after your hand. Before he quickly catches himself and opens his eyes.

“Thanks” he says before coughing and looking anywhere but at your face, “Guess I should get back before she sends out a search party.”

You smile softly, “I’m sure she means well. Just worried I guess.”

John finally looks you in the eye and nods, grimacing from his leg wound as he stands up. Book in hand. You remain seated.

“Ya know, I uh, come out here quite a bit. No one from camp seems ta walk out this far.” He says looking down at you. You find yourself completely at a loss of how to respond so you just nod and say ‘okay’. He laughs a bit to himself and turns to walk into the trees before stopping and turning back briefly to you, “Maybe see you here again then.”

John doesn’t wait for you to reply before walking into the trees, away from camp again. You figure he must be doing a loop around so no one sees what direction he comes from.

You roll your sleeve back up and make a mental note to wash it before anyone sees. You don’t need to answer questions of how you have blood on your clothes but no injury.

You move into the spot John was in so you can lean back against the tree and watch the sun get lower and lower.

Before you know it, you drift off to sleep.

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neon-junkie · 4 years ago

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The O’Driscolls Daughter - CHPT.2

Summary: You’re Colms daughter, stubborn and temperamental like him, but you’ve got a kind heart and a soft spot for the poor stableboy that Colms gang torments.

Pairing: Kieran Duffy x f!Reader

Word Count: 3468

Rating: SFW

Tags: Colter, Grizzlies west, Strangers to friends to lovers, Slow burn, Flirting, Arguments, Fights/

Notes: Y’all have poked (motivated) me to get this next chapter done so here u go!

CHAPTER 1 | Read on AO3

It's another lovely day in Grizzlies West. Despite the sun shining overhead, it's still cold as fuck. The men groan as they mope about the camp, waiting for orders off Colm, waiting for somebody to come and attack them, anything. They're practically waiting for paint to dry, beating each other up as a form of entertainment.

Tom's wasting the day by arm-wrestling some of the men. He's only winning purely from his size, targeting men much smaller than him to challenge. They're sat in what's left of a cabin, one wall is completely gone whilst the other three and the roof are barely standing.

Tom can feel his elbow going sore as it slowly slides across the crate, his opponent putting up too much of a fight for Tom's liking. His eyes flick over to the sudden movement, lighting up when he notices Kieran exiting the stables just a few meters away.

Shaking off his opponent, Tom calls out to Kieran. His opponent gives him a funny look, annoyed that he just bailed on the game, but grins as he realized what Tom was about to do.

"Boy, come here!" Tom calls out.

Kieran's head dips slightly, scurrying over, trying his best to avoid eye contact but still look in their direction.

"Yes, sir?" Kieran asks.

"Come play a game," Tom tells him as he pats his hand on the crate, though Kieran knows it's an order. An order he's happy to refuse.

"Oh? Oh, no. That ain't for me, sir," Kieran rejects.

"C'mon, kid. I'll go easy on ya," Tom chuckles. Everybody present knows that Tom will probably try to break Kieran's arm.

"Nahhh, I... I ain't one for that," Kieran waves his hands in front of his body, feet turned inwards. He has no idea how to escape this situation.

"Boy," Tom grunts as he stands up, taking a slow walk over to Kieran. "When I tell you to do something, you do it," Tom tells him, stopping a few inches from Kieran. Tom's got his chest slightly puffed out, shoulders back as he intimidates the poor stableboy.

"Sir, I'll lose, we both know that. Ain't much of a fight," Kieran explains to him, trying his best to remain a pacifist and keep this situation under control.

"Like I said, I'll go easy on ya," Tom tells him. Kieran gulps, his fingers twiddling together. He's about to speak until a familiar voice catches everybody's attention. It's your own.

"He said no, Tom," you tell Tom. You'd been nearby this whole time, sharpening your knife as you lean back against the ruins of another cabin. Either Tom had no idea that you were there, or he did and was trying to wind you up.

"You wanna challenge me instead? Create a distraction so this boy here can take the chance and run?" Tom asks you, his face turned towards you, though his body still faces Kieran.

"I ain't one for child-like games. What's next? You gonna ask me to play iSpy?" you chuckle as you holster your knife, leaving the whetstone on a nearby crate. A few of the men can be heard giggling, Toms head snapping over his shoulder as he glares at them, instantly shutting them up.

"I ain't afraid to beat a woman, you know that," Tom informs you as he finally moves away from Kieran, slowly approaching you. You take a few steps forward, meeting Tom halfway.

You're close. Noses almost touching, chest and stomach pressed against each other. Tom's got that mischievous glint in his eyes, eager to irritate you as much as possible. The men are watching, holding their breaths as they wait for something to happen... anything!

"That a threat, little Tommy?" you ask him, making him scowl.

"It is, and don't you know it," Tom responds. Kieran can be seen slowly shuffling away, trying to get some distance but still keeping an eye on the situation.

"What you gonna do, fat man?" you ask him.

Tom finally snaps, suddenly pushing you back. As he pushes your shoulder, his foot hooks itself behind your ankle, sending you falling backward, thudding against the snowy floor. You hear the snow crunch underneath you, your head beginning to ache from the impact.

Despite the landscape being mostly white, all you can see is red. Tom slips up, turning to the men as he points at you on the floor, laughing over his shoulder. They join in like the bunch of sheep they are.

A window has opened, and you're quick to jump through it. You spring to your feet, your fist clenching as you stand. Tom turns at just the right time, a perfect punch landing right across his face. You can hear the cracking of his jaw, feeling it swing against your knuckles.

Tom stumbles backward for a few seconds, finally landing on his ass as he holds his face. The men remain silent, and Kieran's in the background, watching all of this with wide eyes and an open mouth.

This woman, Colm O'Driscolls daughter, had just punched the soul out of Colms right-hand man, all for what? picking on a stableboy?

Colm always seems to appear at the wrong time. He shows up to find Tom on the floor, your fist still clenched and your brows still furrowed. Colm can clearly see that you've just hit his right-hand man, though he has no idea why.

"For fuck sake," your father says as he approaches the situation. "I wish I could spend just one single day without the two of you getting into a scrap. You're practically family! Why do you fight like this?"

Neither of you says anything.

"(Y/N), come with me. Tom, get yourself cleaned up and see me later," Colm orders the two of you.

You and Tom share a quick glance before you turn heel and walk, following Colm back to his cabin.

This feeling was far too familiar, that feeling you get when you're heading to the principles office, or when your boss has asked to speak with you privately. Your tail doesn't hide between your legs, you have no reason to be scolded, though as always, you know the blame will fall on you.

Colm takes his usual seat as you shut the door, sitting in your usual chair opposite him. He pours himself a drink from the bottle already on the table, swirling it around in his glass before taking a sip. He doesn't offer you one, he only does that when he's proud of you. Today was not one of those days.

"You were never a problem growing up. You were so obedient and calm. But now you're older and you're starting to spread your wings, all you seem to do is hit Tom with them," Colm tells you, having another sip of his drink before placing it down on the table. "Why?" he asks.

"Your bitch isn't as obedient as you think," you reply.

"Tom's got his flaws but don't we all?" Colm shrugs.

"Tom's got a lot more flaws than you think. You can shrug it off all you want, but that man isn't right in the head." You tap your finger against your temple as you speak.

"And what was it this time? What did he do that upset you?"

"He was picking on the men," you explain, your voice just as plain as his own.

"Which men?"

"Kieran."

"Who?" Colm asks, genuinely confused. Colm has always preferred quantity over quality, picking up men wherever he can find them, disposing of them faster than he picked them up.

"The stableboy?" You raise your eyebrows. Sometimes you remembered that this man right here is your father, you always wished you could forget.

"You..." Colm cute himself off, shaking his head. "You punched Tom because he picked on a fucking stableboy?!" Colm raises his voice as he speaks, ending in a shout.

"Do you want your men to be at each other?" You shout back. You really are your father's daughter.

"I want my men to get on with their jobs. Not fuss each other over fucking nonsense!"

"This ain't nonsense? Your pathetic excuse for 'men' bum about all day, picking on each other when they should be out working! Finding leads! Robbing folk! Not pissin' about."

"You tellin' me how to run my gang?" Colm glares.

"Yes."

"You fucking run it then. Go on," Colm waves his hand at you in a shooing motion, hoping you'll chicken out.

"I will. You've seen what I can do, you know I'm good," you sit back, crossing your arms, your voice finally lowering. "I'm your child after all."

"Robbin' folk ain't nothin' like runnin' an entire gang. If you're so good then prove it to me. Maybe then I'll consider telling the men to stop picking on your stableboy," Colm copies your position without thinking, also leaning back with his arms crossed. He watches you hungrily, waiting for just a glimmer of fear to flash across your face. But it doesn't.

"Fine. I will. I've already been fishin' somethin' out. I'll get it done," you tell him, getting up from your chair and heading to the door, deciding the conversation was over.

"Oh, and (Y/N)?" Colm calls out as you open the door, already halfway through it. You stop in your tracks, sighing as you look over at him. He's smirking. "Take the stableboy with you," Colm orders.

You don't reply, exiting his cabin. You needed some time to yourself.

The sky has already turned orange, evening was here. You're hungry but decide to tell Kieran the bad news first, wanting to give him as much time to prepare as possible.

So off you go, heading to where Kieran practically lives. As you enter the stable, you feel a nice blast of warm air, wiping away the chill that is constantly on your cheeks and nose.

It's warm in here, all thanks to the horses. Kieran often overhears other gang members complain about how cold the decaying cabins and thin tents are, but thankfully, Kierans never really had any temperature issues.

The only time he gets chilly is when he's dragged outside for whatever nonsense. In the stables, he can stay warm and surround himself with good company - the horses.

Kieran's head snaps over his shoulder as you appear, shutting the doors quickly behind you. You could have sworn you overheard him mumbling to himself but you're almost certain it was probably some men outside.

He's fussing his horse, his hand resting on the animal's nose as he watches you stomp the snow off your boots.

"Mister Duffy," you greet him as you approach. He's still visibly shaken from earlier, and now there's a glint of fear in his eyes as he notices how pissed off you look.

"Miss, you really didn't have to do what you did earlier. I really appreciate it, but I don't want you gettin' in no trouble," Kieran tells you as he moves his hand from his horse's nose, resting it on his neck instead.

"I already told you, sweetheart, that those clowns need putting in their place and I'm more than happy to do it," you explain as you enter the horse's pen, your hand coming to gently stroke along Kierans horse.

This is the softest horse you've ever felt. Sure, the other horses are soft, never having that neglectful sticky feeling to their fur, but this one felt unreal. Maybe Kieran conditions his horse's fur every night? That'd explain why he spent so much time in here, cleaning his horse like his life depended on it.

"Well, I do appreciate it. Did Colm give you much trouble?" Kieran asks, watching your hand pet his horse, his eyes often flicking over to the rest of you.

"Nah. I don't think he can, he's my father after all," you shrug. "What's this gentleman's name?" you ask Kieran.

"Huh? Oh! You mean my horse?" Kierans eyes widen.

"Yeah."

"Branwen," Kieran tells you.

"Well, Branwen, you're real soft. Your rider here quite clearly loves you," You tell Branwen. He lets out a small nicker, puffs of chilled air coming from his nose, as if he was thanking you.

Kieran watches you in awe, his heart melting at the sight of you talking to his horse. He feels a little sick, the butterflies in his stomach dancing around to the sound of his heartbeat.

"Yeah, not to sound cheesy but he's my world," Kieran rubs the back of his neck, eyes flicking at the stable floor then returning to you. Either Kieran is overheating, or he's blushing. Maybe both?

"I know how you feel, (H/N) is my world too. I'd be lost without 'em," you reply as you nod in the direction of your stabled mount.

"Yeah. I ain't got much to enjoy in life, but at least I got someone to enjoy my time with," Kieran tells you as his eyes overlook Branwen, giving his horse a gentle rub under his jawline.

"Kieran?" you ask, his attention being drawn to you. "I don't mean to spoil the moment, but I came here to tell you something."

"Oh, god. What is it?" There's fear to his voice, his flustered red cheeks fading back to his pale skin colour.

"I got a stagecoach robbery that's gonna be happenin' real soon. I understand that you ain't one for fightin', but Colms ordered me to take you with him. I thought I'd let you know in advance," you inform him.

Kieran lets out a deep sigh. "Guess this is my punishment," he says.

"No, it's my punishment," you correct him. Kieran gives you a funny look and you're quick to correct him again. "I mean, because Colm knows I'm soft on ya. He views his men as just... men, you know? I view them as human beings. So he's making me take you with me just to get me all worried and stuff," you roll your eyes and shake your head. Typical behavior from your father.

"You ain't gotta be worried about me, Miss. I'm just a stableboy," Kieran shrugs as he looks down at the floor.

"You are just a stableboy, but we need people like you! If it weren't for you, our horses would constantly be a mess. You're like, the foundation to a house. You get me? Without you, we'll just topple over," you explain to him. Kieran catches on to what you're saying, nodding his head in agreement, a smile creeping across his face.

"No ones ever put it like that before, thank you, Miss," Kieran replies, letting out a little laugh as he thinks about what you've just said.

"How many times have I told you to stop callin' me that? It's (Y/N). Don't be afraid to say my name," you tease him, his cheeks flustering again.

"Well, (Y/N), thank you," Kieran replies, a little sheepishly.

"Now, I gotta go get some dinner," you say as you exit the pen after giving Branwen another pat. "You get your guns ready. I'll make sure you have the safest job."

You flash Kieran a smile before heading out, quickly shutting the stable doors behind you to stop the cold air from seeping in. Yet again, you've left Kieran in a mushy state, his heart still thudding, finally allowing himself to let out the grin that he's been holding back on this whole time. He's like a child getting worked up over their crush, giving Branwen a hug, pretending he's you.

"It's happened again," Kieran tells Branwen, his eyes shutting as he smiles to himself, head still resting against Branwen's neck. "She's done it again, Branwen. I've got them butterflies back, I can feel my heart poundin' out my chest."

Kieran moves off his horse, moving to lean back against the fence so he can speak to Branwen properly.

"She called me sweetheart, told me to call her by her actual name, said she'd make sure I'm safe. All that real good stuff!"

Branwen lets out a snort, his head flicking up slightly. Kieran can see Branwen cheering him on, getting excited on Kieran's behalf.

"She met you as well! Ain't that nice! Introduced you to her and everythin'. You two are gonna be best buds before you know it," Kieran laughs, his voice a little lowered as he doesn't want to attract the attention of anybody who may be outside.

"I'm real nervous for this job though. But I know I'll be safe with her," Kieran worries, watching Branwen give him a little nod in agreement.

"Guess I should go clean my gun, huh?" Kieran sighs, pouting a little, hating the idea of going into combat.

"I'm gonna go get some dinner. I'll be right back, then we can talk a little more," Kieran tells Branwen as he makes his way out of the pen, pulling on his gloves before exiting the stable, off to pick at whatever scraps were left.

Branwen's sat down when Kieran returns. Kieran takes a seat beside him, leaning back against his horse as he eats. The two spend the rest of the night fawning over you, too star-struck to bother thinking about the job.

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