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its-deputy-caleb · 3 years ago

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hello! can i have some touch starved micah with a gentle and caring fem or gn reader?? thank you :))

omg yess anon, u can have touch starved micah any day! now ngl its like 3AM and i decided to write these after such a long day so this probs makes no sense and i didn't like the way they turned out at all so i might fix it up later

but still please enjoy this mess and a friendly reminder to anyone that reads this that my rdr requests are still open (but dw there's still more to come) i'm just really enjoying getting back into red dead!!

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It had been a relatively long night for Micah, or so you’d noticed as you watched him leaning against a tree for almost the entire afternoon and long into the night, just sharpening his knife and mumbling under his breath.

You knew something was bothering him and apart of you couldn’t help but be a little worried and it wasn’t because of the robbery you have with him the next day. No, deep down you had a soft spot for him.

But Micah Bell had his walls up high even around someone like you who is one of the few people he considers a friend. Talking to him, little alone approaching him is more of a challenge than a bet in five finger fillet and you had an inkling that he’d appreciate being alone.

So with a heavy sigh you stood from your place at the campfire, bid the last few remaining members a goodnight and headed towards your tent— there needed to be one of you with at least four hours of sleep, otherwise you’d never be able to pull off this robbery.

As you turned around to close the flaps in your tent, you couldn’t help but notice Micah’s gaze directed at you and it had been since you stood to leave. When your eyes met his own and you gave a soft smile he immediately turned his attention back to the knife and whetstone in his hand, hiding how flustered he was under the brim of his hat.

You waved goodnight to him but of course he didn’t see it, he wouldn’t dare look your way until he knew for certain that you wouldn’t catch him doing so. In all the time you’ve gotten to know Micah, you’ve seen him argue, fight, yell and even flirt with the gang members and total strangers but you’ve never seen him flustered or nervous quite like the way he is with you.

The thought makes you giggle as you settle into bed, you could only guess that he likes you but to say that you hate the idea would be a lie.

The next morning you were walking through camp with a cup of coffee in your hand as you went to find Micah and prepare for the coach that was coming in from Annesburg. It wasn’t difficult to find him since he was still leaning against the tree, the only real point of difference was his slightly slumped posture and obvious bags under his eyes.

“Here, I thought you might want this after last night.”

He stares numbly at the cup of coffee you’re holding out for him to take. He seems almost startled out of his thoughts at the first person that’s actually approached him in hours.

“I don’t like coffee.”

“—Half of its filled with whiskey.”

One of Micah’s typical sly smirks comes to rest on his face, one that’s laced with over confidence so that he can put his walls up higher and keep everyone thinking that he’s not trying to downplay whatever’s bothering him.

“You know me too well, sweetheart.”

However, you’re not just anyone and happen to see straight through his charms. When you place the cup in his hand you instantly notice the way he seems to tense up when your hand lightly brushes his. You couldn’t help but think the soft sound that left him was, for lack of a better word...cute.

His hand instinctively reaches forward into you more before pulling away to fiddle with the cup.

“Common now, I need you feeling sharp for this robbery and its a long ride to Annesburg from here.”

The tension leaves him when he realises you’re not going to push for answers or make a scene and he’s clearly comforted by the small smile you’re giving him.

The robbery as a whole goes fairly smooth. The coach guards were easy to take down with there being only three of them plus a driver. The issue arrived when the law showed up and there was a hell of a lot more than three.

The coach had been flipped at this point, the horses well and truely bolted but it offered the cover you needed in order to take out the flock of lawman.

Standing beside you, you can’t help notice how Micah seems completely out of it. You’ve seen him at his best, just how well he can shoot during a gunfight. Hell at Blackwater you saw him take out at least twenty pinkertons before you all even made it off the boat. No, the Micah standing beside you could barely even aim straight.

Eventually, the coast is clear— it took a while but the shooting finally stopped and left only silence as Micah went over to crack open the safe containing the payroll.

“Oh shit—“

Before you know what you’re doing, you take three quick steps forward and push Micah as hard as you can against his side. He hits the ground with a loud thud but you don’t stop to think about it as you fire your revolver at the lawman who’d managed to sneak up on you.

You don’t take your finger off the trigger until there’s no more bullets left in the chamber and the lawman is well and truly on the floor. You holster your revolver before turning around and offering an arm out for Micah to take, who is still sitting in the dirt with a stunned look on his face.

“Are you alright?”

You gently hoist him up and squeeze at his hand in hopes that he’ll understand just how worried you are about him right now.

Micah doesn’t give you a verbal response, instead choosing to groan but you didn’t mind, you suspect that his ego took more bullets than the lawman had. That didn’t mean you didn’t miss the way his hand squeezed yours back tightly.

“Oh Jesus, you’re bleeding!”

It seems Micah himself hadn’t even noticed the vibrant red stain of blood on his already dirty white pants.

“It’s just a graze, ain’t nothing to worry about.”

Unfortunately you don’t have time to argue with him about as he’s already loading up the cash onto Baylock before saddling up himself.

“Fine, but yer letting me patch you up when he get back to camp.”

To your surprise Micah actually follows you to your tent so you can at least bandage and disinfect the wound but that doesn’t mean he isn’t gonna put up a fuss. It takes you a good ten minutes just to get his pants off so you could clean it and it takes you even longer to place your hands anywhere near him.

“I can wrap my own damned bullet wound!”

You stare at him with an eyebrow raised, watching as he has an internal battle with himself on whether to push you away like he does everyone else, or to cave and let you in.

“Alright then, I’ll leave you to it.”

You decide to call his bluff, placing the bandages on the crate beside your bed before dusting yourself off and standing to leave the tent, only to be stopped by a hand on your wrist. Finally, you see something snap inside him and he sighs, almost defeatedly.

“Please stay…”

You pick the bandages and the old rag back up and sit back down on the edge of the cot. He jumps slightly when your hand is placed on the outside of his upper thigh, just under where the graze has torn the skin.

“Relax Micah, it’s okay.”

Micah is staring up at you with hopeful eyes as he leans on his elbows on the cot. You give him a reassuring smile but he only starts to really relax when your hand moves in slow circles against his thigh.

After the old rag has been drenched in whiskey you, offer him an apology before placing it over the wound to disinfect it. Micah hisses through his teeth and falls flat against the cot, trying not to bite his tongue off at the sharp burning feeling that’s travelling up his leg.

When his wound has been properly cleaned and bandaged, you lean forward and take his chin in your hand and guide him to look at you.

“Now was that so bad?”

Your eyes stare into his icy blue ones and you notice just how tired he seems. You decide to make a decision before second guessing yourself and lay down next to him on the cot that’s too small for the two of you to really fit on it.

Nevertheless your arms come to wrap around him in a tight hug. He tenses again but only for a moment before melting into you, exhausting clearly winning out.

Your hand comes to tangle in his hair and gently massage his scalp before placing a soft kiss to his forehead.

“Is this why you’ve been acting so off recently?”

Micah nods into your shoulder, more relaxed than ever now that he’s receiving the affection and intimacy he’s been craving for months now. He’ll probably beat himself up later over a bottle of whiskey for being so needy, but right now he couldn’t care less.

“Micah, when was the last time you had a hug?”

Your question is soft, non judgemental as you gently detangle his hair from where there are small knots. This time, there’s no answer and he only sinks further into your arms around him, as if he’s trying to literally avoid the question.

It doesn’t take a genius however to guess how long its been.

“Hey its alright, it doesn’t have to be like that anymore.”

His head comes up from your shoulder instantly, a desperate and hopeful look in his eyes. Your noses are almost touching and you can feel his slightly shaky breathe as he attempts to calm his nerves.

You lean forward slowly and place a soft kiss to lips, feeling him smile against you. His moustache manages to tickle his top lip and you can’t help but giggle which only makes the two of you smile more.

That night, Micah finally gets a good night’s rest with his head resting upon your shoulder. He’s lulled off by your hand rubbing slow circles into the back of his neck and soft but frequent forehead kisses.

He’s just about to doze off into a peaceful sleep when he feels you whisper against his skin,

“I love you Micah, just relax and get some sleep now”

The next morning he’ll wake up from one of the best sleeps he’s had in a long time knowing you held him all night.

#touch starved micah is my fav #soft rat 🥺🥺🥺#but im also so tired and this is a whole mess #this isn't even remotely edited #so i apologise #micah bell #micah bell x reader #micah bell imagine #rdr2 writing #rdr2 headcanons #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2

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fictiveheavy-systim · 3 years ago

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hey, who would you say is your favorite eddsworld character

🦩this was a rollercoaster to go through. Channel 54 if you were unaware, we're fictives n stuff, all of the content here is... For fictives. It's fine if you don't know what that is but this ask had practically everyone in the system fighting to the death over it

So anyway here we go, a (very incomplete, just whoever wanted to partake) tally of our favorites in the fandom sense + a few notes from us. For any other Eddsworld fictives that follow us, I'm going to put this all under a nice little readmore (as it may make some uncomfortable). Also, doing this gave us a huge headache due to people poking their heads in and the front getting crowded

ALSO ALSO yes we're aware the event is technically over but this took us too long to do ahshbdhd

🔧Larry, 🕷️Pest, 🛹Kyle, 🦩Matt, 💌Babe, 🩸Dahling, 💤Blue Matt, 🦦Jon, 💉RDR, 🐎Pol, 👑✨Matt, 🥏Yanov, 🖍️Skribz (aka 13/60+ Eddsworld fictives)

Final counts:

Legacy Edd: 1 (💉RDR)

Legacy Matt: 1 (💌Matt)

Pre-Legacy Matt: 1 (🛹Kyle)

Legacy Tom: 1 (💤Blue Matt)

Jon: 2 (🕷️Pest, 🦩🔪Matt)

Eduardo: 1 (🦦Jon)

Yuu: 1 (🥏Yanov)

Red Leader: 1 (🐎Pol)

Bing: 1 (🔧Larry)

Tomatoredd: 1 (🖍️Scribs)

Prince Matt: 1 (👑✨Matt)

Sheriff Thompson: 1 (🩸Red Dahling)

So uh, Jon ig. Because nobody else agreed.

Also pointing out that, unsurprisingly, Legacy Matt was picked by 💌Babe (a legacy Matt fictive) and Prince Matt was picked out by 👑✨Princely, a prince Matt fictive. Actually most of these are super obvious uhhm. We're not biased at all I prommy <3

Anyway thanks for the ask Channel 54, it took us a century to do sorry.

Also, 🦩🔪My boyfriend Tom(digrade, singlet) also says his favorite is me (Pre-legacy Matt). Do whatever you want with that

#also just a btw this excludes #🦨tom.#who also is front but really hates Eddsworld hope this helps #🦩🔪matt #not a stim #chatter #💉 rdr #🛹tom #🕷️tord #🦦jon #🥏yanov #💌babe #👑✨prince #💤blue #🐎pol #🩸red dahling #🖍️skribz #🔧larry #btw channel 54 if you dont know what a fictive is i uhm. im so sorry but i can explain if you want shdhdhhe

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purplecatdad · 3 years ago

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Rarepair Week “First Kiss”

Part of the RDR Events Rarepair Week!

Prompt: First Kiss

Arthur/Kieran | Teens and Up | Canon-Divergence | CW Shot wounds

Arthur isn’t part of the VDL Gang in this one, he is just some outcast who some day runs into a skittish young man with a bad wound and decides to help him!

AO3 Link will follow.

Kieran knew that she shouldn’t have trusted them. He knew that, after all, the van der Linde gang wasn’t all much different from the O’Driscolls. And that they absolutely would kill them the moment they had no need for him anymore.

He still cursed himself as he was riding Branwen, hard and fast through the shrubs, making his way through Cumberland Forest to the general direction of the Grizzlies, up north where he hoped for safety. He was terrified of the animals there but he hoped that he’d be able to lose the gang there.

“Come on, girl. I know you can do it”, he whispered to Branwen, pressing his legs into her sides to push her forwards even though he knew that she was running for her life as well.

A shot went off that grazed her shoulder, both Kieran and Branwen crying out. He couldn’t lose this horse, not after everything they went through. Another shot and this time Kieran felt blinding pain through his leg. He cried out, felt the blood seeping down through the fabric of his shirt but he grabbed the reins tighter. No matter how much blood he’d lose, he had to get away from Dutch’s boys before they could catch up to them.

He just passed Fort Wallace when he heard the train whistling, announcing it’s arrival at the nearby station. Luckily, Kieran knew the area since he had camped up here with his former gang before so he pushed Branwen forward towards Baccus station, up the mountains. This was his chance, if he could only get the train between himself and his pursuers he might live to see another day.

They were galloping up towards the station, the train rushing towards them. Kieran pushed Branwen to keep running forward. He heard how they passed the train tracks, the train dangerously close. He heard Bill curse loudly behind him as the train rushed over the tracks right after Kieran had passed them. He still made Branwen run, still as fast just to get some more distance between them. The train came to a halt, stopping for the few passengers that would leave at the station and Kieran prayed to whoever would hear it that the gang wouldn’t try to get around the train.

As he passed the Donner Falls, the rushing of the water drowning out any other sound he dared to slow down Branwen, sitting down heavily in the saddle and leaning back. He looked behind himself, scanning the area for any possible threat … but there was none. He sighed gently, slumping down in the saddle and gently scratching Branwen’s neck. “We did it, girl …” he said and gently nudged her forward. Even though he had lost them, he knew that he couldn’t just stay here. He needed a proper camp, some place to rest up, to take care of his wounds.

Branwen was breathing hard, her walk now painstakingly slow but he didn’t have the energy to make her move faster. His vision got blurry, his mind started spinning. He looked over at his leg again, the blood dripping out of the wound. He knew that he should cover it up, but … His vision went black and all he heard was a “You alright there, mister?!” before he lost consciousness.

Kieran woke up to the smell of something cooking on a campfire. It made his stomach growl loudly before he could even open his eyes properly and he heard a low rumble of a man chuckling close to him.

“Least yer still hungry.” He heard a stranger’s voice as he slowly sat up, blinking as he took in his surroundings. He was surrounded by trees, the early morning sun just rising above the horizon in the distance. A small campfire was lit next to the lean-to tent he was now sitting in, a man crouching next to it as he stirred around in the pot.

The stranger was impressively large, broad shoulders, some scruff on his face, an old leather hat on top of his head. He looked rough, like a man that was used to living outside but when he looked over at Kieran there was a smile on his face and his eyes seemed kind and friendly. “Name’s Arthur. Found yer bleeding out on your horse, fixed yer up, didn’t want you dying on me. Breakfast’s almost ready.”

Kieran stared at him for a moment, not used to kindness like this. “Where’s my horse?” he blurted out, not interested in making conversation now. “Is she alright?”

The other man chuckled softly at that and motioned towards a closeby tree, where three horses were standing. An impressively tall, black dappled thoroughbred standing next to an arabian with a brindled coat, unlike anything Kieran had ever seen. And right next to them was his horse. “Branwen!” He called out, got up and ran towards her. Halfway there his vision got dark again and he almost stumbled into her.

“Woha there”, suddenly the stranger was standing close to him as well, steading him with a hand on his arm, his grip firm but gentle. “You lost a lotta blood, make sure to rest some b’fore you start runnin’ like that.”

Kieran closed his eyes until the world stopped spinning, blushing slightly as he realized how close the handsome stranger actually was to him. He excused himself as he got out of his grip and focused back on Branwen. “She got shot, I-” as he stroked down her neck towards her shoulder he realized that her wound had been tended to. Surprised, he looked up at Arthur who just shrugged gently.

“I know a thing or two ‘bout horses. Took care of her wound .. but she’ll be alright.”

Kieran stared at him for a moment, then looked at Branwen before he looked back to the pot of stew on the fire. “Why… why would you do all this … for a stranger? What’s in it for you?” He had never met anybody who would just do something out of goodwill for a person they didn’t actually know.

Arthur shook his head, an amused smile on his lips. “Ain’t nothin’ in for me, ‘s far ‘s I know. But helpin’ folk.. ‘s the righ thing to do ‘s all. Now, let’s get some good into ya.”

So they sat down around the campire together. Arthur served them both some stew, made with rabbit and some wild carrots. Kieran had to hold himself back not to gobble it all down within seconds after being starved out by the van der Linde gang. Arthur seemed to notice how hungry he was because he immediately refilled Kieran’s bowl after he had finished the first one.

“So, why’d you get shot?” Arthur asked eventually as Kieran was halfway done with his second server. “Pissed off the wrong fellar?” Kieran thought about it for a moment. He knew that mentioning a gang could seem a bit too threatening. He didn’t want to risk Arthur sending him away again if he learned that he had been hunted down by some outlaws … that he used to be a part of. But he also felt bad keeping it from him. What if they actually found him here, O’Driscolls or Dutch’s boys?

“... It’s a long story. But something like that, yeah. I was … they had tied me up for a while, got away though. Don’t think they followed me, though. I ain’t important enough for that.”

“Shit. Ya wanna talk to the law?”

Kieran looked up at him, shaking his head. “No … no, better not. I ain’t … well …”, he wasn’t even sure if the local law would know his name, he never played a big role in any gang that he was running with. But it was still not a good idea to get the law involved. What would Arthur think of that, though?

“‘s alright. I ain’t exactly friendly with the law either”, Arthur assured him and set his bowl aside. “Feel free to stick around, I don’t mind a little company.”

Kieran watched him for a moment, wondering if Arthur actually meant what he said or if he was just saying it to be polite. To him, Arthur didn’t seem like the kind of man who just said something to be polite, though. And so he smiled and gave him a little nod. “I’d love to.”

And so they spent the next weeks together. Arthur told him about the Arabian he had caught. “Stripey”, as he called the young stallion just for the time being. Apparently there were two brothers down by Rhodes who’d give a good price for a horse like that, even without papers. So Arthur usually caught wild horses, the pretty ones that looked fast and strong. He was good with horses as he had worked on a ranch for a good part of his life and therefore had an easy time taming them.

Arthur had said that he didn’t like the word “breaking” because it wasn’t what he did. He explained to Kieran that horses wanted to trust and follow anyway, that it was in their nature. That people didn’t have to break their will in order for them to do what they wanted. And Kieran couldn’t agree more. He told Arthur about Branwen and that he never trusted anybody more than his horse. He told him about how he had found her as a young mare, kind and sweet but about to be put down for a simple injury on her leg as she wasn’t able to “make money” like this. Back then Kieran had pleaded with the owner to please let her go, that he would take her for free even if she couldn’t walk properly so the farmer didn’t have to waste a bullet on her. But the man had just laughed at him and sent him away. So Kieran had done what every reasonable horse lover would do - he had stolen Branwen away the next night and vanished with her.

When Kieran was done with his story Arthur had smiled at him in sympathy. It was something they could bond over - their passion and love for horses. And even if they looked fairly different, they had a lot of things in common. Both of them were never able to settle down anywhere. Chased away, running from the law, not belonging to anybody. But it made them belong together and so Kieran decided to run with him and help him train the horses.

Arthur was one of the kindest men Kieran had ever met - sure, he didn’t talk much and got a little loud when he drank (which he always did after they sold a horse) but he never insulted him, never made fun of him for being a little jumpy at times. He even took his time to teach Kieran how to read and write after Kieran had admired him for his pretty handwriting one day and admitted that he couldn’t read any of it.

Kieran caught himself staring at Arthur now and then as well. When he was concentrating on a task, cleaning his hunting rifle or speaking softly to one of the horses. Arthur was a beautiful man with the most amazing voice that Kieran has ever heard and blue eyes with the prettiest speckles of green when the sun hit them just right. Kieran had known that he fancied men but the longer he spent his time with Arthur the more he realized that falling in love with one was even a possibility. He didn’t just admire him for his body, didn’t just desire him … he just enjoyed his company and being with him in the simplest way. He didn’t dare confess anything to him, though. He knew what people did with men like him. And while Arthur was kind and caring, Kieran didn’t know what he thought about “queers”. So Kieran kept quiet and just stuck to his way of admiring him from a distance.

After they had sold Stripey they had made their way up north again because Arthur had heard that there was another Arabian up by Lake Isabella. A white one this time and it really sparked both of their interests. Kieran knew that it meant coming back to Valentine because it was the logical stop before the hike up north but Arthur promised him that he was a good shot and that he’d keep him safe (which made Kieran blush) so they did it.

Luckily they didn’t meet any of the van der Linde gang on their way through town or up the mountain. It was quite the hike and Kieran wondered if it was really worth the trip but when Arthur told him to join him up in his tent at night to keep each other warm with their body heat he stopped wondering about it and just agreed that yes, it was a fantastic idea to get up into the snow together.

When they finally found said horse Kieran was in awe. She was a beauty, her fur so white that they both almost hadn’t noticed her in the snow. Arthur called her Snowdrop. She was a piece of work though, wild at heart and not very trusty. Arthur even wondered if she had ever been mistreated by a person before because she was so skittish in the beginning but she didn’t bare any scars that indicated it.

They chose a different path down the mountain this time as Arthur had some “business” to attend in Strawberry. At first, Kieran was happy about it. He had been around the area before and had always found it rather pretty. But when they had made camp at the foot of Mount Shann everything changed.

“Oh, ain’t that good ol’ Kieran Duffy!” he heard coming from a line of trees. The sun already vanished so it was hard to see, especially after tending to the fire but Kieran recognized the voice immediately. It was the voice of Carter Jenkins, one of those who had always loved to bully him during his time at the O’Driscolls.

“Carter!”, Kieran yelled as he jumped up. “J-just leave us be! No need to shoot!”, he said as he saw the weapons in his and his companion’s hands. He wasn’t alone, in fact he was with 3 other people, all of whom Kieran recognized from his time with his former gang. Oh, this wasn’t good.

“Hmm, you know if you give us all your money and the horses … I might consider it. Though I’m sure Colm would love to see you himself. You know that he prefers to kill the traitors himself.”

Kieran’s eyes widened but before anybody could say anything else, Arthur had pulled out his gun and shot Carter right into his face. All eyes where on him for a second before the other two raised their guns at Arthur and shot. Kieran yelled out his name and tried to get between him and the others but he was too slow to get between them in time.

Arthur went down but so did the other three men. Kieran stared at them in surprise for a split second. Arthur had always told him that he was a good shot and Kieran had believed him. But three people, right through the heart in the matter of only a few seconds?

The thud of Arthur’s body hitting the ground pulled Kieran out of his thoughts and he crouched down next to Arthur to inspect his wounds. two of them were just minor graze wounds but one had shot right through his shoulder, blood seeping out of the wound and Arthur groaning loudly.

“Oh shit, oh shit .. Arthur! Stay with me!” Kieran said to him with his voice full of panic and distress. He didn’t know what to do so he just took off his shirt and pressed it down on the wound to stop the bleeding.

“Ain’t .. goin’ nowhere …”, Arthur moaned softly. “Just … gotta shut the wound …”, he said, slowly opening his eyes and looking up at Kieran. “Can you do that? Just .. some gunpowder and fire .. should do it …” Arthur’s eyes squeezed shut again, most likely from the pain.

“Gunpowder .. yes I ..”, frantically he looked around until he saw Arthur’s revolver in the dirt. He let go of his blood soaked shirt, got to the gun and pulled out one of the bullets. He had seen this way of shutting a wound once before. It wasn’t pretty and he knew that it hurt - but it was quicker than shutting it with a needle and threat. And the things he needed were far more available right now.

After he had ripped open the shirt around the wound he pried open the bullet with his teeth, poured the gunpowder into the wound and lit it on fire with a small, burning stick from the campfire. He jumped when the gunpowder caught fire, his nose full of the smell of Arthur’s burning flesh he had to gag as Arthur yelled out in pain before going still.

“Arthur?!” He waited for a response but there was nothing. For a few seconds he feared the worst but then he focused and realized that Arthur’s chest was still rising and falling. He was breathing. Alive. Shock had probably knocked him out, he had seen it before in people he had fought with side by side. He just had to keep him warm and protected during the night and then hopefully he would be awake the next morning.

So he set to work. He carefully dragged Arthur into the tent and put all the blankets that they had on top of him before he dug out a grave for the dead O’Driscolls. He knew that he didn’t have to but it felt wrong to just leave them lying outside. It was the right thing to do. And while Kieran knew that he wasn’t the greatest of men, he wanted to be honorable.

When he was done with the quick burial he went back into the tent. It had been a rather cool day during this early summer and the floor wasn’t the driest so he worried about Arthur. For a moment he hesitated but then he shut the tent as securely as he could and slipped under the blanket with Arthur. He hoped that Arthur would understand it the next morning - that he only did this to keep his body temperature up, to make sure that he would recover from the shot.

Kieran clung to Arthur that night, hugging him to make sure that he’d notice any shift or change in the other man. He prayed to whichever god would listen that Arthur would make it. He couldn’t lose him. Couldn’t lose the only human companion he ever trusted or cared about. Arthur had shown him kindness when nobody else would and had protected him from the monsters of his past, in more than just one sense. It wasn’t fair that he was the one lying in a tent with a shot wound. It should’ve been Kieran. But it seemed like yet another cruel joke of fate that it wasn’t him who had gotten hit. Just another good thing that might be taken from him. “You gotta make it…”, Kieran whispered as he got even closer to Arthur, listening to his weak breath and closing his eyes. “You will survive. You have to.”

Eventually he drifted off into a light sleep. Worry and adrenaline had worn him out so much that he was just too exhausted to stay awake, even if he knew that he should’ve. He still slept restless, dreams of the past and a dark future creeping up on him and keeping him worried all night, even in his sleep. He finally found rst in the early morning hours, awake but happy that Arthur was still breathing, still warm next to him.

Another hour passed and Arthur slowly stirred awake. Kieran sat up right away, looking down at the handsome man. He was beautiful like this. And when Arthur looked up at him, a smile on his face, Kierasn couldn’t help himself. “You’re alive”, he whispered before he bent down and kissed Arthur’s lips. Gentle and careful, but also full of joy to see the other alive. Shocked, he realized what he had done and pulled away, now staring down at Arthur who looked at him in confusion. “I- I’m sorry … I didn’t .. I … uh …”

Arthur’s features softened and he chuckled gently. “Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout. Was wonderin’ when you’d finally do it”, he said and pulled Kieran down for another kiss.

#RDRRarepairWeek #RDR2 #Arthur/Kieran #Kierthur #Red Dead Redemption 2 #RDR #Fanfic #my fics #RDREvents #RDRsafehaven #First Kiss #dad writes

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fangirl-ramblings · 4 years ago

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Pairing: Charles Smith x Female Readee

Word Count: 3222

Summary: Love is in the air around camp, but has Cupid's arrow somehow missed you and Charles?

Notes: The fluffiest of fluff, Reader POV / Charles POV

This @rdr-secret-cupid gift is for one of my favourite people - @12timetraveler. My sincere apologies for this Valentine's / birthday present being so late, but hopefully it's well worth the wait 😘

~* Tumblr Masterlist | Stories on AO3 *~

Cupid's Arrow

Reader's POV

14th Feb 1899

You looked around to see Dutch sitting in his tent, whispering sweet nothings to Miss O'Shea while Sean was trying his hardest to win over Karen, whose icy demeanour was starting to thaw with each passing drink he was plying her with. Hell, even John had had a little too much to drink and summoned the courage to pick a small posy of flowers and present them to Abigail as a small Valentine's gift.

You liked seeing the camp happy like this, all relaxed in each other's company; the likes of Javier and Tilly sitting next to each other as the former strummed on his guitar and filled the air with a sweet melody, or young Mary-Beth, enjoying the latest romance novel she acquired, only to tear her eyes away from the page to gaze lovingly towards an oblivious Arthur before continuing her story.

And while Micah's grumbling about it "not bein' right, someone like him talkin' to a fiiinnnne woman like her," as he watched young Lenny saying something to make Jenny giggle from across the way, was enough to for everybody to tell him to shut up, it certainly wasn't enough to dampen the mood around the place.

It was even nice to see Miss Grimshaw laugh and smile as she joined the older camp members in their reminiscences about previous Valentine's days with their own past loves, soon followed by raucous singing of filthy songs but as you took your makeshift seat of a crate at the poker table, you couldn’t but help feel Cupid’s arrow had struck everyone and somehow bypassed you.

You had secretly hoped that Charles would have joined in with the party, but the minute Dutch wound up his gramophone Charles had disappeared into the woods to take his position on guard duty.

While you'd taken many opportunities to try to make conversation and try to get to know him better over the last few months, you still found him to be a man of few words - but you liked that about him. The camp was full enough of loud-mouthed characters like Sean and Uncle that any moment you found yourself sitting in a comfortable silence with Mr. Smith was bliss.

As the night drew on and more and more alcohol was heartly consumed by all, you felt your eyes growing heavy and couldn’t summon the energy to sing along with the lyrics of “The Louisville Maid”.

"Well as fun as this is, I'm gonna call it a night," you announced to your campmates, knowing full well that nobody was really listening. You sighed as they were caught up in their merriment and headed towards your tent… only to walk straight into Charles.

"Whoa, careful there," he told you, giving you a small smile as he placed those big, strong hands of his upon your arms to help stop you from falling over on the spot.

Your face burned as you felt your face grow redder and with each passing second as you enjoyed his gentle but firm touch, causing you to look away to avoid staring into those beautiful, deep brown eyes of his. You hoped that he thought your flushed appearance was a result of all the alcohol running through your veins and not the thought currently running through your mind; what it would be like if he suddenly dipped and kissed you with a fervent passion?

"Sorry Charles, I… I… I hadn't realised you'd finished your shift already. Want a drink?"

"I'm okay, thank you, I was gonna try and get some sleep… and I think you should too - big day tomorrow isn't it?" Your brow furrowed as you tried to rack your brain. Had you arranged to go on a job and completely forgot? Charles watched you, with a confused look. "Oh, I thought you'd mentioned the other day that it was your birthday? Maybe I got it wrong?"

"Oh my word, yes it is," you gasped in wonderment, "I can't believe you remembered."

"Guess I just have a good memory for special occasions," he grinned, brushing a loose hair from your face without thinking, making you weak at the knees.

He cleared his throat and moved his hand away. "Well we best both go get some shut eye before the sun comes up. Good night and sweet dreams."

You watched him walk to his tent, before heading to your own. Still smiling to yourself, you drew the flaps shut and fell on the cot, relieving that brief moment you just had with Charles over and over as you closed your eyes and let sleep wash over you.

15th Feb 1899

As the sun beamed through the gaps of your tent, you woke up to a very different camp atmosphere compared to the night before. It was eerily quiet; with everybody still in bed, sleeping off the hangovers they'd given themselves at the party.

Deciding to make the most of having a quiet camp all to yourself, you sat yourself up and stretched - your muscles and joints aching in a way that made you laugh. Another year older today and your body was certainly reminding you of that fact with all the aches and pains you suddenly started feeling.

A part of you doubted anybody else would be able to remember that today was your birthday but you smiled as you saw Mary-Beth hadn't forgotten; she'd wrapped a romance novel with one of her ribbons and left it on your trunk. Next to it was a little handwritten note from her, wishing you a very happy birthday and how "the way the heroine in this story reminds me of how you act around Charles, maybe if you read it you'll end up with your true love too. x"

You playfully rolled your eyes; ever the romantic, Mary-Beth had seen you gazing at Charles one day and decided you were destined to be together.

Pulling on some fresh clothes, you stepped outside and made your way towards the coffee pot, presuming nobody would have thought to wash it out and prepare it ready for the morning. Yet, to your surprise, you lifted it up to find it freshly brewed and still piping hot.

“I figured everybody would be wanting some when they woke up,” Charles chuckled, walking behind you carrying some logs for the campfire.

“I’d say; seems they all had a lot to celebrate,” you laughed, pouring yourself a cup. “You want one?” you asked, offering Charles the filled mug currently in your hand.

“I’m okay thanks, I had one before I made a start on tidying the place up.”

“Oh trust me, I wouldn’t worry too much about that today - Grimshaw will have such a headache, she'll be far more focused on getting all the quieter jobs done," you giggled knowing from previous experience how badly Susan seemed to suffer from next morning hangovers.

He carefully placed the chopped wood next to the campfire before turning his attention back to you. "Oh I bet," he grinned, his eyes twinkling. "Actually, I have an idea that might help keep camp running smoothly and stop people grumbling.'

"Oh?" Curiosity had gotten the best of you and you were intrigued to know what he was thinking.

"I saw supplies were running low and was thinking of doing some hunting later… a good hearty stew might be what the others need to recover," rushing his words out before casting his eyes to the ground. "I, erm… I was wondering if you wanted to join me?"

"What? Because I'm the only other person sober enough to safely use a weapon right now?" you teased.

"That's one reason, but I'd also like some good company."

You stood gobsmacked as he turned away from you, quickly making his way over to Taima, pulling something from her saddle.

"I… I'd like to spend time with you too, but I'm afraid my pistol is no good for hunting." You hung your head in disappointment, mentally kicking yourself that this could be your one chance to be alone with the man you'd admired for all these months - and you've lost it because you never took the time to invest in decent hunting equipment.

"I can help you with that," Charles told you, pulling out an ornate looking bow and handing it to you. "I made it… for your birthday."

"For me?" Shocked by his act of kindness, you traced your fingers over each of the detail engravings that ran along each of the limbs, tears starting to cloud your vision. "This is beautiful, but are you sure you mean to give this to me?"

"Of course… a beautiful bow for a beautiful lady.” A sudden flash of fear crossed Charles’ eyes as he realised what he had just said, his body tensing.

"You… think I'm beautiful?" Your eyes looking deep into his, searching for the truth.

He nodded. "The most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that. If it's too awkward, we can just forget the hunting…"

He stopped mid-sentence as you kissed his cheek, his body relaxing as he realised he hadn't made a mistake in telling you.

"It's not awkward at all, I've liked you for a long time but I could never work out if the feeling is mutual." You gently thumbed his cheek, "Let's go on this hunting trip and talk about this in private shall we?" You suggested as you signaled for Charles to see what you could see.

Stood behind him was a small audience of John and Mary-Beth, both of whom were grinning over to you both.

Charles playfully rolled his eyes and walked you away from their gaze.

"Sounds like a good idea, wanna head out now?"

"Lead the way Mr. Smith." You held out your hand and he gladly took hold.

"Oh wait, you'll need some of these too" he reached back into his saddle to hand you a bunch of arrows… only to be confused as he heard you laughing.

"What's so funny?" Charles asked, trying to read your expression.

"Nothing… just looks like Cupid's arrows found me after all."

Charles' POV

14th Feb 1899

“I’ll take over here if you want,” John grumbled, clutching his face as he approached where Charles was currently taking up guard duty in the wooded area on the outskirts of camp. “I reckon my Valentine's night is as good as over.”

Charles turned to face his campmate, the moonlight showing a fresh red looking handprint across John's cheek. "You blew it with Abigail then?"

"Yep, I pushed my luck just a little too much," John chuckled lightly, "But I'm sure I'll survive. Go on, you go enjoy yourself… I saw [y/n] looking all lonesome up there, she could probably do with some company."

John waggled his eyebrows as Charles pretended to scowl; alcohol had given him loose lips one night and he had ended up confiding in Arthur and John about his feelings about the camp lady he'd taken a shine to. But he couldn’t hold the expression for long as a smile crept over his lips he thought about you.

"I'll probably just get some shut-eye instead, but I have been busy making this for her." He lifted up a beautiful bow that was resting against a nearby trunk. "It's her birthday tomorrow and she mentioned once she'd be interested in learning to hunt properly."

"You're a big old softie, ain't you Charles Smith?" John chuckled. "Well, I'm sure she'll appreciate the thought."

“Don’t you go ruining my reputation, John,” he laughed, making his way to the clearing where all the gang's horses grazed peacefully.

Taima looked up, nickering as she saw her owner nearby.

“Just a passing visit for now girl, but we can go out on a ride tomorrow,” he whispered to her, stroking her neck as she nuzzled against him. “In the meantime, I want you to keep this safe for me.” Charles lifted his saddle onto the hitching post that Taima was attached to, and carefully placed the bow into the holster on it. She watched her owner with curiosity, her ears pricking up as heard Charles rummaging in his saddlebag to retrieve an apple to reward his trusted Appaloosa for her loyalty.

The music was still playing as he walked back into camp, only this time it was Pearson’s accordion and Uncle’s banjo that filled the air as Miss Grimshaw sang a bawdy song. It was clear that the party wasn't ending anytime soon, but that wasn't going to stop Charles from trying to get some sleep. Heading towards his tent, he found himself looking around for a quick glance of his heart's desire, only for you to crash straight into him.

"Whoa, careful there," he told you, gently placing his hands upon your arms to help stop you from falling over on the spot. He could have swore he felt a jolt of electricity flowing through his veins as his skin touched yours.

"Sorry Charles, I… I… I hadn't realised you'd finished your shift already. Want a drink?"

"I'm okay thank you, I was gonna try and get some sleep… and I think you should too - big day tomorrow isn't it?" A flash of confusion crossed your face and Charles began to doubt himself. "Oh, I thought you'd mentioned the other day that it was your birthday? Maybe I got it wrong?"

"Oh my word, yes it is," you gasped in wonderment. "I can't believe you remembered."

"Guess I just have a good memory for special occasions," he grinned, brushing a loose hair from your face without thinking, before catching himself and moving his hand away.

Not really wanting the moment to be over but knowing he must tear himself away lest he stay admiring you all night, he cleared his throat.

"Well we best both go get some shut eye before the sun comes up. Good night and sweet dreams."

Making the short walk back to his own tent, his heart soared as he thought back over your reaction to him remembering your birthday. Now he couldn’t wait to see how you would react to your present.

Settling on his bed roll, he watched you draw your tent closed before allowing himself finally sleep and dream of you.

Charles found himself waking at the crack of dawn, just as the last few stragglers were stumbling towards their bedrolls . Realising he could effectively have the tranquillity of camp to himself, he gladly jumped up and set about getting ready for a new day.

Firstly he made his way over to Pearson’s wagon to grab a few coffee beans and started brewing a fresh pot. Noticing the meat supplies were running dangerously low, Charles made a mental note to go out hunting later and wondered if this could be the ideal opportunity to ask the birthday girl to join him.

While he waited for that certain someone to wake up, he had already stoked the fires back to life and disposed of the empty bottles that were scattered all around camp before finally enjoying a short break with a fresh cup of coffee.

It wasn't until he had made a start on chopping wood he had heard footsteps behind him and smiled to himself as he looked over to see [y/n] making her way over to the coffee pot.

“I figured everybody would be wanting some when they woke up,” Charles chuckled, walking up to her with an armful of logs for the campfire.

“I’d say; seems they all had a lot to celebrate,” she laughed in that sweet way that made Charles’ feel all warm inside as she poured a cup. “You want one?” asking as she offered the mug in her hand towards him.

“I’m okay thanks, I had one before I made a start on tidying the place up," he explained, walking over towards where the chopped wood was to be stored.

“Oh trust me, I wouldn’t worry too much about that today - Grimshaw will have such a headache, she'll be far more focused on getting all the quieter jobs done,"

Charles chuckled as he carefully placed the firewood down before realising this was his chance and turned his attention back to you.

"Oh I bet," grinning with a twinkle in his eyes. "Actually, I have an idea that might help keep camp running smoothly and stop people grumbling.'

"Oh?" you asked, tilting your head with curiosity.

He had noticed in the past that each time you asked a question about something that had piqued your interest, you would often tilt your head in this way and found it utterly adorable.

"I was thinking of doing some hunting later… a good hearty stew might be what the others need to recover," Charles rushed his words out before looking away bashfully. "I, erm… I was wondering if you wanted to join me?"

"What? Because I'm the only other person sober enough to safely use a weapon right now?" she smirked, and he felt his insides flip-flop. She was so damn beautiful.

"That's one reason, but I'd also like some good company," he told her, quickly turning to go fetch the bow from Taima’s saddle.

"I… I'd like to enjoy your company too, but I'm afraid my pistol is no good for hunting." She lowered her head in what seemed to be disappointment.

"I can help you with that," Charles told her, carefully placing the bow in her hands. "I made it….for your birthday."

"For me?" He watched as she traced her fingers over the engravings he spent so much time on, hoping the tears brimming in her eyes were because she was overjoyed. "This is beautiful… but are you sure it's for me?"

"Of course… a beautiful bow for a beautiful lady.” He kicked himself inwardly for saying it aloud,

"You… think I'm beautiful?" Your eyes looking deep into his, searching for the truth.

He nodded. "The most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that. If it's too awkward, we can just forget the hunting…"

He stopped mid-sentence as you kissed his cheek. The feeling of embarrassment replaced by one feeling like he could soar into the sky right now.

"It's not awkward at all, I've liked you for a long time but I could never work out if the feeling is mutual." Gently thumbing his cheek, you suggested, "Let's go on this hunting trip and talk about this in private shall we?"

He followed your gaze to see Mary-Beth and John grinning at you both as they stood by their tents.

Playfully rolling his eyes, Charles guided you away from their gaze.

"Sounds like a good idea, wanna head out now?"

"Lead the way Mr. Smith." You held out your hand and he gladly took hold.

"Oh wait, you'll need some of these too" he reached back into his saddle to hand you a bunch of arrows… only to be confused as he heard you laughing.

"What's so funny?" Charles asked, hoping thewhole entire moment wasn't a set up so camp could make fun of him

"Nothing… just looks like Cupid's arrows found me after all"

#fangirl writes #charles smith x f!reader #charles smith x female reader #rdr2 fanfic #rdr secret cupid 2021 #fluff

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scarfacemarston · 4 years ago

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Low Honor Arthur Observations

Ok, Low honor is interesting. It’s occasionally fun - but I have limits. I don’t go around killing random people except for the lawmen and never animals. I do antagonize camp a lot because I'm terrible. HOWEVER - I’ve done it before and I do it because it brings up a lot of facts and interactions that aren’t possible otherwise. Plus, I believe that seeing other sides of the gang members improves my writing whether it’s meta, rp , or writing fanfics. Antagonizing also brings up a lot of deleted content that doesn’t make sense anymore since they took it out. I have been playing it for a few weeks, but I was asking for new ideas last night so if you have any suggestions of trolling behavior - let me know. I’m doing the LH stuff so you guys don’t have to. * Arthur is very confident * Different cut scenes * Different Journal entries and drawings. *If you antagonize someone while they are eating or walking with their stew, they will throw it on the ground. * If you stand too close to them, most will either stop eating, eat uncomfortably or in some cases....fart aggressively to assert dominance. I’m not joking. John and Charles do this the most. Most of the “low honor” stuff I did by accident. It’s really easy to piss them off if you stand too close. I just wanted a few pictures, damn it! * Interrupting Dutch during his speech is high key hilarious. He’ll walk off yelling at you before returning to finish his speech. I have a video - but I was using a skin of Trelawny which was even better. * Certain people are more emotive than others. Sometimes, they won’t actually emote much at all - other times they will. Also, they will usually stand there and let you talk to them like that. Like why?! I would walk away. I did take a few pics and recordings of antagonizing. *They seem to be WAY more offended if you get too close to them or if they think you are following them. Antagonizing them is of course annoying - but it’s not as bad since they can literally ignore you. * If you antagonize a lot of people too much - the ENTIRE gang ignores you. It’s hilarious. * If you antagonize one or maybe two people - you have unique dialogue of them asking Arthur why you hate them so much. :( * If you antagonize multiple people, they’ll say: “Oh, guess it’s my turn”. They will also stand up for one another. * Getting bounties is a PAIN in the ass. I have a 300 dollar bounty in every state. Bad idea. I can’t do anything very easily. * I am very rich from not feeding the gang and looting while low honor gives you SO MUCH money. However, I felt terrible when I saw a few interactions with Jack being sick. Abigail and a few others get sick if you don’t feed them. I think Abigail gets the sickest or maybe it’s alluding to her being sick in rdr 1. She coughs a lot and doesn’t smoke so it may be just her. John coughs a lot because he went through pneumonia. The others do a hacking cough sometimes because they smoke. Hosea is of course, ill. Same with Arthur. Other than that, some of the gang members say hangry stuff and rub their stomachs. I had to feed them because I’m not heartless. However, they will never die in the game, of course. * There was a rumor that if you killed one of the shop keepers - they never come back. They do. I tried to kill the creepy gunsmith in Rhodes to save that dude in the basement. He was back the next day and the guy in the basement was annoyed I didn’t rescue him fast enough. * Some stranger missions sometimes go away if you’re too low honor. * Story missions will lock if you are nearby and do something stupid. * I don’t get called out very often. When I was in chapter 1- they did all the time because I would on purpose try to find ways to fail the missions. It’s actually quite hard to do and them yelling at you is pretty funny. * In my low honor - the gang has never been nicer which makes it harder to do. I have to play high honor a bit. But in my high honor - they are so mean to me! It’s like they know what I’ve done in my other file.... Seriously. They’ve never been nicer. * I can come back from causing a SHIT ton of trouble and Dutch and Miss Grimshaw: “I missed you my boy! I’m so proud of you, son!”. I was stunned. * You can scare whoever is guarding the post. My gun went off too near John and he ran away into camp. It works on most - but I did not see Hosea while hunting a rabbit too close to camp - he gave no fucks.

* On one low honor file - they argue more. On the other that I’m testing out - they don’t at all. They are more sad on that one I’m focusing on. The dialogue changes substantially with every playthrough. * Some of the antagonizing is hilarious - some of it is really hurtful. LH Arthur is like Micah in that he hits on the women. Other antagonizing comments I hardcore agree with. Ex: to Abi: “You’re wasting your time pining over John. He only cares about himself.” . In chapter 2 - he’s not wrong. Mary-Beth: My God you’re boring. (I’m sorry. I agree though. Don’t kill me.) * Antagonizing Jack will get you punched out almost immediately. However, except for one or two comments - his options aren’t that bad. In fact, low honor Arthur just talks about how he feels sorry for him, but the gang acts like you did the worst thing in the world.

* Every time you get punched out, the gang will drop you off farther and farther away...almost to the next town. And no - you can’t whistle for your horse because it’s too far away. Cue the Walk of Shame. (You can go back to antagonizing them though - but it’s also possible that the button can be greyed out for you.) * Arthur insulting the Townspeople and antagonizing the police is hilarious. I’ll make updates as time goes on. Greet Antagonize or Greet, Greet Antagonize is great. Meanwhile, I’ll make a post of some of the stuff I’ve learned through antagonizing EDIT: I forgot you can stand in front of them and they can’t get their coffee or their stew. They’ll eventually walk off. That’s what happened when I posted Abigail’s cup being empty. I walked in front of her and she walked off with the empty cup. Most of the gang just wait in line behind you in give up for stew, but John is hardcore run Arthur over. I think I have video. John does NOT stand for Arthur’s shit and I’m proud of him. * They can shove you.

#rdr 2 #arthur morgan #van der linde gang #hosea matthews #dutch van der linde #john marston imagine #low honor arthur morgan #yes i'm a terrible person

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coldmorte · 3 years ago

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So i have some unpopular opinions; i feel like Dutch doesnt sleep around as much as people would like to think. He probably likes the fact that people think that of him, even if its not his style. Also...i dont think Dutch and Molly have any chemistry.

Howdy! (ASK 1 OF 2)

I apologize it took me some time to actually reply to this, especially because it is such a great ask! I definitely agree with both points made here, but I was debating how I wanted to write a response (and how far to take it).

Anyway, I'm open to hearing unpopular opinions! I know I have plenty of my own, so I'm not really one to judge others (as long as there is mutual respect) ☺️

My response is fairly long, and it deals with some sensitive topics. I decided to add a cut to this first ask, just to be safe! 💜💜💜

(Warning: SPOILERS below)

In regard to Dutch sleeping around, there are a few reasons why I don’t think he does it as much as it is often implied/assumed (I’m primarily limiting this to the timeframe of RDR2, Ch. 1-6).

First of all, Molly explicitly says Dutch doesn’t show her a lot of physical attention, even though he is her SO. If he’s not sleeping with her much, I doubt that he is going around with any other women at this time. He seldom leaves camp, outside of doing missions, so it is unlikely that he would meet up with anybody not in the gang. It just doesn’t seem plausible to me, as it would put him in a vulnerable position.

Dutch complains multiple times - including to Molly - that he is under stress and concerned about the Pinkertons closing in on them. Why would he go around outside the camp sleeping with random women? It would put him at the risk of being seen or reported on, and I believe he is smarter than to take on the unnecessary danger. Generally, he doesn’t spend much time in civilized areas, unless he needs to.

Not to mention, stress can be a real inhibitor of sex drive. For the entirety of the game, Dutch exhibits various degrees of anxiety and depression. I believe the gang and his personal safety were of much more concern to him, thus diminishing his interest in sex.

Speaking of the gang, I don’t personally see Dutch as sleeping around with the women in it that much. He did have a relationship with Susan in the past. Whether anything was still going on between them or not is uncertain, but if there was something, it probably was not serious or very frequent. In RDR1, he also suggests that he slept with Abigail, but if this happened, I doubt it would have occurred during the events of RDR2. They hardly ever interacted, and when Abigail did talk about Dutch, it was almost always in a negative manner. Dutch also showed some interest in Mary-Beth. However, I don’t think it went beyond flirting. She didn’t show much interest in him, and I think word would have gotten around if he tried to force anything, especially to Arthur (I am not going to discuss the events of RDR1 in any more detail here because that is a whole different conversation). But other than them, who else in the gang? There were not enough interactions with other women to suggest there was anything between them and Dutch.

Also, sex was considerably more risky in 1899 than it is today, and the means of contraception were not as dependable. For instance, The Pill didn’t go onto the market for another 60 years, and it was more difficult to get ahold of other birth control methods. This was partly because there were not as many technological advancements in this field and because there were a few laws that prevented reliable access to contraceptives (ex: The Comstock Laws). Condoms were arguably one of the easier birth control methods to find, but they still were not as widely available then as they are today (the quality was arguably not as good either). As I understand it, some searching was generally required to get ahold of condoms (usually in more civilized areas, which Dutch tried to avoid).

Dutch is a very contradictory character. My point in bringing up birth control is because although on some level I think Dutch probably would have liked to have actual children, I do not think he was serious enough about it to take any risks that might have led to an unwanted pregnancy during the timeframe of RDR2. As I mentioned, he was under a lot of stress with the gang. A biological child on top of that most likely would have overwhelmed him, and it would have required a long-term commitment to not only the child, but to the mother as well. I believe Dutch was smart enough to recognize this danger, and since birth control methods were not as widely available or reliable, he would not have wanted to sleep around too much (unwanted pregnancies were relatively common during this era).

I’ve written in the past that I believe Dutch had a certain degree of self-consciousness underneath his pride, so I do agree that he probably would have liked people finding him attractive or seductive. These traits emanate a sense of power and confidence, which would have provided a more favorable presentation of himself to others. These perceptions certainly would have helped to conceal his own self-doubts and insecurities, so he would have welcomed them, rather than try to refute them.

Now, in regard to the chemistry between Dutch and Molly, I agree. I think it was a pretty bad relationship all around. I don’t see its flaws as being entirely one-sided.

I will get into this a little more on the next ask, but I will discuss a few things here first.

Starting with Dutch, I will admit that he could have treated Molly a lot better. Even if he wasn’t happy with her or the status of their relationship, he should have seriously talked to her more. She deserved that, at the very minimum. There were a few instances where she tried to get his attention, and he just brushed her off. Again, like I said, even if he wasn’t very keen on the relationship anymore, he should have at least been honest about that. Then, as I already discussed, he had some mildly flirtatious conversations with Mary-Beth. I certainly do not think this helped matters. It was rude the way he insulted Molly for bringing up his interactions with Mary-Beth and how he pretended he had no idea what Molly was talking about.

Onto Molly, I don’t think she was perfect either. I know Dutch didn’t talk with her nearly as much as he should have, but she didn’t seem to show a whole lot of support for him in return. Dutch expressed that he was feeling stressed and not up to much physical activity, to which she got quite upset. She seemed to turn some arguments towards herself and her needs, with little regard for Dutch’s wellbeing. I do think she was selfish for demanding him to give her something he did not want to give/could not provide. Also, she refused to help the gang find leads or assist with chores, even when told to do so by others (ex: Dutch and Arthur). She tended to act above everybody else, claiming she wasn’t a servant to the needs of the gang as a whole. Though I can respect her sense of independence in that regard, it did show a sense of entitlement. Even Dutch donated to the gang funds, and as the leader, he was the one responsible for overseeing the vast majority of missions they engaged in. Molly was the only person who really did not contribute much. (Side note: Even UNCLE - the laziest bastard in the West - helped with leads and contributions!!)

I will get into this more in the following ask, but although I know she loved Dutch to an extent, I think part of her fascination with him was rooted in infatuation. Little is known about her background, but it is canon that she came from a wealthy and influential family in Ireland. I think part of the reason why she liked Dutch so much was because of the powerful position he held. She frequently lashed out at people who she perceived as challenging the reality of her “love” for him, such as Abigail and Karen. In one instance, Molly even went so far as to slap Karen across the face because she thought Karen was talking negatively about her. There was no evidence to prove or disprove Molly’s beliefs, but it did show that she was pretty sensitive about criticism (whether it was perceived or real) in regard to her relationship with Dutch.

Now, Dutch was wrong to use Molly’s fascination with him and his role in the gang to seduce her. But like I said, both of them had their issues. It was just a bad situation from both sides, and I do not think it should have happened in the first place. I don’t necessarily blame one more than the other. To be honest, I think they each deserved someone who fit them better.

And if I am being even MORE honest, I think Dutch should have stayed with Susan. She loved him, and he made a big mistake in ever giving her up. I believe the events of RDR2 would have turned out very differently, had he kept her closer.

(Ending note: Outside of serious posts - like this one - I know I make quite a few jokes about Dutch on my blog in regard to sexuality, but I do not mean for much of what I say in that regard to be taken *too* seriously. I don’t particularly want to discuss my personal life in the text of this post, but I will say that even if Dutch was a person I knew in real life, I’m not sure I would seriously want anything to happen between us. However, that is another matter entirely that has nothing whatsoever to do with him. I absolutely LOVE his character to death, and my blog will remain dedicated to his role in the RDR story for as long as I am around! That is all that should matter!!!)

Also, it is perfectly fine and normal to separate fiction from reality! It is okay to alter interpretations of Dutch (and/or Molly) for the sake of artistic expression, as long as the reasons can be justified. Furthermore, it is fine to disagree with me!!

I just hope this response gave you a thing or two to consider. Thank you again for sending your message in!! 💜💜💜

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katerix · 4 years ago

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Hey @pinyapple! I’m your Secret Cupid! Here I am jumping from the horse into the last wagon of the event train:D I hope that the story is interesting, and you’ll enjoy it! @rdr-secret-cupid

Pairing: John Marston\f!Reader Warnings: fluff\angst&comfort\a hint of smut - 3in1: a little bit of this and that Words: 3434 (picture is not mine \ credits to the author)

“Morning, my dear girl,” said your father when you approached a big wooden table in the middle of the kitchen. “Good morning, dad,” you smiled, sleepily rubbing your eye.

It was a Saturday morning and today you woke up exceptionally late, about 1pm.

You were living on a small farm with your father. It was located a few miles away from the nearest town and it would’ve taken a half an hour to ride there.

You loved to take an old Travis the horse from the stable and ran away where the sun was waking up early. You liked to dream about travelling, adventures and far lands in the shadow of a big tree not very far from your house.

“I’ve been in town this morning,” said your father. “Did you? You never told me that you were going to. How was the ride? Everything was fine?” “Yes, sure. I saw Mrs. Anderson. She sent her regards.” “Oh, I appreciate that, thank you,” you smiled at him.

Mrs. Anderson was a nice woman who had a small flower shop and always gave you some flowers when you attended the town.

“I will drop in during the next visit,” you said while making yourself tea and sliced some more bread. “That’s what I’d like to hear!”, he replied.

Mr. (y\second name) was conservative when it came to the questions of manners. You were always expected to be a polite girl from a good family and you definitely were. But the young blood always desires venture. May it be caused by the stars location or chaotic decision of capricious gods, but something led you to the meeting with a man called John Marston on that fateful evening.

You opened the newspaper which was on the corner of the table and looked through some articles before you turned to your father.

“Dad? I wanted to go for a walk tonight. I heard that this evening will be special and the starfall must be observable from our part of the world!” “What do you say!” “Yes! I heard it from Mr. Douglas a week ago.” “You want to go out alone at night? You are a grown up lady and it’s not my privilege to tell you what to do, but don’t you think it’s a dangerous idea? There’re criminal elements in this area, you know that." “Oh don’t worry papa, I won’t be alone. I arranged to get together with our former sheriff’s elder son. He likes astronomy, do you remember that?” “Sure I do,” - he kept silent for some moment then said, - “Well. I think I can agree on that.”

Sheriff’s elder son was a man in his early forties and was married to a town girl and had already earned himself time to do astronomy, so there was nothing to worry about. Of course, getting such an alibi was a bold action, because if your father decides to ask about observing the stars, just from the point of good manners, the truth will be brought to the light. Your actual plan was to meet with John today. You also wanted to discuss a family dinner. The truth was that none of them knew about it - that’s why you were feeling a little nervous about the upcoming meeting. You wanted to introduce John to your father, but he always wanted you to unite for life with a noble young man from a prospective family, occupied in, let’s say, sales. Somehow you and John could hide your relationship for more than a year. His lifestyle, his bonds with the gang were making you question the possibility of your fine peaceful life together one day. And the fact that Mr. Marston never protested against these dreams of yours, was inspiring a warm feeling in your heart.

“So when do you want to leave?” “Around half past nine, it must be almost dark.” “You sure you don’t want me to escort you there?” “No-no, there’s no need for such sacrifice,” you giggled. Your dad gave you a delicate smile and sipped from his cup.

*** There was nowhere to rush now, when the father approved your little prairie voyage, so the rest of the day you spent in the garden behind the house. The territory of the ranch was quite big but the main part of your property rendered suitable land for agriculture. A small piece of it was gifted to you in order to plant flowers there. A lot of seeds were bought from Mrs. Anderson's, and sometimes you even brought her some of your own for sale. Roses of any kind and size, some tiger lilies and peonies- that all made your flower garden look great.

The closer to the time, the more excited you were. You dressed in a shirt and trousers with boots, with a thin fur jacket - for the night ride it was the best option - and took a creamy pink rose to put it in your hair once you are beyond the fence. You went down to find your father and say him goodbye.

“Dad, you here? I’m leaving!”

You looked into the living room, expecting to see him there with a book or at the table, writing another business letter, but it was empty. Then she heard a noise from the second floor and saw your father on the staircase.

“Already going?” “Yes, it’s high time. I’ll do my best to come back before dawn!” “What are you doing to your old man, young lady!” he laughed, making his way down the stairs to give his daughter an embrace. “Don’t worry, I will be fine, I promise. Please, you should think about your heart, papa,” you smiled widely, hugging him in an answer. “Be careful, my dear.” “I will,” you waved with your hand.

*** You almost approached the meeting point, when you felt your horse getting worrisome and saw the skies turning dark quickly. Rains in this area were starting as fast as they finished and you could only wonder “why now?”. Deep dark heavens didn’t condescend to the answer, so you just rubbed your legs in disappointment and continued riding to find a hideout before the first raindrops. You purposely avoided the Thieves Landing, so there were not many placed to hide from the rain on her way. During your and John's last meeting some days ago you decided to meet in the woods in West Elizabeth where there was a perfect spot upon the cliffs to watch the grand river from a distance, where not a single soul could disturb them.

Suddenly she heard a horse neighing then she saw a rider coming from behind the hill. At first you were dismayed as you didn’t have any weapon, but a moment later you recognized a familiar figure.

“Hey, sweetheart, isn’t it dangerous for such a pretty lady to ride alone at night?” then a low laughter followed.

When John’s horse got closer, you couldn’t help but resent:

“You scared the hell out of me! I thought it was a gangster who tracked me down.” “Well, actually I am a gangster, you see!”

As he hoped, your frustration was softened by his silly joke. It always gave him a warm feeling, because his sense of humor left a lot to be desired, but you always found it funny.

His horse drew level with yours, and he leaned down to kiss you, grinning when he saw how modestly you hid your smile.

“Oh no, y\n, do not hide this beautiful smile from me!”

You raised your head and looked at the man. His hand reached out to you and gently touched your chin, leaving a deep kiss on your lips.

“How was the road? Got without troubles?” asked John, picturing the way from the ranch to this point in his head. “As long as troubles don’t follow me - it’s fine by me. Why?” “It’s nothing really. On the way here I saw some gentlemen, heading west.”

John looked up in the sky and his eyebrows got together as he noticed how lightly you were dressed and how the sudden gust made your hair fly. “I know an old abandoned household not far from here. If we move right now, we can reach it before the storm.”

“I feel that something worries you.” “No-no, that’s totally fine,” he replied, taking a last look in the direction you came from.

After a while you finally reached the mansion that John was talking about. In real life it turned out to be bigger and more of a manor than “an old abandoned house”. Suddenly the skies split up in two by bright lightning, then a remote thunder hit your ears. You shuddered. What got into you? You were never afraid of thunder or darkness but this time something was scratching your heart with little iron claws.

You didn't notice that John had already dismounted, came over to you and put his hand on your leg, gently running it up and down.

“We going? Or you prefer to stay under the rain?” “Ah? Yeah,” with these words you tried to get down from the horse, only to end up in his arms, as he readily caught you up. You felt your heart beat faster against his chest, so you even wondered if he felt it or not, when you saw a dorky smile on his face.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. That, obviously, was not the most non-banal compliment, but he couldn’t help but admire your features and the flower in your hair, which so perfectly accentuated the color of your eyes. John didn’t let you stand on the ground and carried you all the way to the mansion.

When you entered the building, you stood on the floor and looked around. Tall walls were covered in old, almost destroyed by dampness, dull red wallpapers. You walked around the room and stopped next to the beautiful, probably, handmade sofa. John walked up to you and cuddled you from behind. His hand traced along your stomach and slid to your leg. You felt his warm breath on your neck. You turned around and kissed his jawline, moved up to the lips. He answered with a deep, passionate kiss. Then, with a sharp movement, he lifted you up and put you down, pinning down onto the couch.

*** “John?” “Yeah?” his voice sounded low and lazy. “I need to tell you something.” “I’m all ears, sweetheart.” “Do… Do you love me?” you felt how your cheeks were becoming hot. You also realized how silly this may sound, but you couldn’t take your words back.

John looked down at you lying on top of him and thoughtfully twirled a lock of your hair around his finger.

“Of course, princess. Why’d you ask?”

You were not sure how to reply so you didn’t rush to look in his eyes.

“You remember my father? Mr. y\sn.” “I’ve seen him in the town once. But never after that. Is that about him? Did anything happen?” “No, everything is fine. I just wanted to ask if… Would you come for a family dinner tomorrow? I’d introduce you to my father…»

He kept silent for a while. So you started to feel nervous and asked yourself why you even initiated that conversation. But then he answered:

“I’m not in my best shape to show up in higher society, you know..”

Again you looked up at him. Then smiled and gently touched his cheek, fingertips slowly stroking his fresh scars.

“I absolutely love your current shape, John.”

You felt him pressing you against his chest closer, rubbing a little invisible patterns on your bare back.

“It would be a great pleasure to come, but… You sure your father would enjoy my company? Because I’m not sure at all.”

Now it was your turn to make a pause.

He chuckled:

“Let it be.” “So will you come tomorrow?” “I’ll be there. I promise.”

The second you heard that, you felt like a huge rock got down from your shoulders, finally letting you breath.

You spent some more hours together in each other's embrace.

*** You were sitting on the doorsteps when you heard a noise from behind the barn. You didn’t expect John to come so soon and also why he didn't choose an open road to the ranch. After a long talk your father agreed to have dinner all together, so there was no need to sneak. The next moment you saw two riders, coming around the corner, your eyes got wider. Suddenly you heard the sound of a cocked gun to your left and shuddered.

“Hello, ma’am. Mind if I come in?”

You looked at the source of the sound and saw a middle aged man with shirt red hair and a whisker. You never saw him before, but you had no doubt that he was some gang leader. His hazel eyes were looking cold at you and it seemed obvious that an argument was not an option - a weapon pointed at you was a thing to be scared of.

“Move,” he ordered.

Two riders who were supposed to divert attention got closer, and you recognised two customers from the shop a week ago. Their leader with a rifle repeated in low tone:

“Go.”

You followed the order without saying a word. Men entered the house after you.

“Tie her up. I don’t like her sight, and I don’t want any surprise.”

Three more men entered the house and God knows how many of them left outside. One of the newcomers took off a rope and tied your hands up - you felt a slight pain caused by rough material.

“Good. And now, Mr.(y\sn),” he turned to your dad, “let’s talk.” The ginger man made an inviting gesture. You looked at your father and saw fear in his eyes, but he was acting totally cool and calm. Two men, standing next to the door, were holding rifles at the ready. Your dad nodded and went to the kitchen, followed by the ginger man.

You stayed alone in the living room, other gangsters were standing outside. You didn’t hear the conversation and had no idea about the reason for this attack, so you focused on the rope. An attempt to get rid of it has proven unfruitful, so you looked around to find any tool.

When you were about to stand up and search the desk drawers, a loud shot rang out behind the window. You saw three gangsters running out from the kitchen, swearing and shouting curses. You carefully approached the window and looked out. A splash of bright red blood covered the window glass and you staggered back, breathing heavy and fast. You heard a familiar voice from the distance:

“Don’t hide, cowards! Are you afraid of just one man?” taunting his enemies was so much like John.

You already started to worry - what if he would have changed his mind and would never showed up? You were happy that he appeared, and did it right in time. The sounds of battle continued unabated, and you thought that now was the best chance to get to the kitchen. The moment you were already next to the door your sight faced a dark shadow suddenly appeared in the doorway. You looked up and with a horror recognised the ginger man. You wanted to step away, but he grabbed you faster than you could blink.

“Let me go!” you tried to escape this tight grip but he was stronger.

You saw your father making an attempt to hit the bastard, but he didn’t seem to even notice that. He turned around and knocked Mr.(y\sn) down on the floor with his revolver.

“You son of a bitch! You will regret this!” you shouted at him. That was not a wise thing to do, but seeing him hurting your relative made you mad in a second.

“Language, lady,” the gangster chuckled, making an effort to hold you still, as you were kicking furiously, “Relax. I won’t hurt you,” his left, spare of a gun palm touched your cheek.

You were breathing heavily. “Where are you, John» you thought. Another one shot rang out louder , and you heard a voice screaming curses. For seconds you couldn’t hear anything from the outside. All outlaws were probably dead or wounded. But three gangsters were still inside the house - one behind the door corner, two others were next to the windows.

“C’mon, be a good girl,” said the gang leader and pulled you after him. Together you returned into the living room and the man stood behind a small purpur sofa, facing the doorway - the revolver at the ready. You couldn’t see your father was sitting beneath the wall, holding his hand on the forehead, a thin blood line was going down the temple.

The sound of shooting was getting closer, you heard how two or three bullets hit the wall. If earlier the gang leader was a picture of self-confidence, now this confidence of his started fading away. You kept quiet just continuing to fidget slightly.

The minutes seemed endless but the voice ripped you out of your thoughts:

“Hey mister, let the girl go. You don’t want problems, believe me!” “What about you taking your cowboy ass out of here, now?” “I’ll let you live if you free her.” “Put your weapon on the floor so I can see it and step inside. Or I'm gonna shoot this pretty face.”

John hesitated but then followed the order and put the rifle on the floor, slowly pushing it inside.

“I’m coming in. Don’t shoot.”

You felt how the ginger man swallowed loudly. He was nervous. You saw John entering. His right hand was close to body, another one slightly aside, demonstrating that he was disarmed. The gangster revolver was following the cowboy as he was approaching. He said something else, but you already stopped listening. You didn't have time to think that it could be dangerous but suddenly you kicked him hard on the leg with the heel.

Then everything happened too fast. You didn’t notice how John took out a gun with his right hand and shot right between the gangster’s eyes.

“John!”

He rushed toward you, held your tied hands and hurried to untie them with his hands shaking.

“Shh-shh, you are safe, y\n, you are safe now, everything is fine,” he whispered.

Once you were free, he pressed you against him tightly, burying his face in your hair. You crossed your hands behind his back.

“You came!” “How could I not come?” he looked down at you, cupping your cheeks, and kissed you gently.

You hardly kept a smile back. You two remained this way for a couple of minutes until your breath became calm and quiet. You were too overwhelmed with emotions that you didn’t even see a bloody wound on his shoulder.

“Oh no, your arm! You are hurt!”

“It’s just a scratch, baby,” he smiled at you, clumsily hiding a pleasure of you being so lovely and cute, and worrying that much about him. “Let’s help your dad,” said John and kissed your hand.

He stepped aside holding your hand in his and headed to the corridor. Your father was already back on foot and, when he turned to you, you saw an expression of relief on his face.

“Oh, you are safe, my dear girl, thank God!” you ran towards the oldman and hugged him.

John was standing a couple of steps aside with his head slightly bent down and a faint smile on his lips, leaning on one leg, left hand on his side. Only now you noticed that he was dressed not casually, but as festive as possible.

Mr.(y\sn) looked at John and you saw respect in his eyes. He approached the cowboy and held out his hand in order to shake in gratitude.

“To my knowledge, our hero must be John Marston,” he gave a fast glance in your direction, “you saved our lives, young man. I can never thank you enough for that.”

John shaked your father’s hand with a friendly smirk.

“Don’t worry, Mr.(y\sn). That was my duty to protect unarmed people from this bunch of bastards.”

“Well, don’t you mind going to the kitchen? Everything was prepared an eternity ago. Do you like whiskey, Mr. Marston?”

You came a little closer to them to be a part of a talk too.

“Sure, sir.”

Your father went away, and John softly touched your waist to let you go first.

#sorry for the late post #rdr secret cupid 2021 #john marston #john marston x reader #red dead redemption

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neon-junkie · 4 years ago

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unpopular opinion: Micah is terrible but he shows instances of having real, human emotions and completely erasing those moments to paint him as a 100% monster is a disservice for the fandom.

arrrrkajslkfjdsglk okay I'm gonna break Micah down and explain why I like him, just bc of everything going on and cause you've summed that up perfectly. Let's make one thing clear - I don't stan his actions, I never have, I never will. A lot of ppl seem to keep ignoring that lmfao. AND we all know that Micah is a fucking piece of shit. He's the devil. We know. Like the list goes on and on and on when it comes down to why Micah's garbage, but I guarantee you, there is NOBODY out there who actually *stans* him. He's a villain and damn good one. Now. Relating to what you've said, this man has just as much emotion as everybody else. I think the people who view him as an emotionless monster have either never seen ANY camp interactions with him, or they just choose to ignore them. For whatever reason. Idk. It is VERY obvious that Micah has 100% been abused by his father, probably physically as well as mentally and emotionally. He openly talks about the monster that his father is, and he KNOWS that he is just like his father. Now, Amos (his bro), on the other hand, has managed to break away from that lifestyle, straighten his ways, and settled down. Micah is so obviously jealous and even takes the time to write to his brother, probably to try and rekindle their sibling friendship or whatever you wanna call it. Amos basically goes 'NO' and slaps that idea right out of Micah's head, so I do feel bad that Micah was rejected. Amos makes it clear that he will only rekindle that if Micah changes, but he doubts Micah is able to change. So now his only 'role models' are gone - his father and Amos - Micah has nothing left to lose. He has no family, friends that encourage his chaos rather than help fix him, and no partner. He's a loose cannon, and without guidance, Micah will only continue to fire. That's why he sucks up to Dutch so much, because he STILL needs acceptance, praise, and guidance, and Dutch gives him all of that. Yeah, it's creepy to see, but that man must be dying inside if he'll literally lick Dutch's shoes just for a bit of acceptance. Micah clearly does try, like his approach to making friends is so cringe, but he's clearly never ever done this before, and he's only following the ways his father taught him. I mean, we see him still try to befriend Arthur at the start of the game, but Arthur barely looks at him and just continues to shoot him down. I know Arthur is probably following his gut, but people can't say that Micah didn't try. And we see him try it on with the women of the camp, he's clearly desperate to at least find a partner, and probably secretly jealous that his brother has that and a family. And if his brother can do it, then maybe he can too? and we do see him try. But Micah's no rapist, and it makes me cringe when ppl say that. There's a good post about it (here) that I won't go into detail, u can just read that for urself. So - Micah has nothing to lose. The camp doesn't want him there, so it's no sweat off his nose if he rats them out. Obviously, I don't agree with it and I think Micah should have just left, but then that'd be a very boring game lmfao. There's nobody stopping him from causing chaos, and he's just going to continue to do what he was taught to do - be a fucking piece of shit. But to say he has no emotions? You sure about that? It's SO obvious that Micah still craves acceptance in any form, whether it's from a friend, a partner, his mentor, etc. He NEEDS acceptance and he seems very lost without it. And it's so clear that Micahs past trauma still controls his actions, and he clearly has no idea how to even begin accepting and moving past his trauma. That man just needs a therapist asap. Peter Blomquist said it himself, that Micah is essentially just misunderstood. (here) And well, if his own actors said that then why the hell do people continue to ignore it? Because they just want to hate Micah. They view him as an evil and racist piece of shit and just want to hate that, which everybody does cause yanno, it's bad. But they continue to ignore that Micah, like Bill, suffers from a lot of mental trauma and issues, and his past has resulted in the person that he is today. I’ll say this AGAIN, I’m not condoning his actions, far from it, I’ve said many times before that Micah is fucking garbage, we just find him interesting. Honestly, I think if the gang was accepting, or if Micah had someone to shove him in the right direction, then he would have redeemed himself and fixed his ways. Things like racism are taught, and if you can teach it, then you can unteach it, just like Bill begins to learn. Micah is a villain and that's why I like him. Again, I don't support or stan his actions, but it's just so refreshing to see someone so chaotic and loose. People saying that you shouldn't like Micah because he's racist, also choose to ignore the fact that Abigails abusive, so why do y'all still stan her when we see the way she speaks to John? or the way she physically abuses him? So abuse is fine but racism isn't? hmm. But if we shouldn't like Micah because he's bad then why the hell do we like characters like Darth Vader or all the fucking Disney villains? Have you seen how much merch those criminals have? But a bunch of strangers on the internet having a wank over the ratman is bad? We're allowed to enjoy those but not Micah? big sigh. Peter also said that there's nothing wrong with liking Micah. You're allowed to enjoy villains, it's not a fucking crime, and it doesn't mean you support their actions, it never has done.

PLUS, this is a game full of mass murderers?!?! Arthur does a LOT that is considered questionable, such as beating a terminally ill man into his grave, but people choose to draw the line at Micah. You’re free to enjoy whatever fiction you want, but there’s no line you can draw. Well, you can draw a line for yourself, but you can’t rule what others can and cannot enjoy.

It's just SO tiring (personally) to constantly see happy endings and pure, wholesome, golden characters. I'm a sucker for bad guys and seeing them win, so when I played RDR I was like 'oh yeah, this is what I need' and that's probably why Micah's my fave lmao. It's so refreshing to see, and there's nothing wrong with enjoying it. Some people just enjoy villains, big whoop. We need to stop expecting characters to be pure cause that's just so unrealistic. Everybody has flaws of all different kinds, and that's what makes these characters human. Like, are we just choosing to ignore the fact that Arthur is the most wanted out of the gang, who has probably murdered the most people? Do we just wanna sweep his kill count under the rug and choose to hate Micah based on the one fact of him being racist? The whole fucking gang are outlaws, they're all essentially villains, even the babies like Kieran!! Micah is just as complex as every other character in this stinky game, and people who refuse to acknowledge his layers and just portray him as a monster are whack as shit. And remember, those who tell you what you can and can't enjoy are just as bad as Micah Bell himself. Especially the ones who abuse you over FICTION.

#RANT ASLJFSLKDGJSLKJGS #micah bell #Anonymous #vent post #vent #rdr

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werewolfsquadron · 4 years ago

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Hey! You’re my fav rdr fanfic writer. Got any recs now that I’ve worked my way through everything you’ve written! Thanks!

oh gosh, yeah do I have fic recs (and thank you for your kind words about my fics)! Fics are in the order they are in my bookmarks, so they’re pretty much in reverse chronological order. I’ve tagged those authors whom I know are on tumblr, but I’m sure there are others that are here that I just don’t know about.

Morston:

Blackwater - gaslight (@gaslightwestern on tumblr): Noir AU, ongoing but almost finished. Arthur is a private detective, John is a bar owner during prohibition that hires Arthur to look into a murder. Does a super impressive job of capturing the noir tone in writing while not being cheesy about it. Lots of intrigue, mystery, and also Arthur and John being lovable dumbasses. John manages to be a homme fatale while also being his normal impulsive, dumbass self.

Hard times come again no more - dilangley: Arthur survives the end of RDR2, and encounters John again while John is in Mexico during the events of RDR1. Complete. Really unique for Morston in that it takes place when both characters are older, and really well done. You get to watch Arthur and John build a life together, and survive what would normally be the end of their stories. The epilogue made me cry.

I’m a Rover - anotherbird (@the-other-bird on tumblr): I’m a sucker for a post Blessed Are the Peacemakers fics and this is no different. After being suck in camp healing, Arthur decides to go for a ride and John refuses to let him go alone. Oneshot, so complete. Lots of feelings, and Arthur and John being unable to communicate them to each other because they have no emotional literacy. It’s wonderful.

Hell Be Comin’ Round That Mountain - moonoverwings: There’s a frustrating lack of trans Arthur content in general, but especially with Morston, and this is one of the few, if not the only, fics I’ve found that just nails it. It’s ongoing and hasn’t been updated in a bit, so could be abandoned, but what’s there is great and still worth reading. Characters are well written with great characterization, and they really nail the “idiots in love” trope with these two.

Golden day blues - Yuu_chi: Reincarnation AU where John tracks Arthur down after they’ve both been reincarnated into the modern day. Complete. Lots of complicated feelings and struggling with being alive, and the boys fistfight and fuck to deal with it. It’s good.

Nothin’ - helvel: helvel’s got a bunch of great fics, but this is one of my favs. Modern AU where the boys are resting out in a shitty motel room after Blackwater, and things progress from there. Oneshot, so complete. It’s the unsaid and implied emotions, both good and bad, that really make this one for me.

All of Them Wolves - thegoodreverend: AU where Arthur got out of the life earlier, and is living a peaceful life as a trapper up until John shows up in his house. Complete. Not only is this fic emotion heavy and full of the good feelings, but it’s got some excellent banter and John and Arthur feel in character throughout, even though they haven’t met each other before in this AU. This fic is definitely one of my favs.

Charthur:

Lost Country - iridan: A coffee shop AU with a twist. Finished relatively recently. Characters are all so well written, and it doesn’t shy away from the darker or heavier parts of their characters. Arthur is a bartender/reluctant barista at Dutch’s bar/coffee shop, and Charles is a long haul trucker that’s started getting coffee there in the mornings. Arthur owns a small ranch and has a collection of rescue horses, and it’s wonderful.

Come and Lay by My Side - boldlygoingnowherefast: When things start going downhill, Charles convinces Arthur to leave the gang with him just before the bank robbery. Complete. Some wonderful Charthur moments, but also looks into why leaving the gang would be so damn hard for Arthur.

Up Strawberry Way - grantaire_dont_care: Charles and Arthur go on a hunting trip that doesn’t go as planned when they get discovered by O’Driscolls. Complete. I’m a sucker for hurt/comfort, and this has that in spades. Plus some great Charthur moments, especially in terms of having someone who actually cares about Arthur being there when he’s hurt.

Out of the Dark - sky_daybreak (@shady-tavern on tumblr): A time travel fix-it where Arthur gets a chance to start over and try and fix the events of the game (and, y’know, get together with Charles). Complete. Not only does it have so many wonderful moments and heart-to-hearts, but also doesn’t try to pretend that everything can be fix. Some things still go wrong, but there’s happier endings for a vast number of characters, and Arthur gets to see much of his family safe on a ranch together.

Dust and Devils (On My Conscience) - catwrites: An AU where Charles is a werewolf. Oneshot. I’m a sucker for the supernatural, of course, so this is one of my favs. Charles is keeping his werewolf status a secret, but Arthur finds out early in the fic, and that influences and colors what’s to come.

Scars Are For the Living - alliancedogtags: AU where Arthur is shot in the final mission instead, and Charles comes back for him. Complete. Found this originally when I had just beaten the game and was looking for AUs similar to what I already had in my head for BALTWIO, just to see if someone had already done it. Arthur isn’t shot by Dutch in this one, but he does get brought to Charlotte’s place. Lots of sweet moments and that good hurt/comfort, and Charles and Arthur get to live a happy life together, which is the important thing.

gen or other ships:

Blessed Are the Hearts that Bend (They Shall Not Be Broken) - Disishistory: During Blessed Are the Peacemakers, Hosea goes after Arthur when he doesn’t show up after the meeting with Colm, and Micah tags along, which goes about as well as you might expect. Complete. Plenty of tension and hurt, but also has those comfort elements and found family feelings.

Soldier, Poet, King - nerdytf84fan: A long fic that looks at the early years of the gang, from just after Dutch picks up Arthur to, more recently, John’s introduction to the gang and Arthur’s breakup with Mary. Ongoing, but has been pretty steady in terms of updates. As with every fic on this list, the characters are well written and feel like themselves. Also full of found family feelings.

Quest for Arcadia - nerdyft84fan: An Arthur/Albert Mason modern AU fic, where Albert visits Alaska for a photography project and ends up meeting Arthur, who has recently gotten out of prison after taking the fall for one of the gang’s crimes. Complete, and has a second fic full of (relatively) low stakes stories about the epilogue of the fic. Full of both really sweet moments and really heartbreaking moments. Albert still, even in a modern AU, finds himself getting into trouble with the Alaskan wilderness.

If Your Well is Empty - pipdepop (@pipdepop on tumblr): All of pipdepop’s fics are wonderful and definitely worth a read, but this and the second fic in the same series are some of my favorites. When Arthur’s hurting after Eliza and Isaac’s death, Hosea brings home a coonhound puppy to help ease the hurt. Complete, since it’s a oneshot. I’m a sucker for Copper fics, and this one is no different. Plenty of puppy shenanigans, but also some really heartbreaking moments that Copper helps resolve and turn towards healing.

Nothing But A Note In A Symphony - pipdepop: A post Peacemakers fic, where we see each gang member’s thoughts throughout the worst of Arthur’s recovery. Complete. Really heartbreaking at moments, but ultimately really sweet, especially since it ends with a really nice Arthur & John moment, and has a follow up tag about Hosea and Arthur.

Birdshot & Bone - magistrate: John and Arthur try to rob some O’Driscolls, and it does not go well. John breaks his leg, Arthur gets shot, and they get captured. Complete. I’m constantly in awe of magistrate’s characterization, and this has that plus all that wonderful hurt/comfort goodness. Plenty of John and Arthur arguing but ultimately caring about one another.

A Matter of Preservation - charlock221 (@charlock221 on tumblr): An Arthur/Albert Mason fic where Arthur agrees to be a bodyguard for Albert. Complete. Lots of wonderful Arthur and Albert moments, but also some tension as well. Includes hurt/comfort flavor later on in the fic.

Brothers - gaslight: To borrow the fic’s summary, explores John growing up but from Arthur’s perspective. Complete. Really gets in deep with all those complicated emotions of the early years of the gang—from Dutch’s manipulation and Arthur’s feeling put to the side to the way Arthur and John absolutely would die for each other. Plus, there’s John being an absolute wild child which is always a fun ride, especially when you see how that carries into his adulthood.

sorry about the wait! life has been ridiculous and I only now had time to go back through my bookmarks. I’m sure, too, that there are some fics out there that I’ve loved that I just forgot to bookmark, so don’t take this as an exhaustive list. and then, lastly, anyone should feel free to reblog this and add on their own recs—this list is just my taste, but I’m sure there are plenty of other wonderful fics that I either forgot to bookmark, never saw, or just didn’t check out in the first place because I wasn’t in the right headspace at the time.

#long post #rdr2 #fic recs #red dead redemption two #rdr fic recs #not sure if this'll show up in the tags bc of all the links but it's worth a try #ask #anon #text

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my-funky-little-cowboy · 4 years ago

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@johnmarston I was your secret santa for @rdr-secret-santa I know I’m super late on this, but holidays are a mess here. I hope you enjoy, I wrote kind of a pre-relationship AU thing for Sadie and Arthur in a timeline where the gang went west after Colter.

The Inheritance

Summary: Sadie comes across what could be a really good score, but it means she needs to pretend to be someone else. The gang gives her the go-ahead to follow up, but only if she takes someone along as back up, and may be Hosea knows exactly what he was doing. Relationship: Sadithur (if you squint) Characters: Sadie Adler, Arthur Morgan, Hosea Matthews (minor), Dutch Van der Linde (minor) Themes: Two broken idiots catch feels, heists Words: 6,162 SFW [ ko-fi] || [ ao3 ]

The snow had started to fall as Sadie reached the outskirts of the small town, she dug her heels into Bob’s flanks and hurried up the road, hoping to escape the worst of the storm. Finding a small stable she stopped to see if there was space to put Bob up for the night, the stablehand gladly taking her money and directing her to the saloon.

Sadie welcomed the warmth as she pushed her way into the building, it buzzed with patrons looking to unwind and, like her, escape the cold. She shook the snow from her coat as she walked through the door and found a spot at the bar. Ordering a drink and some food she settled down at a quiet table near the back. While this hasn’t been an intended stop on her scouting trip, she was here and might as well see if there was any cash worth taking for the gang.

She had finished her meal when two men settled at a table near her. Nursing her drink as the men carried on, both of them locals. Sadie had all but written them off as she finished her drink, annoyed that she had wasted her time listening when one of the men asked a question that piqued her interest.

“So, still no word from any of her family?” He took another swig from his bottle and the other man shook his head. “Such a shame, she ain’t got anyone else?”

“Not that anyone can seem to remember. Just her daughter. Will’s been gone, hell, seven years now. God rest him. Miss Maggie moved away before that. We sent word to her, but no response yet.”

“Hell, at this rate we ain’t gonna be able to bury her proper ‘til the ground thaws.” The first man grumbled. “That’s the problem with money. Makes everything take longer.”

Sadie turned slightly to look at the men, taking them both in with a quick glance. An interesting score, but Hosea and the gang may want to hear about this.

The man laughed, raising his glass. “Ain’t that the truth!”

The conversation drifted between a few other topics, occasionally returning to the late Missus Mary Gunderson, as Sadie would come to learn. She pushed herself up from her table, the men having taken their leave for a round of cards. She glanced outside, the snow really having begun to fall, and made her way to ask about a room for the night.

Sadie thanked the young woman who had shown her to her room and closed the door. She draped her coat over a nearby chair and put her gun belt on the seat before taking a seat on the bed. She took a small notebook out of her bag and wrote down what she had heard before putting the journal back into her bag.

Sadie kicked off her boots and laid back on the bed. She thought about what Hosea and the others may have to say about this kind of job.

It had been nearly a year that she had been running with them, all of them trying to run from their past, getting lost in the wild of the west. She closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep, wanting to get on the road early and get back to camp.

-- ❖ --

The sun hadn’t risen yet when Sadie opened her eyes, that pale grey light of pre-dawn giving her just enough light to make out the room. She went about getting ready and collecting her gear, moving out the door and down the stairs into the quiet saloon.

Giving a quick wave to the owner she tightened her coat around her waist and stepped out into the cold morning air. The snow made the walk to the stables a bit more difficult, but she got there eventually. She pushed open the barn door and found Bob in one of the stalls.

Getting him saddled up and paying the stablehand for a few extra provisions, she mounted up and they started on their way back to camp.The trip took most of the day, but Bob picked up the pace as they neared the familiar entrance to camp.

“Who’s there?” A gruff voice called through the trees.

“Sadie.” She answered.

“Well, welcome home, missus Adler.” Arthur replied, appearing from behind a tree, a repeater held loosely in his hand. “Find us anything good?”

She pulled back on the reins and Bob slowed to a stop, she thumbed over her shoulder at the small doe slung over Bob’s back she had managed to snag along the way.

Arthur gave her a quick nod and waved her in before disappearing again among the trees. She rode into camp and got Bob settled, removing his tack and pulling the doe off his back when Charles walked by and offered to help. She accepted, excited to share her findings, and let him take the carcass to Pearson as she put her tack away and went off to find Hosea and Dutch.

She found them chatting quietly in Dutch’s tent, both of them looking up as she approached.

“Missus. Adler, you’re back. We’re glad you’re safe.” Dutch said, pushing up from his chair. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go talk to John about a job.” He gave them both a quick nod and ducked out of the tent, disappearing into the growing darkness.

“I think I may have found us something as well.” She said. Hosea waved her into the tent and she took a seat across from him.

“Let’s hear it!” He clapped excitedly.

Sadie started the story of the poor woman who had died, leaving behind a sizable inheritance. The only living family that anyone seemed to have known was a daughter that married and left town a long time ago.

Hosea rubbed his chin and she continued, explaining how they had sent a letter out, she wasn’t exactly sure when, but had yet to hear from the daughter. Hosea sat forward, resting his arms on his knees, his fingers laced together and cradling his head.

“It doesn’t seem like many people remember quite what Maggie looks like, so I thought maybe I go to town, pretending I’m her and collect on that inheritance. Money seems easy enough.” She shrugged.

Hosea was quiet a moment as he took it all in, a smile cracking on his face.

“You’d think you’d been an outlaw all your life, missus Adler! You should follow up on that. We will see if we can’t send someone to retrieve that letter.” He paused. “Take Arthur with you, you’re supposed to be a married woman after all.”

Hosea gave her a knowing look as she opened her mouth to argue.

“It’s not because I don’t trust you, just think you could use some back up.” He explained and looked down at her travel clothes. “And see if one of the other ladies can’t lend you a dress. It doesn’t have anything to do with your normal attire, just, the less you stick out, the easier to go undetected.” He held up his hand as he explained.

“I have my own dresses.” She said dryly.

Hosea had a point, she thought, it would be best to have the back up. And what married woman wouldn’t travel with her husband? She told him she would get things ready before talking to Arthur. Hosea laughed and shook his head, she knew Arthur well enough to have it all ready to go before asking, so he couldn’t say no.

She made her way over to the ladies’ wagon, setting down her things. She found Abigail darning some socks and Jack playing quietly with Sean, the bottom of a rather lumpy snowman between them. Gathering together a few items, she pulled a bag from the back of the wagon and began to pack.

“You finally come to your senses and gettin’ away from us rag-tag band of outlaws?” Abigail joked, putting down her work and pointing to Sadie’s bag.

“Sorry, but you lot are stuck with me it seems, don’t see myself livin’ some peaceful city life.” Sadie laughed and shook her head. “Hosea is sending Arthur and I to check out a lead in a town not far from here.”

“Well, I’m happy to hear you’re stickin’ around.” Abigail smiled, she put the sock away and stretched her arms above her head. “I’d miss ya if you left.”

Abigail looked down to Sean and Jack playing near the horses, deciding she could leave him be while she got them both some food. She stood and walked off, leaving Sadie to her packing.

The sun set and the cool wind blew through the camp. The gang gathering together near a few of the fires burning around camp, the soft sounds of Uncle’s banjo carrying through the crisp air. Sadie finished up her packing and joined the gang near the fire.

A heated discussion had started about whether or not Sean could actually beat Jack in a shooting contest. Which had started as a joke from John that Sean had taken offense to, and now John had put money on his son winning, the rest of the gang jumping at the chance. Abigail quickly put an end to the silliness.

Sadie shook her head as the boys settled down, each returning to their food and drink and lighter conversation. She looked around, not seeing Arthur around the fire. She finished her meal and stood up, figuring he would be off by the horses or still out on guard duty, she set off into the darkness to find him.

-- ❖ --

Arthur slung the repeaters over his shoulder and rubbed his hands together, shaking the cold out as he headed back toward the camp. His stomach growled as the light from the campfires came into view.

He dropped the repeater off near one of the wagons and headed for off to get himself some food before wandering over to the small fire near the horses, preferring to be alone as the sound of Sean and John going at it reached him.

He ate quickly, the warmth of the stew thawing him out. The arguing had died down, replaced with the soft strum of the guitar and he looked over at the gang, debating whether he should make an appearance when he saw Sadie approaching.

“Missus Adler.” He greeted her and she shook her head in mild annoyance, he was always so damn polite.

“I’ve told you damn near a hundred times, call me Sadie.”

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t get up either, allowing her to join him at the fire.

“Hosea said you should come with me on a little job.” She held her hands over the fire.

“Oh yeah?” He looked up at her, reaching down and pulling a log from the nearby pile and tossing it into the fire.

“Yeah. It’s nothing too dangerous, but he still said I should take you, as back-up.” She continued. “There’s a small town, about a day’s ride from here. Some rich old widow died, they ain’t been able to find her daughter, and she apparently had a bit of money to her name.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

“So, what, I’m supposed to be your doting husband?” He chuckled, standing up.

“That was the plan.” Sadie turned toward him.

“How long you suppose this is gonna take?”

Arthur held his hands out over the fire, curious about the idea of another con. It had been a while since they had done something so theatrical. Hell, it may have even been since he and Hosea had to abandon that job in Blackwater since they ran a true scam.

“Won’t know for sure until we get there.”

Arthur rubbed his chin. No use arguing with Hosea. Plus, Sadie didn’t exactly get on with most of the other men in camp. It’d been rather dull around here, what the hell.

“When we leavin’?” He hooked his thumbs into his belt.

“I think we should head out tomorrow, Hosea will be sendin’ someone out to look for that letter. We can get settled and check out the town.” Sadie settled down near the fire, the warmth from the flames soothing her stiff muscles from the day’s ride.

“Right then.” He sighed. “I’ll meet you by the horses tomorrow.” He excused himself and disappeared into the night.

-- ❖ --

The sun was just coming up over the horizon when the smell of coffee drifted through camp, waking Sadie up. She stretched and slid off her cot, pulling on her boots and coat she slipped out of the tent. The camp was still quiet and the cold night air bit at her nose. She found Arthur already enjoying some coffee and a bowl of stew by the fire.

“Ready to head out?” She knelt down and poured herself a coffee.

“Sure.” He finished off his coffee, shaking out his cup and putting it away. “I’ll get the horses ready, get yourself some food. It’s a long ride, right?”

Sadie gave him a small smile and nodded. Arthur gave her a wave over his shoulder as he left. She drank her coffee and prepared herself a bowl of stew, pulling some oregano from her satchel and sprinkled it into the bowl. Finding a spot near one of the fires she enjoyed the stillness of the camp as she finished eating, soaking up as much of the fire’s heat as she could before the long ride.

Arthur found the horses grazing near the edge of camp, Bodicea looking up as he approached , she whinnied happily as he reached her. He gave her a quick pat on the neck and got her saddled up before moving over to Bob, giving him a small treat before working to get him ready.

The sun had pushed up just over the horizon when they finally got on the road, Sadie leading the way. They rode in a comfortable silence for a while, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Occasionally Sadie swore she heard Arthur humming a tune to himself. It was early afternoon when they stopped to let the horses drink and rest a bit, Arthur took it upon himself to build them a small fire.

He held his hands over the fire, letting the feeling return to his fingers. Reaching into his satchel and pulling out a couple pieces of jerky, he offered a piece to Sadie.

“So, we gonna have a story?” He took a bite off the jerky as Sadie took the other piece.

“We’re a married couple, at least 7 years now. Moved west looking to start your own stables, but working as a farrier until we can save enough. I’m teaching at the local schoolhouse. No kids.” She took a bite from the jerky and looked up at Arthur, who was staring at her.

“Oh, that it?” He said sarcastically. “You got a last name worked up for all that story?” He shook his head in disbelief. Sadie rolled her eyes.

“Thought I’d run those by you.” She snapped back at him playfully, and Arhur shot her a quick glare.

“I was thinkin’ either Colt or Cooper.” She continued. “They seem generic enough, and we won’t have something silly, like Sadie Smith. Or, I guess it’d be Maggie, Maggie Smith.”

Arthur laughed, a deep and genuine sound. Sadie hadn’t heard that laugh from him in a long time, usually reserved for smaller groups. Quiet nights around the fire in the early hours, thoughts clouded by liquor. She chuckled along with him

“Let’s go with Cooper.” He finally said. “I like the sound of that, Sadie Cooper.” The smile still playing on his lips.

Sadie told him a bit more about the situation. The information she had gathered from locals. Arthur asked her if they had a place to stay and Sadie told him there were rooms available above the saloon. They talked out a plan for their initial introductions before agreeing it was time to get back on the road.

The sun was beginning to set when they arrived in town, Sadie led them to the saloon, the snow had started to fall again dusting the main road.

“Can you go in and get us a room for the foreseeable future? I’m going to see about getting the horses some water.”

Arthur nodded, sliding out of the saddle. “Sure thing, boss.” He shot her a sarcastic salute and pushed his way into the bar.

Sadie rolled her eyes and leaned over, taking hold of Bodicea’s reins. She led the horses around back, tying them to the post and making sure they could get some water. She’d take them down to the stables as soon as they could get settled with a room.

Inside the bar was loud, and Arthur grit his teeth, adjusting to the sound. He pushed his way through the rowdy patrons fresh off of work and looking to have a good time. He tapped on the bar, getting the man behind the counter’s attention.

“Can I get a room?” Arthur asked loudly, leaning over the bar.

The man held a finger up to him and he growled in annoyance. Pushing back from the bar he turned to check out the locals. Most of the men were young, throwing themselves at anyone who dared look their way. Arthur felt the temptation to put them in their place.

“Oi, what you want?” The bartender called at him, bringing him back, he turned around.

“A room. Few days.” He grunted at the man.

“It’s two dollars a night.” The bartender sneered and Arthur grumbled under his breath, pulling a handful of coins from his satchel. He counted out enough for a week’s stay and slid them across the counter.

“Fine.” He pushed himself back from the bar as the bartender tossed a key onto the bar. “Which room?”

He snatched the key and put it into his pocket, turning to leave the bar when Sadie called to him.

“Arthur! You get the room taken care of?” She stood near a door that led to the back of the building, he pushed his way over to her through the crowd.

“Yeah” He held up the key. “Let’s get our things up to the room and get the horses put up, before the snow gets much worse.”

-- ❖ --

The suite was cozy and a welcome warmth from the cold night air, the temperature dropping as the sun dipped below the horizon. Arthur put their things down, and shrugged out of his coat, hanging it on a rack by the door.

The room was sparsely decorated, a double bed sat across from a small fireplace with a small couch off to one side. Sadie grabbed her things and crossed the room, turning to look at the bed. She was tired and half frozen, her stomach started to growl loudly and she shivered.

“I’ll take the couch.” Arthur said and moved to light the fire seeing her shiver. “Get out of that coat, it’s wet and you’ll never get warm that way. Come over here by the fire.”

“I should take the couch, I’m smaller.” She countered, tugging off her coat she hung it up and joined him by the small fire. “We should check out the town this evening. I should at least be a little familiar with it, if I grew up here.”

“First let’s get warmed up, get some food, then we can go snoopin’.” He moved toward the door, holding it open for her.

The bar was alive with people looking to relax after work, they made their way down the hallway and to the bar. Arthur pushed in to get them some space, moving to the side to give Sadie space at the bar.

He was surprisingly good at this, she looked up at him. He held out his hand, assuming that he had crossed a line.

“Thank you, Arthur.” She smiled, shaking her head.

She ordered them some food and they found themselves a table in a more quiet part of the room. They talked more about the job as they ate, Arthur seamlessly slipping into the roll of a doting husband. Sadie found herself pleasantly surprised.

Arthur was usually brought along as muscle, but she knew he was more than that. Frequently they were the last two left at the campfires. Each haunted by their own demons, but happy for the company all the same.

Hosea had claimed she needed to take him as back-up, but as the night wore on she couldn’t help but curse the old man for being so sly.

They finished their drinks and split up to talk more to some of the locals, agreeing to meet back in the room before midnight. Sadie took some time to chat with the working girls, who were always a wealth of knowledge, before moving over to the bar and Arthur got himself caught up in a game of poker.

Sadie was the first back to the room, she collapsed onto the bed, it had been a long day and she was starting to regret saying that they should canvas the town tonight. She closed her eyes, maybe she could get in a quick nap before Arthur returned.

She blinked a few times, and sat up. The room was still and the bar below had quieted down, she pulled out her watch, 2:54am.

Arthur looked up from his journal, slapping it closed as Sadie stood.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Sadie said, wiping the sleep from her eyes.

Arthur shrugged.

“You looked tired, and we can check out the town in the mornin’.” He laid back on the couch cradling his head in his arms.. “Go on now, get some sleep.”

She wanted to argue, but she was too tired...and he was right. She kicked off her boots and crawled to the top of the bed, slithering under the covers and letting sleep take her again.

-- ❖ --

The couch had made for a difficult night’s sleep and Arthur decided to stop fighting it as the sun started to rise. He rolled his shoulders, glancing over at Sadie in the bed. He stifled a yawn and headed quietly for the door. He reached into his bag, pulling a small piece of paper from his journal, he jotted her a quick note and placed it on the bedside table.

A couple new inches of snow powdered the ground as he made his way out of the bar, heading toward the stables. The cool air felt good on his skin, not accustomed to sleeping indoors. The streets were quiet and he got the lay of the land on his walk to the stables

The town seemed nice enough, blue collar, the usual complaints from the poker table last night. Seemed a lot of the town worked for a couple of the bigger farms nearby. He paused briefly as he came to a cross-road outside the stable, reading the sign he heaved a sigh. So, the Gunderson’s owned one of those farms. Great. He pushed open the door to the stables, calling out for a hand to fetch the horses.

Sadie opened her eyes as the light filtered through the window, sitting up she looked over to the couch.

Of course he’s gone

She slid out of bed, reaching for her boots but not finding them where she left them. She looked around, seeing them near the fireplace and she smiled. Such little things. Things most people don’t even notice that he does, the gestures, to show he cares.

Slipping on her boots she found the note on the table.

Went to get the horses, meet me downstairs for breakfast when you’re ready, I’m buying.

She grabbed her coat, sliding it on as she headed downstairs, pocketing the note.

Arthur sat at the bar as Sadie came down the stairs, working on some oatmeal, he turned as she reached the landing, giving her a small wave.

“Did you get any sleep at all?” Sadie asked as she settled beside him at the empty bar.

“Enough.” He said, taking another bite of oatmeal. “ You?”

“Yeah. Tonight, I’m serious, you take the bed.” She flagged down the bartender, ordering herself some food. Arthur grunted, waving her off.

“The horses are outside, we can take a ride around town when you’re done, acquaint yourself with the town.” He changed the subject and she rolled her eyes.

“You know, some local boys last night told me they work up at a local farm.” Arthur looked over at Sadie, taking another bite of his oatmeal.

“The girls told me something similar.” she responded. “That most of the town works for a couple of the big farms around the area.” The bartender returned with Sadie’s food and Arthur tossed a couple dollars onto the bar.

“The Gundersons own one of the farms, you know.” Arthur said matter-of-factly.

“That is gonna extend our stay.” She sighed and Arthur nodded.

“It will.” He agreed. She was quiet a moment before she chuckled.

“Could keep it goin’, hire people to run it? Keep the income?”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, cocking his head slightly. It wasn’t a bad idea, and ongoing income? They might as well be stand-up, law-abiding citizens. They’d have to run it by Hosea and Dutch, if nothing else they’d get a kick out of the idea.

“It’s not a bad plan. Hell, I wouldn’t say no to some reliable cash comin’ in, and legitimate too? Sign me up! Though, we should send a letter to Dutch and Hosea, get their opinion.”

He looked over at Sadie, she was a survivor, a flower blooming from the ashes of her old life. Driven by this rage that scared even him from time to time. But there was a kindness in there still, he saw it. When she interacted with Jack and some quiet mornings, when she thought no one else could see, she would sit with the chickens, talking to them gently. She had convinced herself she had lost this kindness, but Arthur saw it, even if she didn’t.

They finished up their breakfast and headed out into the cool winter morning Bob and Boadicea huffed as they approached, shaking out the cold. Arthur gave each of them a pat before they mounted up.

“Take a walk around the town, then head to the sheriff to see if they can point us to who we need to talk to about collectin’ on that inheritance?” She asked and turned Bob toward the road.

“Sounds like a plan, once we know you can head over and I’ll drop a letter to Hosea with what we should do about the farm. I can meet ya after.”

-- ❖ --

The sheriff sat outside the small building at the edge of town, lazily watching passersby as they made their way into town.

“Excuse me, sheriff?” Sadie called, pulling Bob alongside the porch.

The sheriff sat forward, tilting back his hat. “Ma’am?”

“I ain’t been in town a while, but I got a letter sayin’ my ma died and they needed to talk to me about her will? You know who I need to talk to?” Sadie exaggerated her drawl.

The sheriff stood up, pulling off his hat, his eyes sad.

“Miss Maggie. I’m so sorry about your ma. She was one helluva lady.” He worried the brim of his hat. “I think mister Edgarton down at the bank is who you’re lookin’ for.”

Sadie flashed him a small smile before thanking him for his concern and his help. She turned Bob back toward the road.

The inside of the bank was quiet, empty except for her, some guards and the teller.

“Good morning, ma’am. How can I help ya today?” The teller greeted as she entered.

“The sheriff sent me this way. I’m Maggie Cooper, uh, Gunderson. Someone sent notice that my ma died?” She held her hat nervously in her hands, her brow knit.

“Oh! Miss Gunderson! Yes! Hold on, let me get mister Edgarton.” The teller turned and disappeared into a back room.

Sadie glanced around the bank, greeting the guards as she walked the space. Time seemed to stand still as she waited, the guards watching her every move. A few minutes passed and the back door opened, two men emerging from the back.

“Miss Gunderson, this is mister Edgarton, he handles our business accounts.” The teller excused himself and moved back to the desk.

“Miss Gunderson, what a pleasure. We were worried, we didn’t know where you’d taken up residence.”

“Mail moves a little slower out west. Our little town only got it’s own post about a year ago.” She laughed airly. “It’s real nice to meet you mister Edgarton, sorry it weren’t on better circumstance.”

He nodded. “Your mother was a real firecracker, real savvy businesswoman. Took over and ran things better than your pa, God rest ‘im.”

Sadie was sad she never got to meet this woman, and almost felt a tinge of guilt stealing from her. A powerful woman in a man’s world, she knew a thing or two about that.

“Ma was always a shrewd woman, nothin’ ever got by her.” She replied, as mister Edgarton gestured for her to join him in his office in the back.

The room was small and cramped by the large desk in the center, he motioned for her to sit as he rounded the desk.

“If I’m being honest miss Gunderson--”

“Please, call me miss Cooper.” She said gently.

“Apologies, miss Cooper.” He corrected. “I’ve not had to deal much in these kinds of transitions. Most the farms around here handle their own finances, but when your mother died, they came to me.” He shifted uncomfortably. “She named you as the sole beneficiary in her will, in hopes that you would return to run the family business.”

“Ah. There was always a catch with her.” Sadie mused. The woman had been a shrewd businesswoman.

“The house, their accounts, and all the land has been left to you.” He read from the small piece of paper he picked up from the desk.

“My husband and me, we don’t make enough money to have a bank account.”

“You might think twice about that now.” Edgarton interjected, sliding a ledger across the table to her.

Sadie stared at the number on the page, her mouth dry. “There, there must be some kind of error here. The farm, it was, not even ten years ago, we was almost out of money!”

It was getting harder not to be impressed with the late Mary Gunderson. Sadie had never seen a number that big. Arthur was going to have a fit when she told him.

“Like I said, your mother was quite the entrepreneur.” He pulled back the ledger and shuffled through a few other papers on his desk. “Let me pull a few documents here and we can get these signed over to you.”

Edgarton rifled through the stack of papers on his desk, pulling a few aside before digging into the pile once more. Sadie shifted in her seat as the minutes ticked away.

“Right. So, we can start with the deed to the farm.” He slid the paper in front of her. “Just need you to put your mark here.” He indicated a line near the bottom of the page, handing her a fountain pen.

She made a simple mark on the page, her eyes scanning the document. She pushed the document back. Arthur had said they would need to talk it over with the gang before deciding what to do with the farm, but they could worry about that later.

Not twenty minutes later and Maggie Cooper was a much wealthier woman. She thanked the gentlemen and left the bank. They had agreed to meet back at their room when the business was finished, and she made her way back to the saloon, her heart racing as the reality of everything set in. It had worked, the properties were theirs, the money was their, and damn was it a lot of money.

Arthur looked up from his journal as Sadie opened the door. The color drained from her face as her eyes met his and he stood up, his hand immediately going to his revolver.

He looked over her shoulder as she slid into the room and closed the door behind her turning the key in the lock.

“What’s goin’ on? We in trouble?” Arthur moved toward the door and Sadie shook her head, finally finding her voice.

“No worse, we’re rich.” She laughed nervously. “Arthur, I ain’t ever seen this kind of money!” She pulled the ledger from her bag, shoving it at Arthur.

He flipped through the book, the color draining from his face. “Ho-ly shit!” He flipped the page again, trying to make sense of the numbers. “I thought you said it was a modest inheritance?” He slapped the book closed. “We can’t move that kind of money without getting caught! Shit.”

“There’s also the house.” She held out the keyring the banker had given her. “We can at least see what is there worth anything.”

He took the keyring from her hand. Yes, this felt right, normal. Just another house, just a normal score. He tried to convince himself, the rest they could worry about later, but this? They could do this now.

“Sure, let’s go check it out.” He ran his thumb over the key, handing it back to Sadie. “Here, it’s in your name.”

-- ❖ --

The sun had set when they set out to find the home, looking to avoid the attention, they followed the signs to the farm, finding the house on a hill set just off the road. A comely home, nothing as lavish as the farm’s success would seem to justify. It sat dark and empty on the hill, pristine snow powdering the roof.

The lock clicked and they swung the door open and Arthur stepped inside, lighting a small lantern by the door. Sadie stepped inside and closed the door, the house smelled of disuse. She found another lantern in the kitchen and lit it, pulling open the cabinets.

Arthur had moved to a room off the main living room and had started to comb through the space. Pocketing various bits and bobs, whatever he found of value. The room was sparsely furnished, probably once belonging to the actual Maggie. He lifted the mattress, feeling along the seam for a slip stitch, but came up empty. Convinced the room held nothing else of value he returned to the living room.

Sadie had cleared the kitchen and moved to the fireplace when Arthur returned, moving past her and up the stairs. They worked methodically, clearing each room quickly and completely, not bothering to take stock in the moment. Snuffing their lanterns, they crept out of the house and back down the hill to town.

The saloon was alive when they returned and they were relieved as they made it back to their room undisturbed. Arthur locked the door and took a seat at the small desk, emptying everything he picked up from his bag. Sadie shrugged out of her coat, hanging it by the door before joining him at the table. She dumped her take onto the table with his, before sliding into the chair across from him.

Overall they hadn’t done too bad, a fair amount of jewelry had come from a small jewelry box in the master bedroom, adding to the large stack of cash that Sadie had found in the fireplace. The rest was small odds and ends worth a bit of cash, but nothing of import.

“Not a bad haul.” Arthur said, sitting back after separating it all. “Though, compared to the cash…” He looked up at her. “What are we gonna do about all that.”

She knit her brow. “I actually had some thoughts on that. I told the banker that we had settled in a small town out west. We can say we are pullin’ money to get our stable started. That shouldn’t draw too many questions.”

Arthur rubbed his chin, leaning back in the chair. “That could work, and with that, we could probably get a couple thousand.”

“I was thinkin’ about five, a real good haul.”

“What’ll we do about everything else, the farm? Aren’t you gonna need to be here?” He leaned forward again, his eyes meeting hers.

“I don’t think so, the banker said the farm runs itself. And if we leave it be, we don’t put anyone out of work and draw suspicion.” She shrugged.

Arthur cracked a small smile. This might just work! He reached into his bag and pulled out a bottle of whiskey, sliding the bottle to Sadie.

“You know, miss Adler, that sounds like a fine plan! Color me impressed. I think that deserves a drink.”

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