#hosea should be here too but he’s kinda normal

[ellamorgan333]

I LOVE WEIRD FATHER SON RELATIONSHIPS!!!

[ttuesday]

We just lost a family member. It was my uncle, it’s so sudden it kinda got me thinking while trying to escape reality for a bit:

What would the gang be like during crisis mode? Between the inconsolable sorrow and the desire for someone to pay. It can teeter between rage, survivors guilt, sorrow and all the other emotions that come with being numb from loss.

Especially Arthur mostly because someone needs to get got for causing such damage to the gang, and I know he says vengeance is a fools game but for his S/O I think he’d go John-Fucking-Wick on someone.

I’m also thinking Dutch, Javier, Charles and Hosea (he’s interesting bc he’s survived this long for a damn reason). And SADIE.

yo I know you know this already but if you need anything I'm always here <3 I hope these headcanons are good!

Arthur

Arthur's in shock. He knows what life as an outlaw is like, he's witnessed many deaths and destruction yet it's something he can never get used to.

His main priority is making sure you're ok. Seeing you upset makes him panic and he blames himself. Arthur won't stop going through different scenarios in his head where everything might've worked out ok.

He knows revenge is bad but knowing how this has impacted you and his own mixed feelings of regret and guilt pushes him over the edge.

Arthur packs his satchel full of everything he needs, loads up his guns and gets ready to track down whatever motherfucker that has caused this. You wake up just before he leaves your shared tent. You know what his plan is just from looking at him. Maybe you'll stop him or maybe you'll go with him, that's your decision.

Dutch

Dutch always tells the gang that revenge is a fool's game. It's a motto he's learned to live by but when business gets personal, Dutch can be quite the hypocrite.

Dutch knows that killing whoever caused this will bring you and everyone else the closure ye need but it isn't that simple. In one way, Dutch feels as though the world around him is caving in.

He spends the next few days alone in his tent. The only thing he's focused on now is finding an excuse to kill this person. Maybe the killer was also paying off the Pinkertons or maybe they're gonna be on a high society train that ye could rob.

Dutch knows he's going to kill them but now he has to make up a reason why that will align with his twisted morality.

Javier

Javier is confused. How could this happen? Why did this happen? It's like the entire gang is asking these questions yet no one can come up with an answer.

When Javier first heard about what happened, you were the first person he thought of. He didn't care how far away you were, he needed to go and see you. Maybe if he was fast enough then he could be the one to break the news to you.

He didn't say much when he saw you. Javier simply sighed in defeat as he wrapped his arms around you. He guided you over to a quiet spot and sat with you for as long as you needed.

Javier knows that if he’s determined on getting revenge, that could take months or maybe even years. But right now, revenge doesn't matter. The only thing he cares about now is you.

Charles

Things like this normally doesn't impact Charles that much, he knows that he has to accept it. But it's different when you’re involved. Charles wants you to be happy and to have a good life, not deal with grief and disaster.

Before you can even think about what's after happening, Charles is swiftly by your side and comforting you. Charles doesn't care about his own emotions, in all honestly he felt numb after hearing about what happened so instead he focuses on you.

Every morning Charles takes you out hunting so you can vent and express all the different emotions you're feeling without the whole gang listening in.

Sometimes when he's lying in bed at night, Charles wonders if he should try to get some kind of vengeance but he doesn't know if he can. That's something he'll only be able to figure out when he's face to face with the person responsible for all this sorrow.

Hosea

Hosea knows all the current emotions you're feeling. Denial, guilt, helplessness, sadness and maybe you might feel nothing at all.

At some point in his life, Hosea’s felt the same way so he knows how to help you through this.

But Hosea is quick to tell you that the best thing you can do is move on. If you go get revenge then that will only result in more pain and death. Life is hard, cruel and relentless, and the best thing we can do is try to keep up with it's constant punches.

Hosea will try his absolute best in helping you overcome all these different emotions but he thinks revenge is pointless and so that's one thing he can't help you with.

Sadie

Sadie's been where you are. She unfortunately knows a lot about grief. However you react to the news, Sadie stands by your side.

If you’re angry and lash out, she’s there for you. If you’re sad and need a shoulder to cry on, she’s there for you. If you need someone to tuck you into your goddamn bed at night, then hell, Sadie will do that too.

Sadie is all for revenge. She knows revenge is bad but sometimes that doesn’t matter and what’s important is getting closure. Not only that but she thinks revenge might be a good motivator to help you get back on your feet.

But right now she knows that you’re not ready to get revenge. The situation is too fresh. Sadie knows that the best thing to do now is help you through the grief and help you practice for when you finally kill the son of a bitch that’s responsible for this.

[eveenstar]

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒲𝒶𝓎 𝑜𝒻 𝒯𝒾𝓂𝑒

𝙰 𝚁𝚎𝚍 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚁𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝟸 𝙵𝚊𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪɪɪ

Summary: After the meeting with Dutch, (Y/N) the time-traveler, decides to take a look around the camp while trying to convince herself this was not a dream but reality.

Tags/Warnings: Nothing to add.

Note: Back again from the dead with another chapter! Hope you enjoy!

Well, this was awkward. You couldn't hope to be in a worst situation than this (well, you kinda could) but hey, at least they seem to believe you, right? What else to think when somebody drops out of the sky in the middle of your "home"?

“Well, Miss (L/N), from what you told me and the gang…You’re my great-granddaughter?” Dutch asked, his hands grabbing one of his books while he took a seat on his bed.

“Yes, sir.” The girl stood awkwardly on the tent’s entrance. She didn’t know what else to do, what, hug him? She didn't even know he existed before that old, strange lady appeared in her life. For her, Dutch was nothing but a stranger and maybe he thinks the same of her.

“It’s…nice to meet you. A very interesting experience.” He sounded almost content with it, but also a bit shocked by his voice. “I hope your life is better than, you see, ours.”

The girl let out a nervous laugh. Almost immediately covering her mouth after it. “I’m actually being hunted down by the government. Me and my group, we…did some things they didn’t agree with.”

“Oh. I see. A revolutionist?” Dutch looked at her, his gaze made her feel a bit intimidated.

“Yeah, I guess that’s one way to call it.” How would she describe what a hacker was or the modern technology? Well, (Y/N) did take parts in a few riots so perhaps revolutionist was a appropriate term to call it on the 1800s. But she wasn’t so sure about that. The life she left behind, James and the others, everything she knew was...well, not dead, but non-existing now.

“Don’t be so nervous, Miss.” The man said in a gentle tune. “I promise you, none of us will bring you any harm.” He stood up, slowly caressing her arm.

“Thanks.” She returned a kind smile, but was it the truth?

I wanted to go back that exact time, I didn't want to be there anymore. From all the movies and tvshows I'd seen, messing with the past doesn't go well, never. So who was I to tempt fate?

"I have a few more questions for you, but you need to rest. Must've been hard getting here." Dutch guided you outside and handed you some stuff, probably to make your own tent. You really hoped there weren't many bugs out here. "I'll let you get settled first."

You nodded, before taking a few hesitant steps towards the "light" (or, in this case, a fellow tree a bit distant from the others). You didn't want to bother anyone, so you began making your little forth underneath a tree and next to a few rocks. But, not that you haven't gone camping before, but this was harder than it looked. It's like your own house was fighting against you. Things kept falling or getting in the way, and nothing was going according to plan. A frustrated sigh escaped your lips.

"Need some help?"

You flinched at the voice and turned around to meet eyes with, by your memory, Javier Escuella. He was taller in person. That's all you had to say, for now. He had a soft yet deep gaze on his eyes, but if we're being honest, he looked threatening. He raised an curious eyebrow by how long you were taking to answer his simple question. You nodded, then chuckled nervously and waved around the "tent" you were building.

"I'm having a bit of trouble here."

With a better set of hands, your little fort was finished in just two hours. This felt different, y'know? Surreal to say the least. Few birds were singing, the horses in the background, the wind blowing through you, the nature, the sounds of people talking, a life you've never known. Not like this. It was kinda similiar to the life you and your friends had, the only difference being: You didn't held camps in the wild. Like Dutch, you were the leader of your group, and James was your right hand. Maybe you did resemble him a bit, just maybe. Now you were here, talking and interacting with people that in your time, were long gone. You were changing history, the past, everything. Was this the right choice?

"Are you okay?"

"Sì," You immediately looked at him, "Sorry, kinda drifted off a bit."

Javier stared at you in confusion, "Drifted?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry hah. I got lost in thought."

For your delight, Javier laughed at it before excusing himself and leaving you there to your own miserable mind. Your bed felt heavy and rocky, but it's better than nothing. You had no idea what to do now, should you go meet the others? Well, they certainly thing you're strange. Mary-Beth seemed to like you, and she could become your first friend here! Keep the hopes up, (Y/N), you're definitely gonna need it here.

"Ahem, hey Mary!"

"(Y/N)! How was the meeting with Dutch?" She paused her book and glanced over to you, while patting her hand next to her. "Come, sit!"

"It was alright," You replied almost robotically. Your mind was empty to any functional thoughts.

"This is like a fantasy book. You came from the future to change the past, and met a long lost relative." Mary-Beth almost had stars in her eyes while thinking about the "amazing" story of yours. For as amazing as it sounds, it really wasn't something that cool once you experienced it. You felt out of place. "Tell me, how is the future?"

Your mind ran through all the memories you have, every information, every place, every moment now lost in time.

"It's...harsh, unfair and cruel. Like it always has been, I suppose."

"It can't be that bad, surely." For as much as the media likes to portray the modern age as a fairy tale, it's more of a terror genre. You remember the cruel things people had told you over the years, how your dreams were not realistic enough, "become a doctor!" everybody said.

"They don't care about us. They don't care for people like you and me."  Jamie told me once. I wonder how he is now. I miss everybody, especially those late nights when we used to sing our hearts out and dance as if there was no tomorrow. It's too late now.

You gave her a small smile, "Not always."

She returned the smile, happily.

"So what's wrong with you, you old fool?"

A tall, bearded man drunkly limped towards someone older, Hosea Matthews, and spoke in a way that the older man didn't seem to like one bit. Hosea didn't even spare him a glance,"Go sleep it off, you drunken baffoon."

Bill Williamson, as you know remembered correctly now, stepped closer to Hosea and stared at him, almost as if he was daring him to repeat it again, "Excuse me?"

Like the winds change the tides, Hosea got up in a swift movement and pointed his gun at Bill, who fell to his feet. "I've excused you quite enough! Go sleep it off, is that clear?"

Bill hurriedly got back on his feet and stepped back, hands in the air with, what you could call, a frightened look on his face (which changed to angry after a few seconds).

"Okay!...Okay."

The few people that were present either got back to whatever they were doing or didn't even mind the occurence in the first place, like it was something normal to happen around here. You excused yourself and made your way to Hosea, who was sitting on a wooden table. You wondered where they got all this stuff, including the tables. Did they make them? Steal them? You rolled your eyes at the thought of the gang going to a local bar and stealing all of their tables.

"Uh, hello!" You greeted and took a seat in front of him. "I don't think we've been properly introduced, I'm...Well, you probably alright know who I am." You chuckled.

"Hosea Matthews, " He looked at you with a serene look on his eyes. He reminded you of those elderly folks you'd meet around town who were incredibly nice for their own good. "Have you been handling this alright? I know how this gang can be sometimes."

"I haven't had the chance to meet everybody yet, just Dutch, Mary-Beth, Javier and you, sir."

"Well, all in due time. You can come to me if you need anythin' else."

"Thank you, I'll make sure to remember it."

Hosea was like a father to me, or for most people in the gang. Wish I'd met someone like him before. He was a good man. I remember, when I first met him, that I thought he'd ask me plenty of questions about the future. To my surprise, he didn't. I think he wanted me to have some space, process everything that's happened so far. I miss him the most. Apart from Arthur, and Dutch. Who lost his way.

When I arrived, I had to make up my mind. I had to compose myself because this was about to be my new life, "for now" , I thought. I was ready to face this reality of time-traveling and the way things worked in that era. I was foolish. So, so foolish.

[gavinwhereareyou]

*** SPOILERS FOR CH. 3 ***

I would like to formally apologize lol this is the first piece of fan fiction I’ve ever written and it’s kinda short. It’s just based on my experience when playing the mission where you go with the deputy of Rhodes to destroy the distillery.

TW: mentions horse death, but it’s not graphic

Arthur felt his stomach drop as soon as it happened. He didn’t realize the wagon the Raiders rode in on was packed with dynamite, he hadn’t been aiming for it, and honestly it could’ve been anybody’s shot, but he knew as soon as the explosion happened that it had been his bullet. Bill was relived that it had killed the last of the Lemoyne Raiders, he even threw a “nice shooting” towards Arthur, but his ears were ringing and he was already running towards the wagon. The explosion had killed the men instantly, and unfortunately the horses pulling the wagon didn’t fare any better. He was staring down at the two horses that should have been looking over his own head, his hands itched to grab the horse medicine he had stocked up on for his own horse, Ophelia, but he knew it was too late it was obvious.

Bill pulled him out of his daze by insisting they get back to Dutch and the deputy “before anymore fellers realize their shine is all gone.”

Arthur ripped his eyes away from the horses and jogged to catch up with Bill. They helped Deputy Archibald load up the living moonshiners, and Bill took off with their own moonshine graciously given to them by the deputy as a reward. The ride back to camp with Dutch was nice, and Arthur probably would have really enjoyed it, but he just couldn’t shake the image of the horses from his mind. If Dutch noticed how quiet Arthur was on the ride back, he didn’t mention it.

In fact the whole camp didn’t seem to notice or care to comment on Arthur’s quieter-than-normal presence. It could have been because he spent the rest of the day on the edge of camp in the shallow water of Clemen’s Point, washing Ophelia and giving her plenty of sugar cubes and peppermints.

Tilly laughed and said Arthur was turning into Kieran with how much he was pampering that horse. Arthur smiled at her briefly before hiding behind the brim of his hat. He’d have liked to been able to give those other horses a mint or two before cutting them free of the wagon...

Evening came and he ate his meal and went back to doting on the light gray shire again. Once camp had settled down and the majority of people were asleep or drunk around the fire, Hosea approached Arthur.

“How did the moonshine extraction with the fine Deputy Archibald go?”

“It was fine till we blew up that distiller,” Arthur scoffed, “Then those damn Raiders showed up.”

“Dutch was telling me about it and how it went down. They must have some way of accumulating dynamite...”

Arthur finally looked up from Ophelia, whom he had been brushing, and briefly met Hosea’s eyes. He managed to whisper, “Oh Hosea... I didn’t mean too...”

Arthur was using Ophelia’s bulk to partially hide himself from Hosea, who responded with his own whisper, “I know son, we all know you wouldn’t do that on purpose. We know you would never do that.”

“If I’d have just looked though, just paid any attention at all it wouldn’t have happened.”

Hosea stepped closer to Arthur and lowered his voice even more, “Arthur it’s alright, it was a bad place and you made a mistake, but our men are alive, and so are you.”

Arthur shook his head, “No Hosea... it ain’t that simple this time. A man dying in a fight with us knew what he was doing, but a horse don’t know nothing but what his person tells him. When we all get what’s rightly coming for us, then I pray that the horses don’t get the same lot. God knows they’re the only innocent ones here.”

Hosea sighed, he knew Arthur wouldn’t forgive himself but he had to try, “I hope so too... I’m here if you need me Arthur.” And with that Hosea gently patted Arthur’s shoulder before walking to his own bedroll.

The image of the once proud horses on the ground at Arthur’s feet would float through his head for weeks to come. And as weeks rolled into months, and time just didn’t stop for Arthur and the gang, it became more and more obvious to him: the horses really were the only innocent ones.

[toutallyahoe]

Also, because I feel things are gonna go south with the gang. Give me any and all gang-family headcanons. Also pls headcanons for when the gang was like three people, a raccoon and a horse. Aka when Arthur was a child, just adopted by everyone's dads, Hosea and Dutch. I may use these headcanons for a thing that I'm writing while procrastinating on dying from canon angst. Is that too many hc requests? Idk Love you, bean

"I feel things are going to go south with the gang" oh... oh you precious, precious darling... :') but asdfghjkll FAMILY HEADCANONS YOU SAY?!? AIGHT THEN BUCKLE THE FUCK UP BECAUSE I HAVE SOME ASDFGHJJKL

also, bean, there is no such thing as "too many hc request" for ya :'3 i would literally write a whole goddamn book for you if you ask me too so asdfghjkkllncc

⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃

• when the Van Der Linde gang was still small, only members was Hosea Matthews, Dutch Van Der Linde and the newest addition, Arthur Morgan, it was... a ride

• a very bumpy and rickety ride that is

• both older men didn't know what to really do but they tried

• they absolutely tried

• they were no innocent men

• no. they were outlaws

• dangerous people

• they saw the world in cruel ways

• so, they taught the youngest how to survive the cruel world

• Hosea taught Arthur reading and writing obviously

• Hosea was patient to Arthur with every step of the way in teaching the teen

• Arthur was kinda a fast learner

• was willing to please his new father figure so he was good on reading and writing

• would ask help when he doesnt know how to pronounce some more fancy words

• but he did good

• Hosea was proud

• Dutch was the one who taught Arthur how to be cunning and how to shoot properly

• Dutch was a man known by his charisma and charms

• taught Arthur how to try and defuse a situation or sweet talk their way out

• Arthur doesn't use that much though

• sweet talking or defusing the way out

• Arthur preferred to shoot his was out

• but back to this family stuff

• they were like a family

• a very weird and also very fucking dangerous family

• they were outlaws afterall

• btw, Arthur was rowdy when he was young

• like

• very rowdy

• he was stubborn and hotheaded

• didn't use his brain much as he acted rash and indecisive

• he was also loud

• very fucking loud

• got into troubles because he couldn't kept his mouth shut

• Hosea is so done

• especially when Dutch gives encouragement to Arthur with that

• help him

• he wants to either shoot himself or both Dutch and Arthur for being chaotic dumbasses

• but back to the family dynamic shit

• should I add [Name]?

• whatever, imma add [Name]

• [Name] was taken after three or fours years after Arthur

• so Arthur was now seventeen/eighteen while [Name] was sixteen when he joined

• should I add that [Name] probably tried to steal something off from Dutch?

• because yeah, boi tried to steal from Dutch and Dutch is like "this kid... LET'S ADOPT HIM HOSEA!"

• so they did

• the family grew to four and they were happy

• [Name] and Arthur did not like each other that much for awhile

• probably because [Name] kinda beat Arthur when he was chased when he tried to steal Dutch' satchel and Arthur chased him

• got Arthur some nice bruises like he did aswell

• so yeah

• their first impression of each other wasn't good

• but they warm up though

• Hosea and Dutch were happy to see their adopted sons being close now

• they also kinda regretted it though

• [Name] and Arthur now got into trouble TOGETHER

• chaos

• absolute chaos

• Hosea and Dutch adopted demon childrens I tell ya

• DEMON CHILDRENS ASDFGHJJK

• but legit though, they are happy family

• then came John Marston

• twelve year old boi getting into trouble and Dutch saving his greasy ass

• Arthur was already around his early twenties or so

• and [Name] was eighteen

• they took John is and had taught John what they learned from Hosea and Dutch

• Arthur and [Name] had to be very fucking patient for this greasy trash raccoon looking ass bitch when teaching how to read and write

• "but it ain't even inportant! what am I gonna do? read them to death?"

• boi

• Arthur wanted to slap this boi

• [Name] was understanding though as he tried to reason out to John

• "what if ya get lost and have a map? how would ya know where ya are when ya dont know how to read?"

• that shut John up

• but the twelve years old was still a whiny bitch

• Hosea and Dutch enjoy watching their adopted gremlin children know what they had been through to teach them how to read and write

• but anyways, here's some nice headcanons for ya

• Arthur and [Name] tease John a fucking lot

• it is the big brother asshole duty of theirs

• like, the three were told by Hosea to take a bath in a lake and both Arthur and [Name] make fun of John for not knowing how to swim

• like

• a lot

• John cried the first time

• and a few more

• [Name] panicked because FUCK DONT CRY ASDFGHJKCBXNWODJ

• Arthur laughs

• he doesnt continue laughing though when he and [Name] got disapproving looks from their father figures

• lesson learned: dont tease John

• well, dont tease John too much that he cries and rats you out to Hosea and Dutch that is

• but yesssss

• also, when there are fights? it is chaos

• the "HE DID" "BULLSHIT" type

• like, these three boahs wont tell the truth unless they dont get punished for it

• so like

• when chaos comes, it is pointing fingers on who was the reason for the mess

• "ARTHUR DID IT!"

• "LIKE HELL I WILL YA SHIT!"

• "MARSTON THReW THAT MOLOTOV!"

• "FUCK YOU [LAST NAME]!"

• "BITCH"

• "JERK"

• "DIPSHIT"

• Hosea cries

• why was his sons so fucking chaotic dumbasses?

• Dutch

• Dutch

• help me parent them

• "I HAVE A PLAN!"

• "THE FUCK YOU HAVE"

• god its chaos

• but a chaos in a good kind that these dumbasses knew will work out in the end

• btw, Dutch taught Arthur to draw a bit but Arthur learned much more by practicing

• John learned how to shoot a gun because of Arthur and [Name]

• Hosea was the only decent cook at the five

• Dutch and Hosea often disagree but it works out in the end #marriedcoupleamirite

• Arthur and [Name] enjoys to spend time with their little greasy raccoon brother (even if they dont say ir show as such)

• they tried to have John a normal childhood as much as they can

• but John being John

• he wanted to prove himself and that he is cut out with the outlaw life

• there were fights with the three that John was too young for it

• Arthur disagree about John trying to be an outlaw

• "YOU STILL HAVE A CHANCE OF A NORMAL LIFE!"

• John disagrees a lot

• "LOOK AROUND YA?!? I AINT GOIN TO HAVE THAT NORMAL LIFE!"

• [Name] is torn. he wanted John to have a normal life but he also knew that John wont accept it and that it is more better that John sticks with the group than leave on his own

• those fights were the worse

• it makes the three boys tenses

• [Name] tries to be the bridge for the two to talk again though

• such a good middle brother :'D

• but yeah

• after awhile, they all ease up and calmly talk it out... kinda

• an agreement that John doesnt go looking for trouble and that his two older brothers are always there for him

• asdfghjkkcbndowurhr god i love the family dynamic

• but anyways, yeeeeeeee

• they are a good family

[cowboisadness]

Hang ‘Em High {Arthur Morgan x OC} Chapter 14

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x FemOC

Summery: Belle Hawthorne is high society looking to escape her mean husband. A robbery by the Van Der Linde gang could be her chance. Can she escape his cluches and possibly discover what love should feel like?

Warnings: None

.....

Chapter 14

Walking back into camp from the river, dumping my belongings at my small tent then borrowing one of the girls pocket mirrors they keep by their bedrolls. The dye definitely did its job. My hair now a deep earthy red reminiscent of the red chestnut Arabian my mother used to own and spoil like it was her fourth child. Happy with the outcome I then set off in search of Hosea. I couldn’t see him anywhere in camp but as I was passing John I asked if he knew where he could be. Told me he was going to meet him at the moonshine wagon they had stolen yesterday. Following him out of camp to where it was hidden. Hosea was there, inspecting the many bottles of moonshine that filled the back of the small wagon. Both of us greeting him as we approached. 

“Ahh, Miss Bella, Just who I wanted to see. I have a little plan with this shine here and I was wondering if you want to join.” Hosea asked, climbing down from the wagon. He seemed to sense my hesitation, coming over to stand beside me and placing a hand on my arm in the hopes it would ease me. “Don’t worry, nothing dangerous and you won’t be left alone. I was just thinking, having a lady present would make us seem less threatening.” 

He looked at me expectantly, waiting for my answer.  

The chance to do something more than camp chores is something I wanted, not that doing chores wasn’t important but I desired to do something more to help. Maybe even bring in some money plus having a few dollars to myself. Growing up on a large farm I’ve never been one to shy away from hard work. Getting my hands dirty on a daily basis was normal, but getting them dirty on the kinda jobs the gang does will involve more than just soil under your nails and hay in your hair. But I’m sure I could trust Hosea seeing as he was one to avoid bloodshed and fights whenever possible, instead, running scams to take what they wanted from right under the noses of unsuspecting folks. “Okay. I’ll help if you think it will be of benefit.”

“Great! I'd suggest it would be better off if you wore something other than pants and equip your gun. Just in case,”

I nodded, feeling a bit more apprehensive about having to be armed. Better safe than sorry I thought as I turned to head back to camp.

“Oh, and Bella,” Hosea called back to me “Love the hair.”

 I changed into a plain baby blue skirt and a white blouse, donning a shawl to avoid the inevitable chill of the evening. Styling my hair into a loose bun allowing a few strands to fall around my face. Once I was ready and had my Cattleman holstered securely to my hip and the knife I still hadn’t returned sheathed beside it I made my way back to Hosea and John. Arthur was there too, asking Hosea what the plan was as they mounted up on the wagon. I sat at the back, feet dangling off the edge acting as the lookout. With this much moonshine just passing the wrong people could cause an unwanted interaction. Arthur called over to ask if I’m sure I’m okay coming along to help. Hosea butting in before I could speak to tell him Arthur will be just fine as I won’t be leaving their sides. Arthur looked over his shoulder at me either waiting for my confirmation or some words of worry. I just gave him a smile and a nod as we made our way along the roads in the direction of Rhodes.  The two men conversed on the plan. Returning the liquor to its owners for a ‘finder's fee’of sorts and to make a formal introduction to the Braithwaite family. In the back of my head, that name sounded familiar but I couldn’t place any faces to the name that dealt in the moonshine business. As they talked about the two apparent rival families in the area, Arthur mentioned a couple torn between both families that he has been helping keep in contact with one another. Imagine that, a big mean outlaw helping two young lovers. The ride wasn’t long, the historic plantation house sitting only a little further south to where we are situated along Flat Iron Lake. The men at the entrance let us go through to make our way towards the house, the grandness of it not being unfamiliar to me.

As we came to a stop the doors ahead opened revealing an older woman, Catherine Braithwaite, followed out by several men. “What you want?” She called out to us from the porch.

“Found something...out on the hills, thought...thought maybe you was in the market for it.” Hosea called back as he made his way to the steps.

“For what?”

“Some liquor.”

“I ain’t in the market for what’s already mine.”

“Way we see it, it’s ours,”  The three of us dismounted and made our way to the foot of the porch. I stood back a little and decided to stay near the horses.  “What with us possessing it, and i-i checked it all over for the life of me I couldn’t see your name on it.”

Now I could see the woman clearly, the faces to that name came flooding back to me. I had met Mrs Braithwaite months ago regarding a couple of horses Frank was wanting to buy. Surely she wouldn’t recognise me considering i had only met her once before and let’s face it, I looked a bit different then. She didn't seem to pay any mind to me. Looking me over once before returning to Hosea as their conversation continued.

“The alternative is you get shot.” a man stepped out behind Mrs Braithwaite, one of her sons I believe, shotgun in hand. Arthur instinctively going for his sidearm, hand hovering over the pistol just waiting for the word. Hosea quick to step in, “Now who wants to get shot over a bottle or two of liquor?” 

The man raised the gun but the woman was quick to stop him, pulling the weapon from his grasp. “Pay the man.”

“Pleasure doing business with ya,” Hosea said as he was handed a clip. “And, listen, we didnt take it, least not without orders from…”

“Oh, I know exactly who gave you your orders. Old sheriff Gray. You know what? I don’t want it. In fact, sir, now you can do me a favour, there’s an extra 10 bucks if you do. Drive the stuff into Rhodes head over to the tavern run by Mr Gray and give the stuff out for free,” She said, shushing one of the boys at her side. This feud between the two families ran deep for sure since she was willing to lose out on some business just out of spite.

“I believe they call that a promotional expense.”  Hosea huffed out a laugh, giving the woman a nod and turned to climb up on the wagon again. Mrs Braithwaite leaving us with parting words regarding playing a game of cribbage.

Heading into Rhodes was the last thing I wanted to do, especially so soon. I just had to make sure I kept my wits about me and to not leave their side for too long. Lord, I felt pathetic being as scared as I was. My pistol being the heavy presence at my side reminded me I could use that if need be.

“I ain’t playing dress-up. You know how I feel about that.”

“Of course you’re not...You’re a clowns.... idiot... brother.”

“Hosea, please…” Arthurs voice taking on a deep tone, one of irritation to whatever Hosea was proposing.

“I’m the clown. You’re the idiot. Just...look sad and keep quiet. Even you can do that, Arthur”

“Do I have to?”

“Put this hat on.” Arthur didn't have a choice in the matter. Hosea already removing his worn gambler hat and replacing it with a wide brim flop hat that was anything but attractive. Without missing a beat Hosea hands him a pipe to smoke and instructing him how to form his face. Despite Arthurs reluctance, he still followed whatever Hosea instructed, but he wasn’t happy in the slightest. I couldn’t help but giggle minutely as I watched. Arthur turned to me with a look of anger and disbelief before huffing out a quiet “shut up.” Covering my mouth to stifle my laughter. 

“What about you?” Arthur now turned his attention back to Hosea

“Shh. You can't speak. You’re turned idiot,” Hosea and I both started laughing now. “Quite broke poor mammy’s heart.” Hosea continued putting on a voice to get into the part causing Arthur to gruff in annoyance. He was hating this. We were loving it.

“There there, Fenton, there there. Don’t get mad now.” The humour had calmed me some. A warm sensation in my stomach overcoming the dread I was feeling the whole ride here. The ache on my cheeks a pleasant one. We pulled into Rhodes parlour house, Arthur dismounting and making his way to where I was sat. Hosea still spewing this little backstory he had created on a whim. 

“Okay, Fenton, stay calm now...for momma, she loved you so...just a shame you had to strangle her in a rage. Right, grab two cases of that stuff and follow me.”

Arthur held out his hand to help me down from the back of a wagon, his expression one of exasperation as he looked at me. Both of us reaching for a crate. 

“You, erm, gonna be okay?” He asked in a whisper.

“I’m sure I will be,” I replied with a smile

“Just stay near me. I’ll keep an eye out, make sure you’re safe.” “Thank you, Arthur - I mean, Fenton.” I couldn’t hold back the grin forming on my face, Arthur just looked at me deadpan as if to say ‘not you too’ as we followed Hosea towards the Parlours side entrance.

This was going to be fun.

@kashasenpai​

[hysterialevi]

His Name Was Isaac - Ch. 4

Fanfic summary: During a mission to avenge his mother’s death, Isaac hunts down the men responsible for her murder and kills them off one-by-one, only to discover that his last target is taking refuge among the Van der Linde gang. In an attempt to kill them, Isaac attacks the gang and unknowingly becomes enemies with his own father, who is in the process of fighting his own battle for redemption.

Point of view: third-person

Author’s note: Thank you guys for all the support you’ve given so far! The messages and comments I’ve received have all been so kind and caring. It really means the world to me. Hope you enjoy this part :)

Previous chapter | Next chapter

This story is also on AO3

LATER THAT DAY

AURORA BASIN

“You ever wonder about eternity?” Mrs. Downes’ voice echoed in Arthur’s head, ringing like a distant bell.

“...You should.”

These days, it felt like that was all he could think about. With Hosea dead, Marston gone, and Dutch’s life hanging by a thread, Arthur often found himself pondering what awaited them in the near-future.

Their gang was pretty much done, despite how much Dutch tried to deny it. He may have acted as if they were still in their prime and running around like in the good ol’ days, but with both the Pinkertons and Skinner Brothers crying out for blood on the horizon, Arthur didn’t see much of a future for them at all. If anything, the only thing he saw coming for the Van der Lindes... was an end.

They were already living on borrowed time as it was. Their gang had experienced so many close calls and damned so many lives, that Arthur figured they were due to pay for their crimes sooner or later. 

He had lived long enough to see that there was no such thing as getting away with a sin, and considering how things had been going for them lately, he assumed that their time would run out before they even realized it.

Civilization was the new foundation for America... and without anywhere else to run to anymore, Arthur only hoped he’d be able to wake Dutch up before it was too late.

Otherwise... he didn’t know what they would do. 

Scribbling down a few more lines into his journal, Arthur threw together a simple portrait of Dutch as he quietly relaxed by the campfire, allowing his mind to drift away with the soft crackling that emitted from the flames.

He had just finished his heated conversation with the old man and left him to rest in the cabin, but even after calming him down, Arthur couldn’t deny that he was still on edge.

The way he acted back there... it was nothing like the Dutch he knew. In Arthur’s head, he still pictured the outlaw as a paternal figure. He saw Dutch as someone who cared for others and dared to question what everyone else accepted as their perpetual reality. 

He was a guardian. A father. A dreamer. A lost soul trying to find his way back home.

But the man in the cabin? ...He was nothing but a stranger to Arthur. His mind and mannerisms both remained a mystery, and the added layer of insanity on top of all that did nothing except further his paranoia. 

His life revolved solely around greed and pride these days, and if Arthur didn’t know any better, he would’ve said that Dutch himself didn’t even care anymore. 

They both knew their life as outlaws was done for. That much was obvious. But the difference was -- only one of them was willing to accept it.

“Spoke with Dutch about the robbery today,” Arthur wrote next to his drawing. “...It didn’t go so well. His illness keeps getting worse, and his mind ain’t doing much better neither. He’s deranged. Lost. Nothing but a memory of his true self.”

“It just makes me wonder how life is gonna be after he passes. I didn’t say it to Dutch’s face back at the cabin... but one of my biggest fears in life is the idea of being left alone. Family’s pretty much the only thing I live for nowadays, and without anyone else to stand by my side, part of me wonders if the world is just gonna stop turning when Dutch dies.”

“I don’t even know if I’ll want to stay with the gang at that point. I suppose I could try to make contact with John and the others once again. Try to live a normal life. But knowing Abigail, she’d probably want nothing to do with me. They have Jack to take care of, after all, and it’s no secret that Abigail despises anything to do with criminals. Not that I blame her.”

“I guess I’ll just have to wait and see where this goes. I ain’t got that many options left in life, that’s true. But that don’t mean I’m not gonna try to do the right thing. We was born to be outlaws. And it’s clear to me now that that’s how we’ll die too. But I may as well try to make amends while I still have the opportunity.”

“It’s the only thing I can do at this point.”

Setting his pencil down with a conflicted sigh, Arthur stuck it in between the pages and shut his journal closed, shoving the thing back into his satchel. He figured he had wasted enough time skulking around in his head for one day, and decided it would be best if he just focused on preparing for the bank robbery ahead.

There were weapons to load, guns to clean, plans to lay out... and judging by how Dutch was doing just a few minutes ago, Arthur assumed most of the work would fall on him and Micah. That was usually how things went.

Before he could return to the task at hand however, a pair of men approached him.

“Morgan!” Shay called out as Bill Williamson walked alongside him.

Arthur mentally groaned to himself, admittedly not in the mood for socializing. “Shay. Bill.”

Mackintosh had a seat at the campfire, making himself comfortable on a crate. “Heard you had a talk with Dutch. How’d it go?”

Arthur took his hat off, combing a tired hand through his hair. “About as well as you’d expect.”

Bill joined in. “So, we’re robbin’ the bank then?”

He put his hat back on. “Yep. Looks like it.”

Shay was obviously disappointed by the news and shook his head in disapproval, glancing at the cabin. “...He’s gonna get everyone killed, Arthur.”

Arthur sighed in a defeated tone. “Look, I tried to get through to him, but his mind’s been set. It’s clear that he ain’t leavin’ Blackwater anytime soon, and if we try to push any harder, I’m worried he’ll kill someone. Dutch already pulled a gun on me when I talked to him. We’ll just have to do our best during this robbery.”

Shay stared at Arthur for a moment, evidently not reassured. 

“...We have seven people, Arthur. Seven. And two are staying behind to guard the camp. That’s four outlaws and a dying man against what, a dozen lawmen? Pinkertons, too? This robbery is gonna be a suicide mission.”

Arthur rested a hand on his knee. “Well, we don’t have a choice. Alright? I don’t like it either, but no matter how unstable he might be, Dutch is still the boss. If he says we’re gonna rob the bank, then...” his eyes fell to the ground, “...that’s what we’ll do. You don’t wanna do it, you can always sit it out.”

“No, I’ll come.” Shay confirmed. “But you can’t deny that this is a stupid idea. We should be movin’ away from the Pinkertons. Not straight towards them. That was kinda the whole reason we even bothered travelin’ this far west.”

Mackintosh let out a breath and backed down for a moment, dragging a hand down his face. “Ah... I’m sorry, Arthur. I dunno why I’m puttin’ all this on you. I know it ain’t your fault. You tried your best to talk to Dutch, so, really... I should be thanking you. I just wish he would’ve listened.”

Arthur nodded in agreement, standing up from the campfire. “...Yeah. Me too. Sadly, my words seem to always fall on deaf ears these days. Feels like no one’s listenin’ to us. Not even ourselves.”

Strolling away from the fire, Arthur suddenly stopped in his tracks when he noticed that someone was missing from the vicinity. He assumed that everyone was at camp and getting ready for their upcoming job in the next few days, but upon further observation, the gang appeared to be one man short.

Arthur turned back to Shay and Bill, quirking a brow at them.

“Hey, have either of you boys seen Micah?”

~~~~~~~~~~

MEANWHILE

BLACKWATER SALOON

Laying the weathered piece of paper down on the desk, Micah presented his roughly-drawn map of Aurora Basin to Isaac as the young man relaxed in a wooden chair, studying the map with one hand and holding onto his rifle with the other. He and Micah may have been partners for the time being, but that didn’t mean he trusted the outlaw for one second.

“...Aurora Basin.” Isaac read aloud, his eyes skimming over the text. “So this is your camp?”

Micah nodded, crossing his arms. “Sure is, cowpoke. You ever heard of it?”

The young man shook his head. “No.”

“Good. Then that means I chose a good spot. Or not, depending on how you approach it.”

Isaac pulled his chair closer, taking a better look at the map. “Well, what’s the best way in? Is it well-defended?”

Micah rested a hand on the desk. “Overall, I’d say yes. There ain’t nothin’ but mountains on the west side of the camp, and the region of Tall Trees completely envelopes the other. If you wanna attack the gang, you’re gonna have to get real close. Unfortunately for you though, there’s only one way in.”

“I thought so. Is it this path here?” He pointed to the road on the eastern side of the map.

“Yep. That’s where we post our guards. We’ve always got two men standing there just in case anyone... unfriendly shows up.”

Isaac leaned back, contemplating his next move. “So... there’s no way in from the east or the west. What about the north and south? Is it possible I could sneak in from there?”

Micah rejected the idea. “Surrounded by mountains too, I’m afraid.”

The young man furrowed his brow. “Well, shit. Looks like this is gonna more difficult than I thought. What about the guards who are posted at the entrance? When do they switch out? That might be the only opening I can seize.”

“Every couple hours or so. But they don’t switch at the same time, so there’s always gonna be at least one person there who can see you.”

The outlaw offered an alternative. “Though... it might interest you to know that the gang’s headed out for a robbery in two days.”

Isaac perked his head up. “It is? Where?”

Micah chuckled. “That information’s irrelevant to you. The part you should care about is the fact that everyone’ll be gone for a while. The only people who’ll be left are the two guards at the entrance. But I’m sure a tough boy such as yourself can handle them just fine. Can’t you?” 

Isaac rubbed his chin in thought. “I should be able to sneak in, but I need to know more about the camp itself first. Where do you keep your supplies?”

Micah pointed to a group of wagons stationed near the hitching posts. “Here. That’s where we store most of our food, weapons, medicine, ammo... you name it.”

The young man diverted his gaze to another location. “And what about this cabin here?”

The outlaw followed his line of sight. “Oh, that? That’s where our leader lives.”

“You mean Dutch van der Linde?” Isaac clarified. “I’ve heard he’s quite the unpredictable man.”

Micah sighed. “Unpredictable, paranoid, and dying. The deadliest combination. I’d suggest leavin’ him alone for now.”

“...I’ll keep that in mind. But tell me more about this robbery. When are you boys setting out? How long d’you reckon you’ll be gone?”

The outlaw took a moment to think. “Oh, I dunno... about an hour, I’d guess? Not a lotta time for you to find the camp and do what you need to do, but it’s the only chance you’ll get. As for when we’re leaving, we usually start robberies early in the morning. We don’t wanna give the law a chance to wake up properly before the chaos ensues.”

Isaac stood up from the desk. “That works for me.”

Micah eyed the young man with a cautionary glare. “...Just remember who helped you get this done, princess. You may be payin’ me, but I still got guns of my own. I won’t hesitate to use ‘em if you leave me no other choice. Understand?”

Isaac took the map and folded it in his hand, casually assuring the outlaw. “Of course, Micah. I won’t forget.”

“Good. Then I think I’ve given you your eighteen dollars’ worth of information. You wanna know more, you’ll have to pay more. For now, though...” Micah made his way to the exit, resting a hand on the doorknob, “...all I can say is good luck.”

“Wait.” Isaac said, stopping the other man before he could leave.

Micah lazily glanced over his shoulder, clearly eager to get out of here. “What is it?”

Isaac took a seat on the edge of the bed, placing his rifle on his lap. He seemed a little too calm for Micah’s liking, and the next words that came out of his mouth did nothing to ease the man.

“...Don’t eat the food after you return from the robbery.” He warned plainly, obviously thinking of something. 

“Otherwise, it won’t be pretty.”

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 50)

Beaver Hollow

On the move once again. Dude... 50 chapters!! 😮 Thanks to everyone who’s stuck with me!

Tagging @emily-strange ❤

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

Much to my disdain, I was bedridden. The burns on my leg were placed as such that bending my leg and doing any more than hobbling outside to pee (a nightmare task) was out of the question. They were also extremely painful, but I tried not to go on about it, I did my best to ignore it and pretend it wasn't the case. Susan was on at me constantly to rest it, telling me I would only make the healing process worse if I kept bursting blisters and tearing fragile skin as it tried to heal back. She was right, obviously, but I hated not doing anything. 

There were only so many chores I could do from the bed, mostly sewing, and after two days of that, nobody had anything that needed repairing. I'd started taking commissions of sorts; in other words, I made people bring me things to draw for them. They'd get a drawing, and I'd get half an hour or so of entertainment, it was a pretty good deal. I drew Javier's hat, Strauss' spare spectacles, Arthur's boots, a ladle that Pearson gave to me and then later apparently went mad trying to find, and a flower that Tilly picked. 

Jack was my most eager customer, though. He kept on bringing me things, cool looking rocks, a 'snake' he'd made out of compacted mud on a plate (I had to ask him what I was looking at, momentarily concerned he'd brought me a gift from Cain), and a small wooden horse that apparently Sean had carved for him once upon a time. I drew them all, even the more questionable items, because he smiled like a little angel every time I handed him a finished drawing. It was definitely a welcome distraction from the discomfort I was near-constantly in.

I was finishing up a drawing of a character from one of his books when Abigail came in. 

"I thought I'd find him in here," she smiled when she entered, "he ain't bothering you, is he?" 

"Of course not! I love having him around," I grinned, "he's a good boy, ain't you?" 

Jack gave me a toothy smile and nodded. 

"As long as he's behaving himself," Abigail chuckled, then took a seat on the edge of the bed by my feet. "But I, uh, I'd like a word, if that's okay?"

"With me?" My brows raised a little, and she nodded. "Sure, I ain't going anywhere soon," I snorted.

"Alright Jack, why don't you go see if Susan can find you a little job to help her with, hm?"

"I don't like doing jobs," he sulked, fiddling with the corner of the page of the sketchbook on my lap. 

"Nobody does, but I need you to keep on being a good boy, come on," she breathed, putting her hand on the top of his head and directing him towards the door. "You can come back later, okay?" 

"Okay," he grumbled, though did as he was told. 

"I love you," Abigail called after him with a certain look in her eye. She gnawed on her bottom lip as she watched him leave.

"Everything okay?" I asked. It took her a moment to look at me again. 

"Sure. Arthur and Sadie are looking into how they can break John out today."

My heart thudded. "They are?"

"He never told you?"

"He said he had things to do today, didn't go into much detail. What're they doing?" I asked, mildly concerned. 

"I ain't sure. They promised me they'd get him back, Sadie said she had an idea to check things out over at Sisika. They ain't breaking him out just yet, but they're doing a hell of a lot more than Dutch is," she released a sigh and shook her head. 

"John will be back soon. You ain't gotta worry with Sadie and Arthur working on it," I reassured her. 

"I know, just feels like so long since..." she trailed off a little glumly, her head bowed and her eyes landed on my bandaged leg. "I'm sorry, how're you feeling?"

"I'm okay. Susan changed the dressing this morning and so far so good. Now that it's had a little time to calm down it don't look too bad," I explained and she nodded slowly. "Still hurts, but not like the first night."

"That was real scary," she closed her eyes momentarily, then opened them to look at me with a crinkled brow. "We have to move soon. Everyone's started packing up, we just gotta sort a new camp. That's kinda what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Yeah?"

"Are you coming with us? I heard Dutch saying something about sending you off to someplace else while your leg heals."

"He was talking out'a where the sun don't shine. It was discussed, but I ain't leaving unless Arthur's coming with me. I don't think Dutch'd be too happy about that, though."

"Well I thought you should know Micah's been whispering in his ear," she muttered rolling his eyes, "he don't like to see weakness in the gang. Said we don't need to be carrying around another invalid." 

"Invalid? Soon as I'm out of this bed I'll be back to normal, I don't wanna be lying around on my ass all day!" 

"I told him where he can shove his opinion, and Arthur would never let the gang cut you loose. And like you said, Dutch don't wanna lose Arthur. You ain't going anywhere. Unless– what was Arthur going on about, you and him getting away together?" She cocked a brow a little.

"When?" I frowned.

"When you got burned, he was saying all these things–"

"You heard that? Right. I know he was," I cut her off, turning my eyes to the ceiling, I hadn't even realised that Abigail was around then, "he was just worried and stressed, we ain't leaving any time soon." 

"You don't sound very happy about that."

"Of course I ain't. I wanted to be long gone before Arthur even ended up in Guarma! But that don't mean I'm gonna make him leave. I know the timing ain't right." 

"But you do want to leave with him?"

"Yes," I breathed, closing my eyes. "Before I lose him." 

"You never mentioned this before," she noted. 

"It hurt to talk about, while he was gone," I admitted. 

"Well, I bet you're relieved, at least. Now you've got your boy back in your sight?" She mused. I nodded firmly.

"Real relieved. I'm so thankful… he was so lucky, I was lucky. I really was starting to lose it for a while."

"Well, maybe now the timing ain't right for you pair to go off and start a life together, but it will be one day. For now, I get it. Lord knows I don't wanna be here forever. Maybe when John gets out we can… I don't know. I just want us three to be a family."

"You will be, Abigail," I reached over and patted her knee. 

"If Arthur knows what's good for him," she looked up suddenly, "he'll leave all this behind too. There's been too many close calls and Dutch has been... well, he don't seem to care too much about John being behind bars, or marching towards the gallows. Once upon a time he'd be racing to do something about it."

"You think he's changed?"

"I don't know," she frowned deeply, "I love Dutch, I do, but I'm just frustrated. And a little scared, too. Hosea used to always be at his side and I trusted him to steer his judgement just enough to– sometimes Dutch's ideas are a little theatrical. I don't doubt they'd probably work but Hosea kept Dutch's feet on the ground. It was better for us all that way. I don't know how to say it, I guess."

"He provided wisdom and rationale while Dutch provided passion and charisma," I murmured, "that was always the impression I got."

"Yeah, I guess that's it," she sighed heavily. "Maybe if Hosea was still here, he'd be convincing Dutch to help with getting John back."

"I'm really sorry, Abigail. You must miss him."

"I don't like admitting it, but I do. Jack needs his father and I need–" she stopped, then realised something. "Oh, did you mean Hosea?"

"I did. But you can say whatever you need to."

"I'm just… I'm ready to have him back now. I don't like all this," she sighed, the corners of her mouth turning down and twitching. 

"No, I know. Ain't gonna be for long, I'm sure," I told her softly. 

"Hey, if you're lookin' for something else to draw in that book of yours, draw John's dumb face for me, won't you?" She smiled a little and I chuckled. 

"Sure, I'll try," I beamed at her. 

-

Arthur had come back from scoping out Sisika, full of reassurance for Abigail that they'd seen John and he was alive and well, working the fields. He hadn't mentioned it to Dutch, he told me, there was a strange air about him when he spoke about what he and Sadie had done. He never spoke at his regular volume, looked edgy, like a child plotting something he knew he shouldn't be doing. I couldn't quite believe that Dutch would have something negative to say about them going off to save one of our own. But then again, his behaviour had been particularly odd lately. 

Arthur had collapsed into sleep not long after telling me tales of hot air balloons and O'Driscolls, stories that sounded like they should be written in a story book and not coming from the experience of the man I loved. It terrified me. He'd scoped out the prison in a damn hot air balloon. He'd flown. I wanted to cry, even if Arthur acted like it was all in a day's work, and even if he spent more time describing the view of the world from miles up in the air, than he did the feeling of coming crashing back down. This was going to get him killed, I'd said, why aren't you telling Dutch and putting a team together? But he was sleeping. His head nestled into my chest and his body half laying on mine, on my good side, careful not to disturb my injured leg. I let him get his rest. 

It wasn't long before we were on the move again. It was the next afternoon that Arthur left with Charles to sort out our new home. Murfree Brood territory, up in Roanoke, apparently. I remembered the gang's hesitance to head up there after the bank job, it turned out we just needed to work up our nerve by dealing with the Night Folk in the bayou before moving onto the even sicker, even more brutal folk up on the Ridge. We'd only had one minor incident in the bayou. Lenny had encountered a couple of Night Folk skulking around a little way away from Lakay, right on the edge of our camp. They hadn't harmed him, hadn't even tried to. It seemed as though they were just checking the place out, but Lenny threatened them, we upped security, and we didn't see them again.

Miss Grimshaw came into the room I'd resided in since the night of the shoot out, flanked by Micah and Bill.

"How's that leg feelin'?" She asked as the men hung back. Bill stood awkwardly in the doorway while Micah strolled in, leaned up against the wall and crossed his arms, watching me from across the room. I was a little surprised to suddenly have them all there. 

"It's fine, I've been keeping still just like you told me to," I told her, glancing at the men before looking back at Susan. 

"Well, now I have to retract that order, we're moving. I roped these strapping fellers in to help you out onto the wagon we've got waiting for you outside," she said, glancing over her shoulder at them briefly, "you reckon you can move?"

"I don't have much of a choice," I laughed a little anxiously, "but I'll be glad to see something other than this room." 

"Alright then, you ready to move now? We don't got much time," Susan was a little short with me and sounded stressed. I didn't blame her. Moving was never a fun task. I nodded, and she nodded back, turning to leave briskly.

"Very well, be careful with her, boys. Make sure she doesn't bend that leg too much."

Micah and Bill approached me and I sat up, moving to scoot to the edge of the bed while keeping my bad leg outstretched. Micah let out an audible sigh and I kept my eyes firmly on the floor as they surrounded me, reaching for me a number of times without actually lifting me, trying to figure out how to approach it. 

"What if I lift her legs and you carry her by her arms?" Bill suggested. 

"Why don't we roll her up in a carpet while we're at it? She ain't a corpse just yet, Williamson," Micah hissed. 

"Well, I don't know! I never volunteered for this."

"Neither did I!"

"I'd walk if I could! I don't wanna be a burden, you know," I snapped at them.

"How do you want it, ma'am? Want me to carry you bridal style while Bill tosses rose petals?" Micah suggested, bending his knees to come down to my level condescendingly.

"Just lower me onto my stomach and I'll drag myself if it's too much of a hassle just to put my arms over your shoulders and walk me out there," I deadpanned. 

There was a pause, then Bill moved forward, taking my arm and hooking it around his shoulders. We both looked at Micah expectantly, and after making us wait for a few seconds, he did the same. They lifted me up and carried me out of the building, the camp was filled with people bustling about loading our things up onto the wagons, one wagon was waiting for me with a blanket draped on the bottom, a nice little spot to sit. I pressed my lips together as the blood rushed down my legs, the first time I'd stood upright since it happened, the area feeling full and tense and sore. I kept my foot lifted, trying my hardest not to move my leg too much and pull on the delicate, healing wounds.

We reached the wagon and Bill and Micah turned me, easing me up onto the back of it, sitting me down on the edge. I gasped as I bent my leg too far, and Bill caught it in his hands, lifting it up for me as I shuffled back with my arms and my good leg. By the time I was settled I was breathless, despite barely moving with my own strength.

"Thank you," I breathed, and Bill waved a hand dismissively.

"You alright?" He asked in that gruff voice of his.

"Yeah, I'm okay," I nodded. 

"You just take it easy there, don't want you straining yourself," Micah said, though the sneer with which he spoke told me he wasn't being kind. I hummed my acknowledgement but otherwise didn't respond. The two men turned and left me there, and I heard Micah muttering something about dumping me in a hotel somewhere instead of carting me around, to which Bill grumbled at him to give it a rest. 

It did make me wonder how the gang would behave if Micah found himself in a position of needing to be cared for. If he was put to bed rest for a week or two, and we had to wait on him until he was better. Would anyone complain as much as him about the weak links in the gang? I'd heard the way Micah spoke about the likes of Reverend Swanson or Uncle, and even the women, about how they didn't contribute enough and were dead weights. He didn't seem to hold much compassion, if any. But who would complain if it was him in need? Probably no one. Everyone else just got on with things, did what needed doing, helped who needed helping. I wondered how Micah would feel in that situation. Guilty? Unlikely. 

With a sigh I leaned my head back against the edge of the wagon and closed my eyes, waiting for everyone to finish packing away our things, feeling useless the entire time. I didn't enjoy being immobile. Sure, I could probably force myself to stand and do things, but I knew that it would hurt and Susan would be on my case quicker than vultures on a corpse.

It was times like these that I realised how much I needed work to ground me. How much I relied on it to give my life structure and purpose, to give me focus. Without it, or with the limited amount I was doing, the days dragged on and gave me too much time alone with my thoughts. And these days my thoughts weren't always friendly, especially when Arthur wasn't with me. When he was out working I had a constant seed of anxiety in the back of my mind, growing and sprouting into every corner of myself, building and building until he walked back into view, and the worry subsided. I'd felt it when he was out scoping Sisika. I felt it when he was clearing the new camp with Charles… worse, in fact.

My stomach churned steadily, heart thumping, just hanging around and waiting was making me feel nervous. I didn't really know what I was nervous for, I guess it was just the impatience to get on the road again, because the sooner we were on our way, the sooner I'd be with Arthur and I could see he was okay. 

-

The journey to Beaver Hollow, our new camp, was bumpy and warm and humid… and awful. My backside was numb from the hard wood of the wagon, every rut in the road jostled my leg; at first it was okay, but the longer it went on the more it began to hurt and soon the pain was intense and my discomfort manifested itself in my stomach as the worst nausea I'd felt in a long time. I laid back against the side of the wagon with my head tilted up to the sky, breathing slowly and deeply, trying so hard not to let my sickness get the better of me. 

"You okay there sweetheart? You're lookin' a little rough," Abigail, who was sitting up on the seat of the wagon above me, called down over her shoulder. I shook my head. "Is it your leg? How is it, Miss Grimshaw's been checking it, ain't she?"

"Don't make me talk, I'll be sick," I said as gingerly as I could. I heard some murmuring from above, then the wagon shook with a thump as someone jumped down from above. I opened my eyes to see Lenny rummaging in the storage next to me, the clatter of metal meeting my ears. Then I was presented with a bowl. One we prepared food in! I wrinkled my nose and kept all my focus on not puking into it.

"You want me to sit with you?" He asked me, and I gave him a look that I hoped he would read as me leaving the option up to him. He didn't have to sit with someone on the verge of purging their stomach contents, but I wouldn't mind the distraction some company would provide.

Lenny sat down next to me, leaning against the opposite side of the wagon so we faced each other. 

"We're gonna be there soon, I promise, hang tight," he said to me, crossing his arms over his chest and watching me swallow thickly, the flood of excess saliva in my mouth. "You ever been up near Beaver Hollow?" He asked me.

I nodded minutely. 

"Sorry, right, I won't make you talk," he gave a small chuckle. "I heard some bad things about this place. But I think we'll be fine. A bunch like us? No one'll come poking around." 

I swallowed again, took a shaky, slow breath. 

"Hey, did Arthur ever tell you about the time he and I went drinking together?" He began, a toothy smile appearing on his face. I shook my head. "Let me tell you. Maybe it'll make you feel better," he said.

Lenny chuckled quietly, then glanced out the back of the wagon at the one following us, with Micah and Dutch on it. 

"Was when Micah went and got himself locked up in Strawberry. Arthur took me into Valentine for a few drinks, just to ease up a little, you know? All the worst nights start out with a quiet drink," he laughed, shaking his head. "Well, I don't remember a whole lot, we just kept on doing shots. One after the other. God knows how much we drank…"

I quirked a brow at him, trying to imagine him and Arthur drinking themselves half to death. I just couldn't picture it, especially not Lenny. He seemed like such a good kid! Perhaps Arthur had just been a bad influence… 

"I remember doin' the can-can in the middle of the saloon. I remember slapping Arthur in the face over and over, and that's about it… we woke up in a jail cell! I don't really know what we did to get there," he snorted. "Probably just being a pair of complete morons."

"How'd you get out?" I asked.

"They just let us go, I guess the sheriff saw the funny side," he grinned. "I ain't ever thrown up quite as much as I did in the aftermath of that, though– sorry, maybe I won't mention that."

I laughed just a little, careful not to jostle my stomach too much.

"We ain't been out drinking since, feel like I'm still getting over it," he snorted. I smiled, it was easier not to lose my breakfast while he was talking to me. 

"Tell me another story," I pleaded.

"Hmm, let me think for a second," he murmured. "I know. This was when we was out west, before Blackwater–"

Lenny talked the whole way, distracting me from my sickness. He told me stories about the gang from before I joined, and before everything started going so spectacularly wrong. It was nice, even if it did make me sad to think of all those the gang had lost since then, some I knew, others I didn't. He seemed particularly distant when he mentioned a girl called Jenny, who'd passed during the ferry job. I still didn't quite know what went on that day, but it seemed to be one major hit in a series of many the gang had taken in recent times. 

-

Charles met up with us on the way, leading us the rest of the way to Beaver Hollow. The caravan rolled into the new area, a clearing between the trees and the large cave that had apparently been used by the Murfree Brood before us. Arthur and Charles had cleared it for us, and it terrified me to think that Arthur had been up against that sick, deranged group of bastards. They seemed to have managed it though, and the place was cleared and ready for us to set up. Arthur was nowhere to be seen, however, but Charles approached me before I could get myself too twisted in a knot with concern. 

"There was a girl locked up in the cave. Arthur's taking her back home, he'll be back later," he told me, offering his arm out, hinting for me to scoot forwards towards the open edge of the wagon. I gingerly did just that, keeping my leg straight. 

"A girl? Is she okay?" I queried, and Charles frowned a little as he took my hand, guided it around his shoulders and lifted me onto my good foot. 

"Physically, I think so. She was real shook up, though. That place was a mess down there, in the cave," he told me quietly, depositing me down on a chair he'd retrieved for me. I thanked him for his assistance as he let me go. "How're you feeling?"

"Sick," I said truthfully. "Was all I could do not to hurl on the way up here," I chuckled weakly. His frown deepened. 

"Have your wounds been checked recently?" He asked me, looking to me for permission before pressing the back of his hand to my forehead.

"This morning," I nodded, "there's no sign of infection. I think it was just the journey, it hurt from all of the bumps in the road."

"Okay. I'll see if I can find something to help you once we're all set up," he patted me on the shoulder. 

"Thanks, Charles," I smiled. He went off to help everyone unload the wagons. 

I had to sit and watch everyone buzzing around setting up tents, making the place into something that resembled a home. As much as I wished to be able to help, I was glad that everyone was too busy to pay attention to me when I – as quietly as I could – finally lost my battle with nausea on the ground beside my chair on the outskirts of the camp. I almost immediately felt better, though it wasn't fun having to sit next to it until someone could come and help me move away. At least I didn't do it in the wagon, I thought. 

[emily-strange]

Growing Pains...

So here it is. The first chapter of my RDR2 Story. I can’t believe I’m doing this….please be kind? But also really happy for constructive criticism! Bit of a long one to start, just to get it all going. 

Any advice on Titles? I’m terrible with them!!

Summary: Emmy has been with the gang since she was a little girl. Her mother moved on, leaving her to be raised by Dutch, Hosea and Susan. Arthur and John are her brothers (argue and she will fight you). Becoming a woman is hard when everyone still sees you as a child. Since the Blackwater mess she’s trying to find her feet while dealing with her new feelings for the gangs resident douchebag. 

Pairing: None yet, eventual Micah x female OC.

Warnings: Swearing, Sexual themes, Minor mention of blood (they’re outlaws after all).

Chapter 1

God it’s good to have Sean back. I know how much he pisses everyone off, but that guy has been my partner in crime since before I can remember. My life lacked a lotta fun before he found himself with us. He’s like my weird, Irish, little brother…. who’s older than me. And hooks up with my favourite aunt/sister/best girl-friend. Yeah, this family is one screwed up party.

“Whatta you writin’ there?” John asks before almost collapsing on me, “You know there’s a party goin’ on right?”. I look around and in fact only see Uncle, the Reverend and Susan still up, chatting around a table scattered with bottle.

“Yes, I’m well aware” I say rolling my eyes. I close my journal before he can catch a glimpse. He’s always trying to.

“You’ve spent way too much time with Arthur” he slurs before taking another swig of whiskey and handing the bottle to me. I take a glug like it’s water. Hell, been drinking the stuff since I was young enough to only have water.

“I like the writin’ thing. Gives me a way to complain about ya without getting in trouble from Hosea”.

John takes the bottle and clutches his chest like he’s been shot, “Cruel, just cruel. I came all the way here from that tree to check on ya” he laughs and points to a tree only a few steps away, “….you were on ma stop before Abiga..”, I can’t help but interrupt him.

“No, John! You’re drunk. You’ll do more damage than good. You haven’t fought in days. Why ruin that!?”. I know I sound shrill but my God, he’s exhausting sometimes!

“Cauz. I’m horn…….nevermind.” he quickly takes another glug of his drink and avoids eye contact until I’m pretty much staring him down, face to face. Idiot boy. I can’t believe that after Jack I’m the youngest.

He finally meets my eyes, “Alright! God damn, I’ll goda bed! Jeesus. From now on ya Emmy Morgan not….ya know…..whatever” he says while slumping down, clearly fed up of being scolded like a child. I hate having to be his brain sometimes. But if I didn’t think for him, he’d of never come home. It was one of my best days riding back into camp after getting him from the station. It was hard but he’s my brother. Blood or not.

I kiss his cheek and hug him around his shoulders.

“Go to bed John,” I mumble into his shoulder “it’ll all look better in the mornin’”. I pull back and he nods before getting up on shaky, drunken legs.

“Yeah, yeah. Night little sister. Just. Please do me a favor?”. I tilt my head to signal him to continue, “Don’t just write about ya life like Arthur. Live it. Ya young.”. He pats my head clumsily and I smile. I quite like drunk John. More often than not he talks more sense than sober John.

I watch him stumble towards his own tent. I can just about see him collapse onto his cot and after a few moments, when I’m sure he won’t stumble back out of it into Abigail’s, waking her and Jack, I turn back to the fire and my journal.

Lord this gang. This family. I’d be lost without them but sometimes feel smothered by them. Dutch hasn’t let me leave the camp once since we got here. Too worried about Pinkertons and O’Driscoll’s. I should be grateful that he wants to act as my pa when mine was so shite, but he isn’t my pa. And I’m not the child I once was. Hosea sees it, John sees it, Arthur….well, Arthur begrudgingly sees it but he sees it nonetheless. Maybe if I get Arthur on side?

I slam my journal with an incredibly audible huff, “Why do I have to get anyone on side. I’m 18 God dammit, nearly 19! Abigail had Jack at my age”. A voice cuts through my quiet and has me jumping out of my skin.

“I wouldn’t model yourself on Miss Roberts if I were you,” Micah comes into view in front of me. Taking a seat on the other side of the fire, “A bit of a ‘loose’ cannon if you follow my meanin’”.

He’s not got his coat on and he’s wearing that red shirt he loves so much. Sleeves rolled up. Why the heck do I keep looking at his arms? His hat’s sat as always on top of his blonde mop of hair.

“Micah” I greet. Somewhat curtly, not that I was meaning to. Still catching my breath from his shock arrival. “I didn’t hear you.”.

He laughs deeply at that and opens his arms in a wide gesture, “It’s a skill sweetheart”. I hate it when he calls me that. I don’t like what it does to me. And it ruins the sweetness of it that Arthur has when he calls me it. But I know asking him to stop will only encourage him more so I keep quiet.

“So”, I whistle out the word, “how much of that did you hear?”. I take a chance and look up at him, only to regret it. He’s sporting that shit-eating grin of his.

“Well, I heard you play mother to scar face aaaand then mutter to ya self about not bein’ a child….bit childish though aint it? Talkin’ to ya self I mean”, Micah huffs a laugh at his own joke and takes a hearty swig of the bottle he’s holding. He holds it out to me and stupidly, I accept.

“Teasing other people about their private thoughts Mr Bell. Also a bit ‘childish’ aint it?”, I finish the bottle and put it down by the log I’m leaning against. I watch him as he pretends to ponder.

“Maybe.” Is the only answer he gives. Well this was well and truly pointless.

We look at each other for a few moments. I hate that smug look on his face! So why can’t I look away?

Thankfully he breaks the silence before it gets too awkward.

“Dutch been keepin’ ya on a short leash?” he asks while throwing twigs into the flames. I’m almost stunned at how normally he asks the question. No mirth or venom. I catch myself smiling, hopefully just before he notices. I clear my throat.

“Um, yeah. He has. He’s worried. But I used to do quite a lot outta camp before, well, ya know”, he nods along with my words “It’s kinda suffocating here sometimes”. I feel guilt wash over me at admitting my plight to another person. Some people would give their right leg to be coddled like this. To be kept safe in camp away from the evils that stalk us. Micah breaks me out of my own thoughts.

“Don’t do that” he says. I look up at him but he’s still staring at the fire. When I don’t reply, only look quizzically at him he continues. “Don’t feel bad for wantin’ more. For wantin’ to do somethin’ other than sew and scrub shit off people’s shoes. Guilt. It’s pointless. A useless emotion. Used by weaker people to keep the better ones down.”.

“You don’t actually believe that right? Guilt. It….the feeling means you’re human….that you care about other people.”, he looks at me then. Dead in the eyes. Unblinking.

“Well then sweetheart. I guess I’m not human”.

What can I possibly say to that?

I clear my throat again and take a moment to ruminate on what he’s just said. I break the eye contact but I can tell he’s still looking at me.

“That’s not true Mr Bell. You’re human. I’ve seen you bleed like the rest of ‘em. Patched you up a bit too if you remember.”. I think briefly of a time before Blackwater, when he came back to camp after a run in with the O’Driscolls’. He’d been slashed on the side by a knife. Nothing too bad but my word did it bleed. I gave him the stiches myself. Been doing that for a long time now. Everyone thought it best to get another person in the know of how to do the basic stuff.

He’d come back into camp clutching his side and shoved everyone away. Saying he could do it himself. Grabbed the needle and thread before dropping the flaps of his tent and getting to work. Everyone let him. I mean, wouldn’t you? In the months he’d been running with us he hadn’t been kind to pretty much anyone. I’d kept my distance. Arthur asked me to and, well he’s my big brother so. But when I walked past Micah’s tent, and I heard him whimper like a dying rabbit. I couldn’t just head to bed.

“Mr Bell?” I called gently, “Mr Bell?”.

I received a strained “what!?” in return. I’ve never really been one to scare easily. Maybe this was my own little version of playing with fire. But I just walked right into his tent. No asking, no preamble. Just, walked right in.

He was sat on his cot, shirtless. He was using his black shirt to try and stem the bleeding and despite the dark colour, I could see it become drenched in crimson. He looked at me, breathless and pale.

“What the hell do ya think ya doin’?!” he said. He wasn’t shouting. Probably felt too weak for that. His mouth hung open and he was almost panting. Sweat beading on his forehead and chest.

Despite my very best efforts, my eyes were drawn to his chest. It looked, firm? Firm and rippled with patches of light hair. Scars were scattered on his chest and stomach but his arms were basically intact. I was pulled from my thoughts by his gruff voice. “Girl!?” he spat as sternly as his condition would muster.

I gathered myself quickly and rushed to his side, kneeling on the floor.

“I’m gonna help you Mr Bell whether you want me to or not so for this once, just hush. I won’t tell anyone that you let me help you and once you’re sewn up I’m gone.”. As I hurried my words out, I took the needle and thread from beside him on the cot. I figured if I did it quickly enough he’d be too slow in this state to refuse. I threaded the needle easily and gently pushed on his chest to move him back a bit. He was warm and clammy under my palms but it wasn’t lost on me that this was my first time touching the chest of a man who wasn’t what I considered ‘family’.

Micah had grunted but stayed quiet. I could feel him watching me.  

I took the shirt away from his side and with as much cold detachment as I could muster, poured alcohol onto the wound from the bottle he’d readied on the floor. He held is breath and despite him trying to be as silent as possible, he groaned in pain. I tried to ignore that horrible noise as I started sewing up his wound. He muffled his groans by biting his lips and punching the cot next to him. I glanced up at his face and his eyes were screwed shut. My God, he looked….vulnerable.

When I was done I fished around the floor for something that looked almost clean to press to his side. I knelt there as his breathing returned to normal and I chanced my luck by letting my eyes wander a bit more from the wound. I took in his stomach, his face, his hands. But in particular, his arms. They looked solid. And at that moment I felt myself blush.

I pushed myself up to standing and looked anywhere but his face. I nodded at nothing in particular and basically ran out of the tent.

That night I came on my fingers to the thought of biting Micah Bell’s strong biceps as he hovered above me. Couldn’t look him in the eye since then. Well until Colter. Had much bigger fish to fry then.

I was brought back to the present when I felt a weight lean against my arm. In my distraction, Micah had moved to sit next to me. Shoulder to shoulder.

“Oooh I remember” he drawled, facing forward, “remember you scurrying away quick as lightening as well” he mused further. He smelled of whiskey and cigarettes. Nothing new for the people around here. But he smelt of something else. Something spicy. Woody? Is that a thing people can smell like?

“I uh, remember you not wanting help. So thought I’d spare you the embarrassment of small talk.” I replied not looking when he turned his face towards me. Leaning in close to my ear.

“Hmm well ain’t that kind”, he whispered and I’m so very proud of the fact that I could keep the shiver I felt from showing. What on earth was happening here.

I turned to face him. “Well I’m a kind person”, I smiled. He pulled back and looked at me like I was a puzzle. Like my face was covered in a maze he couldn’t find a way out from. And while he looked at me, clearly trying to work out his next move. I made mine.

“Well, goodnight Mr Bell,” I proceeded to get up from my spot on the floor. “Thank you for the drink and your lessons on empathy. Even though I will ignore it.” I nodded and before he could respond, I walked to my tent with my head held high. I undid the flaps without looking his way and once I was alone, I threw myself onto my cot.

What the fuck was that?

That night I came on my fingers to the thought of being Micah Bell breathing against my neck.

What the hell am I doing…

[sweets-fanfics]

Homecoming 6

Title: Bonding time

Word Count: 2309 (Small i know){sarcasm}

Warnings: Violence

A/N: Bet you weren’t expecting a chapter tonight. Neither was I. I just realized my document on google doc was five pages long and decided better post it now.

Tags: @rollyjogerjones

“Little Van der Linde.” Mr. Strauss said as he walked up to Henry and you one day. 

“Which one?” Henry asked. 

“You. I need help but I can’t find Herr Morgan anywhere. Can you go collect debts from this list of people?” He handed Henry a sheet of paper.

“I’m not sure… Henry is not very intimidating.” you joked as Henry bumped your shoulder.

“Just because of what my dear sister just said I will gladly do this for you.” Strauss smiled and walked away. “Well, I better be off.” 

You followed him to Lightning as he checked his saddlebag. “Look at you, big brother, growing into the outlaw life?” 

“When I went out with Dutch the other day he said some things that really seemed to speak to me. I think I want to give this…” He looked back at the camp. “New ‘family’ a chance.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that. Now when can I start robbin’?” You asked.

“Never. I think you should stay out of gang stuff, I’ll be such to voice my opinions to Dutch… and Arthur.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” you threatened in a sweet voice.

“Try me.” He smirked taking off. 

As he rode out you noticed Arthur’s grey Kentucky saddler coming in. You started to wave but you saw he wasn’t alone. A blond man on a Missouri fox trotter. He had a long mustache and seemed to have a face that just made a person hate him. 

Arthur saw you and immediately perked up riding up to hitch his horse near where you were standing. “Hello, princess.” He grinned as he hopped off his horse and kissed your forehead.

“Hi, who is that?” You looked as the man climbed from his horse. He noticed Arthur’s greeting to you and came over with a bit of confusion on his face.

“That’s Micah, don’t give him any attention. May benefit you the most.” You looked up at him in confusion and Arthur tried to steer you from the man who was now in front of the two of you. 

“Well, brother, you aren’t going to introduce me to this beautiful creature?” Micah sneered.

You held out a hand around Arthur to shake Micah’s, “Y/N Van Der Linde.” You smiled.

Micah took your hand slowly. “Micah Bell… wait, your name…”

“Dutch is my father.” You confirmed, “I have a brother as well but he’s running an errand for Strauss.” 

“No offense, but when the hell did Dutch have children?” He asked Arthur.

“Well, I can answer that.” You said pushing in front of Arthur as you started to get annoyed. “Seeing as my brother and I are twins and we are 26 years of age that means he had children 26 years ago.” He seemed to get a little annoyed. “With my mother so Colm O’Driscoll murdered.”

“Ah, your Annabelle’s kid.” He eyed Arthur and then looked back at you. “And you and the cowpoke here seem to have a sort of relationship…”

“Yes. Where have you been?” You smiled.

“Arthur helped me rob a stagecoach,” Micah said proudly.

“How much did you guys get?”

“What?” He looked dumbfounded.

“How much money?” You ask again.

“What’s it to you, missy? Being a Van Der Linde doesn’t give you some sort of authority.”

You felt Arthur put a hand on your shoulder. “Y/N I believe Dutch called ya.” 

You sighed and started to turn away. “Damn Morgan, you found a pretty obedient one, huh?” Before Arthur could shut him up, you spun back around kneeing him in the groin making him keel over. 

“I’m sorry? I missed what you said?” You lied smiling sweetly.

Arthur started dragging you away as Micah mumbled to himself and gave you a dirty look. “That’s my girl, but maybe just avoid him for now.”

“He was asking for it, Mr. Morgan.” You gave him the sweetest smile possible.

“He’s usually askin’ for it that’s why it’d be best to just ignore him.” He smiled. “Your father did want you though.”

“I swear if he tells me to try and stay in camp I may snap.” Arthur chuckles as he pushes you in to your father’s tent. 

“Ah Y/N,” Dutch looks up from his book. “I believe Arthur and John are going to do a job. How would you like to go into town with me?”

“You mean like… A job, or…”

“I mean, the two of us can get to know each other a bit more.” He smiled at you.

You started to get excited. As a child, you always dreamed about something like this. You had seen a dad take his daughter who was around your age at the time to a fair that was in town. You knew it wouldn’t be like that. You weren’t a seven-year-old. But still, this was something you didn’t think would ever happen.

“Sure.” You tried to sound nonchalant but you weren’t sure it worked.

 ----------------

As the two of you rode into Valentine he stopped at the small saloon at the end of the main street. You had worked in the big one but this one always seemed a bit more comfortable for you.

The bartender smiled at you as you walked in before your father, “Y/N! I almost thought you moved away. I like this cowboy look you got goin’ on.”

His smile faltered a bit as Dutch entered the saloon. “Hey Jesse, can we have a bottle of whiskey at my usual table?” He nodded without looking away from Dutch. “Pa, we can sit here.”

You take a seat as he sits across from you. “You sure seem to know a lot of people, my dear.” He mentioned nodding his head towards Jesse as he put down to glasses and the bottle.

“Well, when I was down here alone for a bit I’d study in this place.” Dutch looked at you guiltily. “I’m over it. I knew I probably wouldn’t get any degree, being a woman and all.” You chuckle to yourself.

“I had to stop paying for you guys because stuff was getting shakey around the camp. I wasn’t able to sneak out and send you two money like I always could before.” Dutch took a drink and set his glass down. “We had three other people in our gang, the Callandar boys and a young girl named Jenny. We tried to do a job in Blackwater and it ended up bloody.”

You sipped your drink. “I… I read that in the paper.” You admitted, “I had kinda hoped it wasn’t you but… again I never thought I’d even meet ya.” You sighed a bit. “For a long time, Henry and I just assumed we were accidents from a drunken night or whatever.”

“Trust me, Y/N. Your mother and I wanted you and your brother, we were going to surprise people and everything, but once your mother died… I’ll admit I didn’t think I could do it alone.”

“You had Uncle Hosea.” 

Dutch chuckled, “Yes, but I had maybe a bit too much pride back then.” 

“I’m glad you are getting your shot now.” He smiled at you, “Cause if Henry had to be my only family any longer I may have killed myself.”

Dutch let out a rough laugh, “He can be that bad?”

“Let’s just say since we met you, it’s been like havin’ two fathers.” Dutch patted your shoulder. 

“So tell me about your hobbies and such.” 

You thought for a moment, It had been so hectic lately. You hadn’t even thought of it. “Violin of course, but I can play a fair share of other things. Books are also things I enjoy a lot. I can’t think of much else at the moment.”

“Books and music.” He seemed as if tasting the idea. “You sound like a true romantic.”

“Hardly,” You rolled your eyes, “Father I did want to ask you about Mr. Bell…”

“Ah, you met him,”

“Unfortunately, I have.” You took another drink.

“He’s a good man, I assure you.” He also takes another drink.

“He seems like an asshole. And I only spoke to ‘im for two minutes.” Dutch started chuckling. “I’m serious, Pa. There’s somethin’ about him I don’t trust very much.” 

Dutch slightly waves you off. “I promise you, it’s just his face.” 

You try not to smile. “If you say so, father.”

------

As you two spoke you could hear the saloon doors behind you swing open and close. “Ah, there they are.” Dutch waved. You looked over your shoulder as John and Arthur walked up. “Y/N, how about and John go outside make sure nothin’ suspicious is goin’ on, I wanna have a little chat with Arthur here.” 

You gave your father a bit of a weary look as you stood. “I promise I’ll be good,” Dutch said putting a hand up and crossing his heart.

You squeezed Arthur’s hand as you walked past him and out the door with John. “That seemed awkward.”

“You love pointing out the obvious, huh?” You smirked. 

As the two of you stepped outside John was suddenly grabbed by a man. You started to yell but someone came up behind you and put a hand over your mouth. You tried the thrash around and swing at him but his grip on you was too tight. 

A man stands on a wagon and began to yell, “Dutch Van Der Linde!” You notice people on the street start to move away. “My name is Leviticus Cornwall, and you robbed my train. Come out now and I won’t kill your hired guns.” 

You watch Dutch and Arthur slowly walk out of the saloon with their hands up. “There has to be some mistake, sir.” Dutch attempts to say cooly. You look at Arthur seeing his eyes are fixed on the man holding a gun to your head.

“Kill them,” Cornwall says as his carriage takes off. There’s a pop sound and the fight begins as the man who had been holding you drops to the ground. You pull out your pistol shooting the man who was holding John. 

John moved you behind a wagon while the other two joined you. “Can’t I just have a normal day?” You ask slightly annoyed. 

“Not with this lot,” Arthur says as he fires at some men across the way. 

You leaned out to shoot at someone when you felt a pain shoot up your leg. “Fuck.” You fall back and look at your leg. “Damn it… I got shot.” 

Both Arthur and Dutch’s head snapped in your direction. “Arthur get her on the back of the cart,” Dutch commanded as he shot the man who had got your leg. 

Arthur carefully lifted you into cart making sure your leg didn’t move as much. “Have I told you how much you love scaring the shit out of me?” He asked as he made sure you’d be comfortable.

“Not in a few days.” You winced at your leg.

“Don’t shoot, just keep the pressure on the leg.” He ordered. 

“John, help me push this. We are going to literally walk out of here.” Dutch cried chuckling almost. “Arthur make sure no one messes with us.” 

As your father predicted the four of you were able to walk out with the help of the wagon blocking most of the bullets. John came up and lifted you on to Dutch’s horse. “Arthur. Make sure no one follows.” Dutch said before taking off towards camp.

“Pa, is it safe to leave Arthur alone?” You ask looking back.

“Arthur will be fine, my dear. But for now, we need to wrap your leg and then find a new camp.” 

“My leg will be fine.” You say before immediately wincing at the pain.

“Uh-huh.” Dutch eyes you a bit. “You should have been more careful.” He stops his horse at the camp.

“I am not going to listen to a lecture right now so save it.” You groan hoping off the horse trying to balance on one leg. 

“Mr. Pearson, Ms. Grimshaw please start disassembling camp. We need to move quickly.” Dutch yelled as he grabbed your arm and helped you to his cot. “John, go grab Strauss medical supplies so I can wrap Y/N’s leg.” The hole was towards the bottom of your calf so Dutch was able to easily lift your pants. You knew you’d probably need new boots as you saw a hole go straight through the boot.

“Do I need to cut it off?” You ask half-joking. 

“No, it looks like the bullet when clean through.” Without warning, he poured alcohol that was at his bedside on it the wound.

You yelped and hit the bed you were sitting on. “Damnit. Give me some damn warning.” 

“Y/N.” Arthur hurried up before leaning over to catch his breath. “How is it?” He asked.

“I’m gonna be fine. Pa is overreacting.” You sigh.

“I’m not overreacting, gunshots are important.” Dutch narrowed his eyes. “Arthur you and Charles go ahead and try to find a new place for us.” Arthur starts to walk away.

“Wait.” You called to him, “Pa, give me a moment with Arthur.”

“Y/N now is not the time to be a couple-” Dutch starts to say.

“Just go make sure everything is coming along fine it’s not what you think.” You grumble. He threw his hands up and walked away mumbling.

Arthur walks up and gets on a knee in front of you so you can be eye to eye.

You smile a bit. “Okay, maybe I lied, I just wanted a kiss but I know you won’t with him around.”

He chuckled and leaned in giving you a soft kiss on the lips. “Miss Van Der Linde, you are somethin’ else.” 

“I try to be. Now go before he comes back.” He gives you one more tender kiss before running off to his horse.

[visions-from-reaver]

Outlaw Legends

CHAPTER II: The Vision

“So his name is Reaver huh?” Arthur and Heather were in one of the cabins that offered some shelter. “Yeah...I thought it was fitting.” Arthur chuckled as he warmed himself by the small fire “I don’t know about fittin’ but it’s somethin’. Now seriously, where’d you come from, I know it ain’t from anywhere around here or out west, your clothes tell me that much.” Silence filled the small cabin before she spoke “You...you wouldn’t believe me if I told you…I hardly believe it myself…” Arthur sighed “How ‘bout you think on it for a while? I got some people to bring down here, get them fed and warm.” She nodded and whispered “I know…” 

Arthur looked at her “What do you mean ‘you know’ I just told ya.” She shrunk away from him “Again… you wouldn’t believe me.” Arthur stared at her and blinked “Right...well you stay here and get warm. I’ll be back.” He walked out of the cabin and back into the white frigid snow. The second he stepped outside the door he whistled for Taima. “Cmon girl, where’d you go?” He was answered with a distant whinny and the sound of approaching hooves. “Thank God, pretty sure Charles woulda killed me if I lost ya.” Arthur grabbed the reins and patted the mare’s nose gently “You can’t just go runnin’ off like that, ya hear?” Taima snorted and lifted her head up and down in a nodding motion. “Good, let's get back to the others.” He climbed into the saddle and steered the mare into the direction they had come from and spurred her into another canter.

**********

Back at the caravan things weren’t going so well, an older man jumped off the back of the lead wagon, walked to the front, and called over the howling wind  “Abigail says Davey’s dyin’ Dutch, we’ll have to stop some place!” Dutch nodded “Okay, Arthur’s out lookin’ I sent him up ahead a while ago!” The man returned to the back of the wagon and climbed back inside. Hosea shivered “If we don’t stop soon we’ll all be dyin’. This weather….it's May!” Dutch nodded “I know, hopefully Arthur will be back soon and we can all get warm and rest.” Just as the two were speaking Dutch noticed a shadow of a horse and rider appear in the distance. “Look!” Arthur slowly came into view of the wagon “Arthur! Any luck?”

Arthur lifted his head and called back over the wind “Yeah I found us a place! Old abandoned minin’ town, it ain’t too far!” He trotted up beside Dutch and Hosea “I gotta tell you, I weren’t the first to find it.” Dutch looked over confused “What do you mean son?” Arthur sighed “Found some girl and her horse in the stables while I was checkin’ out the place. She’s…well she’s different, I don’t know how exactly but...she’s dressed kinda funny, and that horse of hers...” Dutch looked at him confused, “Arthur, what are you talking about?” Arthur sighed and shook his head “I’ll jus’ have to show ya! Come on!” He moved up in front of the wagon leading the way for the rest of the caravan to follow.

By the time they arrived the weather had only worsened, the darkness of midnight bringing a deathly chill with it. “Dutch get the women in that bigger cabin to the left for now.” Arthur’s voice was quiet so only Hosea and Dutch could hear him. “Help me get the horses in that barn over there and I’ll show you what I’m talkin about.” Dutch nodded and looked at Hosea “You get everyone inside while I figure out what to do about this girl.” Dutch handed Hosea the reins and hopped off the wagon into the snow. A large man, who looked to be a mix between Native American and Black came forward leading a beautiful white Arabian Stallion.

“I hope The Count behaved himself for you Charles?” Dutch said as he was handed the reins. “He did just fine Dutch, put up a little fuss at first but mellowed out after a bit.” Dutch smiled slightly and stroked the Arabian’s nose as Arthur spoke up “You know how The Count is, don’t like nobody but you Dutch.” Arthur handed Taima’s reins over to Charles “Thanks for letting me borrow her, she did real good.” Taima nickered lightly in response to the praise. “Charles, you get inside, rest that hand, and get warm. Arthur and I will handle the horses from here.” Dutch ordered as he began heading to the barn “I’ll be fine Dutch.” Charles stated which had Dutch turning around to face him “Get inside son, Arthur and I have this covered, now go on.” Charles sighed but nodded and followed the others into the larger cabin on the left side.

“Okay Arthur, show me this horse and girl you were telling me about.” Arthur nodded and walked up to the barn doors and slowly opened them allowing Dutch to enter behind him with The Count. Arthur struck a match and lit a lantern that he had left hanging just inside the barn doors. It was dim but it was enough light to illuminate the large black stallion in the very last stall. “Well I’ll be damned…” Arthur looked over at Dutch, confused by his reaction “You seen this horse before?” Dutch shook his head “Not this one in particular no but...I know its type.” Dutch hitched The Count up inside one of the stalls closest to the door and started in the direction of the other stallion.

“Dutch be careful, that horse ain’t normal.” Arthur reached out and grabbed his arm pulling him back. “Let me go first, just in case.” Dutch shrugged but nodded and stepped back allowing Arthur to go ahead of him. “Hey boy, remember me?” Arthur held his hands up and approached the Fresian with caution. The stallion looked over at him and snorted gently, his ears rotated fully forwards “Yeah that's it...good boy.” He got within arms reach of the beast and slowly reached his hand up, patting him on the neck “Yeah good boy.” With his other hand he motioned Dutch over to him.

Dutch moved slowly, but his movement caught the stallion’s coal black gaze and it jerked, rearing its head. “Hey, hey now easy...he's just a friend…” Dutch looked between Arthur and the horse “You always did have a way with horses Arthur.” Arthur stroked its neck gently, calming it once more as Dutch approached it and carefully held out his hand. “Those eyes are...they look so empty…” Arthur nodded “Like I said, it ain’t normal. Should have a look at those teeth, damn things are sharp as daggers!” Arthur slowly stepped back and allowed Dutch to take his place beside the beast. “What's its name?” Arthur scratched the back of his neck “Uh, Reaver I think is what she said his name was.” 

“Reaver?” At the sound of its name the horse reared suddenly, his coal black eyes once again flashing that moonstone white as he trumpeted. “Woah! Woah!” Dutch cried out as he stumbled backward away from the stallion “What the hell?!” Reaver sharply turned his head and stared Dutch down with those white empty looking eyes. Both men backed up slowly, but the beast’s gaze never left Dutch, it looked at him like it was studying him, like he was staring into his soul. The area around Dutch began to blur and turn dark.

The cave was dark,

 water dripped from the ceiling and into the still water around Dutch’s feet.

Something didn’t feel right,

he had only just been in that barn, hadn’t he?

Dutch felt the bitter cold,

was he still in that barn with that monster of a horse?

The air didn’t feel right here,

Dutch had a bad feeling, like he was in danger.

“Hello?”

Footsteps in the distance

“Is anyone there?”

The footsteps were getting closer now.

A deep chuckle got his attention and he spun around,

someone else was here with him, someone he couldn’t see.

“You can’t run from this.”

Dutch spun around in a circle,

the voice came from everywhere, from nowhere.

“You can’t run from me.”

The voice,

it sounded so familiar, but why?

“You can’t run....from yourself.”

Dutch felt a hand grab his shoulder,

he spun around to see who the voice belonged to,

himself.

This other version of himself looked worn,

his normally neat clothes were filthy.

His vest undone,

his normally slicked back hair in disarray.

He looked so...angry,

insane even.

“You’ll never make it. Everyone will die or run, it's all your fault.”

Dutch felt a chill go down his spine.

“You’re wrong.”

The other one grinned,

“Am I?”

Dutch panicked and shoved this other version away.

The other one didn’t like that.

“You’re too weak!”

Dutch was pulled into a chokehold,

this other version was strong, very strong.

Dutch struggled to break free,

the other released him only to hit him in the face.

Dutch stumbled backwards into the water,

the other was above him in a second.

Dutch was being drowned,

he struggled in vain against his aggressor.

“You. Will. Fail.”

Everything went black.

“Dutch? Dutch, are you alright? Dutch!” Arthur was calling out to him, Dutch blinked and the vision cleared, he was back in the barn. “Dutch, you okay there?” Dutch swallowed, clearly shaken from the encounter. That horse was still staring at him, its eyes still that pale moonstone white. “Arthur...that girl, where is she?” Noticing the uneasiness in Dutch’s voice he stepped in front of him, blocking the stallion’s line of sight. “She's in that small cabin, across from the big one, you go on, I’ll calm this beast down.” Dutch nodded even though Arthur couldn’t see and slowly backed out of the barn doors, closing them once he made it out. He heard Arthur inside trying to calm and soothe the horse’s nerves “Easy it's okay...he’s gone...shh shh boy. Hey! Hey now! Woah!” A loud thud was heard as something slammed into the barn door “Ow! Goddammit…”

“You alright in there Arthur?” Dutch heard a low groan “Yeah I’m fine! Damn thing just kicked me but I’m fine!” Dutch opened the barn door as Arthur stumbled out “Damn horse.” Dutch couldn’t help but chuckle “Not the first time you’ve been kicked by a horse.” Arthur rolled his eyes “Yeah and it ain’t gonna be the last time neither.” He rubbed his chest lightly in discomfort “Come on, let's get in that cabin, leave that beast in there to calm himself down.” Dutch nodded “I agree.”

[assless-chapstick]

I need your help because your writing is the dirtiest best fucking thing I’ve ever read Eagle Flies is slept on goddamit Is it possible Eagle Flies is poly or in one of your au’s? I haven’t seen ships for him so I’m open to your interpretation of where he might fall, either in the couch au or somewhere else Pls I beg of you, give me some nsfw eagle flies Either him getting rammed or doing the ramming, I can’t quite pin down if he’s a top a bottom or a switch- I’ll give you my soul for this

Aw feller, you know I’m a good cowpoke at heart…. I can’t deny aid to a feller in need….

I wracked my brain for hot minute on this one…. The thing with Eagle Flies is that he doesn’t have a lot of characterization on the game, does he? And in canon he’s a fair bit younger than the main crew, I’d say… but I think I got something good for you…

So, the couch AU; back when John was a kid, he went to some sort of youth group designed for outreach to at-risk youth, probably some sort of sports program or something. That’s where Dutch worked, that’s how Dutch and John met, after John went into foster care and Arthur started living with Dutch n Hosea ….

Anyway I think John and Eagle Flies are around the same age and they both were part of that youth group… I feel like they didn’t get on super well, both with kind of rowdy personalities, eager to prove themselves and prone to fighting to solve problems.

Oh yeah and then… and then….

They both get into track, into running, sprinting…. Both good at it, and Dutch laughs about “healthy competition” when he watches them run and it’s infuriating but they do do better when they’re competing against one another….

They end up going to the same highschool, running on the same track team, and both get recruited by colleges once they graduate – crazy coincidence, right? Except John gets recruited to go to state and Eagle Flies gets recruited by like, a Good College Out of State (his grades are better than John’s anyway) and John’s like pfft good riddance.

Couple years later and of course, of course, who should John see at the big track meet in sophomore year? Eagle fucking Flies. And it’s only been a couple years but Christ did he have a glowup, as much as John hates to admit it – while John stayed lanky and skinny and kinda scrawny (no matter how much of Arthur’s expensive whey protein powder he steals), Eagle kinda filled out, got a little broader in the shoulders, slimmer in the face so his chin and cheekbones are sharp enough to cut a bitch….

And he’s just so fucking hot and how did John never notice and now he really has to beat Eagle Flies, wipe that smug look off his face and show him that John had a glow up of his own!!

But John doesn’t win. Doesn’t even place and he’s pissed, even though his coach is saying his time was great, walks right by her to the locker room in a big fuckin huff… he needs to smoke a joint and calm down asap, feels so angry he might crawl out of his skin if he don’t relax soon… he doesn’t even notice Eagle trailing after him.

So he’s in the locker room, shirtless, still hot and sticky with sweat and wearing those absurdly tiny runner’s shorts, the ones that make his junk look huge, and he’s smoking his joint and just starting to feel better when Eagle Flies comes in…. His hair is down and he’s sweaty and he looks so good…

And Eagle is all “you ran a good race” and John goes like “yeah, fuck you,” cuz he’s not in the mood for teasing and gloating… so Eagle is like “fine, you’re gonna be like that, let me just tell the coach how much it smells like weed in here” and he turns to go and John stands up, reaches out and grabs Eagle’s wrist…

And it’s like Eagle was expecting it, the way he whirls around and grabs John’s arm and pins him up against the lockers and John is bracing himself to get hit but Eagle just looks at him real thoughtful and then John is sure they’re gonna kiss…

But Eagle just lets him go, looks at him kinda sad and is like “what’d I ever do to you, John? We were just kids. Whatever I did, just let it go, ok?” and John kinda realizes like…. He’s been holding this judge against Eagle Flies for years even though all the competitiveness and inferiority and frustration John had felt as a kid towards Eagle had really been like, him projecting his insecurities outwards. Eagle never did nothin, he was just there and good at the same thing John was good at and taking away the only positive adult attention John’d ever known and he hated Eagle for that, but it weren’t his fault either… Eagle’d just been a kid back then, too…

And so John apologizes, they don’t talk about it much but he apologizes and it’s heartfelt and true and then it’s a little awkward cuz they’re standing there, a little too close together to be normal… and Eagle says, real low, so quiet, like confessional, “Man, I had such a crush on you in high school…” and he’s got his thumb pressed against John’s lips, peels the bottom one down to push into his mouth, run his thumb over John’s stupid tongue piercing and John is so weak for confidence and has an oral fixation a mile wide…. So of course he doesn’t hesitate, immediately goes into Feral Horny more and starts sucking, makes some real wet, desperate moaning noises….

And most people what know John, Arthur and Charles and everyone, they’re used to it, but Eagle Flies has never seen him like this, falls hard for it, all “yah, you like that?” and John just nods and moans….

But things never change, really, so it gets competitive between them like all things do… Eagle shoves down John’s shorts to stroke his dick and John can’t be the one to just let things happen so he grabs Eagle’s ass and pulls them close together so they can grind up against one another… and I think they don’t kiss, just pant desperately into one another’s mouths, eyes locked, watching one another like they’re waiting for the other to break… trying to make the other one cum without cumming himself, each one wanting to outdo the other…

And then Eagle starts to stroke them together, and John looks down and sees how good their cocks look together, how Eagle Flies's is dark n leaking and just a little bigger than his own and then he’s watching himself cum all over Eagle Flies’s long, thin fingers and the head of his cock and it feels so fucking good… and Eagle keeps stroking and the stimulation is starting to hurt and John’s whimpering and squirming where he’s still pinned to the locker, and he hates the smug sounding grunt Eagle makes when he cums so hard it spatters on John’s stomach and his pale thighs…..

Cuz John…. Lost….. again….

And afterwards, after Eagle has wiped his hand off on John’s sweaty chest and made him lick his fingers clean, John sits on the bench and lights up a smoke, feeling satisfied but kinda smad about cumming first, and Eagle Flies is just like “maybe you could beat me if you didn’t smoke so much…” and leaves and John nearly screams cuz fUCK THAT GUY

After that, they hang out whenever Eagle is in town or they’re at the same meet, sometimes getting each other off, sometimes not… When Eagle and Paytah get married a couple years later, John is invited to the wedding… Paytah wears traditional regalia (and identifies as two-spirit) and it’s beautiful……

Thanks for the great and challenging prompt, mister!! I hope it satisfies!!!

[reddeadmort]

Hey this might sound stupid but I’ve been feelin kinda down about myself recently could you do a oneshot where the reader has low self-esteem and doesn’t thinks she’s attractive and stuff so Arthur takes it upon himself to cheer her up and make her feel better (it’s okay if you don’t wanna, I just think some soft Arthur would make me feel better ♥️) thanks x

Nawwwww we all know Arthur would make it his mission to cheer you up; though he’d probably be really confused as to why you were sad, as he thinks you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever met.Again, I wasn’t meaning to do any backstory/pre-amble, but it just kind of happened…..

I’ve tried to deliberately leave the details vague on the areas affecting the reader’s self-esteem to make it mouldable to whatever you need cheering up about :) Though, I would say this; it’s called self-esteem for a reason. It needs to come from within you; there’s no quick fix, but certainly hearing that you’re loved by Arthur might help! Just keep on trying to re-jig your brain, positively reinforce good thoughts and don’t linger on negative ones. Enjoy :) x

Arthur x F reader | “Esteem? Mine field is barren.”

Guidance: Just fluff, lovely lovely fluff.

Words: 2.1k

“Good mornin’, darlin’“. Arthur kissed the back of your neck as he stood behind you, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle embrace. 

“Morning Arthur” you smiled, placing your hands on his. “You want some coffee?” 

“Mhmm I’d rather have you.” Arthur smiled as he kissed your shoulder.

“Don’t be silly Arthur, coffee’s much better than me” you said as you pulled away, pouring him a cup. You felt embarrassed by his attention, you didn’t really know why. You loved being held in his arms, but lately, every time he did, you couldn’t help but hear those little voices… “he’ll leave you” “he’s far too good for you” “he’d be so much happier with Mary” “he’s only with you because he never meets anyone else”.  It wasn’t his fault, he seemed to worship you, god knows why. You just….well…… didn’t feel comfortable in your own skin. Or your own clothes, which were growing more ragged by the day. 

You hadn’t always felt this way; when you first started courting Arthur, you were full of confidence. You knew exactly what you wanted - him - and knew you could get it. Arthur had been a bit surprised by your self-assured approach to begin with, bemused as to why you were focusing on him; but it didn’t take long for him to want more, to want you. But the last few years of life in the gang had taken its toll. One too many failed scam of yours, too much running, too much stress. That horrible incident in the Rhodes saloon last week had just been too much. 

You’d just been trying to have a nice meal with Mary-Beth and Abigail, a bit of time away from the camp, anything to let you pretend life was more normal. You were nearly done when those men  - and by men, you meant degenerates - decided that you three need some company. You still didn’t understand how a man like Arthur - someone who killed, robbed, stole - was more of a gentleman than most of the other men you met. You’d politely told them you were fine, thank you, but they wouldn’t take no for an answer. When you’d been more forceful they’d turned on you. “We weren’t talkin’ to you, ugly. Why would you think we’d want the likes of you” they’d sneered. “I wouldn’t even let my dog fuck you”. They’d shut the hell up pretty quickly with yours and Abigail’s knives to their throats, but still….. their words had stuck with you, crept into your thoughts every time you caught a glimpse of yourself in Arthur’s shaving mirror. 

You went to give Arthur his coffee, but instead of taking it he put both hands on your face, staring into your eyes.

“Darlin’, nothin’s better than you. Just seein’ you every day make me smile.” He kissed your forehead gently before resuming eye contact. “And seein’ you in the evening…. while that makes me a whole other kind of happy.” Arthur winked as he let his hands fall from your face and took the coffee.

“You’re a strange man Mr Morgan, you should get that head looked at.” You  laughed and gave Arthur a little fake smile. “I best be getting on before Miss Grimshaw has words.”

—– 

Arthur watched you walk away, shaking his head. He’d noticed a change in you, but didn’t really understand what; you weren’t quite yourself. You still smiled, and laughed, but he’d seen a sadness in your eyes that appeared when you let your mind wander. 

“Mornin’ Mary-Beth. You well?”

“Yes thank you Arthur. How’s things with you?”

“Well, I’m alright. but something’s a bit off with (Y/N). She’s been a bit..well… I don’t know how t’say it. It’s like she don’t like herself no more.” 

Arthur shuffled awkwardly - he was used to that feeling, the self-hatred, and he knew how unpleasant it was.

“Yeh, I know Arthur, I’ve seen it too. I told you about the saloon didn’t I?”

“Yeh Mary-Beth, you did, thanks. I just….I always tell her much I love her, and how gorgeous she is - and it’s true Mary-Beth, it’s true, I’ve got the drawings to prove it - but it don’t seem to help. I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, unfortunately just cause she’s hearing it from you Arthur doesn’t mean her brain is listening. It’s something she’ll need to work on herself, and she’ll get there; but whatever you do, just don’t stop trying. It’ll be helping, I promise.” 

“Mhmmm, if you say so.”

“Tell you what Arthur, I’ve got some ideas from a book I just read. Come sit with me a while and I’ll explain”.

——      

“Come on (Y/N), we’re goin’ shopping. For a…. job you’ll be doin’”. Arthur smiled as gently took you by the shoulders and turned you in the direction of your tent. 

“I can’t Arthur, I’ve got things to do. Miss Grimshaw will kill me if I don’t have this all done by the end of the afternoon” you protested, but not wholeheartedly - of course you’d rather be shopping than scrubbing and skinning.

“Yeh you can, I’ve spoke to her, Mary-Beth’s coverin’ ya. Grab what you need for an overnight too.”

“What on earth are you planning Mr Morgan?” You loved it with Arthur surprised you, but it did make you nervous too. 

“Nothin’ bad darlin’, just trust me” he winked at you as he walked away to ready the horses. 

The ride to Saint-Denis was pleasant; you rode mostly in silence, as you often did, both lost in your own thoughts. Arthur brought you both to a stop outside one of Saint-Denis’ many upmarket clothing boutiques. 

“Come on darlin’, we need to get you a new outfit” Arthur said as he helped you off your horse. 

“Arthur, what on earth do I need a new outfit for?” 

“Errr… a job Hosea needs help with. You need somethin’ posh, like one of them ladies of leisure. Whatever one of them is.” You laughed at this, and Arthur loved it when those little creases appearing at the corner of your eyes when you did.

“Okay Mr Morgan, lead the way.” 

You enjoyed trying on the dresses and silly hats; you weren’t used to wearing something that required two people to put on, but it was fun pretending that this was your normal laugh. Arthur was doing his best to behave, being very polite with his compliments, but you could tell from the way he shuffled in his chair and bit his lip that you putting clothes on was the opposite of what was on his mind. It was nice to be wearing clothes that were better designed, fit you well; this, and the combination of the faces Arthur was making but trying to hide were making you feel quite pleased with. 

“You know darlin’ I reckon that last one was perfect. You get that one on again, I’ll get the bill sorted. Here, mister - I mean, sir - are you able to have one of the girls help her with her here? We’ve got a meetin’ to go to.” 

“Arthur, you didn’t say we were doin….it….now?” You frowned, you didn’t like not being prepared or forewarned. 

“Don’t worry, we ain’t, just need you to be seen somewhere for a bit, maybe meet someone briefly. trust me darlin’, you’ll enjoy it.” He kissed you on the hand before continuing. “I’ll head on ahead to the bar, get a few things sorted - it’s the one just a few doors up. You come on in when you’re ready and I’ll meet you at the bar.” Before you could object, Arthur was paying the shopowner and leaving. You were panicking a bit as the girls fussed and pulled at your hair; what the hell was going on? You tried your best to calm yourself, to slow your breathing. It’s Arthur. He may be daft but he isn’t stupid, if he says it’s okay it will be. But you were still a bit miffed at him, and without him here saying how pretty the dress was, you started feeling like it was a bit….much. But you went along with it, like you always did. 

After much longer than you’d have liked, you were finally making your way into the bar. This was one of Saint-Denis’ finer establishments, and you were actually glad that you were dressed up. Unfortunately, Arthur was nowhere to be seen. You sighed, and walked up to the bar to order yourself a whiskey. Just as the bartender poured it, a familiar deep voice rumbled next to you. 

“Please put that on my tab sir.” You turned, smiling, to look at Arthur, and your jaw dropped. He looked……. magnificent, all dressed up in an evening suit, with his hair slicked back with pomade. You were so used to seeing him covered in some combination of mud, blood and sweat, seeing him like this was a shock. Before you could say anything, Arthur turned to address you.

“Good evenin’ Ma’am. I do hope you don’t mind. My name’s Tacitus Kilgore. I’m looking for the most beautiful woman in Saint-Denis, and I do believe that maybe you”. You blushed at this, finally shutting your slightly open mouth. 

“May I request the name of the beauty standin’ before me?” Arthur gave you a sly grin, which you returned.

“Why o’course Master Kilgore.” It hadn’t taken you long to perfect a southern drawl, and you slipped right into it. “Ma name’s Penelope Balfour.”

“Penelope Balfour? Well that name’s just about deservin’ of that gorgeous face.”

“Oh Master Kilgore, don’t be sayin’ things like that, you’ll be givin’ a girl ideas” you gave a delicate laugh as you spoke, drawing and opening the fan that had come with the outfit.

“Miss Balfour, please call me Tacitus. I would be honoured if you’d join me for dinner.”

“Why, Tacitus, very forward of you” you giggled as you fanned yourself. 

“Well, Penelope, I figured I best ask before a queue formed behind me.”Arthur was laying it on thick you thought. But hell, you didn’t care. This was fun.

“I’d be delighted Tacitus” you smiled, offering your arm to Arthur as he took it and gently steered you to a table. 

The rest of the evening was filled with laughter, as you and Arthur - Penelope and Tacitus - shared increasingly outlandish stories about their backgrounds, peppering each story with the fanciest compliments you could think of. 

“Penelope, I do believe I’ve fallen in love with you. Would you care to join me in my room for a nightcap.”

“Oh Tacitus, that’s very kind o’ you. I could do with a lie-down, all these drinks have made me light-headed”

Giggling, you made your way upstairs arm in arm. As Arthur shut the door to the room you assumed he’d rented for the night, you burst out laughing, you couldn’t help yourself. 

“Arthur, what the hell was that” you managed to get the words out as you wheezed. “That was no job!”

“I just wanted to make you smile darlin’” he said as he lifted your head by the chin so you were looking at him. “I love hearin’ you laugh.” He smiled at you and kissed you softly on the lips.

“Well you did that, for sure. But what’s with the dress and all the compliments?” 

Arthur looked more serious now. “I just wanted to….release you a bit. Help you relax. I know you’ve been stressed, and you’ve been gettin’ down on yourself. But darlin’, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And I know it might not mean much, and that it’ll take more than that to convince ya, but I’ll keep on sayin’ it as long as you let me. And I’ll always be here darlin’, waitin’ for you, adoring you.”

His words were as gorgeous as his face, and you nearly burst into tears. You threw your arms around his shoulders and kissed him hard. 

“Mr Morgan, I don’t know what I’d do without you, you fantastic man. Now help me get this damn dress off.”

“I’ve been lookin’ forward to this bit” he said as he bit his lip, turning you round to undo the laces on your corset. 

So have I Arthur, so have I. You sighed gently as Arthur carefully worked his way up your back. You had a little way to go, you knew that, but if you grew to love yourself a fraction of the amount Arthur did, you knew you’d be okay.

[toutallyahoe]

You shouldn't have said "no such thing as too many hc requests from you". Because you know I am always craving your good good content. So anyways... Pls give me good good content for my dumb Irish son. Because Sean is baby.

"you know I am always craving your good good content" aCK MY HEART ASDFGHJKLQEYRUTOOYZVXBNC

but bean, seriously, I will fucking write whatever ya want if it makes ya happy. besides, kinda owe it to ya for dragging ya into this godforsaken rabbit hole :')

also, WE STAN THIS DUMB IRISH BASTARD ASDFGGJJKLLBCNWORUR ANYONE WHO SAYS HE AINT A BEST BOI COME AT ME

⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃

• we already talked about this bean but imma just add this for the others

• Sean met his [Name] when he was new to the gang

• failed to kill Dutch but Dutch found him funny and sees some great talent in him

• so he was invited to join and he did

• [Name] could careless for Sean to be honest

• he didnt really care much and only went to see the new member was because of his growing curiosity

• he saw Sean still on the ground

• a bit daze and bruised up from the events that just happened (trying to kill someone but thay someone defeated him and offered him a family??? da fuck???)

• [Name] being taught actualy manners by Hosea offered his hand to help Sean up

• that gotten the Irish man's attention as he snapped out of his stupor and saw [Name]

• [Name] may not believe in love at first sight (anymore) but fucking hell-- Sean did

• Sean had that stupid grin on his lips as he took [Name]'s hand and pulled himself up

• Sean being Sean then, he talked

• a lot

• [Name] sighed in annoyance as he asked Sean something

• he regretted it

• because Sean is thirstyyyyy

• "do you ride?"

• [Name] asked as Sean looked him, head to toe and grinned

• "yes"

• Sean tone was something [Name] immediately caught up on

• [Name] sighs again as he rubs his temple

• he could already feel the migraine coming up from the upcoming days he'll have to deal with this thirsty bitch

• "i meant the horse, boy"

• Sean just continue to grin at him as Dutch and the rest laughs

• but anyways! since we got that out of the way

• Sean is like a lost, yapping puppy with his [Name]

• i know you know about this CN my darling but asdfghjjklkbcn I JUST NEED TO ADD THESE OKAY?!?

• Sean was a loudmouth

• he knows it

• [Name] knows it

• hell, the whole fucking camp knows it

• but yeah

• Sean yaps a lot and let me tell ya, if he aint talking about his da or how great he is, he will be talking about [Name]

• like fondly talk about the [Hair color] haired outlaw

• couple or not

• he wont stop talking

• people must know that [Name] is a goddamn amazing man

• [Name] both appreciates it and annoyed by it

• like, jesus christ Sean shut up for a second

• but back to the headcanons!

• Sean loves kisses and hugs

• just touch him

• dirty or not

• just pay attention to him and touch him

• he wants attention

• like a lot

• give him praise?

• f u c k

• he will be beaming the whole day

• be the first one to initiate any affectionate thing?

• he will fucking be a puddle for it

• Sean is definitely the one who always starts to be affectionate

• tackling his [Name] for a hug, especially when they haven't seen each other for awhile because of their duties for the gang

• Sean will smother his [Name] with kisses as he tells his [Name] he misses him dearly

• like, each word Sean plants a kiss on [Name]'s lips or cheek

• and its a lot of kisses because this boi doesnt know what shut up is

• the only time you can get Sean to shut up is either shoving something into his mouth

• be it a cloth or [Name]'s dic--

• am I allowed to write nsfw here? (<- says the one who liTERALLY wrote some minor nsfw headcanons for Kieran Duffy)

• should I?

• ... f u c k

• but whatever

• Sean will still not shut the fuck up

• like, he just talks and rambles es a lot

• [Name] finds it cute and annoying

• but he loves this Irish bastard too much

• anyways... imma add some kinky shit

• when having sex with Sean, do know that he is loud

• very loud

• his normal chatterbox volumes triples

• he just want the others know he is claimed by his [Name]

• such a bastard asdfghjjkl

• anyways, Sean also loves to give praises to his [Name]

• he just want his [Name] to know that he is a great guy

• Sean also likes to ride his [Name]

• like a lot

• they first time he met his [Name], he LITERALLY said he wants to ride the guy

• so... yeeeee

• ahem, back to this shit again

• blowjob? Sean is a TEASED

• he would moan onto his [Name]'s member and would also stop to give praises to his [Name]

• god, [Name] loves and hates it

• but yessss asgdjfjndbenbbdbf

• also, I mentioned this before but Sean is a sucker for praises

• he has a praises kink so his [Name] praise him?

• fuck, he is putty

• he also enjoy dirty talk

• like a lot

• give him praises in dirty talk? he will come undone

• Sean wpuld be weak

• absolutely weak as fuck

• but avsjjsjbdjsjdjsjd its all good

• he wants it anyway ;3

[hysterialevi]

When the Devil Cries pt. 18

Fanfic summary: (NO SPOILERS IN THIS STORY) After arriving in Saint Denis, Arthur ends up falling in love with a seemingly innocent pianist, only to find himself in a battle with one of the most notorious outlaws to ever emerge from America. Now, between working for Dutch and robbing money for the gang, Arthur has to also protect the man he loves as the two of them try to find their freedom.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Male OC

Previous chapter

This story is also on AO3

From Arthur’s POV

SHADY BELLE

ONE WEEK LATER

Waking up to a bright beam of sunlight hittin’ me directly in the face, I squinted in response and shielded my eyes with a lazy hand, only to feel my ears perk in interest when I suddenly picked up on the distant chime of piano music.

It sounded like it was comin’ from downstairs, and I could also hear a few other voices speaking over it -- Hosea and Abigail, to be precise -- but it didn’t seem like whoever was playin’ it was doing it out of leisure. It seemed more like...they was practicing. As if preparing for some kinda performance.

Heh. If I was bein’ honest, I completely forgot there was a piano downstairs in the first place. No one ever used it, and it was covered in dust and old paint just like everything else, but I could see it didn’t take Eddie long to find it.

It was nice to hear him playin’ again though. It felt like ages since he last hit a single note, and I was glad that the boy finally had some time to just take a breath and do what he loved, for once. He certainly deserved it.

Sluggishly rising from bed, I let out a fatigued yawn and rolled my shoulders, afterwards touchin’ up my appearance a bit before grabbing my hat and heading out the door.

It had been a while since I was able to walk freely on my own. Last time I was up and about, I was clingin’ onto Dutch like a man whose foot got stuck in a stirrup, and I felt like death. No -- worse than death.

Thanks to Eddie though, I was finally back home and in a good enough shape to return to work. Every inch of me still ached to some extent, but I imagined Dutch was done waiting, and had plans to hit that bank at any minute now. I’d have to be ready.

Pushing the door open, I made my way into the corridor and wandered to the stairs, listenin’ in on the conversation that was going on below as Eddie finished the song.

Abigail let out an impressed sigh, her soft voice echoing throughout the otherwise quiet mansion.

“That...was real nice, Eddie. I had no idea Arthur brought such a musician to us.”

Eddie smiled at her, thinking back to a certain memory. “Did you know I convinced Arthur to play the piano once?”

Abigail chortled. “You’re pullin’ my leg.”

“No, seriously. I managed to persuade him to play an entire song with me. He’s...actually not too bad at it.”

Surprisingly, she didn’t appear that shocked. “Is that so? Hmm...some part o’ me always knew Arthur weren’t as gruff as he came across. I mean, you leave that man with a pen and paper for long enough, and he might just create a masterpiece. Still though, I wish I was half as good as you when it came to the piano.”

Eddie quirked a brow. “You play the piano?”

“Not well,” she replied with a chuckle. “But I dabble in it sometimes. Though, it’s hard to practice regularly when I’m constantly lookin’ after that boy.”

The musician nodded in understanding. “Jack is quite the wanderer, indeed. He always seems to be exploring.”

Abigail gave him a nudge. “I was talkin’ about John.”

The two of them laughed nonchalantly at that, their voices gradually falling silent once Abigail decided it was time for her to leave.

She stood up from the piano, beaming at Eddie in a grateful manner.

“Well, thank you for playin’ that song, Mister Ryan. It was a nice change o’ pace, compared to what normally goes on around here, but...I should probably get back to work. Miss Grimshaw don’t like it when I take breaks. Or rest at all, for that matter.”

The boy waved her goodbye. “Then I won’t keep you any longer. Have a good day, Abigail. Perhaps I can teach you more songs some other time.”

The woman strolled out of the mansion. “I’d like that. Well, goodbye, Eddie. And take care of yourself, you hear?”

The pianist gave her an affable expression. “I’ll do my best.”

Tracing his fingers along the piano as Abigail took her leave, Eddie glanced outta the corner of his eye and watched Hosea as he avidly worked on something, catchin’ the boy’s attention.

Eddie peered at him in curiosity. “What are you making there, Hosea?”

The old man looked up from his project, grinning proudly as he sat up straight in his chair.

“Some bait,” he answered. “I’m planning to go hunting sometime soon. The camp should be good on food, but...it never hurts to be sure. And besides, I have no idea when I’ll get the chance to hunt again. There are so many fellas out there looking for us right now -- it’d honestly be dangerous to set foot outside camp. But we do what we have to do.”

Hosea placed the bait down for a moment, giving Eddie an inquisitive glance as I reached the bottom the stairs and quietly listened to his story.

“...Did Arthur ever tell you about that one time he and I went huntin’ for a bear?” Hosea asked.

Eddie shook his head, his expression lighting up with a newfound interest. “No. Did you catch it?”

“Yes, but it weren’t easy. We spent a few days in the wilderness all by ourselves, you see. Miles away from any sign of civilization. We were alone in the mountains...and we had nothing to go off other than my own memory.”

The old man rested his elbows on his knees, continuing the tale.

“It took us quite a while to hunt that animal down. Tracks were scarce, and the area we was camping in was huge. We would find the occasional fish carcass lying around, or disturbance in the grass...but nothing solid enough to lead us to our target.”

A victorious glint shimmered in Hosea’s eyes. “Eventually though, while Arthur and I were out scouting one day...we spotted a paw print. ...Two. Three! It was a trail. We followed it all the way up the mountain until we reached a gathering of boulders hidden deep inside a forest. It definitely looked like the sort of place a beast would turn into its home, and so that was where we placed the bait. Well, Arthur placed it. And once he was done, the two of us waited behind the boulders, sitting in complete silence.”

“We didn’t dare move a single muscle, not when there was a bear roaming around. Hell, we barely even breathed. After all, we had no idea if we truly had the upper hand in this situation. A beast such as the one we was hunting could’ve easily turned the tables if we weren’t careful, and on top of that, we were fighting it up close.”

Hosea smirked out of excitement as he reached the ending, amused to see that Eddie was listenin’ so intently to him.

“Finally, however, after what felt like an eternity...I heard a menacing growl not too far away from me. It sounded more like a monster than an animal, and I won’t lie: it got my heart racing. But I knew there was no time for fear. We had located our target at last, and it was our opportunity to strike. So, I reached for my rifle and prepared to confront it, when suddenly...a big, hairy beast came leaping out of the shadows from behind me and let out a ferocious roar, its raw power shaking the ground underneath as the birds fled from the trees surrounding us.”

Hosea brought his gaze to me, grinning mischievously.

“...Arthur scared the bear off pretty quick. Ha!”

I let out a blunt chuckle, shakin’ my head in an amused manner. “Oh, very funny.”

The older man laughed at my annoyance and took the bait in hand, switching to a more sincere tone as he leaned back in his chair.

“No...the truth is, Arthur saved my life that day. Like the old fool I am, I nearly let that bear get the best of me. But Arthur stepped in just in time. Just as I’m sure he’s done for you.”

Eddie nodded, turning towards me with a fond look. “He has.”

Hosea stood up from his chair. “See, Arthur? You do have a heart, after all.”

I snickered at that. “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.”

The man smirked in return and began makin’ his way out the mansion, winking at Eddie in a friendly manner.

“Don’t listen to him,” Hosea teased as he walked through the door. “He may act like a big, angry moron -- and play the role exceptionally well sometimes, heh -- but there’s a soul lying underneath all that...whether he wants to admit it or not. ...Welp, anyway, I’ll leave you boys alone. In the meantime, I should go speak with Dutch. I know he’s been itchin’ to hit that bank. Stay safe.”

I gave him a casual wave. “You too, Hosea.”

Disappearing behind the mansion’s front doors, Hosea took his leave while Eddie and I stayed behind, the boy turning towards me with a relieved look on his face when he noticed I was no longer bed-ridden.

“Arthur!” Eddie greeted happily as I approached him. “You’re looking much better.”

I casually leaned against the side of the piano. “Thanks to you. How’s the gang been treatin’ you?”

The pianist’s response was surprisingly optimistic. “Most of them have been pretty welcoming. Hosea and Mary-Beth, especially. Mary-Beth can’t seem to get over the fact that you’ve found a new lover. She says it’s ‘adorable.’ Like a romance in one of those books she’s reading.”

I sighed, scratching my beard. “That does sound like somethin’ she would say.”

Eddie flicked his eyes to the side. “...And I may or may not’ve shown her the portrait you made of me.”

A groan escaped me. “...Dammit, Eddie.”

He chuckled. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t resist. It’s a wonderful drawing.”

“I’m just surprised you kept it this long.”

Eddie looked at me affectionately. “Of course I kept it. It’s...it’s special to me. I take it with me everywhere I go. Just brings back a lot of good memories, you know?”

I awkwardly rubbed the back of my neck, tryin’ to hide the faint blush creeping onto my face. “Well, I’m glad you like it so much.”

A certain thought suddenly crossed my mind, leadin’ me to take a seat next to the boy as I propped myself on the edge of the piano’s thin bench.

“Listen,” I said, shifting inelegantly, “I, ah...I never thanked you properly for gettin’ me outta that camp.”

Eddie didn’t appear bothered. “I understand. You were just concerned.”

I rested my hand on the piano, mindlessly fiddling with its keys. “Yeah, but still. I’d be dead by now if you hadn’t come along and saved my ass -- all by yourself, no less. It was a brave and foolish thing, waltzin’ into their camp the way you did...but I’m grateful nonetheless. So...thank you.”

Scooting closer to the musician, I gently cupped his face and planted a brief kiss on his lips, earning a radiant smile from him as he nestled against my hand.

Eddie gazed me in a tender way, placing his own hand on top of mine.

“I’d do anything for you, Arthur. You know that.”

I nodded, furrowing my brow in uneasiness. “I do. And that’s what worries me. But I also know there ain’t no stoppin’ you once you’ve got your mind set on something. Just...don’t go throwin’ your life away like that again, okay? I don’t wanna die, but if it comes down to it, I’d rather you save yourself. Even if it means you can’t save me.”

The boy frowned at that. “Don’t talk that way, Arthur. I’m not going to abandon you.”

I let out a despondent sigh. “Yeah, well...you may not have a choice.”

Interrupting us before we could talk further, the front door suddenly swung open as Miss Grimshaw came stormin’ through, causing me and Eddie to jolt our heads in her direction to see what was goin’ on.

Susan hurriedly approached me, her temperament fueled with a sense of haste as always.

“Mister Morgan,” she called out in a cranky tone, “Dutch is lookin’ for you. Says he needs to speak with you about the bank job.”

I mentally chuckled to myself. I was wonderin’ how long it’d take for Dutch to hit the bank.

“Alright,” I said, rising from the bench and revealing Eddie in the process. “Guess I better go see him, then. Thank you, Susan.”

Upon noticing his presence, Miss Grimshaw brought her attention to the pianist and abruptly changed her mood, takin’ on a more compassionate and motherly nature.

“Oh!” She blurted out. “Well, hello there, young man. You must be that new member Dutch mentioned.”

I gestured to the boy. “This is Eddie. Eddie Ryan.” I switched over to the pianist. “Eddie, Miss Grimshaw.”

The man stood up from his seat, greeting her in a courteous manner as he reached out a hand.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

Susan politely shook his hand, actually managin’ to crack a smile for once.

“The pleasure is mine,” she replied. “It’s always a pleasure to meet someone with manners.” Grimshaw emphasized the last word, sending a glare my way.

I shrugged innocently. “I’ve got manners.”

The woman gripped my arm, forcefully guiding me out the mansion.

“For a no-good outlaw, perhaps. Now go on and get! Dutch is waitin’ for you in the gazebo outside!”

I chuckled, shielding myself from Susan’s frantic swats as she followed me out the door.

“Alright!” I said with a laugh. “I’m on my way.”

Miss Grimshaw regained her composure once I was outta the building and straightened her blouse, turning to Eddie with a sweet expression on her usually grumpy face.

“Mister Ryan, have you met Karen and Tilly yet?”

“I’m afraid not,” he answered. “I’ve met Mary-Beth, though.”

Susan beckoned him. “Well, allow me to introduce you to ‘em. Them girls drive me insane, and they haven’t got a lick of manners like yourself, but I imagine they’ll be quite fond of you.”

Eddie followed the woman, the two of us divertin’ our paths once I spotted the gazebo.

“I hope you’re right. Lord knows I’ve made more than enough enemies.”

Miss Grimshaw nodded at that with a sigh.

“Haven’t we all.”

A LITTLE LATER

Approaching the gazebo just in front of the mansion, I searched for Dutch as I strolled through Lemoyne’s humid, soupy weather, only to find a snake leanin’ against the fence.

At the moment, Micah was currently under the gazebo’s roof as he sharpened his precious knife, givin’ me an unsettling smirk while I walked up the steps.

He put his knife down for a second.

“There he is...” Micah announced, “Dutch’s favorite son. How are you, Arthur?”

I scowled at him impatiently. “Well, I was fine. What you want, Micah?”

He held his hands up defensively. “Just catchin’ up with you, my brother. No need to get angry. See, I got the chance to speak with Eddie while you was...licking your wounds this past week.”

I paused, not interested in the slightest. “...And?”

Micah smiled insincerely, placing a “friendly” hand on my shoulder. “Well, I’m happy for you, Arthur. Outta all the things to find in Saint Denis, I certainly didn’t expect you to find a lover. It’s...surprising, is all. I just never really thought of you as a romantic. ‘Specially when it came to...y’know...boys.”

I aggressively brushed his hand away. “Yeah, well you don’t do much thinkin’ anyway.”

The man gave me a condescending pout. “Why you gettin’ all sour? I ain’t judging you. In fact...I get it. We all need some sort of distraction. I mean, things is tense recently.”

“Which is why we’d all appreciate it if you left.”

Micah snickered mischievously at that, casually wavin’ his knife in my face as he leaned towards me. “Oh, Arthur...I hope you never change.”

A third, guttural voice jumped in, breaking us up before we could argue more.

“Enough! Both of you.”

Joining us in the gazebo, Dutch ascended the short stairs with a rolled up map in his hand as he stepped in between us, starin’ us down like a disappointed father.

He let out a defeated breath. “Can’t you two put aside your differences for just one minute? We have got a bank to rob, and you’re actin’ like a pair of little boys!”

As always, Micah played the role of the ass-kisser.

“I’m sorry, Dutch...” he apologized. “I don’t know what came over me. I just get...I just get so irritated sometimes, but I know it ain’t gonna do us no good. It...it won’t happen again, boss.”

The other man saw through the apology, but accepted it nonetheless.

“Thank you.”

I rested an elbow on the fence, changing the subject. “So, we still hittin’ the bank?”

Dutch spread the map out. “Yes, but not today. Tomorrow. Now, lemme explain the plan. If you’re willin’ to behave, that is.”

He pointed to the Lemoyne National Bank.

“Alright, as you both know, this city is crawlin’ with lawmen. That means if we rob this bank, every policeman in a five-mile radius is gonna be on top of us within seconds. And that’s why we need a distraction.”

I was with the plan so far. “What kinda distraction?”

Dutch brought our focus to a different part of the map, pointing at the trolley station.

“We’ll send some men to start another ‘robbery’ at the trolley station,” he explained. “That should keep the law away from the bank and give us... eight minutes or so to get in, get the money, and get out.”

I blinked in confusion. “Wait -- you wanna rob two places at once?”

Dutch seemed confident. “Why not? The robbery at the station will be more of a distraction than an actual heist, but if we can pull this off, we’ll get double the reward, and twice the amount of money.”

I still wasn’t sure. “And if the plan goes wrong, we’ll get twice the amount of trouble!”

He held up a reassuring hand. “Now, I know this is a risky move...but we need money, Arthur. And we need to get it soon. This city has thousands of dollars just sittin’ in it. We’d be fools to leave it behind!”

I shook my head, starin’ aimlessly at the swamps in the distance. “I dunno, Dutch. Robbin’ a national bank -- that ain’t no easy task. But breakin’ up the gang and startin’ another robbery on the other side of the city? That’s gonna make our chances of success even lower. The risk outweighs the reward here.”

Micah disagreed because of course he did. “Trust Dutch, Arthur. He knows what he’s doing.”

Dutch added onto that. “And besides, like I said, all we’re doin’ is making a bit of noise. If we can confuse the law and have them split up, that’ll make our escape all the easier!”

“And what if they catch someone, Dutch?” I asked. “We won’t even know until we regroup at camp.”

“They won’t,” he reiterated. “Trust me on this, Arthur. This plan will work. We just need to keep our wits about us, and we need to move fast. Just do what I say, and all will be fine. Oh, and another thing -- I want Mister Ryan to come along with us. He knows his way around Saint Denis, and we’re gonna need that knowledge if we’re hopin’ to evade the law.”

I hesitated. “You wanna bring Eddie to the robbery?”

Dutch sensed my caution. “The boy’ll be alright, Arthur. I can promise you that. Just have some faith.”

I fell silent at that, unsure of what else I could say.

It was pretty evident that Dutch was beyond the point of changin’ his mind, and no matter how much I mighta disliked this plan, I knew he was right about the money.

We could take as many jobs as we liked, and run as many errands as we wanted...but the truth o’ the matter was: the gang was runnin’ low on money. We were stuck in the middle of some godforsaken swamp with Pinkertons on our ass, and the only opportunities to grab some cash all lay in that civilized hellhole called Saint Denis.

We would have to rob something, and fast, if we wanted to get outta here. I just didn’t know if stealing from a national bank and baiting the law with our own people was the answer.

There was also the fact that Dutch wanted Eddie to come with us.

I knew the boy could handle himself, and I had no doubts he’d be able to help us...but just the idea of bringin’ him along to a goddamned bank robbery made me uneasy. I mean, I had already forced him into a den full of outlaws and degenerates. The last thing I wanted was for him to become one himself.

But then again, I didn’t really have much of a choice, did I? After all, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and he was gonna have to pull his weight if he wanted to stay.

I supposed I’d have to do what Dutch said...and just have some faith.

“...Alright,” I finally agreed, earning a satisfied expression from the older man. “I’m in.”

Dutch nodded in approval. “We will survive, Arthur. And before that sun finishes its cycle, we are gonna be a whole, lot, richer. Now, why don’t you go and inform Eddie of the plan? I want the whole gang to be prepared for this. We ain’t robbin’ theaters and galas no more, after all. Tomorrow...we’re hitting the heart of Saint Denis.”