#molly wanted to ask arthur about dutch but she kept getting interrupted

[arthursfuckinghat]

You know, I don't think I'll ever get used to Dutch's constant two-faced behaviour.

One minute you're coming back to camp and then getting an earful from Dutch about not bringing in enough money, then the next minute he'll greet you and say how he missed you and asks what you've been up to as soon as you walk into camp.

On a bad day, you're the person who's going to betray Dutch in the end. Then on a good day, you're his favourite son who's always been special to him.

The camp gives Arthur grief for his 'moods' but the others didn't seem to comment on Dutch's camp behaviour in the same way, even in the early chapters.

[revswanson]

i finally wrote the fic nobody asked for about uncle, pearson n some of the women leaving beaver hollow in late chap 6 and well it turned out a lot sadder, and longer, lol, than i thought um but hello here it is

His home… his ever-changing, always-moving, sometimes-bloody home on the top of this shitpile of a earth with these shitpiles that call themselves humans. He loved them, he loved it. He really, really did. What was left of them. What was left of it. But he wasn’t going to stick around to see it get worse. How could it get worse? He said to himself, but he knew that it could. He watched them blow a hole straight through Molly. He watched Dutch, over all those damn years, and he still couldn’t decide if the man had changed or if he’d been like this all along. 

Uncle sighed, tilting back the last of his bottle of beer, taking a look around him. The girls were working, or trying to… there wasn’t a lot to work for. He remembered sitting at their sides, listening to Javier play away, watching the women sew and wash and wondering if they’d ever get away from all of this. Them, not him. He had never once thought he’d leave these people. Just yesterday he told Arthur he wasn’t going anywhere. But things were getting bad, and he just wanted some damn peace and quiet. He kept watching as Tilly and Marybeth and Karen embraced one another, having a somber conversation amongst them. Tilly cracked some kind of joke and they all giggled, tears on their faces dripping into their smiles. They were so strong, they are. Uncle realized he couldn’t leave them here. 

Strauss was already gone. Arthur kicked him out, in a big scene. Reverend was gone, hopefully on his way to his own redemption. If it was out there for him. And everybody else was dead or trying to be. He just needed to get the girls out of here, and see to it that Pearson got someplace safe too. 

He stood and he walked over to the women, bowing his head a little bit- ashamed of what he was about to say. “I think it’s time we get out of here ladies. We’ve outstayed our welcome. Don’t wanna see what happened to the rest happen to you. I don’t care much what happens to me but I don’t wanna die here either, looking at Micah’s ugly face.” He tried to laugh, but it came out sounding more like a sob. The three of them looked at him and they looked at each other.

“Uncle, you get outta here, but there’s still work to do around here…” Marybeth started. Karen shot her a look. “I… I love these people.” Marybeth covered her freckled face, her small but strong body racking with sobs. 

“I do too, Marybeth, but he’s right.” Tilly said quietly, looking at something that wasn’t really anything at all, staring into the sky and wishing she could just be… up there. “You saw what happened to Molly. And to Susan. They don’t care about us. Arthur does but he’s not well… I’m not sure what’s going to happen to him but frankly I don’t think you guys wanna stick around to see it.”

The quiet was loud. “You guys?” Karen interrupted the silence. “You’re coming too, you know. What else you got goin’ on?” She laughed, trying to ease the tension.

“I’ve got to stay here. I love that damn kid, Jack. I’ve always wanted a kid of my own. I don’t know if I’ll make it out of this place to have my own, but I have to see him get out of here. Preferably with his parents, but if that can’t happen I’ll make sure he makes it.” She broke, her shoulders falling and her voice, too. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Uncle admired her so much. He wondered to himself if Jack and Abigail and John really would make it out of here, too. He wondered if he’d never see them again. Shaking away the idea, he gently patted Karen’s back and then Marybeth’s. “We’ve gotta start packing up. It was time to go, a long time ago. I’m sorry that I didn’t get you guys out of here sooner.” He wondered, too, what would happen to them.

“Get your stuff. Grab a horse. I’ll take you ladies into town, probably Valentine or somethin’.” He looked over at Pearson, finally, working away at his wagon. He wasn’t sure if the man would be willing to leave. He slowly walked over, thinking of the stories and the long conversations and the songs they’d shared together. The drinks, the dark nights illuminated by the trusty lantern always at the table. 

“Pearson, buddy,” he mumbled, “I’m getting out of here. Taking the girls somewhere else. I think you should too.” Pearson looked up at him, hands covered in the blood of the animal he was prepping. For what, for who? There is nothing, nobody… Uncle peered into the man’s eyes and he couldn’t keep his gaze- he had to look away. The pain that was there in Pearson’s face was written in every line, was dripping from his eyes and forcing his whole body to shake. “We’re going to die here… Come on.”

That was all that was said between them for a long time. Pearson quietly gathered his things. He quietly finished cooking one last bowl of stew. He quietly sung, and hummed, and cried. He got his horse ready, quietly, and quietly he helped the women onto theirs.

Uncle patted his horse, Nell, giving it some extra feed for the ride ahead. The poor girl was getting older every day, just like him, and just like him he wondered how much longer the mare had left. He hoped this trip, wherever it took them, wouldn’t be too much for her. He wasn’t sure if it wouldn’t be too much for him.

The women packed the few clothes and items they had onto some camp horses, picking the ones that looked the strongest and the calmest. Together the five of them stood- Pearson, Uncle, Marybeth, Karen, and finally Tilly; she was still looking into the sky, afraid to look at the faces of the people she knew she may never see again. She was almost certain of it. 

Together they stood. Looking at what was left of their camp. The camp that they had lovingly put together, here in and near this damn chilly, wet, cave. The camp they had torn down and rebuilt time and time again, carried in wagons that each time they rode went down in numbers as did their group. From Colter to Horseshoe in many wagons, and from Shady Belle to here in much fewer. They embraced one another once more, and Tilly slipped the only money she had into the pockets of the women that had been her best friends. Like sisters to her… stealing each other’s clothes, chuckling over boys and bullshit. She was going to miss them, and it was going to kill her to watch them ride away.

She helped them all onto their horses, and she thanked Uncle and Pearson for doing this. And for everything they had done for her. “Thank you, Miss Tilly.” Uncle said genuinely. “You’re a great girl. You’re gonna make it out, too. You’re gonna have a beautiful little baby. And you better marry rich, because you deserve to live like a queen.” He grinned. “Just make sure to call for me so I can come drink all your fancy flavored booze.”

The five of them laughed, one last laugh. One last, good, hearty laugh. Deep into their stomachs, rising from the parts of their souls that they’d thought died with Molly and Susan- for Karen, with Sean, and for Marybeth, with Kieran. But that laugh would never die: that laugh would echo through the woods of Roanoke, reaching the ears of every wild animal and the God that had forsaken them all.

And they rode away. Tilly did not watch. The noise the hooves of those horses made would never leave her mind as she listened to some of the only friends she’d ever had ride away, leaving her with angry men and a family that should have gotten themselves gone years ago and Arthur, dying and constantly on a mission to save everybody but himself.

-

Arthur’s voice echoed in Uncle’s memory, tearing him apart with every gallop away from that place. Away from his friends. The only goddamned family he ever had. He was never an angry man- well, not for the last few decades at least. He prefered to walk away from confrontation; of course he could handle himself and was a hell of a shot, but he didn’t like being in the position to need to be. But right now, as he rode back towards Valentine with Pearson and two of the best women he’d ever known, he was mad. Incredibly mad. He pictured himself punching the same spot on Micah’s face so many times that it ceased to look like Micah’s face, he imagined the cold barrel of his gun against Micah’s forehead, he thought about what it might feel like to watch the last breath leave Micah’s stinking mouth. But he couldn’t bring himself to want Dutch dead. The man that had taken him in, given him the benefit of the doubt time and time again… Saved his ass. Despite it all, he found himself wishing the best for the man. He wanted him to get out, too. Get out of his own mind, or what had become of it. Part of him thought that maybe Dutch could still change, part of him was afraid that he could still become worse.

He broke the silence that was only previously broke by the horses whinnying and snorting as they got more and more tired. “It’s goin’ to be well dark by the time we get there. I’ll pay for us all to get a couple of rooms at the inn, and in the mornin’ we’ll get together and get to the store and get you ladies some supplies. I dunno where Pearson is goin’ but I’m thinkin’ I’ll go south. Far. Maybe I’ll go to Mexico and get me a new wife.”

“And maybe I’ll strike gold,” Karen laughed. “But I’ll probably just go back to robbin’ guys that think with their woodies.” 

-

The clerk at the inn acted like he’d never seen a group of robbers and sinners and alcoholics and beautiful women and everything else they were. “I need two rooms.” Uncle said slowly, like the man could very well be a four year old child that needed simple explanations. “I will pay for them. Perhaps a bath for each of us.”

“Okay…” And that was that.

Pearson still hadn’t said a word. He didn’t need to. They all knew what he was feeling, and they all were feeling it too. Aside from being exhausted from the trip and increasingly worried about what they were going to do next, they were all just rearing from the loss they were all experiencing. The loss they had experienced. 

They took turns getting baths, and they took turns staring at the wall as they waited for sleep to come. 

Pearson let Uncle take the bed on accord of his bad back, and Uncle threw him down an extra blanket off of the bed. They sat in silence, in the dark. No crackling fire. No singing. No beer.

"Hey," Pearson finally said. "You want some?" Uncle felt a cool bottle touch his knuckles, and he couldn't help but grin, unseen in the dark but the endearment lighting up his soul. 

"Hell yeah, I do!"

They drank, and the silence wasn't so painful anymore. It was silence shared between friends, between two men that had seen it all and somehow seen nothing but the asses of the horses in front of them and the empty pockets of the pants they'd worn for weeks… heard nothing but the same lies out of the mouth of the man who claimed to love them, who claimed he would put his body in the ground in the place of any of them when the truth is that he would gleefully put each of their bodies aside. 

And sleep came, bringing to them and the girls each their own dreams of the past and of what the future could be. 

-

The sun rose and with it, Pearson. He missed the days where he awoke even before the sun to begin his preparations. He missed the days where he'd shout that dinner was up and many smiling faces would happily eat his carefully cooked stew. It was hard to cook for that many, hard to keep them all happy. But he was going to miss it. Wanting to feel useful, he decided to head down to the store himself and set up a tab and get everybody what they'd need, at least for a few days. 

Soon after he shut the door, Uncle woke too. He couldn't help but gasp as he startled awake from the sweetest dream of a person he'd once loved and lost. He was alone, now. Alone in a hotel room in Valentine, of all places, having lost his family and home, if you could call any of it any of that. He realized that this was the first time he had woken up alone in a very long time. He may not have had a bed at camp but everywhere he chose to sleep, when he would wake up no matter the time of day or night he would be near one of his friends. 

Not anymore.

He realized Pearson was probably at the store, and he got his things gathered to go wake up Marybeth and Karen to meet him there. They looked like they'd gotten a good enough rest and Karen appeared to have had a drink herself… already, today. Uncle grimaced but said nothing, knowing that he would sound like the biggest ass in the world telling her to slow down on the drinking when it was his breakfast, lunch, and dinner. 

"Let's go, girls. Pearson's probably touching all of the tomatoes."

-

Uncle and Pearson packed new supplies- food and clothes and such to last maybe a few weeks- onto the womens' horses and their own and nobody was quite sure what to say. 

Marybeth tapped her feet, looking between Uncle and Pearson like she expected one of them to burst out with the best idea ever at any moment… but nobody had a clue what to do. "I'm no Arthur, ladies. I don't know what the right answer is. I think, I guess you should stay here in town for a while and maybe get some work, some nicer horses. Some husbands, or whatever. Whoever. Just find people, to be with. Don't be alone. But don't get yourselves involved with crazy people, either!... I just don't know." Uncle couldn't look at them, he needed a fucking drink and he just couldn't bear to think about what could happen but he couldn't just stick around and risk them all getting found and questioned. He knew how weird they looked already: an old drunk, two pretty girls (one also drunk), and an… also drunk weirdly-dressed man whose hands were stained with animal blood. 

"Pearson, what about you?" Marybeth tried to sound hopeful, but her soft voice was coated with sadness, "Where will you go now?"

He thought for a moment. "I'll probably ask around the shops about some work. It's all I can do. They look like they've got enough people all around here but maybe they know where work is needed elsewhere." 

"You still thinking of Mexico, Uncle?" Karen slurred. 

"Nah," Uncle paused to fish a carrot from his pack for Nell, his trusty horse who had indeed made the trip. So far. He hesitated to think about it any further. "I don't know if me or my horse can take it. It's pretty wild land from what I hear. Me and Nell are probably gonna go die somewhere nice and quiet." He was only half-joking, partially dreaming of the long sleep and seeing his… well, everybody again. But part of him, again, thought of John and Abigail, for some reason. He remembered how much they had all loved the plains, and Blackwater, and the land there. "I'm only pullin' your tails, we're just goin' to go south and see what it all looks like nowadays. It hasn't been too long but time changes things fast. It sure has changed people fast." 

"You'll never die, Uncle," Karen placed her head on his shoulder, standing there beside the Valentine grocery, "You're going to live forever. You'll outlive us all!"

"Lord, I sure hope I don't. It'll be awfully quiet without your nagging- I think I'll still be able to hear it when I leave here." Uncle patted her knotty-haired head and moved to get onto his horse. 

He didn't want to leave. He wanted to drop dead here, in this beautiful place. Not Valentine, the shithole. This place, next to some of the only people he had left. The only people he knew were still alive and still cared about him, in some small way. 

"I better go. I'm goin' to start crying and that'll be too dramatic, I want you to remember me as your smiling Uncle." He ran his calloused fingers through Nell's mane and looked at the girls and at Pearson. "Please survive." 

"Of course we will, you old coot," Karen grinned her drunken, sarcastic grin. 

Pearson handed Uncle a bottle, capturing the man's hand in his as he does so, "This'll help you survive. This is some of my favorite stuff, imported from across the very waters that I once traveled. I hope to see you again one day and share another drink, even if it's in Hell, my forsaken friend." A few fat tears dropped down his face as he finished his monologue, another actor in the horrible play this has been. 

Forever the court jester, Uncle made a funny face and put his hand over his heart. "You're the best, Pearson. Thanks for keepin' me fed and bein' company while the camp slept. I really do mean it, but I'm bad at these kinds of things and I'm really tryin' here." He smiled at them, tears gathering in his tired eyes. "Just think, right now, Arthur's probably beating Micah's little ass to high heaven. I only kinda regret not stayin' behind to cheer him on."

Marybeth checked the buckles on Uncle's saddlebags and packs and made sure he was all set, and Karen snuck a bottle or two of beer out of her stash into one of the bags. "Get on, go," Pearson grumbled. "And try not to get yourself killed fighting a fight that's not yours." 

"I pick what fights are mine to fight," Uncle said matter of factly, "But, yeah, I'm pretty tired of fightin'. I'd rather go back to farmin'." 

-

Nell the second, named after the first best horse Uncle ever had, named after someone he held close to his heart, went to sleep and did not wake up again. The last thing he had left of that time, with those folk. On the way to Tumbleweed, what would hopefully be their last stop for awhile, the horse had begun to really make some noise and started to limp. Beside himself, Uncle had quickly made camp and laid close to the fire with his horse, watching her closely. She fell into sleep and he tried to do the same, going in and out of it with fragmented dreams of home, or well, the general idea of it. He woke up surrounded by dark and a fire that had gone out and such quiet. The horse was not breathing. He cried for her, and then he put the fire back on and warmed his hands on it, wondering if he'd be able to sleep any more. 

He wasn't, and he watched the sun rise thinking of all he had loved and lost in life, all of the ways he grew and all of the ways he fell just too short. In a while he'd do what he could to properly send off his Nell the second, and a while after that he'd make it to the road to hitch it to town or whatever. Whatever… Until then, he was going to lay here, listening to the sound of his own breath, proud and jagged and existent despite all odds. Tilting back a sip of that bottle Pearson gave him, his mind sung to him like that damned machine in Dutch's tent… 

He sung along, smiling to himself and looking back on a better time,

"I ain't got no father, 

I ain't got no father,

I ain't got no father

To buy the clothes I wear.

I'm a poor lonesome cowboy,

a poor lonesome cowboy, 

I'm a poor lonesome cowboy, 

And a long ways from home.

I ain't got no mother,

I ain't got no mother,

I ain't got no mother

To mend the clothes I wear.

I ain't got no sister,

To go and play with me.

I ain't got no brother,

To drive the steers with me.

I ain't got no sweetheart,

To sit and talk with me.

I'm a poor lonesome cowboy,

And a long ways from home…"

[cowboisadness]

Hang ‘Em High {Arthur Morgan x F!OC} Chapter 20

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x FemOC

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

.....

Chapter 20

Arthur was more alert by the sixth day. Deciding to stay seated most of the time but also getting up to wander around camp with the aid of someone else, despite his displeasure of ‘needing to be babied’ as he put it. He was sitting up in his cot, his back leaning against the wagon with his journal in his lap. Sketching something by the looks of it with the way he carried the pencil across the page and his brows furrowed in intense concentration. He wanted the hangings to be tied back during the day now to let in some fresh air and probably not to feel as alone. He was always the most relaxed when he poured his thoughts and scribbled his findings into that little leather-bound book. No doubt keeping him grounded when everything around him became too chaotic to control. Glad I asked last night if I could see some of his newer drawings despite his soft protests that they weren’t anything worth looking at. The real Arthur laid within those pages. His attention turned to me as I made my way over with two bowls of stew. A smile gracing his face as he closed his journal and placed it beside him. 

“Went hunting with Charles this morning. Venison instead of rabbit so hopefully it’s slightly more edible.” I said, handing the bowl to him with a smile to match his. 

We sat in silence as we ate, both of us watching the others go about their business all around us. Abigail and John having yet another argument. Molly with her ever-faithful pocket mirror open in her hand as she fixed her hair for the hundredth time today. I never spoke to Molly the whole time being here, but it didn't take long to realise she only wanted the attention of one person here. Sean and Karen sat eating together by the fire, the latter laughing at whatever the former had just said. Javier cleaning his knife. 

Micah sulking outside of Dutchs tent as usual. Looking like a lap dog with separation issues. 

“Yer hairs nice.” He said quietly beside me, pulling me back from my observations. 

I couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips, looking down to continue eating. 

“Thought it could help me be less recognisable.”

“Well, it looks nice on ya. Not that ya didn't before - just - smart idea,” He was stumbling over his words, stopping with a sigh and rolling his shoulder. 

He was starting to regain more movement and he was determined to keep it moving despite the pain. No doubt the whiskey he was constantly drinking helped.  Seeing him in constant pain from even minute movements had the guilt rattling within me. I needed to tell him. 

Placing my almost empty bowl down on the table I looked back out to the camp. Taking in a deep breath before speaking.

“I’ve been thinking...something needs to be done with Frank.” 

“You still wanting to kill him?”

“Well, yes,” I sighed “But, I don’t know. He won’t give up, that's clear enough.”

“Seeking revenge don’t help anyone. We will deal with him when the time comes.”

“When will that be? When others are hurt from his orders? When someone is killed?” He sighed then, his shoulders slumping. I watched him and waited. Maybe he had a plan or needed time to think of one. One thing was sure, Frank needed to be gone. 

“Let’s go down to the lake.”

We both walk along the lakeside, making sure to take it slow. His energy was still drained from the ordeal and healing and it would take a couple of weeks till he feels more like himself, but he knew that the injury would affect him for months if not the rest of his life. I know why he's suggested a walk and it's not just so he can escape from the constant noise at camp. But no matter how he tries I can't take my mind off what needs to be done. Living in fear until I or someone else is hurt because of this. I took some deep breaths, letting the fresh open air fill my lungs to steady myself in the hopes the waves of panic will be soothed.

“I want to thank you again for bringing me here that night,” I started with a breath, carelessly kicking the rocks at my feet. He hummed for me to continue.

“I’m a different person from who I was not so long ago. You didn't need to entertain what I was asking that night, never mind help me, but you did and it’s a kindness I don’t think I can repay. These people and the things I have learned, I just know I’m a stronger person because of it and it’s mainly thanks to you and I know I have the ability to actually stand up for myself thi-”

“Bella…” He interrupted to stop my rambling knowing full well I didn't even know I was. Total word vomit instead of saying what needed to be said. 

Another breath

“I’m going to go back,”

He stopped beside me but didn't speak. Expecting me to laugh and say ‘haha fooled you’ but this was no joke. I waited for some sort of reply but instead, he gave out an annoyed huff, looking down at his feet and then out over the lake as he shifted on his feet. Either from him still being weak or from the growing aggravation that was evident from the scowl on his face I did not know.

“I have to-”

“No.”

“Arthur I can’t just si-”

“Are you a fool? You really think going back to him is the smartest idea?”

“If it means you and everyone else will be safe. Yes.”

“I don’t know where your head has been all this time but in case you aren’t aware this life we live ain’t been safe for a long time. We been fighting O’Driscolls for years an’ that ain’t stoppin’. Pinkertons breathing down our necks and you really think we will be any safer if you go back to that sorry excuse of a man?”

I tried to think of something, anything, to say, but my mouth just kept bobbing open and closed like a fish desperate for water.

“And what about your safety?” he continued with a raised voice, taking a few steps forward to close the gap slightly. Making sure no words of his would be lost between us.

“You believe going back to him is better than having me and the others here to protect you?”

Swallowing the lump in my throat and taking in an unsteady breath, I looked away from him and out into the horizon beyond the lake. The reds and oranges filling the clouded sky as the sun began to settle beyond the edge. The distant haze dulling what would be a vibrant and beautiful night thus bringing the promise that the day’s end would be a dark and unsettled one. My mind felt just as hazy. 

“This is all my fault,” I whispered to myself, to him and to the descending sun. 

“You’re staying here where I know you will be safe” he concluded with a snarl in his voice then turning on his heels back towards camp.

Keeping my eyes on the lake I couldn’t watch him walk away again. My shoulders slumping and determined to not let tears well in my eyes to the point of falling. What did I expect? I had to tell him in the hopes he would have a better idea of dealing with this. Instead, I just got reprimanded like a child and left in the dirt, again. 

I couldn’t face walking back into camp just yet so I made my way to the jetty, sitting on the edge with my feet just skimming the water’s surface. Keeping my eyes on the haze as it engulfed everything in the distance. 

I must have been there for hours, the nights chill had set in for good and the crescent moon was giving us whatever light it could reflect. Everything was in black and white. 

Footsteps on the jetty behind me caught my attention and a voice followed.

“You’ll catch your death out here.”

It was Abigail, coming to a stop behind me but still giving me some space. 

“You wanna talk about it?”

I just shook my head. 

“Ya know, talking about your worries does help. I know that’s rich coming from me since John and I shout at each other more than we talk.”  

I shook my head again, not able to trust my own voice. It was silent between us for a few moments, the only sound being the water lapping at the shore. I thought she might have left knowing she wasn’t going to get anything out of me until I heard her steady inhale. 

“This is a nice place to clear your head or get your head in order. Arthur was sat out here just this morning, drawing in that little book of his... Drawing you.” She paused then, waiting for a reply that wouldn’t come before giving up and continuing.

“I’ve been with this gang for many years. He truly cares about you.” 

Then she left, her slow footsteps getting quieter and quieter until all I could hear was the water again. Lower lip now quivering. 

I stayed in that spot for a while longer, could have been a few hours. The moon now high in the sky when I turned my head towards the camp. It looked quiet. Everyone must have been asleep by now. 

So I made my way over, the chill now felt in my bones as I made my way over to my tent. Glancing around the camp to see it empty and quiet apart from the recognisable snores thanks to Uncle.

Everyone was asleep. 

I didn't have much to pack. A few clothes and my gun. Tearing a blank page from one of the books Hosea gave me I scribbled hastily onto it. 

The coast was clear as I slowly made my way out of the tent, making sure not to wake the girls nearby by keeping my footfalls mute. 

But before making my way to the horses I made my way over to Arthurs tent. No light escaping from the bottom of the drapes that were closed meant he must have been asleep. 

I peeked inside to see him on his back with a blanket thrown over him. His breathing deep.

Step by step I made my way inside, watching over his sleeping form as I placed the scribbled on paper on the table, the flower in the jar taking place as a paperweight.

Glancing at him one last time before leaving and making a beeline towards the horses. 

Someone would be on guard but I wasted no time as I mounted Orion and made my way through the trees so I wouldn’t be seen by whoever was stood on the pathways. Withholding myself from looking back.

@kashasenpai @fallout-cowgirl @averyspicybaguette

[scarfacemarston]

RDR Thanksgiving Modern AU Part 3: Dinner

This is way longer than I thought. I should have just posted this as a fanfic. Anyway, If you’ve stuck with me this far, I truly appreciate it! My requests are not usually not this lengthy. Part 4 is short and will be after dinner. Part 1.                  Part 2. Final part: 

* Dutch and Hosea started the dinner with a toast. Hosea kept his speech short and sweet: “ This year has been a busy one for us all, full of ups and downs. Each year, our family grows and Each and every one of you has a special place in the family. I remember how it all started with Dutch and I adopting Arthur and later John. What a wild pair. Then one by one, you all joined whether it was coming from the group home to eat dinner, tutoring or even a place to sleep. We’ve watched you grow from trouble-making young teens to trouble making adults. We’re so happy to have you in our lives”. With that, Hosea raised his glass and drank.                

* Arthur and John exchanged looks as Dutch rose from his end of the table. Arthur placed his hand on your lap, whispering to you,                                    “Time him.” You stifled a laugh. Dutch was well known for his exuberant and lengthy speeches. Sean winked at Karen as he took his fit bit out to time him.

Lenny raised an eyebrow at Sean. “What? I want to get toned! Gonna be around for Ronan and my gal.”

Mr. Pearson sighed, “I wanted to eat before the food got cold.”

Sadie and Bill exchanged looks before chugging one of the beers. Molly glanced up at him attentively as Miss Grimshaw poked Micah’s shoulder.

Sadie and Bill exchanged looks before chugging one of the beers. Molly glanced up at him attentively as Mis Grimshaw poked Micah’s shoulder .Arthur kissed your cheek before whispering,

“ He went on for eight minutes before Charles called Dutch out. He was pretty quick. * Javier whispered to the others, “This whole speech from Hosea’s to Susan’s interruption was about eighteen minutes.” With that, the whole gang dug into their food. * Sadie nodded her approval of the turkey while Tilly gushed over the ham. Mary-Beth and Keiran ate Mac N’ Cheese and turkey dressing.

* They tried to catch up with the rest of the gang, but Hosea’s phone kept tipping over causing Kieran and Mary-Beth to playfully scream. This made the children cackle with delight, especially when Hosea's phone fell into the gravy.  * Molly fed Dutch forkfuls of stuffing which feel into his mustache. * Dutch fed Molly spoonful's of cranberry sauce * Meanwhile, Tilly’s husband Marcus and Javier were debating which Star Wars trilogy was best. John became really invested and put his two cents. Arthur stunned everyone when he said he hadn’t seen any Star Wars movies since the mid 90’s. Lenny argued that Star Trek was far superior.

* Abigail rolled her eyes as she fed Amelia bites of green bean casserole. She asked Tilly about how her pregnancy was going and talked about how their horses were doing. Tilly gave her advice on how to expand their garden. Jack talked to Hosea about how school was going. *You snuggled up to Arthur as you and Karen discussed which whiskeys were best. Herr Strauss found the wishbone but split it with Micah. Micah, of course, had the larger piece. Finally, Abigail was able to save one of the pies from dropping while Reverend Swanson, helped make home-made ice cream.

*With that, Dinner was over and everyone made their way to the Marston’s Living room to watch “The Game” and relax.

[saxonspud]

Outcast - Chapter 5

You weren’t quite sure how long you had the fever for. The medicine which Hosea had made must have helped somewhat. Every time you drifted back into consciousness, there would be someone different sitting with you. Susan, Abigail, or Hosea. Occasionally Tilly would be there, but not Dutch or Arthur. Whoever it was, would give you more of the horrible medicine, that you didn't want, but you were too weak to fight, so you ended up drinking it, then drifting off again. As the fever broke, the throb in your shoulder began to subside.

When you woke up properly for the first time, Susan was watching over you. You tried to sit.

“Oh no you don’t,” Susan scolded, and her hand firmly rested on your good shoulder.

The fight that had kept you alive, wasn’t going to work in regard to you sitting up, not if Susan Grimshaw had anything to do with it.

You sighed, “Nizhoni Hunt, Nizhoni get food!”

Susan chuckled, “Don’t worry about that, Charles and Arthur brought in a couple of deer, whilst you were still out of it!”

You sighed again, “Nizhoni no good.”

Susan frowned at you, “don’t you dare say that, you saved John’s life, from what I’ve heard, and put your own on the line, besides there’ll be plenty of opportunity for you to hunt, once you’ve healed properly!” she scolded.

You looked down at your shoulder, it wasn’t hurting that much anymore.

“Nizhoni heal, Nizhoni sit!” you argued.

Susan rolled her eyes, “It may not hurt, but its still healing. You need to eat something, besides we’ll be leaving soon,” she added.

You stared at Susan in horror.

“Nizhoni stay, Nizhoni not leave mountain!” you exclaimed.

Susan gently touched your hand, “you can’t stay here, sweetheart. You’ll be safe with us, don’t worry.”

You shook your head, and tried to sit. “White man hate Nizhoni. Soldier hurt, Soldier kill!” you sputtered.

Susan gently pressed on your shoulder again.

“Not all white men hate you, we don't hate you, we’ll look after you. Besides, you’re too weak to be by yourself.”

She was wrong. You had survived in the mountains before. Three days before you ran into these people. You could do it again.

You weren't convinced that they could protect you. If the soldiers found you, that would be it. You’d escaped once, you doubted you would be able to escape a second time, if they caught you. Besides, if they caught you, they would probably kill you, after they’d had their fun.

No, you would have to leave, before these people left the mountain. You would miss them, they had been good to you, but you knew they were the exception. Most white men were like the first one who found you here. Bill, who thought you were a savage, and just wanted to kill you. In the mountain, you would only have to worry about wolves. Once these people had left, you could return here. It was good for shelter.

You looked at Susan, it was a shame, she had been kind, but you had to get out of here.

“Nizhoni have food?” You asked.

She smiled at you, “Of course, you haven't eaten for days, I’ll find you something. Then we must get some warm clothes on you, ready for the journey.”

You nodded, as she stood up and headed for the door. She glanced behind her, as she walked out, double checking you were resting. You pretended to, until she closed the door.

You pushed yourself up, until you were sitting. Your shoulder was just a dull ache. You glanced around the room, and saw your cloak, jacket, trousers and boots.

The cloak and Jacket were still covered in dried blood. They would have to do for now.

As you swung your legs over the side of the cot, your head began to spin. You ignored it, and attempted to stand. Your legs almost gave way beneath you, but you steadied yourself by holding onto the edge of the cot. You waited for a wave of nausea to pass, and let go of the bed, and staggered across to the chair. This was going to be harder than you thought, but you had to do it.

You pulled on your clothes, and scanned the room to find your bow, your knife, and your satchel.

You really could have done with something to eat first, but if you didn't leave soon, it would be too late.

You opened the bedroom door, a crack, and peered out. The outer room was empty. Not even the fire was lit.

Creeping quietly into the outer room, you steadied yourself against the wall. With every step you felt yourself becoming more steady on your feet.

With your back to the wall, you glimpsed out of one of the front windows, being careful not to be seen. You were surprised to see several wagons being loaded up. Everyone was busying themselves getting ready to leave. They would be leaving sooner rather than later. Now was the perfect time for you to slip quietly away.

You crouched down, so as not to be seen through the window, and headed to the room that was on the opposite side of the cabin to yours. You were thankful that not only was it empty, but there was also a window. With much pushing and prying, you managed to open it.

You eased yourself through it, and landed onto the soft snow beneath.

You crept round the back of the next structure. You were pretty sure it was the building where you had first met Abigail.

Once you had passed this one, you looked to where the wagons were waiting. There seemed to be enough distance from the last wagon, for you to risk the main path out of colter. Everyone was so busy loading, you doubted that anyone would notice a loan figure heading out of the camp.

You slipped from behind the cabin onto the main path, with one final glance behind you at the wagons, you headed away from colter.

You didn't get far however, when you heard your name being called.

“Nizhoni?” Dutch yelled, as he looked down the trail. He thought it was you, but why the hell were you out here, when you should be resting. More to the point why were you heading into the mountains!

“Nizhoni! Stop!” he yelled out again.

You didn't stop, you glanced quickly over your shoulder, and started to run. That's if you could call it a run, it was more of a stagger.

You heard the sound of footsteps, gaining on you. You tried to run faster, but you couldn’t. In your weakened state, you could barely keep the pace you were at. Your chest began to felt tight and your breathing became laboured, coming in gasps, and still he was gaining on you.

Before you knew it, you felt arms wrapping around you. Pinning your arms to your side, and stopping your escape.

“What do you think your doing? Where the hell do you think you’re going,” Dutch questioned you.

You struggled in his grasp, but even if you had your full strength, you wouldn’t have been able to get away. He was too strong, and you were too small. You didn’t really stand a chance.

You gasped for breath, the running had sapped all your strength.

“Please,” you gasped, “Nizhoni n… not leave m… mountain,” you stuttered.

You felt his breath on your neck, as he whispered in your ear.

“I’m not leaving you here, Nizhoni. I care too much for you. You’re coming with me, even if I have to tie you up.” Dutch whispered.

Then you felt something you didn't expect. His lips on the side of your neck.

You trembled, and not with cold.

“Now, are you gonna behave, or do I have to tie you up?” Dutch threatened.

“Nizhoni come,” you muttered.

Dutch nodded, and released his grip on you, releasing your arms. He put his hand on the small of your back, as you both headed back towards the wagons.

You’d only gone a few yards, when you saw your chance, and made another break for freedom.

You had caught your breath, so you quickly spun around, and made another run for it.

It wasn’t a very clever thing to do. Although you caught Dutch by surprise, you didn't get more than a few yards, before he had his arms wrapped round you again.

Dutch chuckled, “you’re a stubborn little lady, ain’tcha

You squirmed and struggled, but to no avail.

“Please, white man hate Nizhoni, Nizhoni stay in mountain!” you begged.

He lifted you up, and started to carry you back to the wagons, his arms, once again pinning yours to your sides.

“No one’s gonna hurt ya, I’m gonna look after you.” he concluded.

You kicked your legs, in an attempt to get free.

“That's enough, Nizhoni. You ain't stayin’ here!” Dutch scolded you.

As you reached the wagons, you noticed a red headed woman glaring at you. You hadn’t seen her before.

“Dutch, what are you doing with that...that...” she started.

Dutch quickly interrupted her, “Molly… Miss O’Shea, this is Nizhoni, she’s coming with us.”

“Doesn’t look like she wants to, why don’t you just let her go, she don’t belong with us anyway!” Molly huffed.

Dutch narrowed his eyes, “I’ll be the judge of that, now run along and get in the wagon that's carrying John. Abigail may need some help, we have a long journey ahead of us!”

Molly glared at you, then her expression softened, and she looked at Dutch.

“I thought I was riding with you, Dutch?” she questioned.

Dutch rolled his eyes, “then you thought wrong, Miss O’Shea!”

He walked passed her, heading towards the front of the row of wagons.

You’d stopped struggling. If you tried to run again, then it wouldn’t be just Dutch chasing you. You glanced across, and saw the man who had tried to kill you, Bill. He was manhandling someone else, who was tied up. Given the chance, you figured he’d try and kill you again.

You watched, as the poor wretch, was chucked into the back of a wagon. You then saw his eyes on you.

“You want any help with that…” He hesitated, “that one?” Bill asked.

Dutch chuckled, “I don't think so Bill, I got this.”

You were relieved, you hoped that Dutch would be more gentle, even if he did do as he had threatened, and tie you up.

“Arthur, come over here a minute, and bring some rope!” Dutch called out.

You hadn’t even seen Arthur, during your failed bid for freedom. Now you watched, as he walked over to where Dutch had you restrained.

“What’s goin’ on?” Arthur asked, frowning.

“She decided she wanted to stay in the mountains, rather than come with us.” Dutch explained.

Arthur shook his head, “she wouldn’t last five minutes, not in her current state!”

Dutch nodded, “you try telling her that!”.

He put you on the ground, allowing you to stand, then released your arms, only for them to be captured by Arthur, who bound your wrists together, in front of you.

You sighed, “Nizhoni Prisoner. Like soldiers.” you lowered your head, resigned to your fate.

Dutch put his finger under your chin, and tilted it upward so you were looking at him.

“We ain’t nothin’ like the soldiers, we ain’t gonna hurt you. You know that Nizhoni, don’t you? This is for your own good.”

You didn’t answer, you just narrowed your eyes. All white men were the same, using force to get what they wanted.

You saw Hosea walk across to where you were standing.

“You can understand why she wanted to stay, all that civilisation, where we’re headed. Its not like they’re gonna welcome her with open arms!” Hosea concluded.

Dutch sighed, and glared at Hosea, “that ain't helping, Hosea!”

Arthur rolled his eyes, and jumped into the back of the wagon.

“C’mon, hand her up here, and I’ll secure her in the back,” he huffed.

Dutch put his hands around your waist, and lifted you so you were sitting on the back of the wagon. From there, Arthur grabbed you, and pulled you towards the front of the wagon. There were some blankets which he laid you down on, then he took your arms and raised them above your head, securing your bound wrists to a metal ring on the wagon.

After he was done, he covered you with a blanket.

“Ain’t gonna take no chances of you tryin’ to jump off the back,” he concluded.

You just glared at him, your lips tightly pinched together.

He gently put his hand on your cheek, but you pulled away.

“Bastard!” You hissed in your native tongue.

Arthur chuckled, “I don't know what you just said, but I’m guessing it ain’t very nice.”

He jumped off the back of the wagon, “this is for your own good, ya know that don’t ya?”

You turned your head away, you’d thought Arthur was your friend, Dutch too. It seemed like you were wrong. You would never trust a white man again.

[dastardlydutchvanderlinde]

Then if you are able, can we get a super romantic Dutch imagine where he confesses his love to his s/o?

(This one ran away with me so it’s a little long… Not sure if it counts as super romantic or if it’s exactly what you wanted but still, hope you like!)

–

“Take this up will you?” Miss Grimshaw caught him on his way into camp, passing a bowl of soup into his unsuspecting hands. 

Arthur somehow managed to not drop it. “Uh, okay?” 

His confusion clearly showed, because Miss Grimshaw elaborated. “Dutch won’t let no-one else see him, and I’m worried about that smack on the head he got. He’s been askin’ about you so go to him and make him drink that. See if you can’t make sure he gets some rest too while you’re at it.” 

“Right.” Arthur says, changing from his original path through camp. “Guess that means I’m excused from chores?” 

Miss Grimshaw laughs. “We’ll see. Go on!” 

Arthur chuckled with her and started up towards the house of Shady Belle. 

Of course, who does he run into on the stairs? 

Molly blocks his way, tear stains on her cheeks and a false air of importance about her. “Where you off to with that? You know he doesn’t want to see anyone?” 

“Why ask if you know where I’m goin’?” Arthur snaps, already irritated. “Miss Grimshaw asked me to bring it up.” 

Molly puffed out her chest. “Well, he said he don’t want to see no-one.”

“Uh huh. Guess I’ll find out for myself. Excuse me.” Arthur grumbled, sliding past her on the stairs. 

She lingers as he approaches the door.

He knocks, twice. 

“Molly I swear-“ 

Arthur interrupts. “It’s me, Dutch.”

There’s silence for a second, and then the sound of a lock. The door creaks open,  and Molly’s snuffling grows louder.  

Arthur goes in, closing the door behind him. He’s fairly sure she’ll disappear after that, but you never could tell. Dutch’s interest in her didn’t last long, but Molly didn’t seem to be giving up on trying to keep his attention.

“How do you put up with her?” Arthur asks, eyeing the man before him as he sinks back down to sit on the bed. 

Dutch huffs a laugh. “I have endless patience.” 

“Now that’s bullshit.” 

They both chuckle. 

He looked like shit, but Arthur asked how he was anyway. “How you feeling?”

“Is Miss Grimshaw sending you in here to spy on me?”

“She thought you could use some food, but she’s not the only one worried.” 

Arthur takes a step closer. “You took a nasty fall.” 

“I’m fine.” Dutch says, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his head. “You worry too much.” 

Arthur grabs his hand as he lowers it. “Right right, and that there’s just paint is it?” 

Dutch’s fingertips glistened red. 

“Huh.” Dutch says, studying the blood on his hand. “Wasn’t there before.”  

“No shit.” Arthur grumbled, setting the soup on the side table. “C’mere let me look.”

The fact Dutch didn’t protest or complain more spoke volumes. 

Arthur tilted Dutch’s head forwards, so that his forehead was almost pressed against his stomach. Carefully, Arthur smoothed his fingers through the mans hair, pushing the drying bloodied mess away from where the gash was. Thankfully, it wasn’t deep. 

“Yeah I think you got away without stitches.”

“Good. It’s- ow!” Dutch growled, his hands flying up to push Arthur away from him. 

Arthur kept his grip firm, though he doesn’t try prod the injury any more. “Need to clean that up, don’t want it to get infected.” 

“Later, I don’t want to speak to anyone right now. My head’s pounding.” Dutch grumbles. 

Arthur hums. “If you exit this room Molly is going to tie herself to ya.” 

Dutch groans, rubbing his forehead as if that would quell the pain there. “Don’t remind me. That girl can’t take no for an answer.” 

Arthur chuckled, and carefully smoothed Dutch’s hair back into place. “I’ll go guard the door for you. Drink that soup and get some rest, I’ll get someone to bring up a fresh tub in a couple hours.” 

He turns to go, leave Dutch in peace when he feels resistance around his waist. Glancing back, Dutch has hold of his belt. 

“Uh…” Arthur goes to speak, but Dutch beats him to it.  

“Have you seen Hosea?” 

The question is innocent enough, but Arthur isn’t stupid. He’s seen Dutch with Hosea, and their relationship wasn’t exactly conventional. 

Arthur shakes his head. “No, I think he went out this morning with Jack.” 

Dutch hums, wincing as he moves his head. 

“Want me to go get him when he comes back?” Arthur asks, careful not to say the wrong thing. It had been… a stressful time on that particular relationship. Not at all helped by Molly. 

Dutch nods, and then flinches again. “Please.” 

Arthur pauses, noting that Dutch still had hold of his belt. “You good?”

He doesn’t expect the heavy sigh, or the answer he gets to the simple question. “I ain’t been good to him, Arthur. Hurt him with some things I’ve done and he’s still here. Keep wondering what’ll be the tipping point.” 

This was new and dangerous territory. “Hosea ain’t going anywhere Dutch. He’ll always be here, same as me.” 

Dutch smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “You don’t want to be here either. You haven’t got no faith in me anymore. Not sure I blame either of you.” 

“It ain’t like that. We trust you Dutch, we’re just worried is all.” Arthur says, and he gestures towards the food. “Eat summin’. I’ll get Hosea for you.”It’s barely an hour before Hosea comes back into camp. It’s like he’s got a sixth sense and he knows something is wrong. Or it could be that he was going to see Dutch anyway, Arthur reckons that’s more likely. 

“Arthur. What’s going on?” Hosea asks, pausing as he got to the top of the stairs and saw Arthur standing guard. 

Arthur sighs. “Another job gone bad. Everyone’s okay but we was in one of them trolley carriage things in St Denis. Couldn’t stop it and went flying, Dutch took a pretty hard crack on the head.” 

“God damn. Think we’ll ever catch a break again?” Hosea said with a shake of his head. 

Shrugging, Arthur pushes up off the wall. “Probably not. Think our time is reaching its end if I’m honest.”

“Please tell me you didn’t tell him that.” 

Arthur huffs. “No. Course not. He’s… ah Hosea he ain’t good.”

The sadness that flickers across Hosea’s expression takes Arthur a little by surprise. “I know, kid. He awake?” 

“Was an hour ago. Took him some stew from Miss Grimshaw but I don’t know if he touched it. Now you’re back I’ll go grab someone to help haul a tub up here.” Arthur says, moving out the way of the door. 

Hosea nods, moving past to enter Dutch’s room. “Thank you Arthur.” 

“Oh,” Arthur pauses as he heads down the stairs. “Watch the back of his head. Got a nasty cut, don’t think it needs stitchin’ but, just so y’know.”

It’s information Hosea has to see for himself that instant, and Arthur doesn’t take offence to the lack of response as Hosea disappears. 

Inside Dutch’s room it’s quiet, and Hosea finds the man sitting at the end of the bed, gazing out of the window at nothing. 

“Dutch.” Hosea says softly, trying not to startle him out of his trance. 

There’s a hum from the gang’s leader, and Dutch turns to look at him. 

It takes a few seconds longer than it should for that spark of recognition, and it has Hosea frowning as Dutch’s face lights up a little. “Hey. Where’d you go?”

“Fishing, with little Jack. Don’t get excited though, we didn’t catch much.” Hosea says, taking a seat beside Dutch, their legs touching together. “I hear you almost got knocked clean out.” 

“Understatement.” Dutch grumbled, and he leant forwards, resting his elbows on his knees and putting his head into his hands. “I feel like I’ve been run over. My head is pounding.”

Hosea reached out, tracing the line of Dutch’s hair behind his ear. “Arthur said you were bleeding.”

Dutch just hums, and he takes Hosea’s hand, carefully guiding his fingers through the dark hair to the sticky bloody area. 

“Oh, Dutch.” Hosea said, barely a whisper. 

Neither of them moved, Dutch’s hand still curled carefully around Hosea’s resting against the back of his head. 

“What am I doing, Hosea?” Dutch asks, his thumb caressing the soft skin of Hosea’s wrist. 

For once, Hosea didn’t have an answer for that. “Your best. Like always.” 

Dutch took a deep breath, shaking his head. “You don’t believe that.”

Hosea was tired of this argument. They’d been going round in circles since Blackwater, and Hosea didn’t know how to prove to Dutch that he did still believe in him. Hell, he’d follow Dutch straight to the gallows if that’s where Dutch asked him to go. Sure, he wasn’t totally convinced there was a plan, or that this whole thing would end well for any of them, but he was going to see it out either way. 

“Stop. Not now, Dutch, please. Can we just…” Hosea sighs, smoothing down an unruly piece of Dutch’s hair. “Can we just be together tonight? No arguing, no doubting, just us.” 

“Like old times.” Dutch says bitterly, but even as he says it he’s leaning into Hosea and seeking his comfort. 

Hosea doesn’t answer him, just keeps on gently stroking though his hair. There’s a knock on the door, and Hosea reluctantly moved away from Dutch, rising to go answer it. 

Arthur stood with a bucket in hand. 

“Can’t use the tub, there’s a hole in the bottom of it.” He says, holding up the bucket and clean cloth. “Got this instead.” 

Hoses nods, taking the offered bucket. “Okay, we’ll need to get that fixed at some point. Thank you Arthur.” 

Arthur grunts. “Yeah, I’ll see if Bill’s about to help fix it up. You good?”

“Good as can be.” 

Arthur shrugs. “Good enough, I guess. Shout if you need me.” 

Hosea agreed he would, and Arthur disappears back down the stairs, off to do his next chore. The boy never stopped, Hosea was worried about how slim he seemed to be getting. 

But that was a problem for another day, now he had a head wound to clean up and a grouchy Dutch to deal with. 

Coming back into the room, Hosea placed the bucket on the floor beside Dutch’s boots.

“Stay there, let me clean that gash.” Hosea said, dunking the cloth and ringing it out. 

Dutch doesn’t grumble too much, allowing Hosea to perch on the bed beside him. 

“Probably going to sting.” Hosea warns as he starts to part Dutch’s hair, carefully dabbing at the wound. 

There’s only a small hiss from Dutch, and then he falls quiet, barely flinching away as Hosea gently cleans away the dried blood. 

“What are you reading?” 

Hosea pauses in his care. The question was innocent enough, but it was always Dutch’s question he asked just before he was going to say something he felt was important.  “I’m not, currently. Why, what are you reading?”

“Nothing interesting.” 

“I find that hard to believe.” Hosea says. He’s finished with cleaning Dutch’s wound up, but he can’t bring himself to move away. This was the closest they’d been in a long time, and Hosea didn’t want the moment to end. 

Dutch sits quietly for a while, getting lost in the rhythmic feel of Hosea’s fingers running through his hair. It was so peaceful, in fact, Dutch could almost forget about the pounding pain that was stabbing through his head. 

“Stay.” Dutch says, barely above a whisper. He’s leaning into Hosea’s touch, the pretence of cleaning his injury forgotten. 

Hosea knows he shouldn’t. It was too complicated, too painful, too risky. Anyone could walk in and see them in a questionable position, and the whole involvement with Molly and the hardships within the gang had put a tension on their relationship that Hosea wasn’t sure would ever snap. 

“Always, Dutch.” Is what he breathes out instead. He’s never been able to refuse this man in all the years he’d known him, he wasn’t going to start now. 

All the fight drains from Dutch, and he seeks Hosea for strength, reassurance, love. Hosea gives it to him, like he always has done, like he always would. 

They settle against the bed, Hosea propped up by the pillow and Dutch curled against his side, one arm thrown across his waist with his head resting comfortably against Hosea’s shoulder. 

“Wake me in an hour. Need-“ Dutch starts to say. 

Hosea cuts him off. “You need a good amount of sleep, Dutch. Wake up when your body wants to wake up.”

“Don’t complain when I sleep for a year then.” Dutch grumbled, but Hosea can see the tiny smile on his face. 

He huffs a laugh, and he can’t stop himself pressing a quick kiss to Dutch’s head. It was an old habit, one that he’d never be able to fully break. 

Dutch hums, and one hand finds its way beneath Hosea’s waistcoat, resting against warm skin. 

Hosea expects no more conversation as Dutch’s breathing evens out, becomes slower and deeper. His eyes are closed, and Hosea has already pulled Dutch’s book off the side table and started to read. 

“I love you.”

The three quiet words were ones Hosea had never thought he would ever hear, and he freezes. 

Dutch has got his head tilted back, staring at his old partner with an intensity that felt like it had gripped hold of Hosea’s soul. 

He goes to speak, but Dutch isn’t finished. 

“I know I’ve never told you before but it’s true. Without you I would have been buried six feet under years ago. You-“ He cuts himself off, frowning as he struggles to find the right words. Something else that seems to happen only with Hosea. “You keep me going. You keep me sane. You keep me good.” 

Hosea just keeps staring at him, wondering if it was possible for a man’s heart to burst because it felt like his was about to. 

“I’m sorry, Hosea.” 

“What for?” Hosea asks, unable to think of anything else to say. 

Dutch sighs, and his gaze drops as he resettles. “Every wrong I ever did you.” 

“Dutch.” Hosea whispers, abandoning the book beside him. His hand goes to Dutch’s jaw, stroking the rough stubble beneath his thumb. “Dutch I forgave you all your flaws years ago. You know I’m with you, until you don’t want me around anymore.”

A quiet settles over the room, with Dutch and Hosea locked in a silent conversation of looks. Sometimes it was too hard to discuss feelings. Some things didn’t need discussing. 

“Say it again.” Hosea asks in the silence, tucking Dutch’s hair behind his ear. It didn’t need saying, Hosea had always known Dutch had cared but… well, knowing he loved him was different. 

“I love you.” Dutch said without hesitation, and Hosea wasn’t sure his heart had raced this fast in his life. Not even at the bank job back in 82. 

There were no more words, after that. They didn’t need them. Only the muffled sounds of the camp below them could be heard, and Dutch’s slow even breathing, the occasional rustle of a page being turned. Hosea had never wanted more than this. Peace, and stillness, with Dutch equally content by his side. 

Perhaps they would never reach Tahiti. Maybe they wouldn’t even make it to the end of the month, but this? 

It was enough.

Not sure if that’s quite what you wanted but I had fun writing it haha! 

[micxhbells]

Fem!Reader and Micah

Drunk Confessions fic

Now on AO3 as “Did Ya Hear?”  

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16901778/chapters/39705471

Part 1 was getting kinda long so as of posting this, I’m already working on the rest.

You had just finished scouting for possible stagecoach robberies near Rhodes when you arrived back in camp. It was getting late but it looked like most of the guys were still out. Pearson and Abigail were busy cleaning up what was left of dinner while the others were huddled up by the campfire.

“Hey (Y/N), welcome back! Sit down, find out anything interestin?” Lenny asked, handing you a beer as you took your place between him and Karen by the campfire.

“I was fine. Heard something in the train station about a coach coming through here tomorrow afternoon, I should actually go tell Dutch about it now.” You moved to stand up but Karen grabbed you and kept you seated.

“Now hold on, hon. You’ve got plenty a time! You just relax and enjoy that beer for now.” she said, patting you on the head playfully. You smiled at her, she seemed much friendlier ever since Sean got back. You glanced around, wishing to see a certain cowboy around camp.

You looked back at Karen. “Hey, is Micah here yet?”

Karen scoffed, swinging her drink around. “Nah, thank goodness for that. He would’ve ruined such a fine evenin.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, maybe.” You joined the gang only a few weeks after Micah did, and in the short time you got to know him, well, your opinion on him was better than what everyone else in the group thought of him, at least.

You remember how angry you were when you met him and he had called you deadweight, saying they didn’t need more women in the group. That earned him a smack on the head from Hosea but it also fueled your desire to prove yourself.

The night went on and Lenny had to leave for his shift to guard camp. You were left with Karen, Molly, Tilly, and on the ground was Uncle passed out, snoring.

You lost count of how many beers you’ve had. Damned Uncle brought two whole cases out and they were right there beside you. Tilly was telling everyone a story about her life with her old gang when they heard footsteps approaching.

“Good evenin’ ladies.” You looked up to see Dutch, as everyone greeted him back. “So sorry to interrupt, but if you may allow Miss O’Shea to be excused? She must be tired, bein up this late.” he said playfully.

Molly laughed before standing up and wrapping her arm around Dutch’s. She seemed so bored while she was with you and the rest of the girls, but now... “Oh you! I was only away for a bit! Right, come along then.”

“Ladies.” Dutch said, dipping his head towards you all before following Molly. But, he suddenly stopped, and turned back to look at you. “Oh, Lenny already told me about that coach. Bring an extra man with you tomorrow, just in case. Great work (Y/N).” You called out a quick thank you as he was leaving. Scouting wasn’t the only you were doing for the group. It took a lot of beggin Arthur and Hosea, and finally Dutch allowed you to help the guys out more. Ever since Micah made that deadweight comment, you asked Hosea to teach you to basically be a better outlaw. Thankfully the man agreed and you were now confident enough to show off your skills.

Karen’s chuckling brought back your attention to the group. “There she goes again. Ya know, she thinks, just ‘cause she’s with Dutch, that she don’t have to help around camp no more. Honestly. And ya see how she is around him?”

You rolled your eyes. “Well Karen, when Sean came back, you were a lot like how Molly was actin, hmm?”

You weren’t sure if the blush on Karen’s face was from embarassment or the alcohol. “That’s different!”

Tilly laughed. “Uh-huh, sure it is.” You laughed with her, only aggravating Karen more. You didn’t mean anything by the teasing, in fact you were happy for her and Molly. At least they were lucky enough to end up with the guys they liked in the group, unlike you.

Great, now the stupid alcohol was making you think about that stupid cowboy and his stupid horse and-

“What about you, (Y/N)?” Tilly asked suddenly.

“Whaddaya mean?”

The girl giggled. “Don’t be shy, there ain’t no one you’re sweet on?”

Now stupid Tilly had to open up the stupid topic. And what the hell, why not?

“Actually, there is someone.”

By this point, Tilly had stopped laughing, and Karen dropped her bottle. “WHO?” They both asked, leaning towards you.

You took another swig from your drink, before smiling sheepishly at them. “Itsmicah.”

Tilly leaned forward even more, Karen right behind her. “Sorry, sweetheart what was that?”

“...Micah.” you whispered a bit louder.

“What!?” Karen yelled, as Tilly stared at you like you just said you were in love with an O’Driscoll.

It wasn’t that bad. Right?

“No, it’s not bad hon.” Tilly reassured you. Apparently you had said that out loud. “It’s just… surprising, is all. Right, Karen?” Tilly nudged Karen.

“Wha? Oh, uhm, yeah, yeah (Y/N). Ain’t that bad. But, and I don’t mean to offend, but how?”

You blushed, not used to talking about stuff like this. But, you’ve wanted to tell someone about this for the longest time. So you did. About how this stupid thing first started.

It was when Lenny brought you to the bar in Valentine, a few weeks back. All you wanted was to have a few drinks but apparently there was a fight going inside between Micah and one of the locals. There was yelling then soon, fists were flying everywhere and Lenny had to push you away as someone started running towards him. Your only weapon was the knife Hosea had given you, but your first mistake was not being aware of what was going on behind you. A man grabbed you, sniffing your hair and chuckling creepily, his hands roaming around your body. You remembered how terrified and frozen you were, scanning the bar for Lenny.

But suddenly you could breathe again, he wasn’t holding you anymore. Turning around, you saw your attacker on the ground unconscious, blood on his head from a broken beer bottle.

“What the hell are you doin’ here (Y/N)!?” You looked up and saw Micah, angrier than usual. Before you could reply, he put his arm around you and dragged you towards the exit, away from the crowd. As soon as you were outside, you expected Micah to let you go. Instead, he grabbed you by the shoulders and glared at you. “Well? Answer the question, miss!”

You glared right back, too annoyed to realize he had just saved you. “I wanted to enjoy a drink, Mr. Bell. But you had to go and start a bar fight. How’d that happen, anyway?”

“Feller accused me of cheatin’ in our card game! I won his money fair and square.”

“Oh, really? And how many cards did you need up your sleeve?”

“...I only needed the one.”

You laughed, despite how tense your whole conversation seemed. Micah joined in too, finally letting you go. “Thanks for savin me back there. I know you don’t like me much.” You said, already regretting mentioning that last part.

“The hell you think that for? I seen Hosea teach you how to shoot. You’re gettin’ better, miss. Soon Dutch’ll have you ridin’ with us.”

You blushed, whether it was from the acknowledgment of your skills, or from the fact that he actually noticed you trying to make an effort, you weren’t sure.

“But now you need to work on your knife skills.” He said.  “I’ll mention it to the old man when I get back.”

You wanted to say more, knowing how rare it was to catch him in a good mood. “Micah, I-”

“(Y/N)! There you are!” Lenny came out of the bar, nursing an arm, but other than that he seemed fine. “I couldn’t find you and I thought-”

“So you’re the one s’posed to look out for ‘er.” Micah growled.

“Hey, we’d be havin’ the time of our lives by now if you didn’t-” The older man waved him off.

“Just get yourselves back to camp. I have some… cleaning up to do. And before you so rudely interrupted us, what was it you wanted to say to me, (Y/N)?” Micah asked, looking back at you.

You knew the opportunity had passed. So instead, you said, “I overheard one of the locals say the bartender keeps some dirty money hidden in there, might be worth checkin’ out.”

Micah grinned. “All right, I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, darlin’. Now, you and the boy go on and get.” And just like that, he was gone, back inside the saloon. As Lenny hoisted you back up on his horse, you couldn’t get over how damned cute Micah looked when he smiled at you. Or how flustered you got when he called you darlin.

You couldn’t look at Karen and Tilly when you were done telling the story, afraid of their reactions. You knew they weren’t exactly Micah’s biggest fans.

“Aww, hon. You got it bad.” Karen said hugging your side and surprising you.

You nodded eagerly, their genuine reactions and the alcohol encouraging you to keep talking. “I know! And it ain’t fair. Cuz, I know he likes Abigail, and I know she’s spoken for but I mean, he likes women like her. And look at the girl! She’s so, so, witty and, and strong, and, and beautiful and I ain’t nothin like her!”

Tilly and Karen moved closer, sensing how much you needed to let that all out. “So? You’re just as good as she is, (Y/N)! And if Micah Bell can’t see that, well, he really is the biggest damned fool in this camp.

You smiled, grateful that they were doing their best to cheer you up.

“Now, it’s gettin real late. Why don’t you go to bed? You have that coach to rob tomorrow, remember?” Tilly said, rubbing your shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks, girls. I really needed that… apparently.”

Tilly smiled, helping you stand up. “And don’t you worry, your secret is safe with us. Now come, along. I’ll walk with you, make sure you don’t puke and have Mrs. Grimshaw barkin’ at ya in the morning.”

You were out of earshot by the time Karen was clearing up the scattered beer bottles and muttering to herself. “Honestly. (Y/N)? Sweet on Micah Bell? I never thought I’d see the day.”

“(Y/N)’S SWEET ON MICAH?!” Uncle yelled, causing Karen to drop the bottles.

“You old bastard! The one time you wake up, and that’s what ya hear?!”

But Uncle was already gone, running off to tell Lenny and whoever else was on guard duty about the latest gossip.

Karen sighed. “Well, maybe this’ll help ‘em… I hope.”

P1 END