#micah bell x female reader

[josephquinnswhore]

the devil is real and he’s a besotted outlaw - micah bell x female reader

summary: Micah bell can be a twisted man, and you’re complacent in his actions.

word count: 1.7k

content warning: micah bell, LOL. micah uses a gun to get reader off, p in v, raw sex, creampie, f and m orgasm. use of degrading words. Karen slander (just for the plot I swear I love her.)

At this time in the evening, generally everyone around camp had retired to their tents, the sun had set many hours ago. But the orange hue from the fire burning around the empty campfire still flicks embers into the sky, you watch them disappear.

Your boyfriend had been stoking the fire every so often before tossing the stick with his usual carelessness beside the seat he had leaned backward in to find a comfortable position. As comfortable as he could with you sitting on his lap, cradling the warm metal mug in your cold palms, sipping occasionally.

“Shouldn’t be drinkin’ that right before bed,” he chastises softly, but there's no real scolding behind his words.

“It don't seem like you're gonna head to bed anytime soon.”

Not now that he’d picked up one of his twin revolvers. The custom piece featured a unique dark grey steel frame, one that had been polished only the evening prior. The grip was also custom created, black skulls engraved and delicately painted contrast against the red grip.

He pours some gun oil onto a cloth, and wraps his arms around your hips to your front as he begins his chore of cleaning the weapon, movements precise and meticulous. After a few moments, he feels a strain in his neck trying to gaze over you, so he simply rests his chin on your shoulder, stopping the task for but a moment to press a delicate kiss to the exposed skin.

A small hum escapes you, and he gets back to his task at hand. One thing you liked about him, he didn’t favour small talk, he preferred these moments of tranquility with you where there were no peering eyes and stout whispers.

When you finish your cup of coffee, your attempt to stand was intercepted by Micah’s hands gripping onto your hips. “Where do you think you're going? Weren't you stayin’ up with me?”

“I am, just going to Pearson’s wagon to clean my mug and I’ll be back.”

You let out a noise of surprise when he pulls you back down onto his lap, taking the mug out of your much smaller hands to set it carefully on the ground beside him. It was sweet, seeing how he cared for your things with a delicacy that he held private for the things most important to him.

“Ain’t goin’ nowhere without me, an’ I ain't ready to get up yet.” His tone is quiet, but you know better than to disobey what he asks when it's not reasonable. The mug could just be cleaned later on.

A small yawn escapes you, regardless of the mug of caffeine you’d finished moments before, and Micah sets aside his guns at the noise. “Tired?” The soft murmur against your skin created a demand for goosebumps on your neck. Coarse hairs of his moustache tickle your neck as he begins to kiss the raised skin.

“Partially,” you reply in a quiet murmur.

“Well, I best wake you up, hm?” Pulling away from your neck, all of your attention is now drawn to his large hands on the skirt of your dress as he bunches it at your waist to expose your legs underneath. “Now ain’t that a sight?”

“Micah–” a soft protesting whine is about to deny him, and he interrupts.

His hands trail upward, making you forget what you were about to scold him for, fingers trailing up your thighs over the sheer material of those pretty drawers you always wore. His thick digits were moving the piece to the side delicately to get where he wanted without much resistance from you, to his delight.

“Christ, girl, ain’t fair keeping this all to yourself.”

A protestful noise escapes your throat when his hands pull away from your need, causing you to rut your hips in search of his thick fingers. “Tsk, so impatient,” he chastises.

But it's not his hand that returns to caress your swollen clit, it's cold, and you flinch backwards against his chest. When you look down to see what it was that he was using on you–a part of you stills, perhaps in curiosity, fear or need. You weren’t entirely sure what you felt.

Before you could say anything he runs the already oiled up clean gun against your sensitive nub, causing your back to arch further, head resting on his shoulder behind you. “Oh.. Micah..” you trail off, unable to deny the pleasure from the crude act. “This.. is so twisted.”

His chuckle is deep and causes another demand of goosebumps to rise against your hot skin, rubbing the sleek barrel of his revolver agasint your clitorus at an agonisingly slow pace. “I don’t see you pulling away from it, girl.”

The sensation is incredible, ending up in you resorting to seeking more friction by rutting against the weapon sloppily, the increased pace makes your thighs tremble against his own. “Seems like my desperate girl is just as twisted as I supposedly am.”

Unable to control yourself, selfishly ravishing his weapon for your own sake, the orgasm you experience has you crying out softly into the still air of the evening, a smirk plastered on Micah’s face as you tremble against him. Your hips finally still from your greedy seeking ruts.

Micah partially lifts you off his lap, unzipping his cream coloured jeans before lowering you back down onto his hard cock. Your hole was perfect, the kind of pleasure that a man would seek salvation in. His hands are guiding you in a repetitive motion, a low groan coming from Micah that only allows his cock to slide easier into you.

“Micah..” there's not much more you can think to utter other than his name. Completely unable to make any sense after that absurd orgasm he caused moments before.

There's one thing about him, his impatience, the need for you. In his greed, he tires of slowly guiding you down onto him, and prospers to drill into you harshly as he raises his hips to thrust into you. No coherent words leave your lips, merely the strangled sounds of pleasure as you struggle to catch your breath against his cock pummelling into you. Hands sliding underneath the bodice of your gown to grasp roughly onto one of your breasts.

With a few harsh and desperate deep, sloppy thrusts he is spilling into you, pulling you closer to him as he bites down into your neck. His breathing is uneven and hot against your shoulder, giving your breast one last squeeze he removes his hand, and a wince of overstimulation he pulls his cock out of you.

Offering one of his hands, he helps you to stand, fixing your dress and helping smooth it out at the bodice. You're still in a daze, confused and your entire body feeling the aftermath of the explosive intimate encounter.

You didn't say anything as Micah led you to his tent, a hand resting on your lower back to guide you, but you didn't need to. “You did good, girl. Real good.” At his praise, your skin warms, flushing with your entire body at the sweet sentiment.

Of course you're having troubles the next morning, because why did you think that no one heard your performance with Micah last night? Karen is the only one with enough gall to confront you, the look of pure disgust she gave you, and the way she tried to stand over you like she was trying to intimidate you. “You’re disgusting, Micah of all people. You must really be some desperate kind of whore.”

This infuriates you, they didn't know micah like you did, how sweet and consolable and caring he really could be. “No, I guess you don't understand, do you? You’re being sour toward me because you know no man wants you at all!”

The blonde woman saunters closer to you, with a tone of threat. “What did you just say?”

Micah hears the commotion and intercepts, changing his course as he starts walking towards the scene.

“Oh look, it's the sack of shit himself.” Karen gestures towards Micah and you sneer at her.

You’re quick to lash back to defend Micah. “Get back on the bottle, you miserable cow.”

Things are heating up between the two of you, Micah standing tall beside you.

“Back off you drunken wench,” Micah snarls, finally stepping in front of you.

But Karen does not allow this to deter her rampage directed at you, looking past Micah to spit drunken insults. “I mean seriously, sleeping with Micah Bell? You’re making a damn fool of yourself. Micah is the last person you should trust. He’s no better off than the devil, you’d do best to stay away if you had any mind!”

“I didn't ask for your goddamn opinion, now shut the hell up!”

“You stupid little girl,” she spits, pointing a finger at you. “You think you're safe with the likes of him?”

But this had gone on long enough and Micah had finally had enough of Karen and her drunken tirade against you. “Enough outta you.” Glowering down at Karen, “say another word that insults her, and I promise I’ll make use outta that gun I cleaned last night, y’hear me?”

“Now back off.” He threatens, standing tall in front of you, creating a barrier between the women as he protects you from any further in slew of insults.

Finally, karen gets the message, albeit muttering as she walks away from the scene she had created.

“You alright? She didn't touch ya, did she?” He murmurs softly as he glances at you, inspecting you to make sure you are unharmed.

“I’m fine. I.. I mean I’m not hurt.” You correct yourself.

He grips onto your chin softly. “Don’t listen to her nonsense, y’hear me? I ain’t about t’let her get in your head.” A frown forms on his face at your silence. “It don't matter what she, or any other folk think about us. You trust me, don’cha?”

“Course I trust you,” you utter in promise.

“Good.” His murmur is soft, meant for only your ears. As is his gentle caress as he runs his thumb over your cheek, his frown fading into a more neutral expression. “Then don't you pay no mind to what folk say about me, especially when it comes to my involvement with you. They don't know the first damn thing about me, none of ‘em.”

His words sink in, and a crack of a smile finally reaches your lips, to which his expression mirrors your own. “There's my pretty girl.”

Yeah, it was worth it.

[allthemeniveloved]

Little Rat

Summary: Arthur Morgan saves you from an uncomfortable encounter with Micah.

-

The fire crackled low in the center of camp, casting flickering shadows against the trees surrounding Clemens Point. Most of the gang had turned in for the night, save for a few stragglers nursing drinks by the embers. You were tidying up your things near your tent, the quiet hum of the crickets offering a small sense of peace—until you heard the unmistakable drawl.

“Well, look who’s all alone in the dark,” Micah Bell said, stepping into your line of sight with that irritating smirk plastered across his face. His eyes glinted in the dim light, and you instantly felt your guard go up.

“Micah,” you said tersely, keeping your tone neutral. “What do you want?”

He feigned offense, holding a hand to his chest. “Now, that’s no way to greet someone, is it? Just tryin’ to be sociable, sweetheart. Seems like you could use the company.”

You shot him a cold glare. “I don’t need anything, least of all from you.”

Micah chuckled low, ignoring your clear discomfort as he took another step closer, his presence pressing in on you. “Now, now. Don’t be like that. I think you and me, we could get along real well if you’d just stop actin’ so high and mighty. Ain’t nobody else around, anyway. What’s the harm?”

You stepped back instinctively, your pulse quickening. “Back off, Micah,” you warned, trying to keep your voice steady.

He didn’t listen. Instead, he reached out, his hand gripping your arm as he leaned in closer. “Aw, c’mon, darlin’. Don’t be like that. I don’t bite.”

Before you could push him away, a deep voice growled from the shadows. “Touch her again, Micah, and you won’t have a hand left to use.”

Both of you turned toward the source of the voice, and there he was—Arthur Morgan, standing at the edge of the firelight. His hat was pulled low, his jaw set tight, and his hand rested casually on the butt of his pistol.

Micah straightened, sneering. “Well, if it ain’t Arthur Morgan,” he spat. “You always gotta stick your nose where it don’t belong cowpoke?”

Arthur didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a slow, deliberate step forward, his gaze locked on Micah with a look that could freeze the blood in your veins. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, but it carried an unmistakable weight. “Ain’t no need to explain yourself, Micah. Just walk away.”

Micah raised his hands in mock surrender, a smirk tugging at his lips, “I was only paying her a compliment, that’s all.”

“You keep your compliments - and yourself - far away from her, or you’ll be eating the dirt under my boots. Got it?”

Micah hesitated, his eyes darting between you and Arthur. He opened his mouth to protest, but Arthur’s hand moved slightly on his pistol, and that was enough to send Micah scowling back toward his tent with a muttered curse.

Once Micah disappeared into the darkness, Arthur turned to you, his expression softening ever so slightly. “You alright?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

You nodded, though your heart was still pounding. “I am now. Thank you.”

Arthur grunted, his hand falling away from his holster as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean to get involved, but… couldn’t just stand there watchin’ him bother you like that.”

You offered a small, grateful smile. “I’m glad you did. He’s… persistent.”

Arthur’s jaw tightened again, and he glanced toward where Micah had gone. “He tries it again, you let me know,” he said, his tone sharp with barely restrained anger. “I’ll make sure he don’t forget his place.”

There was something in his gaze when he looked at you—something fierce and protective, but also hesitant, like he wasn’t sure he should let you see it. You didn’t know what to say, caught off guard by how much safer you felt just standing near him.

“Thank you, Arthur,” you said again, softer this time. “I mean it.”

He looked away, his cheeks tinged red beneath his scruffy beard. “Don’t gotta thank me,” he muttered, almost embarrassed. “Just… don’t like seein’ you get hurt, is all.”

As he started to walk away, you caught yourself staring after him, wondering why your heart felt a little lighter, even after what had just happened. Arthur, on the other hand, kept his back to you, his fists clenched as he cursed himself for not saying more—for not telling you the truth about why he couldn’t stand the thought of Micah or anyone else getting too close to you.

-

a/n: I’m feeling so unbelievably productive & creative this week and the thoughts are just flowing but I just know I’m going to crash this weekend or next week and not write again for another 7 years

[nanamissuit]

Daddy Issues - Arthur Morgan

Pairing: Older!Arthur Morgan x Younger!GN Reader

Warnings: None,Legal age gap,Fluff,Angst (if you squint)?

He absolutely adores how smooth and soft your skin is compared to his. He has bruises,cuts,Calluses,etc all over, you on the other hand? Not a single mark on your skin and he made sure of that.

He loves spending money on you, doesn’t matter how much he has, he just loves to see you smile.

Regularly takes you on horse rides and lets you take the reins if you want too.

Tired of the camp? He’ll book you a hotel room for the night no worries.

He’ll secretly help you with your chores around camp so you can spend more time with him.

He does end up combining your tents together and at night when you fall asleep in his arms, he thanks his lucky stars that he gets to have someone like you.

Now at first the age gap threw him off..But then after you reassured him a bunch he was okay. (He never shuts up about you and flaunts you whenever he can.)

Got you a horse he sees fitting for you so you have no excuse to not go anywhere with him.

When Dutch starts trying to get you into some of his plans he tries his best to keep you out of him because he has a gut feeling something will happen to you.

Remembers everything you tell him. Favorite color,Favorite food,Favorite horse breed,Favorite animal,etc.

Does not let Micah get anywhere near you in the fear he’ll manipulate you to hate him just like he did Dutch.

Now let's say hypothetically…He never got TB….He beat Micah…And got away with you…(Longer fic about this soon)

He definitely bought a little land up in the mountains up north after. He made sure you were safe at all times.

He occasionally visits John and Abigail. He also does bounty hunting on the side.

He does most of the animal/herding work while you garden.

Even as you both get older, he loves all your wrinkles and smile lines. And your gray hairs only make you more beautiful.

I think you two either have 1 kid or none…No inbetween.

He definitely has you put up three gravestones somewhere on the land for Hosea,Lenny, and Sean. He doesn’t necessarily believe in god (canon or non-canon idc..) But he likes to believe that they (Hosea especially.) Are watching you guys.

IM SO SORRY. I lost intrest in writing and JUST got it back. More fics soon.

[monsterbeetlebug]

Never steal from Micah Bell

Fem reader

Tw: mentions of guns, violence, fire, blood, sexual tension.

Tilly came running into camp. She was full of panic. Eyes vide and out of breath. She started screaming that you had been kidnapped by a gang. They had been after all of you for some time. They managed to get their hands on you wanting to get info on where the Van der Linde gang was residing. Everyone dropped their stuff and came running to Tilly. Asking of everything she knew. Miss Grimshaw took her away to clean her up as the fellers started talking. Dutch, Hosea and Arthur was scrambling about to gather their stuff. They quickly turned around when they heard the sound of hoves racing away. They all stood frozen looking confused between each other as Micah raced away. He had never shown any interest or care to save anyone but himself. Micah rodes as fast as he could. Rage was fueling him. The reflection of the sunset was like flames in his eyes. There was no mercy to be shown. Nobody who steals from Micah Bell had a life ahead of them. His laugh erupted. He felt like he would go insane if anything happened to you. "Ain't no one stealin from me who gets to stay alive."

You were locked in a small shed. Left in the dark small room. They had roughed you up a bit trying to get you to speak. Your head hanging down as you focused on sounds outside. You had shot up as you heard an all too familiar laugh and yelling. Micah! The cold bastard actually cared enough about you to come and save you. "I'm going to burn this place to the ground! Time to meet with your maker boys!" His maniacal laughter came through as you heard glass breaking and shots fired. You could see the slight glow of fire from outside. There was screaming and gunshots all around.

Then suddenly, it fell silent. No talking. No footsteps. Only the crackling of fire growing. You feared the worst. Then, the door of the shed swung open. Your eyes widened, and relief filled you. There before you stood Micah. The glow and sparks from the fire wild behind him. The dark silhouette was disturbingly impressive. His eyes felt cold and dark. Blood was splattered across him. Luckily, it wasn't his own. You jolted up and ran towards him. You hugged yourself around his neck. He hugged back and patted you back. "You came for me, you cold bastard, you actually came." Micah let out a soft chuckle as you pulled apart. He looked at you with eyes that told more than his words. "Couldn't let them get away with stealing the only thing I care more for than my guns." You felt a tingling sensation go through you at his words. You hugged him tighter with your head under his chin. Smiling to yourself hearing those words. That evil asshole actually has some feelings beneath is vile exterior. Something he would never show to anyone else, especially not back at camp. He couldn't let them know he actually had a heart. He would never hear the end of it if they found out he was a human after all.

Micah grinned to himself feeling how close you held onto him. He held you just as thight back. Feeling relaxed knowing you where safe with him again. He slowly slid his hand down your back to place it on your butt. Softly squeezing. You felt a cribling inside. A warm feeling that was building. He placed a kiss on your head before he moved to kiss at your neck. He let out a hum of appreciation. Your breath got heavy as you closed your eyes. You could feel him grow harder against your stomach. He pulled away and placed a kiss on your forehead. A soft smirk visibleas he spoke. "C'mon, let's get you out of here, we'll finish this later doll."

He gave you a pat on your butt as he helped you up on his horse. Then suddenly you heard a stampede of hoves arriving. It was all the fellers from camp. Arriving just as you were about to leave this place. They saw you sat on top of Baylock like a trophy. All safe and content. Your cheeks stilled flushed red from Micah's actions. They looked at the burning camp behind you. Half the place was burned already, and things had begun falling down. Arthur looked angry at Micah. "What tha hell, Micah?! Was it really necessary to burn the place?" Micah led his horse towards them with a prideful saunter. His sleazy grin taking it's usual form. He leaned a bit back and put his hands out to his sides, exaggerating his words. "You're late to the show boys. Everything's dealt with, and I've saved our dear damsel in distress. But I didn't take you for a slow guy in a rescue Cowpoke, or should I say slowpoke instead?" Micah mocked Arthur as he passed by everyone. You couldn't help but find it funny. You tried your best to hide it so Arthur wouldn't get more upset than he already was.

Micah eventually hopped up behind you. Making sure you were sat close to him. You could feel his still hard member pressed up against your back. Making sure you could feel how much he craved you. As Baylock started trotting away and back home, he put a secure hand on your thigh. Stroking at your inner thigh. It made your warm tingle feel like a flame stared inside. Melting you closer to him. He needed to feel you to know you where there. That you where safe within his hand. He had a grin on his lips. With a rough but loving voice he spoke. "Let's get you home and taken care of princess."

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

Wherever I rest my head is home if it's with you

Part 3, On the hunt

Masterlist Word count: 3.2 k Charles Smith x Fem!Reader Arthur Morgan x Mary Linton John Marston x Abigail Roberts Dutch Van der Linde x Molly O'Shea Mary-Beth Gaskill x Kieran Duffy

Summary: Looking for gold is a men's world in a town run by women. The amounts of violence and suffering these men go through with the hope of getting rich is insanity. Gold fever broke marriages and relationships alike until the settlement was nearly all women.  It's a small settlement, nearly a small town, next to the Elysian Pool. Most men red hot with gold fever pass through to stock up on supplies before heading down to the mines near Beaver's Hallow or Annesburg.  The settlement has only one law set in stone, as lawmen do not want to come there, and it is praised like it was one of the ten commandments. You do not harm the women.

Preview

'There's something off about those fellers,' you state sluggishly, wildly swinging the whiskey bottle in your hand around, 'they ask too many questions.' Mary-Beth chuckles and puts a hand on your shoulder to distract you as she takes away the bottle with her other hand. You look up at her with furrowed brows and lean your head against her leg. While most of the women sit spread out on the three logs that are used as benches on the land behind Sadie's house, you have always been a ground person. Molly and Karen were ground people like you but now you're on the ground all on your own. In your intoxicated state, that makes you very sad but you don't hang onto it for too long as another thought grabs your attention.  Normally you play a bit of guitar for the group but last time you all got together, you had lent your guitar to Mary-Beth who promptly broke all the strings while trying to tune it. God, how you miss that Javier feller that passed through a few months ago. He sang the sweetest songs and could make you sing as well. A quiet giggle leaves your lips.  'All men ask questions. Difference is that most men don't make you nervous,' she teases. Tilly and Abigail chuckle in return while Sadie rolls her eyes.  'You ain't got nothing to laugh about miss Roberts,' you state loudly, 'you're tripping over your own feet around that scar faced feller.' Abigail turns a bright shade of red as she tries to avoid eye contact with Sadie, but she's already seen and leans up against her.  'Oh, our sweet miss Roberts has finally found someone to bed,' she teases as she throws her arm around Abigail to pull her as close as she can. Abigail pushes her off and huffs while scooting away from Sadie.  'Ain't nothing like that. The boy is just... charmingly stupid. That's all.'  'No use in defending yourself now, sweetheart,' Mary-Beth teases.  'Yeah, we both saw,' Tilly adds. Abigail groans.  'Fine, yes, John is adorable. I don't know what it is about him ‘cause he's dumb as nails. He told me he can't even swim,' she vents to the group, 'but my stomach tingles around him. It's terrible.'  'Have they gone past the gun store yet, Mary,' Sadie questions as she looks over to Mary.  'No, I haven't seen them yet. Why? Are they all handsome,' she jokes with a teasing wiggle of her brow. You sigh, but it comes out as more of a lovesick groan. The girls laugh and you lean your head down to cover your face with your hat as you lean back against the log.  'That's one way to answer that question,' Mary-Beth teases, 'you got the hots for one of them, Lucky?'  'Piss off.'  'Weren't you sweet on that Mexican feller just a few weeks back,' Mary teases, taking your hat off your head to see your embarrassed expression.  'No, no, that was just another notch on her bedpost,' Abigail jokes, 'no feelings there, right Lucky?'  'I could've sworn she was in love the way she looked at him those nights at the campfire,' Tilly continues as you snatch your hat back from Mary.  'Same thing with that Charles feller, ain't it,' Sadie suggests with a grin, 'I heard you didn't even try to shoot him when he made fun of how you get on your horse.'  'Didn't need to,' you grumble, annoyed and blushing.  'So what is this I heard about you going hunting with Charles,' Tilly teases.  'Okay, fine, that's enough,' you bark. The mood drops for a second. You don't mind being the bud of the joke for a bit but you let them know when it's been enough and they respect it. Least they could do is respect it after all you've done for this goddamn town. 'Anyway, what’s this I heard about them looking for Dutch Van der Linde and Micah Bell?' The mood flips from light and careless to tight and anxious within a second. Those are not well-liked people to say the very least and none of you have good memories of them.

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Ch 8 - Or Down Affections Cloudless Sky

Summary: A blissful sunny day after a long hard night.

Ao3 Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.9 Ch.10

AN: Longer chapter, ~7k words Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Kate woke the next morning to the quiet serenade of songbirds and the soft caress of a gentle breeze through the leaves. The day embraced her with warmth, a welcome comfort after a long exhausting night. Sitting up, she found herself on Arthur’s cot, but he was nowhere in sight. A twinge of guilt tugged at her for taking his bed. Her waist was bound in cloth, the pain from her wound lingered but it was nothing she was not used to by now. 

Her gaze drifted to the shoreline, where Belle and Lorena nibbled on cattails, exactly where they had been the night before. She sighed in relief, sensing that calm had returned and a semblance of normalcy had settled over the camp. The smell of eggs and pork filled the air, and her stomach made its hunger known. 

Heading towards the chuck wagon, Kate noted the camp was now organized, a silent testament to the efficiency of her companions. However, Micah was nowhere to be seen. She made a mental note to have a friendly discussion with him later. Seizing a plate, she settled at the wooden table to eat, only to be joined by Abigail moments later.

“Mind if I sit with you?” She asked politely. 

Kate shook her head, swallowing a mouthful of food. “Not at all,” she replied, gesturing for Abigail to join her.

Abigail smiled warmly as she settled onto a wooden crate, pulling Kate’s revolver from the pocket of her dress and sliding it across the table. “I just wanted to say thank you,” she admitted, her gratitude shining in her eyes, “for what you did for us last night.”

Kate accepted the revolver and holstered it, waving off Abigail’s thanks. “No thanks needed, Abigail. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

Abigail sighed, her gaze drifting towards Jack in the distance, skipping rocks across the water. John was nearby, unloading the wagon while keeping a watchful eye on their son.

“I keep prayin’ for this all to end,” Abigail confessed, her voice tinged with weariness. “My boy deserves a better life than this.”

Kate empathized deeply with Abigail’s longing for a different life for her son. This was no environment to raise a child, but it was the hand they were dealt for survival. During her time here, however fleeting, Kate vowed to find a way to help them break free from this cycle of violence. They deserved a chance at a peaceful life, far removed from the shadows of death.

“I’m not a religious woman Abigail,” Kate began thoughtfully, “but in my life I’ve found that a prayer always has one of three answers; yes, not yet, and I have something else planned for you. I have faith that your boy will turn out just fine.” After all, he had the entire camp as his protectors, willing to sacrifice everything for his safety.

Abigail’s expression softened into a solemn smile. “I know that bravery is found in living,” she replied earnestly, “but sometimes I don’t feel very brave. I felt useless back there. If you hadn’t come along and given that rifle to John, I don’t know what would have happened.” She shuddered at the memories.

“That’s nonsense,” Kate retorted, squeezing Abigail's hand reassuringly, “you’re the bravest woman I know. There’s nothing more courageous than a mother willing to lay down her life for her son. And last night, I saw a strong woman fiercely protecting her child. I knew you would stop at nothing to defend your boy.”

Abigail’s smile deepened at Kate’s words, and she looked down bashfully as she placed her hand over Kate’s. “I hope that’s true.”

“I know that's true,” she interjected with conviction.

With a quiet laugh, Abigail stood to depart. “I think you would make a great mother, Kate,” she said, her words carrying genuine warmth. It meant a lot to Kate to hear such kindness, especially after everything she had been through. Her thoughts drifted back to Arthur and their conversation from the night before.

“Thank you,” Kate said sincerely. Before Abigail could leave, she added, “Have you seen Arthur this morning?”

“I think he’s sleeping against a tree over by the water,” Abigail pointed in his direction, and Kate could see the outline of his legs stretched out beneath a shady tree.

With an extra plate of breakfast and a cup of fresh coffee in hand, Kate made her way over to Arthur to express her gratitude for his service the previous night. As she approached, she was a little surprised to see that he was already awake, writing something in his journal. He closed it with a thunk when he noticed Kate’s figure approaching. 

“Mornin’ sunshine,” Arthur greeted with a warm smile.

Kate couldn't help but smile back. “Good morning, Arthur,” she said, bending down to hand him his food and drink.

“That for me?” Arthur exclaimed with surprise. She nodded as their hands met to pass the plate. His hunger was palpable. “Aw shucks, Kate, ya didn’t have to bring me breakfast,” he said bashfully, taking a grateful sip of coffee.

Kate settled into the sandy grass beneath the tree next to him, “it’s the least I can do, for patching me up last night,” she explained, “and for letting me steal your cot.” She added with a hint of embarrassment. She didn’t remember when she had fallen asleep. 

Arthur chuckled, taking a bite of his eggs, “don’t mention it. How ya feeling anyways?” He inquired about the bullet wound in her side. 

“I’ve been through worse,” she admitted with a bitter laugh, her hand grazing the side of her hip where he had squeezed the bullet through her flesh. 

Arthur sighed, and gave her a sympathetic look, “I’m so sorry Kate, that is a hard life,” he said sincerely, recalling her recount of her past. “No one deserves to go through that.”

Kate waved off his apology. “I’ve made my peace with it,” she professed, her eyes meeting his own, “but I owe you an apology for how I acted at the ranch.” Arthur wanted to speak up and tell her he was the one who should be apologizing, but he let her continue.

“For what it’s worth. I know what it’s like to hate yourself just as much as you hate the world. And whatever darkness your past carries, I do not think less of you for it.”

His face softened, and his heart pulsed. Arthur felt like he was looking into a reflection of himself, or what he could have been. He concluded last night that Kate is the bravest woman he had ever met, braver than he could ever be. And he greatly admired her for it. Darkness and damnation was nothing new to him, but he believed in his heart that he was already too damned to be brought back to the light. He is a person who has caused so much suffering, he believed he didn’t deserve happiness. He had fully convinced himself of his own cruelty. 

“Kate, I think I’m the one who owes you an apology. I -” he began. Suddenly, Arthur’s name was called from within the camp. His duties never ceased; even on quiet mornings. “Damnit,” he muttered. With a grunt he chugged the last of his coffee before standing. Turning to her he promised, “I’ll come find you later.”

Kate smiled sympathetically with a nod, offering him a parting reminder, “don’t keep hidden what matters Arthur, even from yourself.” 

He placed his hat on his head and tipped it to her in a warm gesture before taking off back into the camp. Kate settled against the tree and was about to close her eyes just as her loyal mare Lorena came trotting over to her side of the beach. Eager for attention. She chuckled at the sight, “how ya doin’ pretty girl.” 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

After valentine, we fled the country and headed even further south and east, camping by a lake. This is pretty much new country for me. If only we had fled west out of Blackwater, we could be free now, out where we belong beyond civilization with the savages and the animals. Here, we won’t ever be at home.

By some miracle, my mean nasty ugly self has yet to scare Kate away. Even after that debt collecting mess. That kinda work is revolting, and it shames me, and I think she is the first woman to ever see me and set me straight. Mary saw this side of me too, but she knew I would never change, so she left me. I could not offer her the life she deserved. Oh Mary, what a couple of fools we were. 

Kate said she came back for Abigail and her boy, from one mother to another. She wants peace for them too, away from this nonsense and lies. Ain’t that what we’re all seeking? Not sure I know myself anymore. Dutch don’t seem too worried that the law keeps finding us, I’m beginnin’ to doubt his wisdom. 

I had never seen a woman fight so brutally as Kate, and now I know why. I can handle the unkindness of existence. But to hear it from the lips of a good honest woman, it damn near broke my heart. I don’t know how she does it. After everything that life handed her, goodness comes naturally to her. Like she does not oppose GOOD vs EVIL as it rages within me. I’ve seen her rage and bloodlust and it frightens me, but she is ashamed of that part of herself. Perhaps we have more in common than I thought. 

Arthur made his way through camp in search of Dutch, a slight annoyance lingering from his interrupted conversations with Kate. Yet Kate seemed understanding; she knew he was a busy man and showed sympathy towards him. Last night, as he tenderly stitched her back together, he saw a different side of her—she had bared her heart and soul. He realized why it was important for him to know this side of her; she saw someone she could relate to. But Arthur believed he was beyond saving.

Unlike Kate, Arthur was born into the flame. Blood and violence had been his companions since childhood; he never experienced the loving embrace of a mother or father. A child born in the flame loves the fire and becomes its fuel, perpetuating its rage.

Kate, on the other hand, was burned by the flame. She had a loving family, a proper and honest life with her husband and child—all stripped away. Then, the fire engulfed her. She had to become the flame to ensure it would never burn her again.

Arthur found Dutch by the lakeshore on the opposite side of camp. "How are you doing, old friend?" Dutch asked, calling out to him.

"Fine," Arthur retorted, his frustration evident. Last night's events and Micah's actions toward Kate weighed heavily on him, and he felt Dutch bore some responsibility. Since arriving at the new hideout, Dutch hadn't even acknowledged Kate, let alone thanked her for her help.

"It's funny... us ending up down here," Dutch continued, his voice reflective. "My daddy died in a field in Pennsylvania fighting this lot. Did I ever tell you that?"

Arthur nodded wearily. "Many times, Dutch."

Dutch noticed his disinterest. "I see I'm boring you, Arthur."

He blew out a breath, his frustration simmering. "No, you're worrying me. We could've lost people last night. Why didn't you send some men back to help us?"

"We have lofty goals, Arthur," Dutch replied, his tone rehearsed. "Our primary objective was to escape the law."

“Our primary objective is to keep everyone safe!” Arthur's voice rose with anger. “Kate took a bullet for the Marston’s, that's more than I can say about you Dutch.” 

"Society is reforming, son," Dutch said, sounding like he was delivering a sermon. "We're trying to make it better, kinder, and truer. There will be casualties..."

"The world don’t want us no more. Why aren't we heading back west? What are we even doing here?" Arthur pressed.

Dutch sighed, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "We are dreamers in a world of facts, Arthur. But come on, let me make it up to you, son."

Typical Dutch, always deflecting when he didn't have a direct answer. Everything was a strategic move in his mind, and he always had to be the one in control. Arthur followed as Dutch led him further down the beach, where a large rowboat was waiting ashore with Hosea and John standing nearby.

"We've got the day, and it's beautiful out. Thought it'd be nice to take my boys out fishin' like the good old times," Dutch said with a smile. "Hosea says there's a creek around here, probably full of fish."

Arthur tipped his hat to his father and brother as they approached. John looked just as perplexed as Arthur. They weren't kids anymore, and it had been ages since they did anything together that didn't involve something illegal.

"You don't look too rosy, old friend. I thought this warmer weather would—" Dutch began, turning to Hosea.

"My days of looking good are long over, Dutch," Hosea admitted with a chuckle, then turned to Arthur. "How's the young lady? Heard she got shot last night."

Arthur sighed. "She'll be alright. Nothing too bad. But I'm gonna have some words with that sack of shit Micah," he added bitterly.

"I'll do you one better and put a bullet between his eyes," John quipped, earning a chuckle from Arthur. "I owe Kate that much. She seriously did me a solid by lending me her rifle."

"Nobody's shootin’ nobody," Dutch's gravelly voice cut through. "Now c'mon, help an old man get this in the water." He gestured toward the wooden boat.

Arthur and John exchanged a look. Hosea rolled his eyes. "Always bursting the bubble, you. C'mon, boys, let's go catch some fish." He joined Dutch in pushing the boat into the water.

Together, they climbed aboard the wooden craft. John took up the oars and rowed toward the supposed creek Hosea had mentioned. As he rowed, Arthur took in the surrounding scenery. It was a beautiful, cloudless day, the sun beating down warmly. It had been a while since he could relax and enjoy himself, so he set aside his grievances with Dutch, if only for the afternoon.

Dutch was the first to break the silence, as usual. "You know, before any of them back there," he began, gesturing toward the other gang members, "it was just us. The curious couple and their two unruly sons." He chuckled with a grateful sigh. "This feels good, thanks for doing this with me, boys," Dutch added, his expression full of pride and gratitude as he looked at his two sons.

He continued, "I feel like we can really breathe here. As thick and soupy as this air is, it might even do your whistling pipes some good, Hosea."

Hearing Dutch comment on Hosea's health worried Arthur. Since they left Colter, Hosea's health had been declining. The harsh cold had taken its toll, and he feared his father figure was nearing his end. Hosea had a rattling cough that struck fear into Arthur's heart every time he heard it, imagining the worst as Hosea struggled for air.

"I was once in this country with Bessie," Hosea ignored Dutch's comment, lost in his memories of his late wife. "Oh, it feels like a lifetime ago."

“It was a lifetime ago,” Dutch chimed, “what a life we have lived. How well we have fought, especially you two.” His gaze finding Arthur and John’s. “With just a little more money, we’ll be out of here in no time. We just need to stay hidden.” 

Hosea raised a brow, “oh, is that so?” 

“I have a plan Hosea, I’ve got ideas hatching I just,” he hesitated a moment, “I need you with me, not against me. All of you.” 

Arthur nodded, “ ‘course Dutch.” 

“We’re always with you Dutch,” John piped in from the back of the boat. 

The unlikely family rowed the rest of the way in comfortable silence. They listened to the lapping of the water, the song of the seabirds, and felt the gentle breeze tickle their hair. It truly was a beautiful day for fishing. Arthur tilted his face to the sun and relaxed his shoulders. Moments like this made him believe that maybe things would turn out okay for them in the end.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate spent the morning tending to her mare, staying close to the shoreline, brushing and washing the blood from Lorena's coat. She hummed a quiet tune, feeling Lorena's affectionate sniffs on her face. Guilt gnawed at Kate for pushing Lorena too hard the previous night, though the horse seemed unfazed. Memories flooded back of when they first met.

Lorena was found in an abandoned barn, where she and River had chased down horse thieves. Just a frightened filly, barely a year old, she had been left tied up after the thieves fled in a hurry. It took Kate months to earn her trust, enduring every buck and bite. But the bond they forged was unbreakable—Lorena would stop at nothing for her rider, just as Kate would gladly lay down her life for her baby girl.

As Kate combed Lorena's dark mane, she noticed the mare's ears flickering back and forth, as if sensing something. Kate was about to ask her what was wrong when Sadie's voice erupted from within the camp.

“Say whatever you damn well please, but I tell you, if you ask me to chop one more vegetable I’m going to kill you!” She shouted, her frustration evident. 

Mr. Pearson answered her in equal anger, “and if you don’t stop hissing at me, I’m going to kill you!” He retorted. 

Kate spun on her heel and sprinted back into camp toward the chuck wagon. There, she found Sadie and Pearson squabbling, with Sadie brandishing a knife and Pearson looking ready to explode.

“Can’t somebody else help you cook for once? I ain’t your damn housewife!” Sadie shouted, pointing the tip of the knife at Pearson.

“You put that knife down or you’re going to be missing a hand, young lady!” Pearson roared back.

Kate approached the wagon, hands on her hips in disappointment. “What the hell is wrong with you two?” she shouted over them.

“I ain’t chopping vegetables for a living,” Sadie answered, slamming the knife down on the cutting board. She threw her hands up in frustration. “And I ain’t being lazy neither. I can work, but not like this!”

Kate sympathetically tilted her head. Despite their differences, she could understand Sadie's frustration. She'd gladly handle the simple duties and stay out of trouble, but Sadie thrived on adventure. You couldn’t keep a woman like her cooped up for long.

Sadie moved to the other side of the wagon, taking a deep breath before turning back to Pearson and Kate. “My husband and I shared the work, all of it,” she explained. “I tended to the fields, hunted, carried a gun, and used a knife.” Her voice rose in anger. “If you keep me here, I’ll skin this old coot and serve him for dinner!”

“Watch your damn mouth, you crazy goddamn fishwife!” Pearson retorted, pointing an accusing finger. Sadie looked ready to pounce.

It was about time Kate stepped between the two, “that’s enough!” She yelled, using her hands to distance the two feral cats from scrapping, she placed a hand on Sadies shoulder to hold her back. She turned her gaze to Pearson, “that includes you too.” 

The old man raised his hands in defeat with a grunt. Kate turned to Sadie. “Why don’t we ride into town today? See what we can stir up,” she suggested. “Need anything while we’re out, Pearson?”

The cook reached into his wagon and handed over two pieces of paper. “Here’s my list. Could you also post this letter for me?” Kate nodded, tucking the items into her satchel. With a tip of her hat, she let Pearson get back to work.

The two widows climbed into the empty supply wagon, Kate taking up the reins. Together, they departed from camp and made their way toward Rhodes.

“I guess I’m back to bein’ the mailwoman,” Sadie grumbled. “At least we get to go shoppin’.”

Kate chuckled, nudging her knee against Sadie's. “Oh, come on. It ain’t so bad. We just earned ourselves the entire afternoon to do as we please,” she said with a playful wink. Sadie met her gaze and grinned.

Once they were away from camp, Kate broached the conversation again. “You cooled down now?” she asked, her voice gentle and concerned.

“I guess,” Sadie sighed. “I just hate taking orders from that sweaty half-wit. Hey, what did you do with that letter?” she inquired.

Kate chortled, “oh so the mail woman is also reading people’s letters now?” She asked with a laugh, slightly concerned that she may have snooped in Arthur’s personal letter from Mary. 

“Not particularly, I just wanna see who that old bastards writin’ too.” 

Kate shook her head, sighing as Sadie eagerly took the letter. In a mockingly low voice, Sadie began to read aloud. “Dear Aunt Cathy,” she started, “I haven’t heard from you in some time, so I pray to the Lord above that your health has not deteriorated further…” Her mocking trailed off as she read the first half of the letter.

Kate sucked in an awkward breath. “Maybe you should, uh, stop there, Sadie.”

The woman pressed on, her eyes scanning over the pages. “Blah blah blah, it’s boring. Oh! Wait a sec, listen to this; since we last corresponded I have traveled widely, making no small name for myself. Before you ask, I am still yet to take a wife but I can assure you it’s not for lack of suitors…”

Kate snorted and quickly covered her mouth, unable to contain her laughter. Sadie’s infectious chuckles mixed with her own amusement. “You think he ever talked to a woman he didn’t pay for?” Sadie managed to say between laughs.

“I guess we’re all hiding behind something,” Kate replied, meeting Sadie’s amused gaze. The laughter bubbled up again, and soon they were both hysterical. The wagon veered off track as Kate was distracted, but she quickly yanked on the reins to right themselves.

“Oh, you are something else Sadie Adler,” Kate gasped, trying to compose herself.

Sadie chuckled and affectionately slapped Kate’s knee. “I think we’re running with a bunch of idiots dressed up like outlaws.” She handed the letter back to Kate as the wagon pulled into town. They guided the horses over to the general store and hopped down.

“I’ll mail this while you do the shopping,” Kate stated, nodding as they parted ways.

After all these years, Kate still held out hope that her aunt would someday write back to her. In every town she passed through, she asked the post office to mail a letter for her. She continued to write to her aunt, but she stopped receiving word back almost a decade ago. She could only assume her aunt was no longer living, but she enjoyed writing her letters nonetheless. 

It didn’t take long for them to finish their assigned errands; the post office was a short walk from the general store. As Kate walked back, she saw Sadie and the store clerk finishing up loading the wagon. Sadie had purchased a new outfit, her old worn-out jeans and top replaced by a nice pair of black dukes and a fresh yellow button-down. She looked more at ease after getting out of camp, but Kate suspected the fun wasn’t over yet.

"Alright, anything else we need to do here?" Sadie inquired, dusting her hands and placing them on her hips.

Kate smiled, “Care to join me for a drink?” She nodded towards the saloon up the street.

Sadie followed her gaze and turned back with a grin, “After you, Miss McCanon.”

The two widows settled on the porch of the saloon facing the sun, each with a chilled glass of spiked sweet tea. It wasn’t enough to get them drunk, just enough to take the edge off. It was a beautiful day, so why waste it running errands? Kate’s cheeks were flushed, both from the beating sun and her drink, but her heart felt light. After the hell they all went through last night, she felt she deserved this.

Sadie, equally deep in her glass, ran an idle finger around the rim. “You know, my Jake would’ve loved it here. He was always complaining ‘bout the cold, but I told him a hundred times we could move south and he refused,” she said, lost in the memory of her husband.

Kate nodded somberly, “My husband would’ve liked it here too. He was from Kentucky but moved to Boston when he was a kid. I know he missed the country dearly.”

After a moment, Kate asked a question that had been on her mind, “How come you and Jake never had children?” Despite rarely having time together, they enjoyed sharing pieces of their lives with one another. Kate had told Sadie about her husband and daughter over one of their many late-night poker games. It brought them closer, and they had more in common than she realized.

“We thought about it, but where we lived up in the Grizzlies, it was no place to raise a child,” Sadie explained, scanning the town and its bustling people. “Although, I think this country would’ve been great for us. The owner at the general store said they were building a school here.”

“Can’t say putting kids in school won’t make the world better,” Kate said with a somber sigh.

“At least it’s progress,” Sadie added.

“I’m not even sure I know what that word means anymore,” Kate retorted, taking a sip from her glass.

Sadie leaned in close and whispered in her ear, “This town is full of drunks, Kate. I’m not sure anybody here knows what that word means.” Kate looked over at Sadie and couldn't help but let out a laugh. The two girls chuckled as their laughter fed one another.

After an hour, they decided it was time to head back. Sadie took up the reins this time; she was a little tipsy, as were they both at this point. But it was nothing they couldn’t handle. After a few minutes of riding, they left the town perimeter and entered the plains again, when a few men on horses approached them.

"Hey there," one of the men called out, "what you ladies up to?"

“Just headin’ home,” Kate answered politely.

One of the men maneuvered his horse in front of the wagon, causing Sadie to pull the reins to a halt. “You’re in Lemoyne Raider country. You need to pay a toll to pass through here,” the man declared.

Lemoyne Raiders? Kate's mind raced as she connected the pieces from last night; these people must be from the same group that attacked them. Her demeanor shifted, and she gazed at the two men before her from under the brim of her hat.

“Oh, is that so?” she began coolly, “I don’t think I’ve heard of you.”

“We’re gonna need you to pull over this wagon right now,” the man on Sadie's side of the wagon demanded. Kate caught the flash of iron from his gun as it glinted in the sun. Sadie noticed it too; she turned her head to meet Kate’s gaze. They shared a moment of unspoken understanding, nodding ever so slightly. With a wink, Sadie signaled to make their move.

“Here’s your toll you son of a bitch!” Kate shouted. In unison the two women upholstered their revolvers and shot the men dead, on either side of the wagon.

The raiders tumbled out of their saddles as Sadie cracked the reins, sending the wagon careening forward at a relentless pace. More men appeared from behind, closing in on them along the dry, dusty road.

“Let’s keep this little squabble between us,” Kate chuckled to Sadie, preparing to deal with the raiders. She aimed her pistol and fired, missing her target. With a frustrated grunt, she took another shot, hitting a man in the shoulder this time. She made a mental note to retrieve her rifle from John when they returned.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Laughter echoed through the secluded creek, startling birds from the trees. Four fishing lines bobbed idly in the water as the two older gentlemen reminisced about embarrassing tales from their boys' younger days. Despite catching only a few perch and bass, the fish weren’t biting much, perhaps due to their wooden watercraft rocking from their rowdy chuckles. But they couldn’t care less; nothing could spoil such a pleasant afternoon.

"Remember when little John got so spooked holding a fish that he fell right out of the boat? Thank God Arthur was with us or the kid would've drowned!" Dutch chuckled heartily, slapping his knee.

John shook his head, laughing at the memory. "Yeah, well, at least I didn't go to the market, buy the three biggest bass, and try to pass them off like I caught 'em," he teased, nodding towards Arthur. "Dumbass didn't think we'd run into the guy who sold it to him!"

“Oh, not this again,” Arthur grinned, feigning annoyance. "Maybe I should toss you overboard right now, Marston. Let's see how fast you can swim to shore," he playfully threatened. "Oh, that's right, you still can't swim!" He chuckled heartily.

The four men shared another round of laughter. As their giggles died down, Hosea noted the time, “We’ve been out here a while, boys. What do you say we head back and get this cooked for dinner?”

The group nodded in agreement, and Hosea picked up the oars. He was about to lower them into the water when Arthur playfully tapped his arm. “Let me row, you two are getting too old for real labor,” he said with a grin. Remembering how weak Hosea was getting, Arthur wasn’t about to let him do the work. He wanted Hosea to enjoy the evening without tiring himself out.

“And you’re too dumb for anything else,” Hosea quipped back with a smile.

Arthur let out a hearty laugh as he took his seat and lowered the oars. “You’re still too quick for me, old man!”

Hosea playfully bopped him on the top of his head. “I just enjoy picking on children,” he winked. Their banter flowed effortlessly; Arthur always enjoyed spending time with Hosea. He loved Dutch too, but he saw Hosea more as a father figure. Hosea was his role model, and Arthur was his biggest fan.

“Well, I guess we didn’t have much luck fishing,” Dutch remarked after a moment, looking at their small haul.

“Bad luck and stupid fish,” John mused.

“Or maybe the fish had good luck and we’re just stupid,” Arthur added with a snicker.

As Arthur rowed steadily, following the shoreline back to camp, Hosea let out a sigh and gazed out at the water. After a moment, he spoke up. “How do you boys feel about a song?” 

The boys launched into a hearty old sea chanty led by Hosea, with Arthur and John joining in on the chorus. As they neared camp, laughter escaped them, a shared contentment settling in. Dutch and Hosea took the fish, signaling they would bring them to Pearson, while Arthur and John guided the boat to a secluded spot on the other side of camp to safeguard it from prying eyes.

Pushing the boat through the shallow waters, John broke the quiet. “I had fun today. Wasn’t sure what Hosea was up to dragging me out of bed this morning, but I actually enjoyed it.”

Arthur chuckled, a hint of playful jab in his voice. “Maybe now you’ll remember to take your own son fishing sometime.”

“Maybe, if someone wasn’t already taking him,” John shot back, irritation creeping into his tone.

Arthur straightened, his expression serious. “Don’t give me that shit, Marston,” he spat,” If you’re not stepping up, what’s the difference? You’ll just run off again.”

“Why are you so interested in my life? Don’t you have your own?” John retorted. 

Arthur sighed, his tone softer, “just figure yourself out John, you can’t be two people at once.”

John scoffed, a touch of bitterness coloring his voice. “You’re one to talk, Morgan! At least my kid is alive. Can’t say the same about yours.” He immediately regretted his words as Arthur’s eyes darkened, and he moved closer through the water.

“I am one to talk Marston,” Arthur replied, his conviction mixed with regret. “You left that boy, your family, for nearly a whole damn year!”

John grimaced, avoiding Arthur’s gaze. “You know it ain’t that simple. I wasn’t—” He paused, then continued with a lower voice. “I wasn’t ready to be a father.”

Arthur softened, sympathy in his tone. “And you think I was? Look how that turned out.”

“See? You and I are the same,” John remarked.

“No, we’re not,” Arthur countered with gravity. “You have a family, John. For the love of God, don’t abandon them.”

The boat finally rounded the bend, hidden from strangers’ view. Arthur said nothing more as he left John and headed into camp, his mind heavy with old memories and lingering regrets.

As Arthur made his way toward the fire, ready to settle in for the evening with a cold beer and fresh fish for dinner, rowdy laughter near the chuck wagon caught his attention. To his surprise, Kate and Sadie were busy unloading supplies for Pearson.

"What’s got you girls laughing like a couple of hyenas on caffeine?" Arthur asked with a smile, relieved to hear Kate’s laughter lifting his spirits. He found himself thinking of her more and more, even wishing to be the reason behind her smile.

Sadie chortled and exchanged a look with Kate. "Don’t worry ‘bout it, cowboy," she replied with a laugh. Pearson waved off the girls, and Sadie bid them farewell, mentioning she was off to freshen up before dinner. Kate turned back to Arthur with a smile, and the two of them made their way to the fire to catch up on their day's adventures.

"Heard you caught us some fish for dinner," Kate noted.

Arthur chuckled. "Well, it ain’t much, but it'll do. What were you up to today?"

Kate leaned back against the log, stretching her legs toward the fire. "Posted some mail, did a little shopping, got some drinks with Sadie…" She trailed off, then added, "and, uh, may have run into those raiders again." Arthur sat up, shooting her a worried look.

"Easy there, cowpoke," Kate reassured him, giggling. "Sadie and I took care of it. Just a couple of dumbasses trying to make a quick buck." She shook her head with annoyance.

As the rest of the gang members gathered around the fire with the setting sun, Arthur and Kate continued to chat about their day. The smell of fried fish filled the air, and everyone eagerly awaited dinner. Bottles of beer were passed around, and Kate accepted hers with gratitude. It felt like the perfect way to end the day—crisp drink, good food, and great company.

Javier settled in with his guitar, but before he could strum a tune, he turned his attention to Kate. "Why don’t you play us something tonight?" He offered her his guitar with both hands. Surprised by the gesture, Kate shook her head bashfully. "Oh c’mon, cariño, don’t be shy! Arthur told me you used to play."

Kate shot Arthur a teasing glance, and he held up his hands defensively. "Alright, I’ll give it a go," she caved.

As Kate tuned the wooden instrument to her liking, she caught sight of a familiar face entering camp—Micah. Arthur noticed him too and started to rise, but Kate gestured for him to stay put. "If you do all the talkin’ for me, Morgan, I’m gonna forget how to talk," she said with a reassuring grin. She slipped a small bone knife from her satchel, concealing it from the others. "Be right back," she said as she got up to intercept Micah before he could find Dutch.

With purposeful steps, Kate approached Micah. Threatening him in front of the entire camp wouldn’t work, and brute force had already been attempted—she needed a new approach.

"Micah!" Kate called out in a bogus friendly tone, drawing the attention of everyone around. She saw the confusion in his eyes, tinged with arrogance. "Well, looks like you’re still here. Guess I should apologize for my aberration," he said, his voice like a hissing snake.

Kate chuckled as she closed the distance between them. "No apology needed, Mr. Bell. It was just a misunderstanding," she said loud enough for the others to hear.

To his surprise, Kate draped her arm over his shoulder in a seemingly affectionate gesture, their heights nearly matching. Before Micah could react, he felt the sharp tip of something against his neck.

"Walk with me," Kate said in a low voice, her grip firm on his neck. She led them away from the camp, speaking directly into his ear, much like he had done to her when she first joined the gang.

"I’m not here to hand out gold stars for your sudden epiphany, Micah. Try me again, and I promise you, I will return the favor tenfold," she spat, the knife pressing dangerously against his jugular. One false move and he would be bleeding out in the dry grass. 

Micah chuckled, his demeanor shifting. "Is that an invitation?" he retorted dryly.

Kate brushed off his insinuation with a steely gaze. "I assure you, I've dealt with far scarier men than you. You're nothing but a coward hiding behind your pawns. I've faced men like you, tortured men like you. You relish in others' suffering, but you haven't known suffering yourself. And I won't show you mercy."

With that, she withdrew her hand, flicking it upwards in a swift but gentle motion that left a shallow cut on his chin, drawing blood. "Consider this your one and only warning."

With a dismissive flick of her boot, Kate pivoted on her heel and strode back toward the welcoming glow of the campfire, leaving Micah to nurse his wounded pride. As she moved away, she caught a glimpse of him rubbing his chin thoughtfully, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips, ““you and I would make a good team Kate.” She rolled her eyes and continued her walk. 

Seating herself beside the crackling flames, Kate casually picked up Javier's guitar, her movements deliberate yet nonchalant. The instrument felt familiar in her hands, providing a comforting distraction from the lingering tension.

Arthur leaned in close, his voice a low murmur against her ear. "How'd it go?" he inquired, his eyes glinting with curiosity.

Kate couldn't help but laugh, her confidence unwavering despite the encounter with Micah. "Oh, you know," she replied with a mischievous glint in her eye, "the usual threats and warnings. I might have mentioned something about plucking his eyeballs out and serving them for dinner... but I was only half serious." She shot Arthur a playful wink before turning her attention to the rest of the gang.

Seated comfortably around the fire, the gang members welcomed Kate's return with warm smiles and eager anticipation. She glanced around at her companions, a sense of camaraderie settling over the group.

"So, what'll it be tonight?" Kate asked, her fingers beginning to pluck at the guitar strings. 

As the flames danced and shadows flickered, memories of her father's cheerful tunes filled Kate's mind. She recalled a particular song he used to sing on balmy summer evenings, a lighthearted melody that brought joy even after the toughest of days. Adjusting her grip on the guitar, Kate launched into the familiar tune, her voice carrying over the crackling fire with a warmth that echoed the affection she felt for her makeshift family.

I dream in the morning, that she brings me water,

And I dream in the evening that she brings me wine.

Just a poor man’s daughter, from Puerto Peñasco.

South of the border, in old Mexico.

There’s a great hot desert, south of Mexicali.

And if you dont got water, you’d better not go. 

Tequila won’t get you across that desert,

To Evangelina, in old Mexico.

The fire I feel for the woman I love, is drivin’ me insane.

Knowing she’s waitin’, and I can’t get there. 

God only knows that I wracked my brain, to try to find a way, 

To reach that woman, in old Mexico.

Evangelina, I miss you so. 

[imwall-e]

Until we meet again : Chapter 1

Pairing : TB!Arthur Morgan x Reader

Warning : MAJOR SPOILERS IF YOU HAVEN'T PLAY THE GAME, major character dea•th, tuberculosis, angst, (tell me if I forgot some), reader but external POV

A/N : I wrote this a few months ago and finally decided to post it. I'm really proud of this chapter, my best work so far (imo). I first wrote it in French and mostly used Deepl to translate the text, and even if I re-read it, they may be some mistake so don't hesitate to tell me! This is not beta read. This is my first work for the Red Dead fandom and I hope it's good. Consider liking, rebloging or commenting if you like my work (and feel comfortable with that of course).

The atmosphere of Beaver Hollow was already being felt long before we arrived at the new camp. The area was dark, damp, stinking. It was as if it were haunted. Cursed. As for the cave, it was a concentration of all that, only worse. Once home to a local gang nicknamed The Rejects of Murfree, it bore indelible traces of the horrors it had harbored. The smell outside was unbearable, but inside was a vision of dread. Blood was visible from floor to ceiling, pieces of decomposing corpses smeared all the way down to its entrails. Impossible to settle inside.

Where just a few weeks earlier the gang had been celebrating their exit from the snowy mountains, and everyone was ready to give their all to make a new place a comfortable place to live, now there was no laughter to be heard. Not a smile was to be seen on any of the faces. Only whispers, distrust, fear and death reigned.

And Arthur… his coughing fits were becoming more violent, and more frequent. His skin was pale, contrasting with the blue of his eyes, which betrayed his illness and fatigue.

Outlawed, hunted by the Pinkertons or opposing gangs like the O'Driscolls, he'd been shot at many times. And yet, he was dying of tuberculosis. A fucking disease. After all, he'd probably earned it with the life he was leading… had led. His punishment for beating up Mr Downes. A good man, always ready to help others even though he didn't have much.

Arthur, who'd never done anything right. Or so he thought, but she was always there to remind him otherwise. After Mary, after Eliza, he never thought he'd fall in love again. Then she'd come along, and offered him more than he thought he deserved.

Arthur had met her while hunting. She was wearing a long white dress. At first, he thought he saw an angel. Then their eyes met. He saw the fear in her eyes and decided to put down his bow. He introduced himself and she gradually seemed to calm down. After a few minutes' silence, she finally told him her name. Her voice trembled, but she'd asked for his help: she was supposed to be getting married that very day to a man she'd never met. But what she was looking for was freedom.

She wanted to travel. To discover. To live. And Arthur had offered her all that. For five years, they'd been happy together. Arthur had even proposed to her while they were still in Blackwater. But they'd kept it a secret until things got better.

Unfortunately, the moment never arrived.

Micah was a traitor. And Dutch had blindly followed him, going so far as to question the words of John and Arthur. He'd rather believe a dangerous madman than those he considered his own sons.

Arthur should have left after the Blackwater massacre. Hosea had tried to warn him when they'd all fled to Colter. Or he should have let Micah hang at Strawberry. If only he'd been willing to open his eyes to what Dutch had become. To his true nature. If only.

But it was too late now, and there was no point in dwelling on the past. Now he had t o protect those who remained. Tilly had already taken Jack to safety. Abigail was safe thanks to him and Sadie, and the two women had left to join Tilly. Mary-Beth and Karen had probably escaped too. She was the only one left. And he knew exactly where she'd be safe.

He helped his young fiancée onto her mare, then settled down behind her. He wanted to smell her hair while he still could. He wanted to hold her close. However, time was running out and lingering was a luxury they couldn't afford. The person he was looking for was passing through the Annesburg area, but they'd better get moving fast. He nudged the horse's flank to move it forward, and whistled for the stallion carrying the young woman's belongings to follow.

The journey wasn't long, but it went by faster than he would have liked. A dilapidated house appeared in the distance. Arthur had exchanged a few letters with the man who had taken an interest in his bleak landscape, a man he had helped not long ago. He was standing outside, setting up his camera. His gaze wandered to them, and he soon recognized Arthur.

"Mr. Morgan! I'm so happy to see you again! As you may have noticed, I've given up taking pictures of wildlife. I'm now content with the magnificent landscapes" exclaimed Albert, warmly greeting the man who had helped and saved him on numerous occasions. But his familiar enthusiasm soon disappeared when he saw the young woman's tears and Arthur's sickly pallor. "What's the matter?" he asked worriedly, abandoning his camera.

"Mr. Mason, I need you to…" but Arthur was interrupted by a coughing fit causing him to cough up blood as he stepped to the ground. "I'm dying and I'd like you to take care of my fiancée."

The young woman tried to smile at Albert, but knowing that the man she loved would soon be leaving her was too much to bear. It dashed all memories, all hopes of a better life with her cowboy.

"I'm sorry I haven't written to inform you, but recent events haven't given me the opportunity," Arthur resumed after helping his beloved off his horse.

The tears continued to roll silently down the cheeks of the woman who was to become Mrs Morgan. She was silent now, staring into space.

"Mr Morgan…", Albert didn't know what to say. This kind man, who had come to his aid so many times, was going to die. He could see the sadness in the lovers' eyes. And Albert saw only one way he could do something for them: "Don't worry, I'll take care of mademoiselle."

Arthur was relieved: she would be safe. She would live. He turned to her: she seemed no more than a ghost. But she had to fight. For him. For her. For them.

"I love you, Princess," he began, taking her in his arms. "More than you can imagine. I wish I'd said it more often. I regret so many things. But I promise we'll meet again. Not in this life, unfortunately, but in another. I'll find you again."

"We… we… we didn't even have time to get married," she managed to articulate between sobs, the crying resuming in earnest following Arthur's words.

"It wasn't our time. Now you must stay with Albert. Live, princess. Do it for me. I'll always watch over you, but promise me you won't let yourself die."

"I… I promise, Arthur."

That was all he needed to hear. He had to go now. He had unfinished business with Micah, but also with Dutch.

The sun was setting as he rested his forehead against hers. His way of kissing her for the last time, wanting to avoid her contracting tuberculosis too. He squeezed her hands and heard her whisper "I love you, Arthur".

He gently let go of her hands and she kept her eyes closed, not wishing to watch him go. To tell the truth, she was so focused on remembering his scent, his laugh, his voice, that she didn't even hear him mount his mare and gallop away.

When she opened her eyes again, the sky had darkened. A storm was approaching. Arthur was gone. Only Albert remained, looking after the stallion carrying the young woman's belongings. He knew she wouldn't move immediately, but it was time to go. He'd better get back to the cabin he'd rented before nightfall.

"Mademoiselle, I'm sorry but we must leave now. Tomorrow we'll go to Rhodes, my house is close to the city."

"Of course," was all she could reply, her gaze fixed on the mountains.

The journey to the cabin Albert had reserved was silent. The storm was roaring in the distance. She held back from joining Arthur. But she had to keep her promise.

Without Arthur, life would be difficult. Her heart would be broken forever, but she had to try. And one day, they would be reunited. She had to believe that.

The rain finally came, falling on her cheeks and mingling with her tears. She couldn't stop thinking about all those mornings she'd wake up alone. She couldn't accept that he wasn't coming back. Ever.

"Mademoiselle?" Albert's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. "We've arrived. You should try to eat something and get some sleep." He didn't know what to do or say.

She followed him silently. Inside, she sat by the window, where she could see the mountains near Beaver Hollow. Soon, she closed her eyes, tears still flowing.

Her mind took her to a river in the middle of the woods. The light wind gently moved the leaves on the trees. She was wearing a long white dress. A branch cracked, startling her. But it was only Arthur, wearing the hat he always wore and the blue shirt she loved so much.

"You're beautiful," he said, and she threw her arms around his neck. "Dance with me?" Was there an answer other than "yes"?

And, each immersed in the other's gaze, they danced. Without stopping, they talked about their future: having a ranch, raising horses, starting a family. A quiet life away from traitors and the Pinkertons. Just them.

"I love you, Arthur."

"I love you too, princesses," he replied, kissing her tenderly. A deer passed by them. Then nothing.

When she opened her eyes again, she knew Arthur was gone.

It was nearly nine o'clock when Albert and the young woman began their journey to Rhodes.

"I think you'll like Rhodes very much, mademoiselle. It's much quieter and warmer since the Gray and Braithwaite families, two rival families, entered… well, since they left."

The young woman smiled at the mention. It brought back memories that were certainly recent, but seemed so long ago. But her smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared as she recalled Sean's death.

Then came Kieran's turn. Hosea. Lenny. Eagle Flies. John. And Arthur.

Sensing that she wouldn't talk any more than she had the day before, Albert decided to talk to her about anything and everything, in the hope of distracting her from the sadness that overwhelmed her, even if only for a few minutes.

"The landscape is also much brighter. Annesburg offers beautiful scenery, but it's a very dark, eerie area. Rhodes is nicer, warmer."

Albert was right: the further they got from Annesburg, the fresher the air seemed, the more colorful and welcoming the surroundings.

She glanced back one last time, to where Arthur had remained. Her heart sank. She felt she was abandoning him. But she had to stay strong.

Finally, Rhodes appeared before them as the sun tinted the sky orange, ready to give way to the moon.

"Miss, look!"

A majestic deer had stopped in the middle of the road, staring at them with its big dark eyes.

"It's the first time I've seen one approach like that. They're usually very frightened," Albert continued.

The deer approached the young woman and rested its muzzle against her leg. She gently touched its large antlers, then the animal moved away, disappearing among the trees.

"Goodbye, Arthur."

I hope you liked this first chapter!

[photo1030]

I’m on my period right now, my fave comfort thing is always a good fic. When I tell you I CRIEDDDDD when I saw L&L’s new chapter was up?!?!? 😭😭😭 About to give this a read now, 19K??l! YESSSSSS.

Oh you just made my black heart so happy! I truly hope you like the latest chapter.

Just as a heads up, I think the next chapter is going to pull Micah into the fold more, showing his interaction with my reader character/Elle more. If all goes well, some good stuff going on there too.

[sweets-fanfics]

Homecoming 29: One Last Train

Chapter 29 is up! Please enjoy and let me know what you think please!

[photo1030]

Oh snap!! Javi is so…🥰 I really like the “meet and greet” with Miriam and each gang member. Great way to show her personality through interactions with everyone else

Tienes Mi Corazón - Chapter 5

~*~ Some 18+ content below. Minors do not interact. A lot of character relationships explained ~*~

A month had passed since Miriam joined the camp. It was safe to say she had finally settled in. Dutch, Hosea and Miss Grimshaw were happy with Miriam’s progress and the other gang members had taken well to her. One word the gang would describe her as was “compassionate.” She was someone who would go out of her way to help others, even though she was a little quiet and sometimes shy.

Dutch and Hosea shared the same opinion; Miriam was a wonderful addition to the camp and they could see everyone was in a better mood because of her presence. Dutch had some suspicions due to the lack of information he knew about her. Hosea however would reassure him that Miriam would reveal her past in due course. She just needed a little more time.

Miss Grimshaw was happy there was someone as competent as Tilly around the camp. The only thing she disagreed with was some of the men being distracted from their guard duty to go speak to her whilst she was reading amongst the trees. She knew Miriam couldn’t exactly help that; it was more a lecture she would have with the gents.

Mary-Beth was closest to Miriam, the two of them inseparable. Whether it was doing chores together, eating dinner or sat in each other’s tents just talking. Miriam was the Yin to Mary-Beth’s Yang. Miriam was quiet, preferred the night, looking up to the stars and staring at the moon, whilst Mary-Beth was bubbly, outgoing and preferred bright sunny days. Despite them both being inseparable, Miriam would still always escape the camp for a couple hours just so she could be alone in the woods.

Tilly was a sweetheart to the newcomer. On par with Javier when it came to checking in on her. In return, Miriam would always make Tilly a cup of coffee for her in the morning.

Karen on the other hand scared Miriam. They got on just fine, but at times, Miriam would find Karen’s boisterous manner to be intimidating. It was a quality she wished she had. Karen would often be in a tipsy state and wrap her arm around Miriam, telling her to trust no man and that she needs to take no shit from nobody. Despite the intimidation, Miriam did admire Karen for her confidence. She knew she was a ‘real one’ for advice. In turn, Miriam would always make sure Karen got to bed okay and poor water into her empty beer bottle. When Karen was drunk, she was none the wiser on what she was drinking.

Molly O’Shea was somewhat of an idol to the young woman. She found her to be the most beautiful woman in camp (yet she thought all the women were beautiful) and would find herself sometimes watching Molly in the mornings. Just observing how she would do her hair and apply her lipstick. Skills which she would mentally note down. After all, Miriam wanted to look her best when she knew she was going to be around Javier.

Abigail had spent the least amount of time with Miriam out of all the women, yet it never made the two women think any less of each other. When they would have their morning brew, the two of them always exchanged kind words and would talk about mostly Jack. Miriam was always happy to listen about Jack and how Abigail fell in love with John. It was something Miriam wished for. A family.

Sadie Adler. What a woman. Sadie perhaps cared for Miriam the most out of everyone in the camp. She knew exactly what it was like to be the newcomer and to have people hounding you with questions that you didn’t want to answer. Often, she would stick up for Miriam, telling everyone to ‘get lost’ or ‘leave her the hell alone.’ Sadie would tell Miriam about what happened to her and her Jakey when the O’Driscolls came by. In turn, Miriam shared with her what happened that night in the cabin. She didn’t detail the full story, but explained that the O’Driscolls came and tried to assault her before wanting to take her away to Colm. Sadie understood her hurt and promised her that if she ever needed anything, Miriam could come find her. Miriam promised the same.

Jack found Miriam just another pretty lady that joined the camp. Miriam found him incredibly cute and would offer to read to him sometimes, much to Abigail’s delight. The camp could get boring for a young boy at times so any possible way to entertain the boy was welcomed by his parents.

John kept his distance from her. This was mostly down to the fact he was either arguing with Abigail about things or he was always off doing some sort of mission with Arthur. He thought Miriam seemed nice and was grateful she would watch over Jack if Abigail was busy.

Arthur was lovely to Miriam. A man with high honour. If Miriam ever mentioned something that she missed such as a pair of earrings, Arthur would find a similar pair on his travels. He did this with all the gang members but Miriam appreciated the gesture a lot. The way she gave back to Arthur was by telling him about locations she had read about in her books, letting him know there might be things of interests for him to scribble down in his journal. One time he came back after a long ride out, visiting one of the spots she told him about; he would thank her, telling her it was worth checking out.

Mr Pearson and Uncle were both sweethearts to Miriam. Most of the camp members were irritated by their presence, especially Uncle’s but she found the both of them to be the jolly spirit the camp needed. Although Miriam couldn’t contribute any food to Pearson, she would happily go get supplies for him at the general store. These visits were always accompanied by either Arthur or Lenny who would drive the wagon. Uncle on the other hand would always be telling Miriam stories of the good ol’ days and would manage to get sympathy off her when he talked about his underlying conditions. Miriam was an empathetic person, also gullible at times and would take the old man’s word for it. Despite his persistent talking, Miriam would never tell him to go away. She would always listen with her ears pricked and mind fully engaged.

Reverand Swanson was someone who Miriam would hardly ever see. He was either passed out drunk in camp – or passed out drunk outside of camp. The bare minimum interactions they did have were Swanson telling her that she’s a sinful woman and that she needed to repent. Often this would lead to Javier scolding him, telling him to stay out of camp until he sobered up. In the past, a drunkard like that wouldn’t get to her, but after the things she did before she met the Van Der Linde’s… she felt there was truth to what Swanson was saying. Despite being upset by the Reverand’s interactions with her, she would always let one of the gang members know if she saw him wandering out of camp in a drunken daze. She never wished any harm on the man.

Leopold Strauss was kind enough to her. If she ever needed a remedy, he would offer her something. He would constantly remind her that if she didn’t wrap up warm, she’d catch her death. When going into town, she would pick up any tonics that he was running low on. To be honest, she was perhaps the only one in camp who was actually nice to him. Not many people talked to Strauss. But she did. Even if it was just a ‘good morning’ or a ‘how are you?’ Strauss would appreciate those little exchanges.

Kieran Duffy was someone who Miriam initially stayed far away from due to him having run with the O’Driscolls for a bit. One day she walked past the boy whilst he was tied up to a post and heard him crying, begging for some food and pleading out that he wasn’t an O’Driscoll. Being the empath she was, she couldn’t leave him like that. She gave Kieran her own bowl of food, seeing as the rations were running low one week. He thanked her profusely, saying he would never forget her kind deed. He was not someone she would go out of her way to make conversation with, but in the end, she realised that he was nothing like the O’Driscolls.

Bill Williamson was an odd one. He was very vocal around camp. It didn’t take Miriam long to find out he was an ex American soldier dealt with a bad hand in life which gave him an excuse to be the way he was. She mostly stayed away from him, worried that he could explode at any moment due to his trauma. Yet she still wanted to try and see the good in everyone and always believed in giving people a chance. She would feel sorry for him when the other camp members picked on him for ‘screwing things up’ or being ‘stupid.’ Whenever he needed a repair, she would always fix his clothes up first, leaving them folded neatly by his tent. She had to be honest – she found him strangely sweet when he would reply with a bashful ‘uh… thanks’ followed by an awkward silence and then a swig of his beer. It was the most she’d get out of him, but she was fine with that.

Lenny and Charles were gentlemen. Whenever they were around, Miriam felt most at ease. She knew there was not one bad bone in their body. Lenny would often ask about what story she reading and would even start imposing more questions about character’s back stories, scenic descriptions etc. He was a young man who just wanted to absorb information and it was adorable. Charles was quiet, more so than Miriam, but when he did talk to her, he was always courteous. Whilst out in the woods, the young woman would bring back hawk feathers for his arrows and oleander sage for him to use as poison. He’d give her a heartfelt thank you every time.

Josiah Trelawny, she had met just once. He waltzed into camp one day and made his presence very known. He was intrigued by the newcomer, saying that she had a strangely familiar face. This panicked Miriam and she immediately brushed him off, saying she just had that kind of face. He pondered but left it alone saying that she was probably right. He seemed like a charming, flamboyant man but Miriam hoped she was never in the same space as him again. She couldn’t have anyone finding out who she was and exposing her past. Thankfully, he was someone who never stuck around for long and would disappear with a flick of the wrist.

Sean was indeed a handful. The flirtiest one of them all. He’d always try to walk over to Miriam, complimenting her on how beautiful she looked. It would mostly end with Karen yelling at him or even Javier just simply giving a look that told him to go away.  Javier just had that kind of look which would strike fear into people’s hearts. Miriam found it… very attractive. She was thankful that Karen never got antsy with her. Karen always blamed Sean for his playboy behaviour. Sean would try though. He’d insist on grabbing Miriam a beer or even a whiskey if she’d prefer. Miriam wasn’t a drinker, yet he would persist. Luckily, Sean did understand the meaning of the word ‘no’ (even if it was eventually) and would take a hint if Javier was staring at him nearby.

Javier Escuella. Just thinking of him made her heart pump uncontrollably fast. Javier found himself becoming… almost obsessed with her. Every morning, noon and night he would check in on her. If he had to go on a mission, the last person he would speak to would be her. Returning? She was the first one he’d talk to. There was something about her that made his chest puff out and want to protect her. Whether it was making sure she was warm enough round the campfire, if she had eaten that day or if anyone had bothered her at all. He didn’t stay by her side though, not wanting the camp members to know of his obsession – especially Miriam. Perhaps it was the way she looked at him; looking so lost and helpless with her big brown eyes. He knew she could handle a knife but didn’t want to see her in that kind of situation again. At night, when he retired to his tent, all he could think about was her and those thoughts would keep him up at night. How her waves cascaded down over her bare shoulders, her cute plump cheeks and her luscious round lips. Occasionally he would give in to his dark desires and stroke himself to the fantasy of having his cock shoved down her pretty little throat. He would shudder at the thought of her trying so desperately to be able to breathe but would praise her for taking his cock so well. Ever since that horse ride back from Strawberry, he hadn’t been the same. And neither had she.

The last member of the camp, she hadn’t met yet due to him being in jail. Yet that was all about to change.

“Hello there, sweetheart.” Miriam looked up from the book she was reading by the campfire. She was sat on the ground, with her legs tucked away to the side. She blinked at the blonde male who was towered over her, his leg propped up on one of the large logs that lay across the dirt for gang members to sit on.

“Hello.” She lightly replied, not knowing any better. Everyone knew not to give Micah Bell the time of day.

“Ain’t you a pretty little thing, hm…” He muttered, a low growl forming in the back of his throat. He sounded feral. He gestured to the end of the log which was nearest to where she was sat on the ground. “May I?” She smiled.

“Of course.” He rose an eyebrow. He was genuinely surprised by how… innocent she was. He let out a dark chuckle at this notion.

“Very kind of ya, sweetheart.” He wasted no more time and perched himself next to her. The height difference giving him a flex which he used to his advantage. “So how you been keepin’, doll face?” He looked around then back at her. Micah seemed theatrical with how he expressed himself with his hands. “Everyone been… nice and all?” Miriam nodded.

“Yes, thank you… um…” She blinked slowly, not actually knowing who he was. He laughed out loud at the realisation.

“My, my! Where are my manners?” He grabbed her hand, making her drop her book. He placed a short and quick peck on the back of her hand. “Micah Bell the third.” Miriam blushed just a little at the action but thankfully it couldn’t be seen due to the flickering light of the fire in front of them.

“Miriam.”

“Miriam…?” He quizzed, trying to get her last name. She smiled nervously, retracting her hand.

“I’d rather not say.” He would remember that. Micah was always good on picking up small connotations.

“Ahh… a woman shrouded in mystery. What on earth did you do I wonder…” Her blood started to turn cold. “I mean it is strange you know. You’ve been with us for… a month now? And we still don’t know anything about you.” She started to get up, needing to remove herself from the situation. He instantly wrapped his hand around her wrist. “Ah, ah ah! Where’d ya think you’re goin’, sweetheart?” He pulled her down closer to his face. He scowled at her with his animalistic eyes. “I’m not done talkin’ to you.”

“I am.” She counteracted. His mouth went agape, started to laugh at her comeback

“Oh ho ho! You have a bite to ya! I like that. I really… like that in a woman.” She gritted her teeth, feeling her wrist start to ache.

“You’re hurting me.”

“Maybe that’s what I like to do, to pretty little things like you…”

“Let her go.” Javier spat, walking over with a hand resting on his belt. Micah rose his eyebrow and looked both at Miriam and Javier. Another streak of laughter followed.

“Oh. Oh ho ho… I see what’s goin’ on here.” Javier didn’t care for what Micah thought he knew. Micah stood up, squaring up to Javier. “Why don’t you fuck off back to Mexico? Hm?” Javier scoffed quietly. He was about to turn around when suddenly he smashed his fist into Micah’s face, causing the blonde male to fall on his ass. Javier towered over him, venom dripping with his words.

“Why don’t you fuck off back to hell?” Javier looked at Miriam and lifted her up by her arm to usher her away. Micah took a second to register what had happened, holding onto his face.

“You hit like you dress! All… feminine.”  Javier stopped in his tracks but Miriam convinced him to just walk away. Miriam and Javier walked into the trees and once they were far enough away from camp, Javier put his hands on the young woman’s shoulders and spun her around to look at him.

“Are you okay, mi amor?”

“I’m fine but are you okay?” She rapidly responded, not even realising the change of nickname. She was so used to him giving her Spanish nicknames, she just guessed it meant something simple and non-endearing. And definitely not anything romantic. The corner of his lip tugged upwards. Just slightly.

“Sí.” He frowned, looking down at her wrist. “He hurt you.”

“It’s noth-” Javier’s hand lifted her wrist which Micah had squeezed badly. He could see fingernail marks imprinted on her skin and it looked as though a bruise was starting to form.

“No me mientas.” (“Don’t lie to me.”) He hissed which made the young woman let out a shaky breath. She hadn’t seen this side of Javier before. She didn’t know what he had just said but she felt she knew roughly what he meant.

“I’m sorry…” She was breathless as she watched how his dark eyes scanned over her injury. Her wrist was so close to his lips. His breath from his nose tickled her skin. Smoothly his hand slid along from her wrist to her palm; he wrapped his fingers around own and gave them a squeeze to make her look at him. He rose an eyebrow.

“Should I go back and kill him?” His response made her let out a shaky laugh, smiling brightly with her teeth.

“No. He’s not worth your time.”

“But you are, mi armor.” There it was again. That familiar, sickly feeling she was forming in her belly. “I want you to know, Miriam… if you ever need me, I will never be too far away from you. Just call and I’ll be there.” She squeezed her thighs together, unable to break away from his smouldering gaze. She gave a couple little nods to him. He nodded once back and let go of her hand, walking away after taking one last look at her. She watched him leave her alone amongst the trees, with the moon shining through like a beacon of serenity. Miriam held onto her wrist, the one he had just held. She sighed with her head lowered.

‘Oh Javier… what are you doing to me?’

[wisteriadumster]

Gamble ❥ Micah Bell

 MICAH BELL X FEMALE READER

CW➻❥ ⋆ gambling ⋆ smoking ⋆ drinking ⋆ handjob ⋆ p in v ⋆ light choking ⋆ a lot of aggression ⋆ f! and m! orgasm ⋆

WC➻❥1389➻❥ this isn't well proof read so any mistakes or odd things are purely accidental

Summary➻❥ it’s just you and Micah at the end of the poker game and you bet yourself. You win and Micah pays for the hotel room, where you have the roughest sex you’ve ever had

A/N ➻❥ I know it’s Micah Bell, but some people actually wanted a fic so I’m providing. I may have also slightly enjoyed this

Do Not Steal Or Translate My Work!

Shags

You sat at the table, waiting for the bet of the remaining gambler, Micah Bell. “Two bucks,” he tossed the cash into the pot. “Two bucks and if I win, well, you take me out.” Micah looked up at your bet, “take me out to that hotel in Valentine.” You pushed your money to the pot, your eyes watching Micah look you all over. “That’s a damn good bet woman,” his voice rasped.

You flipped the final card of the round, you looked back at your cards and held back a smile, a straight flush was in your hands. You looked up at Micah, waiting for him to reveal his hand. “Full house,” he laid the five cards out. Keeping a straight face you set down your cards, “straight flush.” You saw his eyes widen, “you a little cheater ain’t ya?” He looked back down at his cards, “are you upset that I won?” You fake pouted, you knew that Micah was begging to lose while playing. “Ready your horse woman.” He tilted back the final sips of his whiskey and left the table, going to Baylock.

You left camp shortly after Micah, trying not to raise suspicion for the other gang members1, not that they cared who had sex. You hitched your horse and entered the hotel, “how may I help you ma’am?” The hotel owner greeted you, “I’m meeting someone, should’ve rented a room from you not more than an hour ago.” You replied, “ah yes he’ll be upstairs, farthest room to your right.” The man cleared his throat and dismissed you as you went upstairs

You laid a gentle knock on the door, Micah opened it a crack before opening it to allow you in. “You’re serious about this?” Micah was surprised of all people, you wanted to sleep with him. “I’m here aren’t I?” You laugh, “damn right you are.” His eyes stare down your cleavage that you had begun exposing as you walked up the stairs.

Micah watched you as you moved, taking the singular wooden chair and moving it against the window, parallel to the fireplace that was blazing. “Sit,” you moved to the side of the chair, inviting him for your activities. Micah obliged, watching as you went to the door and locked it, then watched as you spun back and went towards him.

You looked down at the seated outlaw, your eyes staring with a certain dominance that Micah wasn’t used to. You lowered down, your legs spreading as your knees bent. Now you’re looking at him with a hint of submission, it made him all the more pleased to see a hint of prey in your eyes. You pulled the buckle of his gun belt loose, allowing yourself to the button of his pants. Micah lets you work, his attention going to the cigarettes in his pocket, which he pulled out and lit. His eyes shut as he began to inhale the tobacco and, as you finally exposed his hard cock. You sucked your cheeks for a moment to accumulate some spit, that you gently put into the palm of your hand. You wrapped your hand around Micah, allowing him to adjust to the sudden touch, you began to follow the length of his cock.

You looked up at him, his head was tilting back as you continued, the cigarette leaving his mouth as he blew out. You loved his vulnerability as you touched him, you never imagined him to be so as, he was so cruel and demented.

“Stop,” he crushed the cigarette ember with his fingers. “I don’t want just this.” You stood up as he did. He was quick to grab hold of you, his rough hands pulling you against him. His lips were anything but romantic, they were hungry and impatient. Micah wanted you, he wanted you bad. His hard cock was pressed against you as you both stumbled around the room, smashing against the dresser. You leaned yourself against it, your hands unsure of where to go, they tugged in his hair, his hat falling to the ground from your aggression. “I've been waitin’ to have you.” He mumbled against your lips before his tongue slipped into your mouth. His tongue explored and tasted you, his body grinding against you.

The room was hot, you were already sweating from his dominance and force. Micah was devouring your lips with his, he pulled back, panting. He began unbuttoning his shirt, which signaled to you to begin removing your own clothes. Thankfully you had worn a simple dress, which you quickly scrunched in your hands and pulled over your body, nothing underneath to protect you. Micah stared at your bare skin, a lustful smirk of his face, ready to have full control over you.

Micah left his shirt on, his stomach free. He grabbed hold of your hips, pulling you against him. His cock was itching and teasing your inner thigh as he kissed your jaw. He kept you against him as he pulled you to the bed, he pushed your shoulders, letting you fall down onto the bed. Your mouth tasted of the whiskey and cigarettes he had before this, before he was kissing down your body. He was ravenous, his tongue swirled around a nipple before he continued down.

Micah pulled himself up, hovering over you before he looked down. Looking down he aligned himself with you. You heard a light exhale come from Micah before his cock pushed into you. You couldn’t resist a moan as he pushed all the way in, making you two even closer together. You looked at Micah, his eyes had a stare, it was one he had when he felt in control. “You like that huh?” He tilted, smirking as he watched your expression.

“Mmmh,” you hummed as he thrusted. Micah was loud, groaning as he pushed in you, “damn you feel good.” He mumbled, a hand going to your right breast, gripping it hard. His thumb ran over and traced your nipple, watching you tense as the sensation.

Micah’s hand traveled up your body, slightly wrapping around your neck. He smirked at how preyful your eyes had become. His breath was hot with tobacco and rugged with whiskey, breathing against your neck as his pace increased. His thrusts; making you clash together, making moans escape you, making groans shoot out of him.

“You feel good, fuck.” His words crawl down you, your body beginning to tense as your orgasm was almost to its peak. A leg was slung over his shoulder, the skin rubbing against his shirt. The bed was shifting and scratching the floor, it was no secret what you two were doing. Your skin smacked each other, adding to the sound of the room that was beginning to overflow with sounds.

“God!” You practically screamed as his tip hit the “itch.” He let out a low laugh and continued to thrust in the direction, making you scream out each time he hit it. As Micah’s own climax rose, the grip around your throat tightened. It felt oddly pleasant, his hand releasing just before it truly began cutting air flow.

Your own climax followed behind by the sudden fulfillment of his cum. Your body relaxed from its tense state, you were loudly panting for air. Micah let your leg fall off him, he was just on top of you, in the same state. “God damn, woman.” He whispered, “you do that better than I had thought.” Micah was no longer denying his past of dirty thoughts of you, not that it had even bothered you at this point.

“Get dressed,” he pulled out his cock, which was still throbbing. “I’ll stay here tonight, you go back to camp.” Micah began to button his shirt as you sat up, “don’t want them knowing I did this.” You were surprised he was embarrassed this happened but you didn’t give it much thought. You grabbed your dress and pulled it over yourself, supporting your weak body against the dresser.

You left the general store, a pack of cigarettes and matches in hand. You mounted your horse and began to Horseshoe Overlook, a newly lit cigarette in your mouth, Micah on your mind.

“Where have you been?” Mary-Beth came up to you as you got off your horse, “I was out.”

[mentally-a-slut]

Hello!

I'm not new to tumblr by any means, but I am restarting my blog and (hopefully) keeping up with it. I've had many blogs in the past where I've written fics for different fandoms, but always ended up mass deleting them out of embarrassment. (Stupid of me, I know.)

But I am returning and instead of dedicating my blog to one specific fandom, I'm going to just ride with whatever hyper fixation I fall into. Right now, it's Baldur's Gate 3 and Red Dead Redemption 2.

I write for female readers, simply because I feel most comfortable doing so, and I love doing OC fics. I have a few long fics in the drafts that I'm working on that I may post if this blog gets enough interest with some OCs, so we shall see!

I will write fluff and smut, but there are some things I will not write. I don't really know exactly where I draw the line, at least not enough to explicitly list my yes and no's, so just be mindful of the fact that I have boundaries and that sometimes I'm not comfy writing certain things! Just use common sense and it should be fine.

I will not write for certain characters, simply because I either do not like them, or don't know how to write them yet. I can confidently say I will never write for Micah Bell, because that makes me severely uncomfy (sorry Miach simps!)

I'm not so sure about writing for Dutch, but if enough people are interested I might give it a go. I mostly write for Charles and Arthur (and yes, I will write them together with reader.) In fact, I'm working on a long fic rn that's poly Charthur x fem!OC, so if I ever finish that and anyone is interested, lmk!

For BG3, I'm mostly into Gale, but I will write for Astarion the best I can. I love Rolan as well, and would LOVE to see some requests for him. I'll try my best to write for multiple people, but I am specifically interested in certain characters, so sometimes I won't want to write for others.

Please send requests, and feel free to ask me questions! I'll likely write up some quick blurbs so y'all can get a feel for my writing style and decide if you're interested.

By the way, you can call me Azi, or Z!

Much love! <3

(I have started tagging my posts for better access. Any reblogs will be tagged with #azi's bs, fic recs will be tagged #azi's fic recs, and any original works of mine will be tagged #azi's creations.)

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

Wherever I rest my head is home if it's with you

Part 1, Luck be with you

Masterlist Word count: 2 k Charles Smith x Fem!Reader Arthur Morgan x Mary Linton John Marston x Abigail Roberts Dutch Van der Linde x Molly O'Shea Mary-Beth Gaskill x Kieran Duffy

Summary: Looking for gold is a men's world in a town run by women. The amounts of violence and suffering these men go through with the hope of getting rich is insanity. Gold fever broke marriages and relationships alike until the settlement was nearly all women.  It's a small settlement, nearly a small town, next to the Elysian Pool. Most men red hot with gold fever pass through to stock up on supplies before heading down to the mines near Beaver's Hallow or Annesburg.  The settlement has only one law set in stone, as lawmen do not want to come there, and it is praised like it was one of the ten commandments. You do not harm the women.

Preview

Going up towards the Grizzlies always brings a bone chilling wind along. It's that kind of cold that flows right through your lungs, into your bloodstream, and infects your every inch of being. But the four men on the road to prosperity aren't in that part of the woods yet. These men being Arthur, Charles, John, and Hosea. None of them are particularly fond of finding the gold around these parts but they are concerned about their friends who rode up weeks ago.  Before their journey, the men had been told and warned about a settlement. According to the men that came back, you're lucky if you leave with a broken heart and a nugget of gold in your saddlebag. If you're not so lucky, well, you don't make it out alive.  So many stories about this little settlement. They could just push through to Van Horn or go straight to Annesburg, but they have to admit they're curious. All the stories about beautiful, cruel women only fanned that curiosity. Hosea, with all his experience traveling through America, had never heard of the settlement which strengthened their desire to go see for themselves even more. After all, they've all had their hearts broken before, so what’s another chip?  What Hosea did seem to know is the major of the town. He had met the woman down by Emeral Ranch while she was picking up a delivery for the town. Hosea had, so kindly, offered to be a hired gun for her in hopes of taking over the stocked wagon but was met with the barrel of a shotgun against his back when he tried to get up onto the driver's seat. She had smiled at him and kindly told him to fuck off.  How he had managed to get onto her good side after an encounter like that was a mystery to the other men, but she had offered a place to rest their heads if they were ever close and in need.  As they reach the edge of town, they can already tell this is a settlement like no other. Though most settlements are one street, a good place to ride through, this settlement is spread out like a village. Down by the lake is a huge ranch and down by the train tracks seems to be a hotel and post office, but no train station which strikes both John and Arthur as curious. There's a grocery store, a tailor, a saloon, a barber, a gun store, a doctor's office, everything one might need.  And, as the stories predicted, a lot of women wearing pants and barely any men.  Hosea points at a large house a little bit higher up on a small mountain: 'From what I've been told, that's where the major lives. Let's go introduce ourselves gentlemen.' 

[photo1030]

Oh my goodness! I like the grittiness of this one. I love the “shadow” reference, super sweet

The Longest Night (Arthur x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Someone is missing. One less horse than there should be. Your gut twists when you realize Arthur never returned after Dutch met with Colm O'Driscoll. Arthur has protected you his whole life and now it was time for you to return the favor, even if that means you meet a violent end. Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader: in which you’re the only one who cares about Arthur’s disappearance. (No use of Y/N) Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, swearing, reader almost dies. Word count: 3,786 Note: I haven’t had tumblr for like… 5 years and now I can’t remember how to format anything correctly or how to add images to text posts. Please bear with me. :’) If it doesn’t work right I also published it on AO3 here! ____ The moment you heard Micah was involved your stomach fell and your blood ran cold. Nothing good would come of this. Meeting Colm O'Driscoll all the while Micah was whispering into Dutch’s ear, talking all sorts of nonsense that happened to be worded in just the right way to tickle Dutch’s brain. “I don’t know about this one, let me come with you.” You grabbed your rifle to join the others as they mounted their horses.

“Eh… I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t want you gettin’ hurt.” Arthur slung his leg over his saddle and pulled himself up before peering down at you with crinkled eyes dancing with fondness and something fearsome. Perhaps it was simply just fear? “Someone will get hurt knowing them. I rather it not be you.”

“I’m more than capable, Arthur-”

Keep reading

[josephquinnswhore]

all dividers from @saradika-graphics 🩷

• welcome to my blog. this is a safe space and wonderland of creativity when my adhd allows.

• mature content, 18+ only.

• my name is tay, I’m 25 and I’m an aries.

• I love reading, writing, frogs, crystals and bonsai/cacti, spicy food, horror movies.

• im in love with fictional men.

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

Call of Duty Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

The Last of Us Masterlist

Read Dead Redemption Masterlist

Most recent fics updated 29/11/2024.

• where you go, I go. stalker joel miller au.

• the devil is real and he’s a besotted outlaw. micah bell x female reader.

• the consequences of us. dbf joel miller x female reader.

• the day your heart stops yearning. pedro pascal x female reader.

[spongeyspot]

Rules

Masterlist

Requests are [Closed]!

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Check this out!

PLEASE READ THESE RULES VERY CAREFULLY BEFORE REQUESTING ANYTHING!

I WRITE 18+ CONTENT! THIS BLOG IS 18+ ONLY! MINORS DNI!

🧽Characters I write for🧽

Red Dead Redemption

Arthur Morgan

John Marston

Lenny Summers

Dutch Van Der Linde

Charles Smith

Hosea Matthews

Javier Escuella

Kieran Duffy

Abigail Roberts

Sadie Adler

(I will write for almost anyone; just ask! These are just the characters I’m most comfortable with.)

🧽Characters I DON’T ALWAYS write for🧽

Micah Bell

Note: Certain ooc scenarios with certain characters I probably won’t write, and its really up to my discretion of what I’m comfortable writing. You can ask for whatever you want, but if I don’t feel comfortable, I probably won’t do it.

🧽Forbidden themes🧽

As a writer on tumblr, there are certain things that I just can’t tolerate, and they read as such.

ABSOLUTELY NOT:

Pedophilia

Age-play

Scat or Watersports

Vomit play.. whatever that is called.

basically any bodily fluids besides male or female ejaculation

Incest (Excludes Step-cest)

Race Play

Necrophilia

Ass Play (Fisting, Eating, etc.) (excluding Anal)

Anything in this list that is asked for will not be written. Your request will be ignored and deleted.

Note: If something that isn't listed is asked for, and I'm uncomfortable with the theme, I will reserve my right to refuse that prompt and add that theme to the list.

🧽Welcome Themes🧽

Character x Character (but only if the reader is also involved)

BDSM

A/B/O

Dark themes

Angst

Character Death

Daddy/Sir

Mommy/Ma'am

Blood Play

Step-cest

Corruption

Lactation

Age Difference (Characters will always be of legal age [18+])

Con Noncon

Noncon

Dubcon

Praise

Pet Names

Impact Play (Ex: Spanking, Slapping, etc. [Consensual])

Breath Play

Knife Play

Squirting

Anal

Threesomes + Moresomes

(mostly anything else that isn’t listed is welcome, but please check the restricted criteria before asking!)

Note: I tend to write more toward afab/fem presenting. But i also write gn or amab/masc. If you don’t specify which you prefer, I’ll probably just write afab because thats what I’m most comfortable with.

If you want your prompt to be a different gender/orientation please specify so I know!

🧽Other themes (SFW)🧽

Pregnancy (Can be NSFW)

Comfort

Platonic Fluff

General Fluff

Sibling/parent themes (angst or fluff, NEVER nsfw. [See restrictions])

🧽DNI🧽

Do not interact with this blog if you qualify as any of the following:

Minor

Pedophile

Racist

Homophobic

Transphobic

Ageless or Blank blog

This is a drama-free, safe environment, and I intend to keep it that way.

Thank you!