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hihomeghere · 10 months ago

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Fishing in the dark | Arthur Morgan / Reader

Word Count : 1.3k (a little guy) Summary : You and Arthur have a private evening away from camp on the Dakota River. Warnings/tags : Cursing, unprotected piv, talk of nudity (both male and female), cursing, reader can swim, s3x in the river, established relationship, set in chapter 3

The Dakota River was now your favorite place to be at sunset. The cool breeze coming off the sparkling water, your body cushioned by the bed of grass. The way the setting sun cast a golden light over everything it touched.

Getting away from the gang for a while had been Arthur’s greatest idea yet. After all that mess in Valentine had led you to Clemens point. Sat on the east coast of Flat Iron lake, near the town of Rhodes. Getting eaten alive by mosquitos while the heat of the Scarlett Meadows sun beat down on you.

And although you thought maybe a room in Rhodes would have been a better way to keep each other company, you couldn’t beat this view.

Arthur stood on the shore, fishing pole in hand. His tall silhouette dark against the golden light, his shadow growing longer on the rocks. What a sight, every subtle flick of his wrist, his bicep tensing and he pulled on the pole. You didn’t even know why he was still fishing so late. He had already caught dinner, which you had prepared over a small fire. While along the shore you had picked some burdock root and common bulrush for camp, knowing that Miss Grimshaw could find some use for the plants. At long last the sun fell below the horizon, a sliver of burnt amber spreading across the sky before being enveloped by a dark blue. The moon slowly rose above you. A beautiful yellow spotlight peeking through the trees.

Arthur stood, still as a statue, as though he was carved of marble. A wicked thought entered your head, slowly you moved to unlace your boots. Pulling them off until you could dig your toes into the grassy floor beneath you. Then you untied the strings to your skirt. Letting the fabric fall, along with your shirt. Leaving you standing in only your chemise, and it wasn’t long before that was discarded as well.

Arthur had heard the slight rustling of fabric behind him, but he was honestly too preoccupied with the pole in his hands. Enjoying the quiet serenity of the river. That was until you ran butt ass naked into it.

“Darlin!” He yelled his eyes widening in shock as your laughter joined the sound of water splashing.

“Come on cowboy!” You called submerged to your waist, your breasts above the water for any passersby to see. Maybe it wasn’t your best idea yet, the freezing water chilling your bones.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He chuckled, unfortunately amused by your actions even though he knew he shouldn’t be.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” You called back, teeth chattering by the sudden drop in temperature.

“It looks like you’re giving anyone that passes through a free peep show.” He called his hand resting on his gun belt as he not so casually adjusted himself. You stepped back further into the dark water until only your shoulders and up were visible.

“When did you become such a prude?” You chided a teasing smile on your lips.

“When someone could lay eyes on my woman.” He said laying down his pole, crossing his arms over his chest. You felt a shiver run down your spine, whether it was from his words or the cold water you couldn’t tell.

“Well get in here and claim your woman before someone else does!” You called, a shit eating grin spreading across your face.

Arthur sighed, looking down as the brim of his hat shielded most of his face from you. Your grin only grew as he unbuckled his gun belt, letting it fall to the ground. He pulled his suspenders off his broad shoulders. He shook his head, his own grin growing on his face as he began to pull off his clothes.

“You’re gonna get it girl.” He warned, his eyes taking on a dark haze. His lips pulling back into a smirk, looking down at you like prey. An electric shock of anticipation ran up your body as he finally pulled off the last layer, his cock springing up against his stomach. He stepped forward, wading into the water. “Jesus!” He yelped, a shiver running through him.

“It’s not that bad!” You called with a laugh.

“Not that-“ He shook his head, “Christ I can’t feel my toes.” He muttered swimming over to you, his arm wrapping around you pulling you close. You wrapped your legs around his waist as you held onto his shoulders

“Hey there.” You grin, watching the water droplets run down his face.

“Howdy.” He muses, you place your hands on his chest, feeling his heart beat against your palm.

“Still cold?” You ask sweetly.

“Very.” He chuckles.

“I think I could warm you up.” You say biting your lip.

“Please do.” He says softly as you lean forward. Your nose bumping against his as you stare him down. He leans forward pressing his lips against yours. His tongue swiping along your lower lip as he pressed you down onto his pelvis. Clenching around nothing as his cock bumped against the nub of your clit, a soft moan leaving your throat.

“I can feel that.” You said softly, biting your lip as you looked into his eyes.

“I’m sure you can.” His chest rumbling as he chuckled. He moved his hand from your waist and reached down between your legs. The tip of his length catching against your entrance. “Think you’re wet enough?” He teases, his teeth glinting in the moonlight as he smirks.

You bite back a rebuttal as he slips inside you with ease, he swallows your gasp as his mouth covers yours. Groaning into your mouth, a deep almost primal noise. One that sends pleasure shooting through your body. You whine as he pulls out slightly, only to press your body down onto his pelvis. His cock rubbing against that spot inside you.

He knows this dance like the back of his hand, how to make you tick, more specifically how to make you scream. The hand that’s not holding your hip with a vice like grip moves up your body, his hands splayed against your stomach. Before reaching up to cup your breast, pinching your nipple.

“Arthur.” You gasp, feeling him rut against you, growling against your neck like a wild animal.

“Feel so good darlin’.” He huffs against your neck, nipping and kissing as he continues his attack on your pussy. His cock thrusting deep strokes against your walls. Your body is buzzing, your toes curling as he brings you closer and closer to your peak. He can feel you flutter around him, his lips quirk up. He moves his hand down to between your legs, rubbing your clit.

You cry out, a pitiful noise as you cum around him. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your brows knit together as your jaw hangs open. He smirks, tilting his head back as a low, shit, leaves his mouth.

His hips start to stutter as he pounds into you, trying to reach his orgasm while you’re still working through yours. He’s quick behind you, his hands holding you so close against him you’re sure you’ll have bruises. He thrusts into you one last time, a choked groan rumbling in his chest. You hold onto him as his dick twitches inside of you. Painting your insides with his seed. You smile up at him lazily, watching his face contort in pleasure.

“Shit darlin’.” He huffs, his chest rising and falling rapidly against your own. The bite of the water is no longer a thought as his warm body presses against yours.

“You warm now, cowboy?” You tease brushing your nose against this neck, pressing a kiss over his pulse point.

“Very.” He chuckles, “But I’d like to get my beautiful girl out of these waters now.” He says grabbing a handful of your ass before throwing you over his shoulder. “I ain’t done with you yet.”

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skylarsblue · 8 months ago

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★RDR2 Incorrect Quotes★

(If you see duplicates from my COD version of these? Shh, no you didn't) ★Border made by @fairytopea★

Ms.Grimshaw What are you doing, you oaf? Young!Arthur, staring at Y/N: They’re pretty. Ms.Grimshaw …and you’re ugly, now get back to work.

- (Pre-joining the gang) Abigail, trying to get paid: What’s your favorite color, John? John: Blue. No, green. Abigail: Awesome! I love learning about you. John: I fucked up, it’s yellow.

- Arthur, cutting a huge knot out of John’s hair: I fucked up, we gotta go bald. *head locks him still* Young!John, flailing violently: WAAAAAHHHH-

Seán: Psst, Lenny, ay mate, wake up! Lenny: Huh- Wh-what? What is it? Seán: I heard something outside the tent. Lenny: What? Seán: Like a woman crying in the distance, but I couldn’t hear her footsteps. Lenny: Okay?? What do you want me to do? Seán: Come look with me! Lenny: Hell no! Seán: Why not? Lenny: I got too much melanin and too much sense for that white people shit. You wanna let demons get you, be my guest, leave me out of it.

- (John HAD to have SOMETHING that captivated her, for humor’s sake? We’ll say he had jokes)

Abigail: You have to find my darling husband, I’m so worried about him. Arthur: Seriously, what do you see in that guy? Abigail: He makes me laugh.

- Micha: I've got the urge to say something. Arthur: And what's that? Micha: The N-Word- Arthur: WHOA-

- Bill: But seriously, is it your whole emo thing that she’s into or what? John: …yeah, long flowing straight hair, very emo.

- Karen: This- Hmm. Tilly: Be nice. Karen: I’m findin’ it. Mary-Beth: …it takes you that long to find- Karen: It does, it does.

- (O’Driscoll troubles) Kieran: Arthur we’re going to get murdered. We’re going to get murdered by a man who can’t tie a fucking bow tie. Arthur: At least he won’t torture us, can’t tie a rope either.

- John: Ugh, you know they’re gonna make us do one of those tacky family happiness photos that comes in the restaurants shitty frame. Tilly: Why are you so fucking negative all the time? John: Wh- uh- I just- Arthur: *slowly sucks tea through straw*

- Seán: Someone just said; “You’re a criminal!” Seán: *handkerchief on, gun in one hand, bag of money in the other* Seán: Well I’ll tell ya what, Sherlock Holmes. You are unbelievable.

- The Gang: Arthur is dying and Micha is a rat! Dutch, dancing with money: *insert that audio that goes “I don’t give a fuck cause I’m a ✨millionaire✨, I do what I want, middle finger in the air!”*

- John, drunk: You think the wind is ever tryna tell us something and we don’t know how to hear it anymore? Charles, loading up a drunk Arthur into a wagon: I just want you to stop saying odd shit.

- Abigail: If we lose, I’m gonna cut the judge. John: Wh- you brought your switchblade?? Abigail: Mhm. John: But they patted us down on the way in, where did you hide i- ohhhhhhh.

- Arthur: …you ever wish you could just, turn into a bird and fly away from everything? Charles: I think we need to get you to a therapist for depression. John: I’d wanna be a wolf. Charles: And we should get you psych evaluation for Autism.

- Sheriff: You seem like a reasonable and good natured person. Arthur: *looks around* And you look like you need glasses.

- Abigail: What would your father say?! Jack: Uhhh “I’ll fix it!” And then make it worse until luck comes around and makes it work, and then act like that was the plan the whole time? Abigail: …that’s my bad, I should’ve used a different phrase to express my disappointment.

- (I dunno why but John being super mean to some people is so fucking funny to me. I don't hate Bill, but bullying him is fun)

Bill: You enjoyin’ the wife everyone else paid to have? John: You mean the woman I never had to pay for? The woman who liked me so much, she didn’t ask for any money to sleep with me? In fact; she liked me so much, she married me? The woman who makes me a warm dinner and kisses me everyday? Mother of my child? John: I am enjoyin’ yeah. What about you, Bill? Bill: John: You enjoyin’ your lonely life, you unlovable sorry sack of shit? You enjoyin’ having to pay for someone to pretend they like you? Cause they never actually do. They hate you actually, like me. I hate you. Eat shit and die, Bill.

- Arthur: …him? Really? Mary-Beth Don’t be mean! Arthur: He looks like a rescue dog, Mary-Beth. Mary-Beth: I know, I like that! Arthur: ….you like that?? Mary-Beth: His pathetic wet eyes and general wimpy stature have captivated me. Arthur: *sigh* Whatever makes you happy.

- Bill: At the end of the day, Arthur. I am a MAN. Arthur: A MAN WHO’S GAY. You like fellers GETTHATTHROUGHYOURHEAD!

- Dutch: I have a plan. Hosea: You haven’t planned shit. Dutch: I’ve planned it.

- Hosea: Arthur! What on earth are you doing?! Young!Arthur: Getting rid of this demon. Young!John: *screeching and trying to get out of Arthur’s grip* Hosea: And why do you plan to get rid of him? Arthur: Because, Hosea! He woke me up by leaning over me and whispering, “I know what death feels like, it’s cold. Have you felt death?” Arthur: HE’S CLEARLY EVIL, HOSEA Hosea: That’s just how children are, Arthur. Dutch: He’s right son, put the boy down. Dutch, leaning and whispering to Hosea: But maybe we should buy a Bible just in case. Hosea: And a cross.

- (Modern au and suicide joke)

John: It’s not a phase! It’s a lifestyle, you just wouldn’t get it! Arthur: You think I didn’t go through the “I can’t tell if I want to kill myself or everyone around me” phase? Come on. John: What? I don’t wanna kill myself at all. Arthur: … John: … John: Should I- should we go talk to Hose- Arthur: We should forget this conversation happened. Take this Nirvana CD and keep your mouth shut.

- Abigail: …John. John: Yes, my angel? Abigail: You forgot something. John: No I didn’t! I took the list with me, checked it three times, even crossed things off when I put it in the cart! See, look. Apples, frozen hamhocks, cranberry juice- Abigail: John. You took Jack with you. John: Abigail: John: Abigail: John: SHIT I LEFT HIM BY THE PASTA SECTION Abigail: STOP STANDING THERE AND GO GET HIM!

- Jack: Pa, how did you get mom to marry you? John: Well son, I- John: John: I have no idea. Jack: Should I ask mom? John: I’ll be honest, I don’t think she knows the answer either.

- Charles: You did good back there. Arthur: Oh? Heh, nah, you did all the fancy stuff. I just helped. Charles: Don’t undersell yourself, Arthur. I wouldn’t be complimenting you for no reason. Arthur: Oh yeah? And here I thought you were just trying to fluff up my ego. Charles: Wouldn’t hurt to do when you work so hard, no? Arthur: Now you’re just being’ sweet- John: Can y’all wait til we’re done before you start your spiritual dick sucking? Arthur: Can you repent to the lord fast enough to save your soul in the time it’ll take me to throw you into the damn ocean, Marston?!

- Arthur: Do you even have a brain? John: Do you even have someone that loves you? Arthur: John: John: I heard it that time, I’m sorry. Arthur: This is what Abigail hears sometimes, just so you know. John: I heard it that time, I got it. I- I’ll just- Arthur: Whiskey, full bottle. The nice kind. John: Apology alcohol, got it.

NPC: My husband’s parents are so crazy. In-laws always are, huh? Abigail: Well, uh-

*John being an orphan* *John’s adoptive dads being criminals, one particularly off his rocker*

Abigail: ….aha, yeah;;

- Abigail: John Marston, you useless, foolish, stupid man! Bill: To hell with John! Abigail, suddenly with a very large gun: NO ONE INSULTS MY HUSBAND.

- Arthur, holding up a proper painting he actually put time and effort into: Could a depressed person make this? Charles: The painting: *a wolf in the rain laying it’s head over the body of a deer shot with an arrow* Charles: I’m, in fact, more convinced you have depression now. Arthur: …yeah this wasn’t the best evidence for my argument, huh? Charles: No. Not at all.

- John: What are you talking about? That’s completely normal, it’s like having opinions. just cause it doesn’t happen to you doesn’t mean- Tilly: No, John! No. It’s not normal to have that reaction to the sound of hearing metal on metal. John: No look, uh- Arthur! Arthur come here! Arthur: What now? John: What happens when you hear metal on metal? Like, a can bein’ rubbed with a knife. Arthur: Ugh, I hate that sound. It makes my damn skin crawl, like I got beetles underneath. Makes me wanna skin myself to get’em out. John: Right! See, Tilly? It’s not just me! Tilly: ????

Charles: …and you never got them evaluated? Hosea: In hindsight, an autistic diagnosis probably would’ve made more things make sense. But, what can ya do.

- Arthur after a dog didn’t positively react to him: Maybe this is my final straw. Charles: No. Arthur: It might be. Charles: It’s one dog. There are twenty that you stopped to pet along the way here, plenty more for you to pet after this. Arthur: You don’t understand, this is devastatin’. Charles: Arthur, please- Arthur: Utterly devastatin’, Charles.

- Arthur, tipsy: Just cause you’re gorgeous don’t mean I’ma do whatever you say. Charles: Drink the water, Arthur. Arthur: *grabs the glass* Yes, sir.

- (Got a Y/N one, also, modern Au)

Arthur: That’s the Aberdeen farm. Y/N: …what’s wrong with it? Arthur: What’cha mean? Y/N: The vibes, they’re off. Arthur: …the…vibes? Y/N: The energy, Mister Morgan. The vibe of the place. They’re off, they’re weird, wack even. I sense insidious and wretched wavelengths wafting from the aura of that property. Arthur: I see…well, to answer your question, it’s cause they are weird. And I ain’t even confirmed why cause I don’t really wanna know. Y/N: I see you can also sense the vibes are rank. Arthur: …sure, whatever that means.

- Micha: Well I think- Y/N: Well I’m certain no one fucking asked, Micha! Not a single damn person asked what the hell you thought, ever! In fact, I’m pretty sure you don’t think. I’m pretty sure your skull fills with all the bullshit in your organs, and it just spills out your mouth! Micha: Micha: I- Y/N: Shut up, Micha!

- Arthur, after Albert explains some super dangerous plan in order to get wild animals near him to photograph: You’re stupid, I like that in a man.

- Y/N: Bye Arthur, bye Karen, bye Hosea, bye Arthur. Sadie: You said ‘bye Arthur’ twice. Y/N: I like Arthur.

- NPC: Lovebirds, eh? Sadie: Arthur: Sadie: I’d rather eat a poison ivy plant with Holly Berries for dressing. *looks at Arthur* No offense. Arthur: No no, none taken. All things considered, I’d rather dive into a pit of tar and then drag myself face first through a plain of rotten chitlins. Sadie: Completely fair!

- Bill: I need you to realize you ain’t in charge here. Y/N: I need you to realize I don’t give a shit.

- Arthur: Hey Charles, uh, I got an Uhm…a spiritual question. Charles: Any particular reason you chose to ask me? Arthur: Uh well- I didn’t mean for it to be like that- I just- Charles: *sigh* What is it? Arthur: Do you know what it means when an elk stands up on its back legs? Charles: That means- Charles: WE SHOULD LEAVE, we need to leave, that’s what that means!

- Jack: …why are your boobs so big? Charles: They’re not boobs. Jack: Do you have to wear a brasier? Charles: *sigh* Arthur: He asked me the same thing a couple weeks ago, don’t think to hard bout it.

(Story spoilers!!) Y/N: I'm sorry, let me get this straight. Y/N: You picked up that man when he was a destitute child, grieving and starving. Taught him almost everything he knows. Y/N: Then, you did that with, what? Three others? In similar circumstances? Y/N: Created a sense of family and community, a strong bond between so many misfortuned people. With your trustworthy long term friend by your side. Y/N: And then. Y/N: One RAT. WHO IS OPENLY ANTAGONISTIC AND REEKS OF SUSPICION AS MUCH AS HE DOES HORSE SHIT, SOMEHOW CONVINCES YOU TO GO OFF YOUR ROCKER AND HARM YOUR GANG?! Y/N: Explain! Dutch: Dutch: Dutch: He praised me- Y/N: YOUR PRAISE KINK GOT YOU TO AIM A GUN AT YOUR SONS????

- Arthur: Naaah they’re an angel. Lenny: They punched Bill in the face. Seán: They told Strauss he was a waste of human material, in his own language, which they’re not fluent in. Mary-Beth: They framed Micha for a crime and got him put in prison again. Arthur: Like I said, an angel!

- John: Woman. (Translation: Darling.) Abigail: Moron. (Translation: Lovebug.)

Arthur: You tellin’ me they’re being affectionate right now? Jack: Can’t’cha read subtext, Uncle Arthur? Arthur: ???

(Insert Alcohol is truth serum reference)

Drunk Bill: Not to be gay, but you’re gorgeous bro. Kieran, afraid: You don’t have to be gay to appreciate a man’s beauty. Absolutely shit-faced Bill: Nah, like I’d fuck you, bro. Kieran, terrified: Okay, never mind!

- (How I imagine their first couple years together went)

Dutch: Dutch: Dutch: Dutch: How do you feel about me? Hosea, naked & beside him: ….we’re sharin’ a bedroll, Dutch. Dutch: Yes, but what are we, Hosea? Hosea: ….we’re both naked, alone, in a tent, Dutch. Dutch: That doesn’t answer my question. Hosea:

- (This one's sad, not funny, sorry-) John: You’re such a hypocrite, why is it that anything I do that you’ve done before that you get so bent outta shape?! Arthur: Because I’ve done it before you, John. John: So why do you think it’s fair to tell me not to?! Most people are proud when their younger brother ends up like’em. You don’t want anyone like you, is that it? Arthur: John: John: …oh. Arthur: Now that you got my point, will you take my god damn advice without a big fuss…please.

- John: She drives me insane! She somehow managed to make me the angriest I’ve ever been almost daily. NPC: Then leave her. John: The fu- no. What? She’s the wind beneath my wings, my darling wife, my beautiful angel. How the hell could you even think to suggest such a thing? NPC: But- John: Get outta my sight, you fuckin’ disgrace.

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phant0mmm-jaiden · 4 months ago

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‼️ I FINISHED MAKING BIRTHDAYS FOR THE RDR2 GANG‼️ (under the cut)

these are my own personal headcanon (with some help from the comments) so take with a grain of salt, we may have different interpretations

(source for all traits is zodiacsign.com)

DUTCH VAN DER LINDE

- Founding member, for 23 years (1876, when he was 21)

- 44 in May 1899

- Born April 11th 1855 (Aries)

Positive Apr 11th traits: “Assertive, strong and remarkably passionate, they will burn every obstacle in their way if they have something to strive for. They are excellent workers and managers, showing initiative with just enough tact to be loved by a team they work in.”

Negative Apr 11th traits“Preoccupied with their own problems, they could fail to see what their friends and close people are going through. Self-centered, too feisty, ready for battle when it isn't necessary, reactive, and sometimes aggressive when they should remain calm.”

HOSEA MATTHEWS

- Founding member, for 23 years (since 1876, when he was 32)

- 55 in May 1899

- Born October 22nd 1843 (Libra)

Positive Oct 22nd traits: “Warm, open for emotional contact, and nurturing, they are tender and kind to those they love and treat everyone with enough empathy to resolve issues at hand. Their emotional sensitivity is their greatest strength.”

Negative Oct 22nd traits: “Covered in sadness, broken and depressed, they might lose faith if they don’t give themselves time to rest and regenerate from past experiences. Tied by stories of their ancestors, they could simply play parts of others without getting truly invested in their own life and their happiness.”

ARTHUR MORGAN

- In gang for 23 years (since 1876,when he was 13)

- 36 in May 1899

- Born September 30th 1862 (Libra)

Positive Sep 30th traits: “Truthful, powerful, deep and ready to commit to issues that are too painful for other people, they have the power to change the unchangeable and build a sense of magic in their life that allows them to attract and control their own destiny and heal others of prejudice.”

Negative Sep 30th traits: “Depressed or lost in what they’ve been taught, they could be too scared to get out of their usual directions and choices in life, getting stuck in mental activities that keep them unsatisfied, egocentric or grumpy.”

SUSAN GRIMSHAW

- In the gang for 14 years (since 1885, since she was 29)

- 45 in 1899

- Born March 27th 1854 (Aries)

Positive Mar 27th traits: “Standing out, innovative and wide in perception of the world, they are good friends and tend to build a social circle that can support them in their path. Free to shine and give freedom to other people.”

Negative Mar 27th traits: “Stressed, torn between extremes, their mood changes without warning. They can get aggressive if too much anger builds up, unsure how they will react or what their next move will be.”

JOHN MARSTON

- In gang for 14 years (since 1885, when he was 12)

- 26 in May 1899

- Born August 3rd 1872 (Leo)

Positive Aug 3rd traits: “Straightforward, on the move, and wide in their opinions, they are the travelers with a cause, those who share their views and their knowledge selflessly, and wish to give their energy to those willing to follow.”

Negative Aug 3rd traits: “Stubbornly chasing after things that aren’t real, they could get stuck in a loop of disappointment and mental efforts that won’t lead them where they wish to go.”

SIMON PEARSON

- In the gang for 13 years (since 1886, since he was 35)

- 48 in 1899

- Born December 16th 1850 (Sagittarius)

Positive Dec 16th traits: “Laughter, positivity, and a fun personality ordain those born on December 16th for as long as they are in tune with their talents. Emotionally charged, they stay on the move, give love to be loved, and understand how to create balance when they find themselves falling into an extreme.”

Negative Dec 16th traits: “Lost in confusion of relating with others, they absorb atmospheres, feelings and ultimately opinions of others, thinking that their personality is defined by what others see instead of feeling their own core of Self.”

LEOPOLD STRAUSS

- In the gang for 12 years (since 1887, since he was 41)

- 53 in 1899

- Born in September 10th 1845 (Virgo)

Positive Sep 10th trait: “Deep, intelligent and extremely powerful, they are focused and dedicated to the higher truth and find change satisfying, without fear of what tomorrow might bring. They bring order to large things in the lives of people around them and announce change everywhere they go.”

Negative Sep 10th traits: “Obsessive, possessive and jealous, they can get dismissive of other people's ways and unwilling to recognize their own shadows while judging others. When bruised, they may become vindictive or manipulative.”

UNCLE

- In the gang for 11 years (since 1888, since he was 43)

- 57 in 1899

- Born May 6th 1842 (Taurus)

Positive May 6th traits: “Loving, creative, good with children, they are positive individuals with a lot of energy to live life to the fullest. Humorous, smiling, and grounded, they search for a place to belong to and connect easily to other people.”

Negative May 6th traits: “Unaware of the bigger picture, too focused on problems when they become aware of them, they can get obsessive and go into negative details for days. At times superficial in search for pleasure, but only if their heart isn’t open for relating.”

JOSIAH TRELAWNY

- In the gang for 9 years (since 1890, since he was 31)

- 40 in 1899

- Born May 26 1859 (Gemini)

Positive May 26th traits: “Loving, emotional, kind and caring, they are the messengers of beauty and laughter, humorous enough to make a grown person turn into a little child if this is their intent.”

Negative May 26th traits: “Using the power of words for strange things, unsatisfied and unable to find balance between emotion and reason, they get lost waiting and thinking about times when they were actually free while missing opportunities to set free in the now.”

ORVILLE SWANSON

- In the gang for 8 years (since 1891, since he was 38)

- 46 in 1899

- Born November 29th 1852 (Sagittarius)

Positive Nov 29th traits: “Idealists with a cause, they dream big and aren’t afraid to try themselves out in talents that make them who they are. On the quest for inner truth, they are sensitive, empathic and honest about the way they feel with people they love.”

Negative Nov 29th traits: “Seeking attention and unable to untangle issues that keep them intoxicated or tied to the past, they could get lost, searching for ways to anesthetize that pain and forget what bruised them in the first place.”

BILL WILLIAMSON

- In the gang for 5 years (since 1894, since he was 28)

- 33 in May 1899

- Born in April 27th 1866 (Taurus)

Positive Apr 27th traits: “Strong-hearted individuals, filled with vigor and energy for things that make them feel passionate. They are different but social, well-incorporated into society, and make excellent friends who find humanitarianism and compassion to be everything that is right in the world.”

Negative Apr 27th traits: “Sloppy, unsure what they wish to do with their energy and frustrated with their own nature. In opposition to themselves, they are unable to heal their own inner differences, becoming frustrated and passively angry at other people.”

ABIGAIL ROBERTS

- In the gang for 5 years (since 1894, since she was 17)

- 22 in 1899

- Born October 20th 1876 (Libra)

Positive Oct 20th traits: “Deeply emotional and empathic, if they keep their heart open throughout changes in their life, they become healers and incredible support in times of crisis and all possibly dangerous situations in the lives of others.”

Negative Oct 20th traits: “Casting their feelings away, they could become cold, distant, too difficult to relate to, and vindictive. They need a strong foundation to grow from and won’t be at all pleasant if they don’t learn to regenerate and flow with the beat of their heart.”

KAREN JONES

- In the gang for 4 years (since 1895, since she was 21)

- 25 in 1899

- Born June 12th 1873 (Gemini)

Positive June 12th traits: “Emotional, sensitive, compassionate and willing to listen, they are less rational than other Gemini representatives and this gives them more space for relating and reaching for the Divine Love.”

Negative June 12th traits: “Moody, torn between different roles and too adaptable to people and situations that don’t make them feel good. They get self-destructive when unable to deal with their own emotional baggage.”

JAVIER ESCUELLA

- In the gang for 4 years (since 1895, since he was 22)

- 26 in May 1899

- Born August 13th 1872 (Leo)

Positive Aug 13th traits: “Energetic, focused visionaries, ready to act with initiative and clarity of ideals, they are the ones to fight for the cause and move forwards when others would stay behind. They are warm, passionate people, ready to learn new things and move one step ahead of the rest of the world.”

Negative Aug 3rd traits: “Feeling as if they were all mighty, they often get caught up in their own ambitions and strivings, expecting nothing less than perfect from their ways of expression and battles that might be impossible to win.”

JACK MARSTON

- In the gang for 4 years (since 1895, since he was born)

- 4 in May 1899

- Born November 7th 1894 (Scorpio) (tried to be based on RDR1 but i’ve never played it 😬)

Positive Nov 7th traits: “Innovative, groundbreaking, different and individualistic, they understand that their greatest quality hides in their special way of standing out. Reliable friends with a need to fight for the greater good, they are those who bring necessary changes into a dysfunctional system.”

Negative Nov 7th traits: “In their battles they might get lost, become aggressive and pushy, losing contact only to pursue information held in their mind. Their mental processes get detached from their heart, leading them into abusive states towards self and others when they should be simply flowing with the times.”

MARY-BETH GASKILL

- In the gang for 3 years (since 1896, since she was 20)

- 23 in May 1899

- Born March 3rd 1876 (Pisces)

Positive Mar 3rd traits: “Great learners, teachers, and healers, they find love and beauty in everything they see and touch. It is their talent to use their optimism and beliefs, and turn every negative thing and experience to art, acceptable fate, and a step to a brighter future.”

Negative Mar 3rd traits: “In denial, distant, lost, they can be wanderers that cannot find the right direction to move in. Their defense mechanism protecting them from hardship is delusion.”

TILLY JACKSON

- In the gang for 3 years (since 1896, since she was 17)

- 20 in May 1899

- Born February 18th 1879 (Aquarius)

Positive Feb 18th traits: “Passionate, creative, focused, and understanding, this is someone able to sense the moment when the leader is needed, bravely becoming one. Fast and fiery, on their search for emotion, they wish to stay open-hearted throughout their lifetime.”

Negative Feb 18th traits: “With boundaries shaken, they can dismiss emotions, becoming overly rational and turned to the practical future in front of them. Unaware of their own sensitivity and hurt they might have caused to other people.”

MOLLY O’SHEA

- In the gang for 2 years (since 1897, since she was 22)

- 24 in May 1899

- Born May 4th 1875 (Taurus)

Positive May 4th traits: “Dependable, organized, ambitious, and responsible, they are easy to work and plan a future with. Just and turned to values of interpersonal bonding that lead them towards ideals.”

Negative May 4th traits: “A bit dark, difficult, and stiff, they can be set in their mind and unable to change. Stuck in a moment, a relationship or a job that makes them unhappy, it is their imperative in life to find faith and let go to the pull of the Universe.”

SEAN MACQUIRE

- In the gang for 1 years (since 1898, since he was 25)

- 26 in May 1899

- Born July 23rd 1872 (Leo) (sign rec from anon)

Positive July 23rd traits: “Optimistic, with a fine sense of humor and ready to chase off any negative emotions with their smile, they are positive, loving and supportive of those they care for. Travelers and teachers, they have something important to give to the world.”

Negative 23rd traits: “Scattered and pushed by too many beliefs they never questioned, they tend to spin in circles of negative choices, lost in their inability to receive as much as they give away or vice versa.”

CHARLES SMITH

- In the gang for 9 months (Since August 1898, since he was 26)

- 27 in May 1899

- Born November 1st 1871 (Scorpio)

Positive Nov 1st traits: “Centered, standing firm on their identity and seeing the light in others, they make wonders in therapeutic and supportive relationships with those who are insecure and find it hard to stand confident on their own two feet. Strong-willed and ready to learn, they are the ones to lead the way when their beliefs are set in place.”

Negative Nov 1st traits: “Getting lost among strong individuals meant to inspire them, they give up on their true role due to lack of belief in their own emotional world and their personal convictions. This could get them lost and put their talents to waste out of the need to prove themselves worthy.”

LENNY SUMMERS

- In the gang for 9 months (since 1898, since he was 19)

- 19 in May 1899

- Born June 5th 1880 (Gemini)

Positive June 5th traits: “Childlike, curious, excited about life and focused on their daily sources of happiness, they are humorous and always with a nice thing to say in just the right moment.”

Negative June 5th traits: “In need of a different view, they could get stuck in patterns that don’t give much room for personal growth. If their hearts close, they become superficial and uncaring for the wellbeing of those who aren’t in their closest social circle.”

MICAH BELL

- In the gang for 4 months (Since december 1898)

- 39 in May 1899

- Born January 1 1860 (Capricorn)

Positive Jan 1st traits: “Powerful and resourceful individuals with an incredible potential for a successful life, influential and knowing exactly where they belong. They are assertive, strong-willed, with a deep understanding for natural development of any issue at hand.”

Negative Jan 1st traits: “Inventors and great minds that turn to solitude and separate from the ideal of emotional fulfillment. Manipulative, they may be using questionable methods to reach their goals.”

SADIE ADLER

- In the gang for a few months (since May 1899, since she was 25)

- 25 in May 1899

- Born July 4th 1873 (Cancer)

Positive July 4th traits: “Focused on their goal point, ambitions and understanding the consequences of their deeds, they are strong, endurable and extremely reliable as friends and confidants.”

Negative July 4th traits: “Dark and filled with depressing thoughts, they can get pulled by negative emotions, memories they don’t know how to metabolize, and nostalgic turns that pull them into harmful circumstances that weaken their boundaries.”

KIERAN DUFFY

- In the gang for a few months (since May 1899, since he was 28)

- 28 in May 1899

- Born January 20th 1871

Positive Jan 20th traits: “Compassionate, caring, sensitive and talented, this is someone who can create incredible things if emotionally supported by all the right people. Nurtures their inner child and cares for others greatly even when holding back instead of showing their affection.”

Negative Jan 20th traits: “Closed from the rest of the world, unable to find meaning in hurtful experiences from the past and questioning their vision daily, these individuals easily turn to destructive tendencies.”

THANK YOU FOR YOUR HELP ‼️

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bakedcrossaintt · 2 months ago

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Kierabeth lives AU

thinking about a Kieran lives AU where he and Mary-Beth sense the gang's downfall and run away together during chapter 6. They try and find whatever work they can, struggling to get by while taking the odd job or farm work, but eventually save up enough to buy some property together, similar to how John and Abigail did. They'd build up a humble little farm with chickens and livestock and lots of horses. Kieran pours his whole heart into the farm, building a safe life for them like he'd always imagined, while Mary-Beth takes care of him in return and still gets to write her novels in her free time.

One day while John, Jack and Abigail are out on the wagon for a supply run, John reckognises Mary-Beth's horse hitched at the front of a little farmhouse and goes to investigate. Cue a heartwarming reunion scene when Mary-Beth opens the door and everyone is so thrilled to see her, especially Abigail is so happy she's doing well, until she calls into the house "Kieran! you've gotta see this!" and everyone's eyes go wide. Kieran comes downstairs looking healthier and happier than he ever has, well groomed and well fed with fancy new overalls and welcomes everyone in, while Mary-Beth proudly announces they just got married this month. More overjoyed fussing from Abigail and a congratulatory slap on the back from John to Kieran and soon they're all sitting at the table having soup together, catching up and reminiscing about old times ^^

From then on, their visits become regular. Abigail being happy to have another farmer's wife to talk to and John and Jack going fishing with Kieran every once in a while. I can also really see Jack connecting with Kieran over his gentle temperament, Kieran and Mary-Beth would be the perfect aunt and uncle to him. Mary-Beth would buy him books and talk to him about the stories he's reading while Kieran can be a second role model and adult to lean on when he feels like he can't talk to his dad.

One day while Abigail and Mary-Beth are sitting on the porch together, chatting and gossiping about farm work and their husbands, Mary-Beth suddenly turns to Abigail and announces that she’s pregnant and Abigail is so overjoyed. She'd immediately be so dedicated to take care of Mary-Beth during her pregnancy, giving her all the tips, knowledge and experience she's learned from when she was pregnant with Jack and making sure she felt supported every step of the way.

After all the hardship they had endured, getting to see this child grow up in a safe environment - with not just, but two caring families surrounding them - would feel like a second chance for everyone. It would be such a source of healing for them, watching a child grow up in a world free from the fear and chaos they once knew, knowing they could finally provide the stability they had always longed for.

#ship ramblings #ooouurgghh i love them so much holy shit #found farm families #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfiction #kierabeth #john marston #abigail roberts #jack marston #kieran lives au #rdr2 au #rdr2 au fanfiction #kieran x mary-beth #kieran duffy #kieran duffy lovers #red dead redemption 2 #kierabeth lives #johnigail #this is all defeated by the fact that mary-beth doesnt have a horse but lets pretend ok

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rattiwolf · 7 months ago

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kierabeth my beloved

(pose is from pinterest btw)

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meeks-just-wants-to-scroll · 10 months ago

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Reflecting on how depressing Kieran’s canon story is started to make me spiral so I decided to draw some happier scenes involving Kieran.

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vids-rdr2-artblog · 9 months ago

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Saving Mary-Beth

I wanted to write a little fic where Kieran shows off that he’s not really a coward and saves Mary-Beth after she’s been kidnapped. I might write a second part that’s just pure fluff.

Pairing: Kieran and Mary-Beth

Trigger Warnings: Violence against women, Murder, Abuse, Time period sexism.

(Please do not read if you are sensitive on these topics!)

7,203 words

Thank you @glenechoslasher for beta reading for me <3

Read it on AO3

***

Mary-Beth ventured into Rhodes with Mr. Pearson, having volunteered for the task for many different reasons—she loved to check and see if there were new books or authors listed in the newspaper and to simply get away from Miss Grimshaw. There was this relief that prickled the back of her neck when she knew that the woman wasn’t right there, breathing down her neck in the back of the wagon, and there was a sense of freedom seeing the open roads rather than their crowded camp.

Pearson talked the entire way, so Mary-Beth didn’t bring a book, as much as she’d rather drown herself in words rather than his nonsense. This man probably had his lungs stored in his stomach or had a second pair because Mary swore she never saw him take a breath between his sentences. But she listened to him anyway, glad the trip between Rhodes and Clemens Points wasn’t long.

“I’m glad you like to listen to me, Miss Mary!” Pearson said, sounding genuinely excited, which did make her feel good in some way, “Sometimes the others don’t like to listen to my stories, but you’re a good girl, Mary-Beth. When people say someone doesn’t have a mean bone in their body, you’re who I think of. I should take you on trips more often!” He laughed.

Mary-Beth became flustered and nodded, not wanting to say anything to bring down the mood of the jovial man, “Of course, Pearson. I think I read something in a book once about a brave navy man who sorta reminds me of you.”

Pearson perked up. “Oh? What book?”

Mary-Beth thought of a quick lie, a finger to her chin, “I don’t remember because it was so long ago, but if I find or remember it, I’ll tell you immediately!”

“Thanks, Mary. I’m not sure if I’d read it or not, but it’s great to see when great men are recognized.”

Pearson’s smile grew as he flicked the reins of the horse a bit more vigorously, and eventually, they reached Rhodes. It was sometime around 1pm, not too early and not too late into the afternoon. Thanks to Arthur being deputized here in Rhodes, she didn’t fear the lawmen as much as she did in Valentine and didn’t worry that they would be watching her every move. The folks here were a lot calmer and some of the women actually waved to her as she passed by. Welcoming, really. But man did she hope that the people of Rhodes didn’t think that she and Pearson were man and wife. A feller could get the wrong idea seeing them arriving on the cart together. She supposed however that if they had to hide their identities that way, then she would have to go through it even if she didn’t like it. Though her inner reader was curious and she had wondered how a romance between a couple with the likeness of them would interact. The girl did have a wild imagination, after all.

Pearson parked the wagon next to the general store and the two climbed down, meeting at the back of the wagon. It seemed that they came at the right time because the train had just reached the station, its whistle blowing in the air. The man put his hands on his back and stretched his body, Mary hearing a few pops as she did so. He whistled at the store, “I’d love to have one of these puppies sometime. I think it would be exciting to run a shop like this!” he said excitedly before turning toward their empty wagon. He took out pieces of parchment from his pocket and handed one to her but kept the other for himself. “Alright then, I’ll have you get the stuff that we need from the general store and then I’ll go over to the butcher for some real meat. Arthur’s been good at gettin’ money for us, but he ruins a lot of the meat he brings to us, skinnin’ them himself…Plus I want something other than venison once in a while…” He grumbled mostly to himself then resumed, “You got all that?”

Mary-Beth nodded excitedly and held the note to her chest, “I got it, Pearson. When I’m done, I’m going to go find the newspaper boy, OK? I want to see if there’s been any new releases or authors.”

“Sure, sure.” Pearson nodded then took money from his pocket, “Here’s the money from the box. Buy ONLY what’s on the list or else Dutch will have our heads. You shouldn’t have to pay the men to put everything in the wagon, so let me know if they try to trick you.” He pointed a finger. “I’ll meet you back in an hour, Mary-Beth. An hour.”

“An hour, yes. Will do, Pearson.” Mary-Beth smiled and glanced over the list. Most of what he had put was canned vegetables and fruits, bread, and luxuries such as tea, cigarettes, and chewing tobacco. She was surprised to not see ammo on the list but some of the other gang members probably took care of that separately from a simple grocery trip.

Taking the list to the man behind the counter, “Hello, I have a pretty big order to put in, can I get some men to help load some crates and put them on my wagon?” “Sure can.” The clerk pushed the catalog to her and she pointed out everything she needed and read off the number that was on the list. Reading it to him also gave her the comfort that she wouldn’t be scammed because she was a woman. Most men assumed that women couldn’t read, so she made sure to show that she could. “When do you think you could take it out to the wagon?”

The man answered as he rang her up on the cash register, “Oh, you’ll be able to load it immediately. We’re actually well-staffed, and my young men will be able to help ya. Maybe about fifteen minutes.” He smiled and told her the amount she needed to pay.

Mary counted the bills and handed them to the man. She double checked the change before pocketing it. There would always be a side of her that believed anyone was capable of scamming her only because she was the type of person to do the scamming herself. She leaned against the counter with her hands, “It’s the wagon parked out next to the store. My companion is over at the butcher’s and he might come back in time to help out too. Do you need me to wait here, or could I go on another quick errand?”

“My boys will start putting your order together now and start loading on yer wagon. They’re fine boys too, I ain’t never had to swat them once. So you can stay and watch or come back when we’re done.”

Mary-Beth smiled and nodded, pushing off the counter, “Thanks sir, I won’t be too long. I just want to grab a newspaper. Do you know where it’s at?”

“Oh, the boy likes to move around town, but I think I spotted him toward the saloon, if you know where that is.”

“Uh huh, I do sir. Thank you!” Mary-Beth pocketed everything and left the general store. After taking a quick glance over to the butcher’s and seeing that Pearson was still busy haggling with the butcher, Mary-Beth headed toward the saloon with a chipper smile on her face, comfortable walking around the town by herself since it didn’t feel dangerous at all.

As she headed up the road and toward the saloon, she kept her ears open for a newspaper boy, announcing the next paper but heard nothing. Maybe he sold out that day…Damn…Maybe the saloon had a copy that she could borrow for a couple of minutes.

Mary-Beth placed her hand on the door to the building but it didn’t budge. Damnit. Locked. Were they closed or was she just at the wrong entrance?

Making her way along the side of the saloon, she kept her eyes on the windows, trying to spot anyone inside. There wasn’t, and from the little that she saw of the bar, she noticed that even the bartender was out. It was strange to see the saloon closed at such a weird hour of the day, but maybe all towns acted differently than each other, and maybe not everyone here was a stupid drunk.

Mary-Beth came around the back end of the saloon and just as she did, she heard voices. She instantly hid along the edge of the house. Two Irish-speaking men had a man wearing an apron held against the wall, a gun at his abdomen. Down at their feet was the body of a younger man. Dead. Mary-Beth looked behind her and realized that she had been so busy looking into the windows that she hadn’t noticed the blood trail right under her shoes. She had walked into a murder scene in the making.

Mary-Beth’s instincts told her to flee. Just seconds after she saw the scene, she turned to leave, her jaw clenched shut. But someone was there now. She met the stale breath and before her stood a man. Then, there was a blinding pain above her left eye, right on her temple, his arm casting a shadow over her. Blood poured out from the gash on her head immediately. She hadn’t been knocked out immediately, but she fell back enough that the men behind the saloon noticed and dropped the man in the apron. She tried to crawl away but there was pressure in her lower back as her attacker pressed his heel and spur there. “What do we have here?” The one who had held a gun to the man in the apron approached, using the butt of his gun to lift Mary-Beth’s chin, causing a searing pain slice through her forehead. He swatted her hand away when she instinctively went to touch it. She could barely think of words to say.

“A witness. I saw her peeking around the corner at the two of you.”

“Tsk. Tsk. I hate to kill such a pretty thing, but I did tell the dead feller over there that there would be no witnesses. I’d be a bad man if I didn’t keep my promises.”

Mary-Beth flinched when his thumb pulled back the hammer of his cattleman, cocking it.

The third man pulled his shoulder back enough that he stopped the man from shooting Mary-Beth. It took the woman a few seconds to realize that her brains hadn’t been splattered along the ground and that she was alive.

“Wait a second there, I think I recognized her. I think I saw this woman in that livestock town with that shitty Arthur Morgan once. She might be a part of the Van Der Linde gang.”

Mary-Beth’s blood ran cold. Were these Irishmen O’Driscolls? She was in trouble…

The man with a gun whistled and looked down at Mary-Beth with hungry eyes. “Well, will ya lookie here. A simple armed robbery is turning into a gang heist. I won’t even ask you if you’re a part of the gang. If you are, then they’ll come save you. If you aren’t or if they’re dumb enough to save such an insignificant whore like yourself, then we’ll just kill ya. We won’t be wasting any of our supplies because we won’t feed ya. How does that sound, bitch?” He didn’t wait for an answer, not that she would have answered him in the first place, “Tie her up.”

“No—!” But before Mary-Beth could scream, her attacker kneeled right on her back where her lungs were, knocking the air from them. He shoved a nasty-tasting cloth in her mouth before tying her up with a lasso, pulling her arms behind her back.

The O’Driscoll, with the gun, holstered it before he kneeled in front of her, sticking his finger into her blood, making the pain in her head significantly worse. She didn’t know what he was using her blood for but he kept pressing his thumb in the same spot before he finished whatever he was doing. “Take her to the horses, use the train to not be seen. And you…” He turned to the man with the apron, pointing his gun at him now, “Not another word of what happened here, yeah? We know where you work and where you live, so even if you blab about what happened here after we’ve left, we’ll come back and kill your family then force feed you their guts. Got that?”

The man in the apron nodded, quickly disappearing inside, glad that his life had been spared, even if it cost this woman he didn’t know.

The last thing Mary-Beth remembered was being carried by the two men, one at her legs and one at her shoulders. With the throbbing headache she had, she was hardly able to squirm, and unable to scream. They carried her across the train and to their horses hidden on the other side.

Who would save Mary-Beth?

Pearson returned the wagon and didn’t find Mary-Beth there. It wasn’t strange, considering she said he was going to track down the paperboy. Plus, it hadn’t been an hour exactly. So, he placed the carefully packaged meats and placed them on a crate that had already been loaded by the shop. He saw the boys bringing out a few more crates.

One greeted him with a smile, “There’s just four more inside, sir.”

“Bring 'em’ out here and leave them on the stairs. I can get the rest of it from here.” Pearson took out two dollars from his own pocket and gave them each one for their hard work. They thanked him before bringing the rest of the gang’s provisions out and setting them at the top of the chairs. Pearson expected Mary-Beth to be back by the time he loaded up the last of the crates and strapped them down, but she wasn’t.

She’s probably just talking to a local. She’s a good, chatty girl. We can’t go anywhere with the train being there anyway.

And so Pearson waited. And waited. The longer he waited, however, the worse he began to feel, especially when he heard the whistle of the train before it slowly left the station. There wasn’t quite anything right about this. Mary-Beth wouldn’t have told him one thing and then done another. Something must be wrong.

“Mary-Beth?” he asked and looked down the alleyways around the general store and even the buildings surrounding it. Nothing. Wait, she did talk to the general store man, maybe he knows something. So, Pearson stepped into the building and walked straight up to the man, “Excuse me sir, my womanly…companion came up to you earlier to pay for the stuff that’s in the wagon next to your store. I can’t seem to find her though, did you happen to see where she went?”

The clerk cocked his head. “Oh yes, I did. She was looking for the newspaper, so I pointed her in the direction of the saloon.”

“Okay, thanks, sir.”

“No problem, thank you for your purchase, and have a good day.”

“You too.”

If Mary-Beth went to the saloon for a drink then it would make sense as to why she hadn’t returned yet. If she were a man. Mary-Beth was so…feminine and it didn’t seem to be like her to wander off for a beer or two. If it had been Karen with him instead, then there would be no doubt about it that she went out for drinks, but Mary-Beth didn’t do that sort of thing. Not to his knowledge, at least.

Pearson made a quick trip to the saloon. He wasn’t sure if it had been busy beforehand but there were a couple men who looked more sober than the bartender themselves, so they must have just gotten there.

“S’cuse me, you see a woman around here?” Pearson approached the bar and tried to ignore the hungry look in the men’s eyes when he said the word woman.

The bartender looked drunk and dissociated from his job as he cleaned an already cleaned glass, only smudging it more. There was a nasty bruise on his eye, leading down to his jaw. Pearson wondered what happened to him. He probably shouldn’t have asked in the first place and just searched around the place himself. He only didn’t want to seem like a creep or worse, a thief.

“Nope. Not around here.”

“Alright, thank you kindly,” Pearson said without revealing much more to the conversation so the men who were drinking didn’t get any funny ideas.

Pearson snuck around the side of the saloon before his stomach dropped. There on the ground was a drop of blood, leading to around the back of the saloon, accompanied by larger dried splotches of blood. His immediate thought was of Mary-Beth. Oh god, she’s dead! Mary-Beth is dead and I let her die! However, when he looked closer at the blood, he noticed that it wasn’t fresh and more dried up. He wasn’t an expert at human blood, but after skinning dead animals for as long as he had…He could tell when blood was new and old. It couldn’t have been more than an hour. This wasn’t Mary-Beth’s blood. However, it didn’t mean that there couldn’t be anything waiting for him around the corner.

Following the blood, he stepped around the corner and found a mutilated body.

There was a young man. Probably late teens or early twenties. Probably around the same age of the men who helped load his cart. His eyes were gone and lacerations around his body explained the blood that soaked the ground. It already had a decomposing smell of it, tangling with the smell of vomit and alcohol. While he didn’t like murder like this—it was overkill—he was secretly glad that he didn’t encounter the body of Mary-Beth torn to shreds.

Pearson stepped closer and noticed a piece of wood with a knife in it laid out on the palm of the dead man’s hand. The closer he got, the more he realized that there was blood on the wood too, but it was fresher, drawn out methodically on the wood. He had to kneel to read the blood writings, which sent a chill down his spine.

DVL

3 DAY

COLM

And then there was a drawn picture of a location with a noose on it.

There, lying next to the dead man’s hand was a cut lock of Mary-Beth’s hair and a torn piece of cloth that matched the same color and texture of the dress she had been wearing. The blood on the board was Mary-Beth’s. It was fresher compared to the dead male’s, making the man want to vomit.

Pearson’s mouth dried when he concluded what had happened. The O’Driscolls had kidnapped Mary-Beth and left a message for Dutch and Arthur about where to meet them. The O’Drisicolls had them by the balls and were steering them in the direction that they wanted them to go.

Pearson tore the knife from the board and hid it on his belt, unsure if it was what ended this man’s life or was just left to accentuate their message. After hiding the lock of hair and cloth that would link Mary to this man, he grabbed the wood and rushed away from the scene as fast as possible, not wanting to be caught. Good thing the time meant that most men were working, though he wondered if they had gone at a different time if this would have even happened at all. Mary-Beth would be back at camp with her nose buried in one of her books.

As much as he wanted to go to the sheriff, he knew he couldn’t. It involved his gang and the O’Driscolls! That wasn’t a good combination.

Getting back to his wagon as fast as he could, Pearson raced back to his camp, constantly looking over his shoulder, not wanting to be ambushed on the way back, or followed back to camp. At some point along the ride, he considered abandoning the wagon and riding the horse back to camp, but he would still risk being followed and at the additional loss of money and supplies.

“Who’s there?” Came John’s rough voice when he came close enough.

“It’s Pearson!” Pearson raced on by, doing his best to not tip the wagon by how fast he was rolling into camp. The horses whined the whole way, having been spent racing back to the camp, sweating and desperate for water. When they came to a halt, the young O’Driscoll approached to untether them. Seeing Kieran made Pearson’s blood boil and face turn red, but it hadn’t been Kieran’s fault this happened, just the gang he used to run with so he did his best to not direct his anger toward him.

Pearson rushed directly toward Dutch’s tent, catching everyone’s attention from the fast pace he clearly wasn’t used to doing. Dutch sat in the chair outside his tent, a book in one hand and a cigar in the other. Arthur was thankfully in camp, just in his own tent.

“Dutch! Arthur! We have a BIG issue right now!”

Arthur perked up upon hearing his name and slowly sauntered his way over to Pearson and Dutch, his hands on his belt, “Oh yeah? What’s that? You eat all our groceries on the way back from Rhodes?”

“Now is not the time for jokes Arthur.” Pearson took the wood out, some of the blood smeared on his fingers but thankfully not enough to make the writing illegible. He also took the knife from his belt loop. Dutch and Arthur stared at the knife, intrigued, Arthur, stood up a bit straighter when he saw how serious Pearson was acting. It was unusual for him.

“Well, then spit it out already!” Arthur tore the cigarette from his mouth and threw it to the ground. “What the hell happened?”

Since he had stopped running, there was an unsettled feeling in Pearson’s stomach. He felt like he was about to throw up.

“Dutch…Arthur…Mary-Beth was taken by the O’Driscolls… They left us this note with her blood.”

The moment O’Driscolls was brought up, Dutch’s face became red. “WHAT?! What did you see, Pearson?!”

“NUTHIN!” Pearson gasped, “She wandered off when I was at the butcher’s and they kidnapped her when she was behind the saloon. There was also a dead body behind there. The bartender had this ugly bruise on his face, so I have a feeling he saw something, but if we try to talk to him, it might link the gang to the O’Driscolls,” he explained, the words flying out of his mouth, “They left this with Colom’s name and a lock of Mary-Beth’s hair. They’ve got her fer sure now….” He handed the wood over. Arthur leaned over Dutch’s shoulder to read what the blood was, his eyebrows furrowing.

By then the rest of the gang were gathering around, particularly the girls. Tilly held a hand over her mouth, “Mary-Beth…She was taken? Oh, Pearson…” Tears were in her eyes.

Pearson could hardly look at them all, all their faces that of a grieving person in mourning. He felt a lot of shame for letting this happen to such a vulnerable woman. But Mary-Beth wasn’t dead, or at least he hoped that she wasn’t. He couldn’t live with the thought of getting an innocent woman killed.

Kieran found himself on the edge of the conversation, but not close enough to hear the conversation. He had been so busy taking the horses off the wagon that he nearly missed it entirely. He brought each horse to the water trough, which they drank greedily before he joined the congregating crowd. What’s going on here? He wanted to ask but kept his mouth shut when the eyes of this gang had fallen on him. Had he done something wrong?

Well, if they were staring at him, then it had something to do with the…

“O’Driscoll, what did you do?!” Karen abruptly snapped at Kieran. Everyone seemed shocked at her outburst, seeing how kindly she treated Kieran at camp. There weren’t any tears in her eyes, but her face was worse than a raging bull’s.

“W-What do you mean?” Kieran asked, stuttering but not showing any lack of confidence. He kept his composure. “I ain’t done nothin’ other than take care of the damn horses lately,” he added defensively.

“Your O’Driscolls KIDNAPPED MARY-BETH!”

Usually, Kieran would have fought them on this. Would have yelled that he wasn’t an O’Driscoll! But ‘Mary-Beth’ and ‘kidnapped’ mentioned in the same sentence was something he didn’t like to hear. He couldn’t argue with them this time.

“They took Mary-Beth…?” he gasped and looked over toward Arthur, “We have to go save her! They’ll do awful things to her.”

Arthur squinted his eyes at the man as if observing them for anything suspicious, and Kieran hated the feeling that it left in his stomach. “You mean you had nothing to do with this?”

“Of course not!” Kieran spat out, flaring at Arthur’s accusatory tone, “I like Mary-Beth and I hate the O’Driscolls. You should know that by now 'cause I tell it to you every day!” He hissed. “We can’t spend time here, just wasting, we have to go and track her…Who knows what they will do to her.”

“Leave that to me,” Charles said, ready to jump on his horse that second.

“Wait just a minute!” Arthur said, holding his hand out, stopping everyone from doing anything stupid, “There’s a date written here, and they’re goin’ to expect us to meet them there at that time, or else. Charles, you can go, but you have to be extra careful. One wrong move on ANY of us is goin’ to end Mary-Beth’s life.” He pointed his finger at everyone as he spoke to them.

From the looks of the entire camp right now, everyone was willing to pick up their guns right now and hunt down their sick rivals. Some like Grimshaw and Lenny already had their guns out and ready.

“And the note was addressed to only Dutch and me. We’ll have to be the ones to go. If they see more than us, it won’t be pretty for us and Mary-Beth.”

“But you’re gonna be outnumbered by those idiots…” Bill argued, his hands clutching at his sides, not because he particularly liked Mary-Beth but because he hated how the O’Driscolls could easily try to blackmail them. “You never know how many people they’re gonna bring, Arthur. You need more than two men…”

“If they lay a hand on Mary-Beth, I’ll fucking tear their balls off…” Sadie gritted her teeth. Not another woman whose life was on the line thanks to this gang…

“If you should take anyone extra, then it should be me,” Kieran volunteered, stepping forward. “I don’t think they would be intimidated if they saw me.”

Bill laughed. “Yeah! Might be able to trade him for the girl. Take him with ya.” He shoved Kieran forward by his shoulder.

“Not a bad idea.” Arthur rubbed his chin.

If it came to that, then so be it, Kieran thought to himself. Mary-Beth had been the first one in the gang to be kind to him, to show Kieran the proper respect he deserved as a person by giving him that small glass of water. It had meant so much to him. There was no way in hell he would allow people like the O’Driscolls to hurt someone as gentle as her. If it meant that he had to trade his life for her, then maybe he could do something good and prove himself, even if he didn’t make it out alive.

“Oh, Mary-Beth…Please be okay…” Tilly kept a hand to her mouth, then spoke softly to Kieran, “Please get her back for us.”

Kieran spoke softly to her, “I promise that we’ll get her back, Tilly. Arthur and I ain’t gonna let anythin’ happen to her, we promise…”

“You better.”

Mary-Beth tried to imagine herself in a whole new world, completely separate from the reality of hell she was currently facing. She was a princess and her prince charming sat across from her on the blanket, feeding her strawberries and telling her how much he would marry her and care for her. The bitter yet sweet taste in her tongue was imaginary but it was helping her free herself from the flames threatening to engulf her. She dissociated, forgetting anything that the O’Driscoll men did to her the moment they happened.

She didn’t know when her own gang planned to get her, if they were even coming for her at all. Her hands were tied behind her back, connected to her ankles, making it impossible for her to move unless she twisted her body around, and even then it was far too painful for her to do that. She would be too exhausted before she could break the ropes.

If Mary-Beth had been listening, she would know that she had two days before the O’Driscolls were going to lay her out for bait, two days before she would learn if she lived or died. The gang planned to use her as bait, to lure the two strongest members of the Van Der Linde gang.

One of the O’Driscolls approached her. She saw his boots right in front of her face and smelled the shit he had stepped in earlier. Her nose wrinkled and she refused to meet his eyes. “Oh, what a squirmin’ bitch ya are,” he laughed and spat on her face, making Mary-Beth flinch and swallowing a whimper climbing its way up her throat. She was surprised that he didn’t kick her before he stormed off, laughing and drinking with his friends—having an early celebration of the fall of the Van Der Linde gang.

Just remember your prince charming. Hell, you’d accept Sean as your prince charming at this point, she spoke mostly to herself, in her head and attempted to put herself back into the world of the last book she had read, imagining herself as the main character and Kieran as her prince charming.

Wait.

Kieran…?

Why did she think of Kieran?

Sure, the two had been flirty with each other before, but she had never seen him in such a romantic light, or even imagined…kissing him…

But the memory soothed the aching in her heart, so her mind played the same scene over and over again as the days passed.

Kieran and Mary were in the meadows, sitting on a blanket softer than anything she had ever felt before. Wait, was it a cloud? There was a whole buffet of food laid out in front of her, and no matter how many bites she took, it never emptied. Behind them were two horses grazing and snoozing together. And whenever she looked at Kieran’s face, she felt the happiest she had ever been in a long time…

Sometimes her brain had convinced herself this was reality. She wanted it to be.

Mary-Beth was half asleep when a man grabbed her arm and cut the bindings, made her legs release, making them cramp, and her muscles scream in pain. Her hands were still tied as he pulled her to her feet, yelling at her as her legs wobbled and she would have buckled had the men not held her up.

“Where…Where…” she mumbled before she was interrupted.

“Shut up, you bitch.”

A cloth was shoved into her mouth, forcing her to be quiet.

“Put the woman on the back of the horse.”

Mary-Beth’s stomach lurched as she was lifted by her waist. She grunted as she was laid on the back of a chestnut colored horse, her stomach feeling the pressure as she was laid on her stomach. Never in all her life had she been hogtied and put on the back of the horse. She whined but shut up quickly to avoid them yelling at her any further.

A man climbed on the back of the horse, kicking its sides with sharp spurs that were close to her face. Mary-Beth, with her eyes constantly on the ground, couldn’t tell where they were going. All she could do was count the seconds. It took them approximately seventeen minutes to pull to a full stop, the men whispering around her.

“Quick, get the girl ready. They could be watching us and pop out at any moment.”

Mary-Beth saw the shoes of one of the O’Driscolls before they lifted her up. Instead of taking her off the horse, they shifted her into the saddle. All she could do was watch in horror as the men threw a rope over the branch of the tree they were under, a noose hanging at the end of it. She began to strain and pull on the restraints on her wrists but someone held her still as another pair of hands grabbed the noose and pulled it over her head. She felt tears as the noose pressed against her throat, tightening enough that it wouldn’t slide off her and only tighten when she fell off the side of the horse. They were going to hang her. Holy shit, they were going to fucking hang her! After that, she fell absolutely still, no matter how badly her body screamed at her to move.

“Two hours…If they’re not here in two hours just slap the horse and let it run.” Mary-Beth couldn’t see them, but an O’Driscoll stood behind her, a hand on the rear of the horse, who luckily remained calm for now. She relied on that calmness. But the woman wondered if the horse would feel her anxiety and become agitated before running off.

“Then leave her body. Maybe they’ll come back later and find her hanging and learn their lesson…We don’t spare the innocent.”

Please, Arthur. Sean. Charles. Kieran. She whispered the names like they were saints, praying they would come to rescue her.

Time passed, but Mary-Beth wasn’t counting this time. Every second felt like an agonizing hour.

“How long has it been?”

“About an hour…”

And so they waited even longer. Mary-Beth’s thighs were aching from how tight she was squeezing on the horse’s saddle.

An arrow sliced through the air, hitting the man behind Mary-Beth. The action was so abrupt that there was a moment of stunned silence. The horse shifted but luckily didn’t run off. Mary-Beth looked up, seeing the trees across the horizon, but saw no one in sight. Were her saviors still out there? “They’re he—” Another arrow whizzed through the air, shooting the man in front of her.

“DAMNIT!” Mary-Beth looked in horror as one of the O’Driscolls raised a gun in the air. No, no, no! Mary-Beth cried out in her mind, screaming and crying, wishing she could keep the horse in place.

A gun fired, and then hellfire began. At first, it was arrows, and then it was gunshots.

Mary-Beth stared in terror as the horse’s ears flicked back. It freaked out before running forward, Mary-Beth hardly able to stop the rope from tightening around her neck. Just as the horse ran out from under her legs, arms wrapped around her body, desperately holding her around the waist and legs in a way to keep herself up.

Even as the gunshots were heavy in the air, Mary-Beth was able to stare down at the person holding her. It was Kieran. KIERAN More tears formed in her eyes as she saw the man struggling to keep her up, to keep her from hanging right there.

“SHOOT THE ROPE, SHOOT THE ROPE!” Kieran called out.

Mary-Beth did her best to sit as still as possible, but everything was aching and she could hardly keep herself up as her body was crumbling quickly and she was hardly able to control what limb twitched. A choked cry escaped her throat and tears were impossible to hold back.

An O’Driscoll stormed up to the two of them, his gun raised, ready to shoot Kieran between the eyes. Right as he pulled the hammer back on his revolver, there was a rifle shot, and blood splattered on Kieran’s face and on Mary-Beth’s dress. Then there was a second shot, and the rope around Mary-Beth’s throat became very loose. Mary-Beth fell on top of Kieran, taking the two of them to the ground. Kieran was on his feet a second later and grabbed Mary-beth by the shoulders. Even though she would have not wanted to be dragged anymore, there was a mutual and silent agreement that safety was more important as Kieran dragged Mary-Beth into the forest and brush, hiding them from the gunfight. Kieran sat back on the ground and pulled Mary-Beth flush against his chest. As quietly as he could, he took the cloth from her mouth and fumbled with his knife, cutting the bindings from her wrists, freeing her completely.

Mary-Beth’s mouth was open, tears in her eyes when she realized it ached more to shut her mouth from how long the cloth was stuck in her mouth. Kieran was about to pull away from the woman, to give her space, but Mary-Beth grabbed his arm and wrapped it around her body—feeling safe and protected like in the dreams she had hidden in the past few days. She closed her eyes and cried silent tears.

Kieran hesitated but could tell that she just needed to be held for now. He kept her close to his chest as the gunshots thinned and the voices of the small group of O’Driscolls died out completely. They were all dead. But he remained quiet until he knew for sure that it was safe to come out.

“Mary-Beth? Kieran?” Came Arthur’s voice.

Mary-Beth couldn’t speak.

“We’re in here—!” Kieran stuttered and pulled himself and Mary-Beth up, taking the two of them out of the brush.

When Mary-Beth saw Arthur, she practically fell into the arms of the man. “Oh Arthur…! You call came for me!” she sobbed.

Arthur awkwardly wrapped his arms around Mary-Beth. “Course we did. You’re a part of the family. We wouldn’t have left that to ya, all alone.”

“Are they all dead?” she asked, her bottom lip quivering.

Arthur nodded. “Dutch has one of them tied up right now and is talking to them. Otherwise, yeah. They’re all dead. Are you okay?” He asked as he pulled her back, looking her up and down, seeing the bruises and tatters on her. “Oh, Mary-Beth…You need to get back to camp. You think you can take her, Kieran? I’m gonna stay back and help Dutch get information out of this damn maggot.”

“Yes, please, I want to go back now. Is Pearson OK?” Mary-Beth asked.

“Don’t worry, Mary-Beth, he’s alright. Just get her to camp, Kieran.” Arthur walked away.

Kieran nodded and put his hand on Mary-Beth’s elbow, guiding her all the way to Branwen. When they were at the horse, he gently touched her arm. “Mary-Beth, I am SO sorry fer what happened to ya. Are ya okay?”

“I…I think so. I just want to get back to camp.” She approached Branwen from the side and turned her back to the horse, facing Kieran. “Can you help me onto the horse, please?” she asked, her arms slightly raised. “Everything hurts too much.”

“I sure can…” Kieran nodded and put his hands on her waist. He lifted her onto the back of his horse, feeling even more guilty as she winced in pain. The last thing he wanted was to cause her even more pain. After that, he climbed into the saddle in front of her, then raced off back to camp. His heart pounded with the leftover adrenaline from the gunfight, but it soared higher when Mary-Beth wrapped her arms around his waist and she leaned her cheek against his back. She…Wanted comfort from him? Him, of all people? He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but he was glad that she could trust him.

Kieran knew that there would be a group gathering when they returned to camp, so he made sure to approach quietly and calmly, hitching his horse at one of their posts. He got down and held his arms out naturally to take Mary-Beth off the horse. By the time he turned around, he saw the group gathering—just as he thought.

“Oh, Mary-Beth!” Tilly cried out and ran before anyone else could. She ran to her best friend and hugged her, keeping her close. Mary-Beth broke down into tears as she hugged Tilly back. Kieran backed off and gave the woman some space, his hand on Branwen’s neck. However, he watched from afar. He watched as Mary-Beth was given new clothes, and how John gave her his tent so she could have privacy for a while. Karen, Grimshaw, and Tilly came in and out of the tent often, checking in on Mary-Beth. Sometimes he heard her crying, and it broke his heart.

Sometime later in the evening, when it was darker than it was light, Kieran approached the flap of the tent and whispered, “Mary-Beth, is it okay if I came in?” he asked and waited for her answer.

There was a small sniffle. “Oh, yeah, it’s okay…”

Kieran came in, carrying a tin plate of stew. “Have ya ate yet?” he asked.

Mary-Beth sat on John’s cot, wearing one of her other outfits. The old clothes had been burned as no one, especially her, would want to attempt to stitch such clothing back together.

“Oh, no…I ain’t…I just haven’t had the appetite for it, but I probably should soon.”

“I got something for ya. Eat what you feel like ya can.” Kieran came in and moved across the tent and sat down next to her with the stew, handing it to her. Mary-Beth smiled fondly and sipped some of the broth. At least her stomach could handle that.

“Mary-Beth…Yer awfully brave. Most don’t have the confidence when in the presence of an O’Driscoll.”

“Oh Kieran…” she whispered, “It was awful. I thought I was going to die…I thought they were gonna hang me. Had you not caught me, who knows whether I would have suffocated or if the rope would have snapped my neck right away. I wasn’t ready to die.”

“I’m glad I was there, Mary-Beth. I don’t know how you survived that…” Kieran’s hand touched hers, but then he hesitated. She noticed and immediately brought his hand back when he tried to take it away.

“I just…I just imagined myself inside one of my books. I guess escapin’ into my own head was something that helped me…” Mary-Beth admitted Kieran, squeezing his hand. “It kept me alive until you saved me, Kieran. You’re a real hero. Thank you so much…” She wrapped her arms around his neck and held the man, who she sort of related to in some way now. She wasn’t sure if she should tell Kieran that she imagined that he was her imaginary hero. She didn’t have to though—Kieran was her real hero now.

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aoioozora · 2 months ago

Text

Alive

Character: Kieran Duffy (Red Dead Redemption 2) Content: K.D x Fem reader, fluff, mild depictions of violence, very minimal cursing, mild angst Word count: 4.1k Photo credit: @risenfromagrave Note: Saving Kieran here because his death UPSET me and he didn't deserve to die the way he did.

You grumbled, looking over your shoulder to see if deputies were still at your heels.

Being paired with Micah for a mission wasn't fun, and though for once the mission went smoothly without any hiccups, it all went to shit when the two of you stepped into a saloon for a drink to unwind after the work. An especially angry drunk challenged Micah to a fight, and all hell broke loose. First, an exchange of angry words, then an exchange of punches, and then an exchange of bullets, all loud and noisy enough to wake the dead, and the law enforcement which came running. Not wanting to be caught up in more trouble than you ought, you had to grab Micah by the back of his collar and get running and galloping.

"Dutch tells us to lay low and you do the exact opposite! Can't have any damn peace with you around," you scolded as both of your horses relaxed and began to trot down the dirt roads back to Shady Belle.

"Can't blame me, Miss. That feller started it. I was in for a nice, peaceful time until he came along to ruin it," he complained, clearing his throat loudly and spitting on the ground.

You didn't hear a word he said. A quiet rustle in the woodland caught your attention, and you caught a glimpse of a rider on a horse. He was dressed in black and gray, having his hat down low over his eyes. He rode away from both of you down another dirt trail, not seeming to have noticed your presence. Micah was still talking your ears off and you hushed him.

"Shut it, Micah. I see an O'Driscoll."

He immediately stopped. "Where?" he whispered eagerly, craning his neck and peering forward to look in the same direction as you. When he spotted the fellow, he smirked.

Your eyes remained trained on the O'Driscoll, and you flicked your chin towards him. "Let's follow him."

And so the two of you did, keeping a safe distance and acting inconspicuously. Micah took the rear, not wanting to be recognized as he was seen before with Dutch by the wretches. You urged your horse forward to cover him and rode ahead.

The O'Driscoll took a winding route into the woods --a lesser known dirt trail-- and the two of you followed on behind him slowly, using the bushes, foliage, and dappled shadows for cover. The Sun, situated at the apex of the sky, shone down bright, making beads of sweat drip down your face even under the shade.

The O'Driscoll neared a run-down log cabin and hitched his horse right outside. The moss-covered cabin was shaded by the tall trees and the outsides of it were littered with broken bottles. It looked nothing like a proper O'Driscoll settlement, but rather a temporary dwelling. Only five horses were hitched outside the cabin, indicating only a few.

"He's dismounting," you whispered to Micah as the two of you stopped your horses at a safe distance.

Just as both of you dismounted, a blood-curdling scream erupted from within the cabin. You stopped in your tracks and looked at Micah with wide eyes. He looked back at you, not particularly perturbed. The scream seemed to make even the leaves of the trees tremble in fear.

"Stop! Please!" came the cry of a very familiar voice.

"Kieran!" you exclaimed under your breath. "Come on, we have to save him!"

Before Micah even said anything, you took the rifle off your back and began to stalk towards the cabin as fast and as unnoticed as you could. Micah followed behind you.

Crawling behind a crate, you asked Micah as you peeked out, "What do you think about shootin' up some O'Driscolls today?"

"Nothing makes me happier."

You grunted in response. "For once we agree."

It took you everything to not lose your cool at the shrieks echoing in the woods. You longed to burst into the cabin and shoot them all until they turned into a well-loved rag filled with holes, but you knew better than to be a fool.

Slinking away from the crate, the two of you continued to stalk towards the rundown cabin, careful not to jostle the broken bottles. You could hear the sounds of Kieran being punched, talked down to, and kicked around. Your stomach churned in anger as you ducked under the window and pressed your back against the wall next to the door. Micah positioned himself on the other side of the door, holding his guns up.

"You really thought you could escape us, huh?!" you heard one of the O'Driscolls yell from inside.

A loud thud and a groan of pain followed. "Please stop..." came Kieran's pathetic sounding wail.

You bit your lip and put your hand on the knob, trying to twist it open. It resisted.

"If you thought your Van Der Lindes would come and save you, you're dead wrong. It don't look like they care too much about scum like you," another O'Driscoll spoke. Another thud, followed by coughing and hacking.

"But don't you worry. We'll treat you real fine and head you back to them as a gift of the long standing friendship between us all," assured another O'Driscoll, laughing aloud.

You heard the rustle and scrub of cloth and wood creaking. Kieran begged, "No, no, no! Please don't!"

From within, the distinct scrape and clinking of knives was audible. Your heart was in your throat.

"I'll break this door open and you open fire," you hastily whispered to Micah, and he nodded, pushing himself off the wall and clenching his guns.

Kieran was starting to shriek. Lifting the butt of your rifle, you rammed it straight down on the doorknob, knocking it off. The door broke open from the impact and Micah sprung into action.

You followed immediately. Pulling the trigger, your first target was the head of the wretch who held his knife against Kieran's neck. He fell down, limp.

"Van Der Lindes at your fucking service, boys!" you roared.

Micah laughed aloud at your roar, pleased by your enthusiasm as he fired his bullets. "That's my girl!" he exclaimed snidely, "Finally you ain't so polite about your killin'."

"Shut your damned mouth and keep shootin'!"

There were more O'Driscolls in the cabin than you anticipated; about ten. But it was no hard task for two of the gang's most formidable gunslingers. Micah gleefully shot away, throwing down tables and using them for cover while Kieran was cowering in the corner of the room, hands and feet bound tightly in ropes. Finding an empty wardrobe next to him, you pushed it down on its side and rushed behind it.

"You okay, Kieran?!" you exclaimed as you exchanged fire.

"I-I-I'm okay!" he squeaked, hunching over his knees and trying to lay as flat as he could behind the defense of the wardrobe.

Your momentary distraction afforded a shot to the arm, but with adrenaline rushing in your blood, you felt no pain. You'd slaughter every last one of them for even daring to touch Kieran.

Finally, the last one fell, shot by Micah. The two of you breathed heavily from the exertion and Micah rose to his feet from behind the makeshift rampart, scanning the cabin once more. With a sigh, he returned his guns to their holsters. "Not enough of these fellers for me to kill," he quipped, disappointed.

You turned to Kieran, finally having the time to properly look at him. His pathetic face was red and bloodied from all the punches he took. His clothes were torn and soiled, bearing boot prints from being stepped on. Cuts were all over his arms and his neck, some shallow, some deep. Pulling out your knife, you cut off the ropes that bound him.

"You look like a mess..." you sighed, trying to keep calm for his sake, "What on earth did they do to you?"

Kieran grimaced as he explained the abuse he underwent the past two days. Sleep deprivation, starvation, beating, kicking, threatening, lashing, and so much worse else that he struggled to express. As you pulled out some clean cloth to wrap around the wounds on his neck, you felt your chest tighten with guilt that you couldn't come for him sooner.

You rose to your feet and held out your hand to him. He shakily raised his arm, taking it and rising to his feet with a pained groan. He held his back and his hip, still groaning.

"Y-You came at the right time," he said, quivering, "They was ready to cut my head off just when you entered."

Your eyes widened and you clenched your teeth. "God damn them bastards," you growled under your breath, not even meaning it vainly.

The three of you only had these few moments to breathe when more gunshots from behind the cabin-- all distant-- vibrated the quiet air. You started, looking at the rear windows of the dilapidated building.

"They must've heard our gunshots!" you exclaimed.

Micah grinned, instantly slinging his guns out of the holsters. "Leave them to me," he said, sauntering towards the windows and ramming the butt of his gun against the glass, shattering it.

"They look like too many to take alone" you said, joining him and standing by the other window. Turning to Kieran, you pulled out your Cattleman and handed it to him. "Here, use this. We're a bit outnumbered."

The roar of O'Driscolls over their gunfire was loud, but you and Micah held them back. Kieran struggled with all his aches and pains, but managed to shoot a few himself. It was a tense few minutes of heated exchange, but with the last one falling, silence immediately settled in.

Rising immediately, you said, "Let's get out of here before more O'Driscolls come."

After quickly looting the sparse cabin and the bodies, the three of you mounted your horses and rode out. Kieran sat behind you, quietly whimpering in pain as the horse rode along the rugged paths. Micah seemed to be addressing Kieran about something, but it was all muffled by your thoughts.

The thought of Kieran suffering worse than how you found him sickened you. Your stomach churned at the image of his neck sliced and his life blood spurting out. And knowing how ruthless the O'Driscolls could be, they definitely would've done significantly worse things to his dead body. You may have had a questionable relationship with the Lord Almighty, but you sure thanked Him that Kieran's warm hands still held fast to you.

It was a relief to see the familiar surroundings of Shady Belle bathed in the descending sunlight, and as soon as the three of you arrived, the sight of Kieran after his disappearance stirred excitement in the camp.

"You found him!" Mary-Beth, running up to you, exclaimed first as you dismounted and helped Kieran down.

"Those damn O'Driscolls caught him!" you roared for everyone in the gang to hear, and then told them all how you and Micah slaughtered every last one of them.

The other gang members praised you, and reluctantly praised Micah for the rare occasion of him taking part in saving a fellow gang member. As always, he was full of pompous words about how he "killed more than the little Miss".

You had no time to be offended. You and Mary-Beth helped Kieran into a room in the mansion where Ms. Grimshaw would treat his wounds.

"I do hope he'll be okay," Mary-Beth said worriedly, holding your arm.

"He'll live. That much I know."

Feeling weary, you pulled out of her grasp and headed downstairs. She followed you into the parlour of the mansion and watched as you sat down with a sigh. You begged her for a cup of water, which she promptly brought to you. As she took another chair and sat down next to you, she watched you relish the cool drink.

"I'm sure glad Kieran is back," she said softly, lacing her fingers over her lap.

You nodded vigorously, placing the empty cup on your thigh. "So am I. You wouldn't believe our luck. He would've... He would've gotten his head lopped off if we were a moment too late." You wiped your hand down your face, sighing shakily. "Thank the Lord we found him before they did."

Mary-Beth wrapped her arms around you, letting you rest your head in the crook of her neck as she rubbed your back. Your body eased against your friend's and you sighed again.

"You did a real good job, my dear," she whispered, lovingly stroking your hair.

The security tightened around the camp after this incident. More gang members stood on the perimeters of Shady Belle, vigilant. Not only was the gang up on their guard, but the general attitude towards Kieran changed too. Some of the more rougher gang members who bullied him previously seemed to express some concern for his wellbeing and recovery.

The camp was in no celebratory mood after learning that Kieran was whisked away during the party for Jack. It remained lively as it always was, but the perpetual shadow was cast by the O'Driscolls caused the heavy drinkers to sober up and keep their vigil, and Dutch to withdraw to himself to consider where to go next before they risked another kidnapping or attack.

In the meantime, you made sure to tend to Kieran in any way you could, visiting him and talking to him to distract him from the pain. Sometimes Mary-Beth and Arthur would take your place when you weren't around.

Speaking of Arthur, he was especially upset about the whole thing.

"Damn O'Driscolls," he shook his head as he lit the cigarette between his lips, "I'm tired of this feud Colm and Dutch are having. When will it end?"

"I reckon it will go on till kingdom come," you answered resignedly. This was the first time since joining the gang that you witnessed O'Driscoll brutality firsthand after only knowing it in theory.

Arthur grumbled, taking a drag of the cigarette. "That aside, I'm surprised Micah cooperated. You know how he is. Kills more people than he saves."

You shrugged. "True. I guess he happily jumped right in because it was O'Driscolls we was dealing with. He gets to satisfy that damn itch in his hands and we get to cut down their forces."

"Hm." He nodded silently, staring at the ground of the porch he was standing on. "I'm glad Kieran is okay, though. You did well." He gave you a gentle pat on your shoulder in gratitude.

Though Arthur didn't show it, you could see the relief written all over his face. How distraught he would've been if the man that saved his life was killed like a dog with nobody to save him.

It was an especially quiet night and like usual, you sat in Kieran's room by the window, polishing your Cattleman to pass your time as you kept him company. His room was small, but sufficiently spaced for him to move about. After all the nights he spent sleeping outside, you were glad that he was given a roof over his head.

The camp was mostly quiet and relaxed, and conversations around the fire rose in the air in soft murmurs. You watched the night with alertness, and your rifle remained on your back. Kieran, seated on his humble bed, preferred to watch you.

"I-I cannot thank you enough for saving my life, Miss," he blurted. He'd been saying that everyday since.

You looked at him and smiled, shaking your head. "Are you going to thank me for the rest of your life?" you asked lightheartedly.

"I sure will. It's my life you saved, after all." He twiddled with his thumbs nervously.

You paused, looking at his slouched posture, his scruffy appearance, messy black hair and all the bandages wrapped around his arms and his neck. Your eyes softened at his plight, and you felt a surge of affection for him. "I'm glad you're back, Kieran. I missed you," you admitted softly.

An embarrassed flush bloomed on his cheeks at your loving address. "You did?" he asked, surprised. "I didn't think I was... visible enough in camp to be noticed, let alone missed."

"Well, Mary-Beth was the first to notice you was gone," you told him, "and you know the rest." But sensing the insecurity and vulnerability in his voice, you said, "Kieran, I don't know to what extent the camp as a whole trusts and likes you, but just know that I'll always trust you, like you, and miss you when you're gone."

You felt your cheeks flush a little, wondering if your speech betrayed your true feelings. But he smiled, feeling reassured.

"Thank you, Miss. I'm glad, really," he looked down at his feet on the floor, "I-I try so hard to be of use in the gang. I like it here better than with them O'Driscolls," his voice quieted as if in fear of even uttering the accursed name. "They're terrifying, but you all are nicer. And- And I want to prove myself that I-I ain't an O'Driscoll no more."

"Oh, Kieran," you shook your head, "You ain't an O'Driscoll no more, no matter what any of us say. You're one of us, a Van Der Linde." You rose to your feet and moved towards his bed. Situating yourself right next to him, you took his hand in yours and squeezed it, now saying in a soft whisper, "You'll never be an O'Driscoll again."

He nodded slowly, taking in the words. You looked at him. His eyes were fixed to the starry night outside the window, distant and thoughtful. You wondered if he thought of his time with the former gang. Your heart ached for what he had to go through with them, both now and in the past and to always be in fear of them, near or away.

"If they dare touch a single strand of your hair ever again, I promise I'll do worse things to them than what they planned to do to you," you declared, squeezing his hand again.

Kieran's eyes widened, alarmed by the extent of your harshness. He put his other hand on yours, clasping it. "Please, dear Miss, you don't have to go so far just for me," he begged.

"Why not?" you demanded, "They hurt you! I won't stand for that!"

"But-But the O'Driscolls ain't the sweetest people, you know... what if you get hurt because of me? I wouldn't want that."

Your brows furrowed, and Kieran feared he angered you. He shrunk a little, pulling his hand away from yours reluctantly. Noticing this, the anger on your face melted away.

"I... well," you stammered, "It ain't fair, Kieran. You're a nice guy. You've had a rough life even before them O'Driscolls. You take care of our horses and do your best around camp. You're an honest and innocent feller unlike the rest of us and I like that about you. It ain't fair or right that they can just whisk you away and not get the consequences of their actions for it!"

Your praise made his heart soar. He didn't think you thought so highly of him.

"And I know you ain't much a fighter," you continued, "And I ain't the best and showing people I care. Protecting you is the least I can do."

Kieran was both flattered and ashamed. Protecting was his job as a man. It didn't sit right with him that you took the dominant role when it was simply your right and privilege as a woman to be cared for and protected. But he didn't say it. He knew his limitations for the moment, but vowed to himself that he'd try and get stronger and braver so that he could one day protect you.

Afraid as he was to admit it, he admired you greatly. You were strong, hardy, beautiful, and brave. You knew your way around weapons and you were smart. He'd always looked on you with a certain awe and even jealousy that he wasn't anywhere near as impressive as you were. And to think that someone so amazing would condescend to be so attentive to him at this moment was both humbling and heart-fluttering.

"I could not have asked for a better friend than you, Miss," he smiled shyly. No sooner had the words come of his mouth, he worried if he took it too far by calling you a friend.

But the grin on your lovely, weathered face eased him. "I'm happy you think so, Kieran," you said gently, looking down at your lap.

He caught a hint of shyness in your face as you looked away, and his heart jumped. You, shy? He never saw this before.

Silence filled the room. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, and from your straight posture and how you clenched the sides of the bed, you looked like you had something more to say. Kieran shifted in his seat.

"Are you okay? You look a little... tense," he finally asked.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I just... I just wanted to tell you something important."

"Of course," he encouraged, turning himself to face you.

"I- I love you, Kieran," you blurted with many blushes.

He stared at you with wide eyes, stunned and speechless. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

"I've fancied you ever since we was in Horseshoe Outlook," you admitted, "and I thought you was real sweet... even though we didn't really trust you. But I liked you."

He still stared, completely bewildered by this point. He never imagined anyone would ever like him, pathetic as he was.

"Me? A-Are you sure you do?" he sputtered.

"Of course I do. No doubt about it."

"But why me? I ain't impressive like Arthur or like Charles or-- I don't know-- John... Why me?"

"It's because you're kind," you explained in earnest, "and you're genuine. You're impressive in your own way. You work so hard to earn our trust. If nobody appreciates you for it, I do. And I even love you for it."

Nothing more could be said. He sat silent for a while, taking in your words. You watched him, worrying he'd not feel the same. You longed to ask him what he thought, but you waited for him to speak first.

"It's amazing that you'd choose me, my dear Miss, a pathetic O'Driscoll boy..."

You frowned. "You ain't an O'Driscoll boy. You're Kieran Duffy," you said firmly, "I could never love no O'Driscoll boy. But Kieran Duffy? I would."

He smiled abashedly. Though you scolded him, he couldn't help but feel so utterly over the moon. He just couldn't get enough of your repeated declarations of love. His smile dispelled your momentary annoyance, and your eyes softened, feeling the weight of your affection for him rest heavy on your heart.

His trembling hand ventured bravely to touch yours and your hand instinctively leaned into his light touch. Feeling encouraged, he wrapped his hand around yours, holding it gently. Both the touch and the confirmation of his feelings sent strong flutters and sparks flying all over inside you.

"I've always admired you," he admitted, "You're really purty, and strong. Always thought you was an amazing woman." His hand squeezed yours, and you squeezed back, "I-I really do love you too, my dear Miss."

Your lip trembled as you felt an overflow of emotions. "I'm sure glad you're alive, Kieran," you said breathlessly, "I don't know what I would've done if you was gone and I didn't never get to tell you how much I love you."

He moved closer, pressing his shoulder against yours. Without thinking, you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. His heart jumped again, but he sat still.

"It's because of you I'm alive," he whispered, affectionately rubbing his thumb over your knuckles as he pressed his cheek against your head, "And I'm glad too." His voice cracked, "I'm glad to be alive to hear you say you love me."

You couldn't take it anymore. You wrapped your arms around his waist and hugged him, something you've been desperate to do since you brought him back alive. His surprise only lasted for a moment before he responded by wrapping one arm around your waist and the other around your shoulders.

"I'm sorry to be so bold, Kieran, but I ain't never lettin' you go."

He smiled, burying his face in your neck. He could never be offended by your boldness; it was one of the many things he loved about you.

"And I ain't goin' nowhere."

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luvliewriting · 2 years ago

Text

❦Rdr What Are They Like In Bed?❦

❦18+ MDNI❦

Warnings: 18+ MDNI!!!!, the reader is afab but if you want an amab let me know

Note: Please have your age somewhere visible on your profile before reading this. If you are a minor please don't consume this content (I am not responsible for any damage this may do to your young brain)

Minors please block tag Luvlie18 or I will block you

I tried to do as many characters I could think of, even some that I've said I won't write for (except Micah, Micah can die a virgin)

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Arthur Morgan

He's 100% a giver, all throughout and very big on praise. I mean he isn't gonna turn down if you want to suck on him but if he had the choice, he would spend his days content and happy between your legs. He just loves to pepper kisses against your body and your tits while his fingers are deep inside of you, watching you moan and squeeze around his fingers as you get close. He loves more teasing the tip of his dick against your hole, just barely going in as he whispers in your ear, "you gonna be a good girl? Do you deserve this?" Of course, he can't keep his hands off of you so even when he's teasing you and trying to edge you as long as he can go, to take his time with you, it will always end with your body pressed against his, words of praise spewing from his lips and him emptying his load into you. One of his biggest no's is degrading though, he hates degrading you while enjoying your body, he'd rather be telling you everything he loves about your body and how good you feel around him

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Dutch Van Der Linde

Unlike Arthur though, Dutch is big on degrading and loves to receive. I mean he won't ask for it and he loves to give as well, he just likes a healthy balance of the two; sometimes at the same time if you're comfortable with it. Super big on cockwarming, especially while he's trying to read so its a healthy mixture of him getting to enjoy a nice book as well as a nice warm hole. Another one of his favourite things to do is have you in front of him in the mirror, have you watch yourself in anticipation while he plays with you, his hand squeezing a little more and more on your throat the closer you get to your finish. Of course, if you had a bad day, he has no problems being slow and taking his time to enjoy you. He's the perfect balance of gentle and rough. Although one of his biggest no's is anything to do with knives or guns, it's not that he isn't confident that he won't hurt you, its more he doesn't like the fear in your ears even if its all an act

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Hosea Matthews

Where do I even start with this man? You would think with his age, Hosea would be a little rusty but you would be wrong; he's actually very skilled with your body and knowing exactly what you need and where you need it. He is an absolute fan of cockwarming and it doesn't even have to be sexual, just the thought of getting to hold you so close to him and in such a vunerable but romantic manner just makes him so happy. Although he isn't opposed to having you on his lap with his dick inside of you and just suddenly thrust his hips up to hear the small moans you make with each thrust into your pussy. He absolutely hates anything that's too quick, he enjoys to take his time. His absolute no is quickies, he prefers to spend hours just enjoying you

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John Marston

Boy my god is this man crazy when it comes to dirty talk and degrading, I mean if you need praise he's happy to do that but this man can degreade and dirty talk till the cows come home. While Arthur is a fan of finishing inside of you, John prefers to finish on you, painting your skin white in his cum just to watch you scoop it with your finger and stick it into your mouth. He can and will eat you out for as long as he wants, even when you've finished over and over, he's not stopping till he's happy. He loves to wrap his tongue around your clit and do tiny circles against it, his fingers exploring ever inch inside of your person while your fingers tug tightly on his hair. He even loves eating you out more while you're on the other side of him, his dick hitting the back of your throat. His biggest no however is anything that requires him hurting you such as slapping

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Abigail Marston

She's not a very touchy person, especially after Jack was born, she didn't spend much time with you in bed. Abigail has had her fair share of being treated like a sex toy and she doesn't want that with you. She wants to be cared for, tendered, she wants to be held against you and feel you absolutely love her. Sex at the shortest can last an hour, the longest you two have gone is seven hours. She's like Hosea, she hates anything that is quick. If you wanna take control of her than she's happen to give you the leash, she doesn't mind laying back and feeling your lips against her; on her neck is where she's most sensitive. But if you want to have her take control, she also loves that. She loves to have your hands smooth through her hair and your grip tightening on her hips the closer you get while you two are rubbing yourself against her scissoring. Of course she hates anything that's too quick but another one of her pet peeves is being fingered, she just doesn't care for it all that much

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Charles Smith

Charles is a sweet heart and gentle, his favourite thing is your tits though. He loves how fuzzy you get when he takes his time. Slowly moving down your body, worshipping praises on your tits and pulling your nipples with his teeth lightly. He loves to kiss you so slowly and take his time, making sure your tits know his love for them and praises. Working his kissing down till he gets to rub his nose against your slit, leaving kisses against your clit till he flips you around and fucks his load into you. He can go for hours, round after round with barely any breaks unless you need it. Although one of his no's is having you give him pleasure, precisly letting you suck him off. He doesn't find much pleasure in having you take the control or having you choke around him. He prefers to have full control of your pleasure and to have you suck on him, he doesn't feel much control

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Sadie Adler

She's the dominant one, there's not much denying that. Her absolute favourite thing is when you're the only one exposed fully, she just loves how in control it makes her. You gotta remember this was a woman who felt like she didn't have control for a lot of her life so her need for control does leak into the bedroom life. Whenever you sit on her lap it almost always escalates from a makeout session into something more, especially if she's drunk which just makes her even more needy to feel your juices against her tongue. That's her favourite thing, getting to eat you out. While she's not much for fingering, she prefers to have her thumb rubbing on your clit while her tongue fucks your hole or having her mouth swap between the two. Her absolute no is being the bottom, she loves you but she's not gonna be the submissive one, she's 100% a stone top

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Javier Escuella

I'm sorry to say this, or maybe I'm glad to say this, but this man has a knife kink. He absolutely is infatuated watching the cold steel graze your warm skin, its such a contrast and high it makes him almost bust right there while having the knife against your throat while he's buried deep into you. Javier is a masochist but also a sadist, either he wants you to have the knife in your hand or have it in his, it really depends how you're feeling. He's fine doing either role. He's happy to be on his knees praising the flesh between your thighs while you hold the knife to him, threatening to cut him if he goes against your wishes. He's also happy to trace the tip of the blade against your nipples, watch you shiver due to the cold of the metal. Despite having a knife kink, Javier's big no is blood. He'll threaten to cut you yes but he's not gonna actually do it. He just doesn't think that blood should be brought into your bedroom fun with him; he sees enough of it in his everyday life

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Lenny Summers

Oh this boy is absolutely a soft dom, although during your first time he's so awkward that its adorable. He's just worried to do something wrong, he hasn't been with many people so he's not very experienced but with the way he fucks you? You would think he came out of the womb a master fuck machine. Especially when Lenny is drunk, he loses all of his awkwardness and knows exactly how to woo you with just a few words that make you get all giddy, the flesh between your legs quiver and throb, your legs crossing to get any kind of friction till he drags you from camp to care for you. His absolute favourite thing is receiving, he loves giving but he loves to watch you gag and see your beautiful look up at him while he's deep in your throat. He loves the little licks you give the tip before you deepthroat him, making it hit the back of your throat while you gag, moaning at the same time making his dick vibrate. His big no is any kind of pain though, he hates to see you in any kind of pain so he keeps sex as pain free as possible

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Molly O'Shea

Molly is actually quite vanilla, sex is almost like aftercare with her. She's definitely a pillow princess, not that you're complaining; she's heavenly. Molly's favourite thing to do with you is when she's sleeping and gets woken up by you between her thighs, she usually has to cover her mouth because you're at camp and she doesn't want anyone to know what you're doing between her thighs although the occasional whine or moan comes from the Irish girl. At this point, she ends up closing her legs around your head on instinct. Given how many times you've eaten her out before it's not that odd that she'd have a few dreams about it too; and when she gets woken from those dreams by you between her thighs, it makes her go all tingly. Her no though like I said before, she's a pillow princess so she's not much for giving. She prefers to just let you take control of her; not that you'll ever complain because she's delicious

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Karen Jones

She loves to act all sweet and innocent but Karen is truly a kinky woman who knows exactly what she wants which makes her a huge brat. She can and will put up a fight over anything, even when she knows she won't win the fight and it will most likely end with her muffling her moans behind her hand while you devour her. Karen has a loud mouth, she isn't afraid to show or tell how much she wants you in public or around camp, most people are just used to it at this point. At campfires when she's drunk, she will purposely follow you around to where the boys are, sit on your lap and whisper in your ear how much she needs you, slowly grind herself on your thigh when no one is looking. She'll keep it up till you get too frustrated with the teasing and drag her to your tent. Her big no is going on top, she's not a fan of it. She prefers to be on her knees for you, praising you and begging for your attention and kissing at your fingers. She doesn't want to be the dominate one

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Josiah Trelawny

This man is never short when it comes to sex with Josiah, it's almost always a guarenteed thing after a fancy date with him. Especially since Josiah can only be around so long at a time, he tries to make sex with you as special as he possibly can so it can be as romantic as he can makes it. Much like Arthur, Josiah is a gentleman so he's 100% a giver than a receiver, he actually really dislikes receiving oddly enough. When he's making you receive it makes him feel bad because he's not showing you pleasure. He also hates degrading, he doesn't see a point in insulting you while you feel so good squeezing his dick with your walls. No he much prefers praising you, telling you how good you feel, how beautiful you are, everything. Owning you though is his favourite, leaving marks along your body as he goes so he can see them next time he's with you. Covering up the almost totally healed ones with brand new bruised ones

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Mary-Beth Gaskill

She's very shy but when you do break her out of her shell, she'll tell you exactly how she wants it and how she needs it. She reads a lot of novels, some of them including the more erotic side of things so she's rather experienced in the bedroom, she's down to play either roles when it comes down to it. But if Mary-Beth had to choose, she would prefer the more vanilla side than rough. Mary-Beth is very touch starved so sex is more like just a way to be even closer to the person she loves. She loves to praise your body, kiss every inch of skin she can and treat sex like cuddling. She loves the feel of your skin on hers, pressed so close to her that nothing can come between you two. She hates to admit it, but she loves to be reading her novels while your face is in her thighs or on her nipples, sucking slowly and passionately at the flesh while she lets out tiny moans every now and again, her eyes going from the words to your eyes peaking up at her between her thighs. Her no oddly enough is having any kind of clothes on during sex, she loves the sight of you naked and feeling your skin against her

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Sean MacGuire

He hates to admit that he's a bottom but he totally is, he especially loves it when he's overstimulated. Handcuffing him to the bed as you take full control of him, all he can do is curse in his Irish accent at the pleasure of your throat bruising or your hole squeezing around his dick. He especially likes to be choked, the feel of your hand squeezing tighter and tighter on his throat while you ride him harder and harder could make him bust right there; especially inside of you where he loves to finish the most. One of his big no's however is inflicting pain on you, on him he has no problem with but he couldn't imagine ever hurting you even in a sexual way. He just loves the power that it gives you over him, he loves to have you straddling him and rubbing yourself on his dick while he begs for you to just let him in

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Tilly Jackson

Sure she acts innocent but we all know she isn't and that innocent little attitude follows to the bedroom. She's 100% a brat, definitely a "make me" girl. Tilly knows exactly what she's doing when she start stroking your thigh under the table while you're eating dinner with the rest of the gang. Surprisingly she says that she isn't hungry, yet chooses to sit beside you anyway, the rest of the gang doesn't seem to notice but you definitely do. When you drag her to your tent, it's no mercy when you pin her down to the bed and edge her for hours, only letting her finish when you are sure that she's finally learnt her lesson about interupting you from dinner. Tilly's big no is anything that has to do with holding her down so rope, handcuffs, stuff like that. She likes being able to touch you so anything that keeps her from doing that she just doesn't want. As much of a brat she is, Tilly has her moments where she is good and only wants to be held and cared for after a hard day

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Kieran Duffy

Much like Molly, he's a fan of being woken up by you giving him oral although he's a lot more whimpery and anxious when you do. Kieran would be a little spooked but not because of what you're doing but more out of fear of someone, specifically Arthur, catching you two. Gods know none the camp would ever let him live it down. After a little convincing, most of which is done by you kissing and sucking along his cock he can't help but lay his head back onto the pillow, his hands gentle threading through your hair, encouraging you to keep going, nice and slow, he wants to enjoy this wake up call for a good, long while. He hates to leave you hanging though when he does eventually finish down your throat so after that, you're usually met by him laying you down against the cot and him tenderly eating you like he's gonna break you if he goes too rough

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Mary Linton

Mary is a 50/50 person, it really depends how you want her. If you want her tied securely down to the bed while you have her legs over your shoulders and face buried into the gold between her thighs than she'll happily oblige with praising and moans. If you want her to bend you, your ass in the air as she holds a crop steady in her hand ready to strike your skin red, she's happy to oblige with a tend kiss on the cheek before she strikes it. She loves getting to caress and love on your body whenever she gets to, kissing down to your chest is her favourite since she gets to love on your breasts while another hand snakes down to your lovely pussy, hearing your breath hitch when her finger meets your clit. Mary isn't a fan of when you try to keep yourself quiet, what's the point of pleasing you if she doesn't get to hear your lovely voice cry out for her.

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Bill Williamson

You wouldn't think that this man could go for hours but he certainly can, three hours minium for him to be precise, he lost count of how long maxium is though. This man has so much energy that it usually ends by you having to tap out, there's yet to be a time between you two that he's the one to tap out. The fact that he can go for so long is also a good thing with his breeding kink and obsession with filling you to the brim with his cum, he can go for rounds and round filling you over and over again. His favourite thing is when he does finally pull out, he gets to watch it spill out of your pussy. Some still on his dick which you make short work of by getting on your knees after, cleaning him off as his hand runs in your hair. As said before, his big no is pulling out. As risky as it is, maybe that's what turns him on more.

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Thank you for reading, please reblog because this took me a long time

Taglist: @margowritesthings @lay-z

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