#of course javier and bill are both BITCHES too

[eddiexmunsn]

just finished the main story of rdr2 and my heart is shattered. im gonna miss arthur so much, i love my outlaw and as much as i like john it’s not gonna be the same :’-(

also i’m so pissed we didn’t get to kill that nasty rat ass bitch micah and that arthur had to die that way. i hope dutch has a horrible life and lives in shame and pain and regret for the rest of his wretched life and that micah gets sick and has an excruciating and drawn out death because it’s what he deserves 🤭

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

It’s The Avengers (03x15)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 3 Episode 15: Not All Rainbows

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline   Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

Warnings: did someone just go and tell the otp about the otp?

Word Count: you know that feeling when you have had a bad experience on some project or assignment or homework before. And you know that thing is going to come around again next month or something like that. And you just age yourself by giving yourself anxiety by thinking everything that could go worse in that area. Yeah. So, I kinda shut that off for a few hours and wrote this.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

An ice pack sits partially on the sofa’s arm and partially on the head that is being knocked softly- but repeatedly- by its designated owner. The fist taps that forehead with the vigour of a dedicated hammer that is softly checking the tensile strength of its mettle. The second camera takes the liberty to zoom in on Tony’s face that has the tension the size of the Alps looming over his head. Other spectators sit around, going about their activities with their five senses while the sixth was stuck on Tony. One camera panned on Wanda’s figure standing in the kitchenette, stirring her coffee cautiously, locking eyes with the lens.

Wanda: Only if you could see the monstrous cloud looming over his head. *stretches the corner of her lips* It’s made less of anger and more of worry and embarrassment. *blinks and furrows her brows* And choco-chip ice cream for some reason. *shrugs* Though I'm just glad that nothing was broken or smashed today. *stops midway* *raises her index finger* Although...

Scott: *glows inside out with a big smile stuck on his red face* *swings from side to side in the chair* Huh? What? *shakes head* Nothing. Just *inhales* I'm worried about Tony *continues to smile*

"So-" Steve took the first step and everyone held their breath- "now we know why we weren't able to reach Carol before. She is clearly...kinda...sorta stuck right where Y/N and Loki are? I think the kids are safe now." "Oh? The kids are safe? I must have missed the scene where they returned home with another weird pet," Tony remarked monotonously with his eyes still closed. Peter leaned in towards Scott. "So Loki is one of the 'kids' now." Both the shippers fist-bumped discreetly before looking all serious. The camera swivelled right towards Wanda, who shared a look of bewilderment while pointing at the joy of the shippers who were clearly not reading Tony's wavelength. And Tony was not the only one on the wavelength. There in the corner on the dining table, Clint sat lost in some thought so deep that his resting face was now a resting bitch face while he dipped his arrows in tiny bottles- the purpose of which only he knew- and handled them like his own babies. "You still have to find a way to stab him with these," Natasha was quick to mention as she walked towards her friend and sat opposite him. "Oh, I'll find a way. I was in his head too, remember," Clint pointed out. "He completely underestimates me." "Hmm," she scrunched her nose, "just remove that itch-like thing on your neck before you go after him though." "Where?" He asked as he scratched the side of his neck with the end of his arrow, his furrowed brows suddenly releasing themselves at the dawn of realisation before disappearing from the camera frame to fall down from the seat with a thud. "Told you not to wipe both ends with the same cloth," she muttered while wistfully looking down at an unconscious Hawkeye.

That One Steamy Dungeon™ No one knew how, when or why Lulu was sitting there in Carol's lap like he knew her for ages. No one knew why Carol was stroking him with the back of her fingers while her eyes were stuck on you like two magnetic poles finding that one direction and sticking to it. And you genuinely did not know why you could not stop looking at Carol. All of Carol Danvers. Especially her lips. "What?" Carol finally dismissed the silence with one casual word. "Ag-sa-wuu-you're looking beautiful," was what you came up with. Loki stared at Lulu's camera with one long blink of...slowed surprise. The buzzing camera caught all three of you sitting in the returning silence over dried hay, looking at each other before you scooched down a little to hide the embarrassment visible over your face.

You: *whisper* W-well, she does look pretty despite all the dirt she's lying in. I mean *violently points at Carol in the background* look at her!!! How can someone look sooooo fucking beautiful??? *lick your lips* Except for Loki of course. That dude is on a whole another level.

Carol threw a shirt over Loki's face from her backpack. "Weren't your looks enough this time?" "Wasn't your hairstyle enough this time?" came the retort. You sat there in the middle, your eyes moving between both of them to calculate this new chemistry you were seeing. The camera caught you pulling your legs closer to your chest. "I didn't know you two were so...close to each other."

Javier: *signing* Why? *Furrows his brows* does that make you furious, Y/N? *wiggles his brows up and down in question* Hmm? *zooms in on his face* Hmm? *turns the camera towards the screen from which he and Green are watching the live broadcast*

"Close? I met him on one mission and this punk would have been dead had I not saved his ass back then." Carol smirked through the sentence and you did not realise any time sooner that you were staring at her, your mouth almost at the edge of drooling. "You blew my cover," Loki stressed while putting on the grey free size shirt. "And then she had the audacity to make me pay for her bar bill on the next stop," he gasped while looking at you. Javier took the opportunity to make his drone zoom at your iris, catching your pupils dilate in 4K as soon as Loki started narrating the story to you while you nodded in enthusiasm. "You do realise your ex-girlfriend wants to cut off your new girlfriend's head right this moment, right?" Carol was generous to point out while getting up and wiping off all the dirt and hay. "I'm not his girlfriend." "She's not my ex-" Both of you had the synchronisation of an orchestra. Carol took this opportunity to let her eyes pass the judgment- which played from one face to another and back for sheer entertainment.

Carol: *shrugs* *runs her hand through her pixie cut hair* Priorities, I guess. *nods*

"Anyways," Loki tried to cut this weird air surrounding the three of them that apparently Lulu was the only one enjoying, rubbing himself all around Carol's leg, "do you have a plan to get out of here?" "Of course," Carol simply jerked her shoulders, "punch my way through." You blinked at the camera.

You: Is that why they are called Captain? It has to be, right?

You shook your head and looked around in the ground, leaving Loki to do the bickering on your part as well. "Well, Miss one-punch woman, this time you are not the only one that needs to escape." You found a stick in the corner. It seemed to be made of the same ashen wood that Aellae sat on in her throne room. "We have tiny mortals to save too." Carol chuckled. You raised the stick your eye level, feeling the weight in your hands when suddenly your eyes grow wide and your mouth turns into a horror-filled 'O' "What? Where is the comedy?" A violent grunt came from your lungs, turning both Carol and Loki into attack and defence mode in your direction. Lulu's camera caught you taking the stick out of the orc's stomach. The dull creature blankly looked at the blood turning into sparks flying against the gravity before slowly consuming the whole creature, taking him with them. The next twenty seconds were a pause on every breath. You finally turned around, the stick still in your hand. "Did I kill him?" you asked in a whisper. Loki and Carol shared a glance. "It was just a bruise" Loki shoved your concern away with his hands. "He's in heaven now," Carol sang. "He was a bad guy, right?" "Yes," both of them nearly shouted. "It's good that he disappeared. You helped the universe get rid of a bad guy," Loki clapped his hands before give you an awkward thumbs up. You blinked at both of them. The smile eroding on your lips slowly turned the duo uncomfortable. "Good." Was all you said for your stature completely transformed. "Because that felt..."  you did not finish the sentence, clearly concerning your company. Well, Lulu seemed to like whatever vibes you were giving off. “Y/N,” Loki pretty much sang your name cautiously, slowly lifting his hands in the air to have a word with you to process whatever you were feeling. But you were already running outside with the most suspicious giggle the room had ever heard. Carol even shivered a bit to shake it off of her.

My daddy's got a gun My daddy's got a gun My daddy's got a gun You better run

The one buzzing drone in the hallway caught the slow-motion emotion of you walking into the hallway with the ash stick in your hand like a gun- locked and loaded- with something fierce burning in your eyes. Behind you Loki was trying to catch up with the adrenaline rush you were feeling, calling out your name to stop you. Carol was close behind, cheering you on as much as she could.

My daddy's got a gun My daddy's got a gun My daddy's got a gun Ga-ga-ga-ga-ga

The orcs didn’t even seek you out. One of the reasons was the fact that you were running towards them first, swinging your arms with as much force as your body allowed, screaming your lungs out and jumping with fueled excitement whenever they went up in flames. Loki had to take a moment out of those crucial seconds to look at you. To look at that animalistic look in your eyes. Pausing for a millisecond to consciously question whether to admire it or fear it, he almost smiled. He might have stood there for a few seconds more had he not felt the blue plasmic force run by his side to destroy the one orc aiming for you from your blindside.

It started with the hayloft a-creakin' Well, it just started in the hay (loft) With his longjohns on, pop went a-creeping Out to the barn, up to the hay Young lovers and they are not sleeping Young lovers in the hay (loft) With his gun turned on, pop went a-creeping Out to the barn, up to the hay (loft)

"Seriously?!" He shouted at the glowing Captain who flew past him. "Catch up. Catch up!" she teased him while leaving a trail of bodies in her way. "ANARCHYYYYYY!!!!!!!" You howled as you ran, following your new crush. Loki sighed, his head trying to hang as low as possible as he looked at the sleek shackles around his wrists. Breathing in a lungful, he grabbed the nearest iron rail from the window looking out at the barren mountains and bent it till it broke in his flexing hand. "Is this why I am still alive?" He whispered to himself while continuing to walk in the direction you just dashed in.

My daddy's got a gun My daddy's got a gun My daddy's got a gun You better run My daddy's got a gun My daddy's got a gun My daddy's got a gun Ga-ga-ga-ga-ga Ga-ga-ga-ga-ga

Throne Room Aellae sat on the ash throne frozen in thought when one of her underlings interrupted her daydreaming with its presence. "What?" She did not disguise her displeasure. There has been a mishap on the laboratory floor, my lady." Her body automatically shifted on her seat. "Four guards are dead. The source is unknown." "Is it the woman?" "No, my lady. I just checked up on her after locking Master Loki up." "Then who is it?" "We are yet to find out. My lady." "Then why are you wasting my time by standing here and doing nothing about it?" The skinny elf-like underling bowed down to her and scurried in the opposite direction. It had reached the entrance of the throne room when a weak scream left its lungs and it stepped back- falling down in the process- to make way for the uninvited guest. The poise on Aellae's face took a turn as she looked at the person casually sauntering in her direction, never realising when she got up. "Oh, don't stand on my account," White mentioned breezily with a smirk, coming to a halt right in the middle of the room. "Zune." She called out the name like spitting a curse. "It's been a while, my least favourite Witch of the West Galactica." Zune smiled his precious smile, standing bright in stark contrast to his dull surroundings. "Last time we met, you were grovelling on the floor, begging for mercy in front of the Silver Court, asking them not to punish you for the endless crimes you committed in the last century." The composure was evidently crumbling away in little pieces. Aellae's stone-like glare was slowly turning into fast blinks. Her usually unruffled breaths were now a mocked laugh. "And the court decided to send you to arrest me? Where is the rest of the coven?" She pretended to guess before snapping her pale fingers. "Oh, right. I burned them all. Poor boys. J'uke, Fae and Mi'in were still so young." Zune huffed and smiled. "Hmm. They were really young when they fought you, weren't they? And to answer your question, no. The court did not send me here." Now this made Aellae burst into laughter. "So, you are here for revenge? For your mates?" Licking his teeth, he bit his lip and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, all the playfulness in his feature draining out with every passing second. "I am just here to clean up the mess that you made. But they are the ones who are here for revenge." Taking a step back, Zune gave Aellae a few seconds to realise that they are not the only ones in this room. And just when it dawns upon her, she sees the rest of the 'coven' come out of the shadows, surrounding her from every probable escape route this place could have. "Fae," she whispered with a deep-rooted horror in her throat, backing up into her throne when she looked at the familiar red figure walking towards her. "When you were setting us up on fire-" Fae carried no empathy in his eyes as he moved closer with every step- "you forgot that you cannot make Gods made up of ancient stars disappear when you please." Every cell in Fae's body vibrated with a demonic aura that made the witch go down on her knees. Her breaths shook and her eyes watered. The claustrophobia resulting from just his presence made it hard for her to breathe. "No," she shook her head, trying her best to mask her fear. "No. This cannot be. I destroyed you. I destroyed the senate. I destroyed everything that stood in my path. I cannot fail this time. This world needs to kneel before my power. That God needs to kneel before me. NO!!" The six looked at their leader to begin the ceremony. "Aellae of the covens abandoned, child of the dark refugees, you are hereby sent to the endless pits of the universe for your crimes against the creatures of the universe." The screams of the witch echoed throughout the castle till every last ounce of life in her voice could be heard fading away by the other group at the far end of the other wing. By the time Carol arrived, all that was left were the seven boys and a pile of ash resting by the throne. “That was fast,” she did not refrain from mentioning, “I thought it would take more than that to get her to give up.” Zune shrugged. “Well, it was easy because we had you and your friends this time. She did not have much to distract us with, unlike the last time she was in prison.” Carol smiled a kind smile at them. “I hope they didn’t give you any trouble?” Fae stretched the corner of his lips. “When you first called us to go around the universe to look for a human, we were a little sceptical. But we were glad to have met her.” “Especially Zune,” Mi’in quipped, earning a yank by the ear from the leader. “Thank you for protecting her.” “No biggie. We would have protected her even if you didn’t tell us to.” Carol furrowed her brows at the statement. “Because Loki had already asked us for that favour,” Zune mentioned, clearing any doubts, “and we owed him from way back.” Feeling the ‘ah’ of a satisfactory conclusion coming on her face, she stopped midway to hear your scream turn louder the second you got closer till you turned the corner to enter the hall with your stick, forcing yourself to stop your lungs from going any further than that. “Oh,” you straightened your stance, giving up on the attack position as soon as you realised there was no more threat, “looks like you guys already cleaned the place.” “You almost sound disappointed,” J’uke stressed, judging by your disapproval of the lack of bad guys. Loki stepped in next, clearly having taken care of whatever tried to attack them from the back. "She hurt my friend. I at least wanted to watch her burn," you simply shrugged. Fae patted your head softly. "Don't worry. You'll get your chance." He smiled the most ridiculously comforting smile. "How?" You whined, "you guys already finished her." All the seven boys, Loki and Carol shared a look with each other while you stomped her foot in the ground while staring daggers at the pile of ashes.  "Yeah-" Zune blurted out, scratching an itch in the back of his neck- "we definitely, for sure, totally killed her. Like-" he pretended to chop the air with his hand- "so smooth." Everyone nodded in agreement. Our elder boys of the group supported their leader while Carol gave them soft applause. Loki gave them a thumb's up.

You: *turning away from the scene in the background where everyone now sits outside the castle having a chat with each other* Aww *smile widely* it feels so good to watch them get along like that!! *start staring in the distance* *smile still stuck on your face* I wish my family could get along this well too. You know. *tilt your head* If all of them got along with Loki, I feel like half of the world's problems would vanish just like that. *watch Javier sign something to you* What? Merch store? *reads some more* Manga?? *looks closely at Javier as he continues to sign* Fanfi-what does any of it have to do with Loki? *camera pans in on your confused innocent face*

"Here's my little monster!" Carol talked in a tone that one used on babies while stroking a very excited Lulu. "Who's a scary boy! Who's a scary boy!!! You are!!! Yes!! You are!!!" You chuckled, watching Lulu enjoy the love and attention from the Captain, bumping his head with hers, wiggling in her lap before settling down in her arms, his adrenaline going down. "Who's that?" Carol asked him, pointing at you. Lulu chirped. "And who's mamma's boy?" Lulu chirped again. "Aaaand who's gonna protect mamma from bad guys?" Lulu growled. And then he chirped again, hiding his faceless husk hairy face in his paws. "Oh my God, he growls!!!!" you gasped. "Oh, he is got a lot more to show you, mamma! Give him time." You sat down next to Carol and stroked a yawning Lulu, who was now making biscuits in her arms. "This one's helped me a lot through this weird, fatal, dreamy galactic trip," you mentioned wistfully. The camera- as well as Carol- noticed how your brows furrowed slightly before your teeth bit down on your lower lip and you turned your gaze up to search for something in the rocky terrain before finally resting on Loki. Carol watched this subtle shift, patiently spectating how Loki too was stealing glances your way while having some serious looking chat with the boys.

The boys and Loki: *standing in the grey terrain like a bunch of Gods modelling for luxury hair products* Loki: It's spelt Z-U-K-O Zune: You named a dog after the fire God? Loki: Wha-no. It was all her *points at you*. Apparently, Coco was a bit too mushy for her. Something about 'Zuko reminding her of a guy who was in his redemption arc right now'. Whatever that means. Zune: *looked at the camera panning in on his face*

"So, you wanna go back now?" Carol asked you, her hands still busy stroking a purring Lulu. You inhaled to answer but felt yourself turning to look at Loki. Carol noticed it too. "Of course. H-how, long will it take?" you scratched your forehead. "We were actually pretty close to getting Loki free of his...cuffs. And I'm sure two powerful beings is always better than one." Carol chuckled and nodded. "Tell you what-" she took your hand in hers, something that you were not expecting- "I will go and take care of a couple of things for our return journey. Till then-" she stroked your hand- "you find out for yourself. Whatever it is that you're looking for." That gentle tone and those cryptically simple words changed some spectrum of the emotions on your face. You stared at her for a long while with your mouth agape. "What are you talking about?" Your breath asked in exasperation. "Cuffs, I guess?" she proposed softly with a knowing smirk. You forced out a laugh. "I have no idea what you're talking about," You chuckled and found yourself looking back at Loki again.

The boys- well, at a few of them- tried to calm down the God who seemed to be picking up a rock from the ground. "Okay now-" Gin, our green jellybean, raised his hands- "let's all calm down and talk about this." "Yeah, yeah. How about we all go to the nearest oasis and have a cup of starry vodka and discuss how we are all alive. Right, Mi'in?" Me'isri, sweet yellow candy boy suggested casually. "Right," Loki nearly sang. His every step towards the boys made them retreat two. "We should be happy that the witch is gone for now. What could we possibly have had to do with her anyway? Hm? What's that? Oh! She was the one who stole my essence you say?" "Look," Ho, the sky blue cheery lad was suddenly not feeling so cheery at all, "we did not know-" "You numbnuts were the one who told me that!" Loki was practically hissing through his teeth right now, his steps breaking into a jog that was letting out some potential screams waiting in some lungs. Lulu was having a gala time just jumping in whichever direction the boys ran into as Loki chased them.

[marybethsjournal]

Always

Summary: Molly has hit a wall with Dutch and doesn’t know what to do; she feels completely lost. Not to mention that she has started to have complicated feeling towards another gang member.

Pairing(s): Dutch Van Der Linde x Molly O’Shea, Molly O’Shea x Sadie Adler (strongly implied)

Word Count: 1903

A03 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29265912

It was barely noon and the girls were day drinking yet again. This didn’t impress Molly much, but she had come to realize that nobody, not even Dutch cared about what she thought. Molly pushed the thought away. If she thought about how Dutch had been shutting her out and treating her badly in general, she would be driven to drink just like these harlots. And then she would be no better than them, which seemed to be the most humiliating thought possible at the time.

Molly was not surprised that Karen was leading the drinking charge of the day. That’s all the wench knew how to do, that and seduce men. She tried not to blame Karen too hard for that, though, because everyone knew Dutch was strongly encouraging her to put herself out there and if Molly verbalized her bias against working women, she’d have to implicate Dutch in the whole thing and she didn’t feel like doing that. Anything to exonerate her man from wrongdoing. What did surprise Molly was that that girl, Sadie, had joined the women for once. And not in the way Abigail had, coming over to get one drink and then gone back to her business (Molly didn’t blame her, she deserved a drink, especially since Jack had asked about 50 questions today already and the Marston man had tried to pants Bill and got a fist in his face in return). Sadie was downing the drinks faster than anyone else; she seemed to have no shame. Molly supposed that maybe she shouldn’t have been so surprised. Sadie had gone through a significant transformation over the past few months. When Sadie had been brought in by Dutch, Micah, and Arthur, she seemed weak and quiet. She had worn dresses and otherwise modest garments, although nothing too fancy. Now, she had the audacity to yell at the men and one day, when out on the town with Arthur, she had bought a shirt and pants and she hadn’t taken them off since. Quite offensive, in Molly’s opinion, but Sadie objectively pulled it off quite well. Molly had noticed herself staring at Sadie quite often, observing the woman. She couldn’t pinpoint quite why, but she assumed it was normal. Sadie was pushing boundaries and was overall quite an interesting woman, more interesting than herself. Not to mention, Sadie was very beautiful. Anyone could see that, it wasn’t an odd thing for her to think.

Molly found herself in the same situation yet again. She was staring at Sadie, who was downing another drink and laughing at some joke Tilly (or maybe it was Karen??? Molly wasn’t doing a very good job focusing on anything other than Sadie at the moment) made. Molly smiled, seeing Sadie throw her head back in laughter. Her smile was so huge and genuine. It was only recently that she had started smiling again. Sadie had taken it rough, just like any woman would, when her husband died. Molly knew the pain hadn’t gone away, but Sadie seemed to finally be letting herself enjoy life with little guilt. She thought about Sadie’s smile a little longer than she probably should have and her mind ended up drifting to a few nights ago when she and Sadie had danced. The whole camp was ambient with laughter and music, coming both from the gramophone and Javier’s guitar. Everyone seemed to have found a partner and was dancing: Mary Beth with Arthur, Jack with Uncle (their form of dancing was far different than everyone else’s slow dancing, the pair were waving their arms wildly and running in circles together), Karen with Sean, Tilly with Lenny. Hell, even Abigail and that fool John had put aside their differences for the night and were dancing up on each other, a bit too provocatively for Molly’s liking. Molly had actually been really excited about the spontaneous party that night. She felt the distance growing between her and Dutch the past few weeks and she was convinced that that night could make it all better. She had put on her finest dress, fixed her hair, and perfected before asking him. But to her surprise, he told her that he was too tired and maybe they could try another time. Her surprise had turned to horror when she later saw Dutch dancing with Susan. The worst part was, Dutch didn’t even seem to care when Molly noticed. It was like he didn’t even care about her feelings.

Molly had run into the nearby forest to cry. She knew her makeup would smudge and usually she would refrain from crying to the best of her ability, but she didn’t care anymore. It only took a few minutes before Sadie had snuck up behind her and asked her what was wrong. She had been sitting on a rock nearby, not in a party mood, when she had heard Molly crying, she explained. How embarrassing.

“So, are you going to tell me what happened so I can fight a bitch?” 

Molly, despite her sadness, laughed. “It’s not really a bitch. It’s Dutch. Wouldn’t dance with me but he sure is dancing with Susan right now.”

“That old fart? Ah you can do better than him.” Sadie seemed to get an idea and clapped her hands together. “In fact, let’s show him what he’s missing. I’ll dance with ya.”

Molly was taken aback by Sadie’s proposal. 

“I’m not too sure that’ll make him jealous. Maybe if I danced with Charles or something…”

“Oh come on! Sorry I’m not Charles.” Sadie grabbed Molly’s hand and drug her back into camp

Molly was confused as to why Sadie seemed so insistent to dance with her, but she was certainly pleased by the attention. She rarely got attention from this gang.

The dance went wonderfully; Molly almost felt something resembling butterflies in her stomach, which she dismissed as simple indigestion. It was perfect until Molly apparently got too close to Sadie and she asked, “Miss O’Shea, do you expect me to kiss you or what?”

Molly was horrified. She gave some phony excuse and ran away from the situation as fast as she could, ignoring Sadie calling after her. Things had been pretty awkward between them since then.

Molly was startled out her daydreaming when Karen yelled at her, “Hey Molly, what are you looking at? You wanna drink or something?” Oh great, Molly thought after realizing she had been staring this entire time.

Molly walked over to where Karen was and for just a brief moment, allowed herself to look at Sadie again. Unfortunately, Sadie seemed to have the same idea. Their eyes locked and Sadie subsequently excused herself to go talk to Abigail. 

“What the Hell is her problem? Anyway, wanna drink? I’ll share mine. It’s the good kind of whiskey.” Karen offered some strong whiskey to Molly. There’s nothing Molly wanted less than to drink after Karen.

“I try not to drink outside of social settings.” Molly informed Karen, politely declining.

“Then WHY were you looking at me earlier?”

“I wasn’t.” Molly responded curtly.

“Then you were looking at Sadie. Cause I know you weren’t looking at these here two fools.” Karen made rude gestures at Mary Beth and Tilly. 

“I wasn’t looking at anything, Karen. Just thinking.” Molly couldn’t find it within herself to look anywhere besides her feet.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to offend you. You two, get out of here. I need to talk to Miss O’Shea alone.” Molly tried desperately to get the other two girls to stay but Karen insisted they leave. Apparently, Karen had much more pull among the other women than Molly did. That wasn’t one bit surprising, but it still seemed wrong.

“Wow, you really don’t wanna talk to me. My feelings are so hurt.” Karen took another swig of her drink before continuing. “Listen Molly, you know just as well as everyone else that I think you’re lazy and entitled. Just all around a nasty person.”

Molly nodded. Karen generally was straightforward and rude when she wanted to me, but it still seemed the drink must be doing a number on her for her to be able to say what she just had said.

“But for some reason my the dumb bitch in me has started to care. I didn’t think I had an angel on my shoulder, but here she is, annoying as ever, telling me, ‘Karen, you have to warn Molly. You don’t wanna see her get hurt.’ And then I tell them back that I don’t care if you get hurt but I still feel like I do care afterwards.”

It didn’t take much of an intellectual to make the observation that Karen had had too much to drink. Molly honestly couldn’t understand what she was saying: it sounded like a whole bunch of incoherent rambling in which she said a whole bunch, yet nothing at all at the same time.

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“Of course you wouldn’t. You don’t have a heart of gold like myself. But at least you do have a heart. Listen, I just wanted to let you know Dutch don't care about you.”

‘“Leave me alone, Karen. You’re drunk and I won’t hear anymore.”

“See, you know it’s true! He sees you as a toy more than anything. You’re gonna end up hurt and he’s not going to care one bit.”

“If you think he’s so bad, why are you still running with him?”

“A lot of us don’t have a choice, miss society lady. Besides, I know better to get involved with him.”

“Sure, Karen. Thanks, I guess.”

Molly had walked away and pretended like she hadn’t cared but even days later, the short conversation haunted her at every turn. Even late at night, lying in bed next to Dutch, she replayed the whole ordeal over and over again in her mind. She hated to admit it, but Karen was right. The man lying next to her didn’t feel much for her anymore, if he ever had in the first place. It was just cold lying next to him. Like sleeping with a complete stranger.

She had spent several consecutive nights not being able to sleep out of worry. Late into the night, she would search Dutch’s face for any sort of sign that maybe he cared about something, maybe not even her. She always came up with nothing.

It had become all too much for Molly. She found herself crying yet again. She had never known herself to be this emotional. Part of her wanted Dutch to wake up and see her in pain, but she knew in her heart that he wouldn’t care. He would just be irritated that someone interrupted his beauty sleep.

One night when Molly couldn’t control her crying any longer, she left their tent so as not to disturb Dutch. She walked towards the rock that she usually sat on while she read a book during the day. On her way, she noticed that Sadie was sitting on another rock on the other side of camp. What was she doing out this late. She supposed she would have to find out. Now was her chance to finally talk to Sadie and apologize for whatever had happened between them.

“Can I sit here with you?” Molly asked Sadie when she approached her.

“Always.” Sadie smiled at her.

“That would be nice.”

[littlestarofthewest]

ok I'm sorry if this sent more than once, tumblr mobile was being weird...but. All the women are out of camp for the day for one reason or another. Some of the remaining men get a game of poker going, but they're low on funds so it's STRIP POKER of course. Male reader's losing pretty bad and loses the last round...with no more clothes to get rid of, uh oh! How's he supposed to pay up?

I have no freaking idea why this story turned out the way it did, but I hope you enjoy (I could even imagine a part two, but who knows). 

Title: A Snake Among Us | Word Count: 3234 | Rating: Explicit

Pairing: the Van der Linde Gang x reader  (kind of, God knows how to tag this)

Tags: solo male, masturbation, sex toy, voyeurism

"Are you sure you don't want us to come with you?" Arthur asks for the third time now.

You stand with him by the side of the wagon. Hosea is sitting in the front and the girls in the back. Dutch is turning his horse around, looking at him. "Between Hosea and me, we have enough guns. What this job needs is finesse."

"And we have plenty of that as well," Hosea says, nodding back to the girls.

"Just try not to burn the camp down," Miss Grimshaw says, clearly as unhappy about the arrangement as Arthur.

Arthur looks back over his shoulder at the other men. "Can't promise anything."

"We'll be back before you know it," Hosea says, tugging at the reins. "Don't worry."

Dutch rides to the front with the wagon rolling after him, and you stand there with Arthur until they're out of sight. "Are we going after them?"

The way Arthur looks at you, you know he thought about it, but he shakes his head. "When Hosea and Dutch agree on something, then you better not question it. Come on, let's make sure the others behave."

The first thing you see when reaching the fire are the bottles of whiskey going around, and Sean is entertaining everyone with a story about his latest score. John is holding out a bottle to you. You look over to Arthur, and he laughs. "Don't look at me for permission. I ain't Hosea."

You take the bottle from John to take a swig. John is watching Arthur. "Does that mean you're not going to play chaperone?"

"You do whatever you want," Arthur says, shrugging his shoulders.

He takes the bottle from you, drinking a few gulps that make your throat hurt just by watching. Sean must have caught on to the conversation. He steps onto a box, stretching out his arms. "You hear that, fellers? Choirboy Morgan is with us for a change."

"How about some poker then?" Javier throws in. "Some nice, innocent fun."

He's clearly teasing Arthur, but Arthur just smiles. "Sure. I don't mind taking your money."

"What about you, Y/N?" Javier asks.

Poker isn't exactly your game, but it should be fun to let loose for once, now that you don't have to worry about a job. "Sure, why not."

You walk over to the table with the others, Sean following you. He ends up sitting next to you. Arthur, Javier, and John take the other seats while the rest of the boys find places to sit so they can watch. 

"Five dollars buy-in?" Arthur asks, striking a match on his boot and lighting a cigarette. When everybody stares at him, you included, he raises his eyebrows. "What?"

"Where have you been playing poker?" Javier asks.

"Saint Denise?" Arthur says, seemingly unsure what the problem is.

Sean huffs next to you. "Listen, Mr. Big Shot, since you've been keeping me out of the big scores-"

"Have not," Arthur throws in, but Sean talks over him.

"- I don't have the funds to throw the big dollars around with you fellers."

"Then we play without money," you suggest.

Javier nods along, but John shakes his head. "That's boring. There gotta be some stakes."

"Play strip poker then," Bill throws in. When everybody looks at him, he shrugs. "What? I ain't the one who can't spring five lousy dollars."

"Ah, why not," Sean says, clapping his hands on the table. "I'm in. John's half-naked most of the time anyway."

"Hey!" John grunts, but Sean ignores him.

"Arthur, you in?" Sean asks.

You're sure that Arthur will not only say no but shut the thing down. Instead, he shrugs his shoulders again. "I ain't got no problem with taking your clothes instead of your money."

"What was in that bottle of yours, John?" Sean chuckles, and John glances at Arthur as if he's thinking the same thing.

Arthur shuffles the cards, the cigarette still between his lips as he looks over the table. "Y/N? Javier?"

"Just deal already," Javier says, and all eyes wander to you.

You didn't worry too much about losing a bit of cash, but your clothes are a very different thing. Even worse is the prospect of watching any of the other guys undress. Ever since you joined the gang, you kept wondering how Dutch managed to put so many attractive sons of bitches in one place. 

You've seen some of them in various stages of undress. That's something you can't avoid while living in such close quarters, but you never walked away from it unscathed. More often than not, you end up pleasuring yourself with at least one of them in mind. This just became a very dangerous gamble, but you can't think of a way to say no without looking like a complete loser.

"I'm in," you say with a shrug, doing your best to sound casual.

"Alright, let's go then," Arthur says, and only seconds later, your first cards fly your way.

Although your heart is racing, you try your best to keep a poker face. The first ones to lose are Javier and Sean, but with only their hats gone, they shrug it off easily. When John has to take off an item for the first time, everybody gratulates him on wearing more than his union suit for a change. 

Next, both you and Arthur lose your coats, while Sean has to let go of his vest. It keeps going like this, and when you pick your boots to take off next, the others use that option, too. That tactic keeps the game decent for quite some time, but then it begins to get interesting. 

You have a string of luck, taking more and more clothes off the others while you stay almost completely dressed. Arthur and Javier end up sitting there shirtless, John is down to his union suit, and Sean slips out of his pants with a grunt, sitting back down next to you in his underwear.

Maybe it's because you get cocky with nothing to worry about, maybe your luck just turns, but all of a sudden, you keep losing. Javier has to take off his shirt. Other than that, you're the only one who has to strip. In only a few rounds, you take off your vest, shirt, and pants. Sitting there in your underwear, you sure hope that this is it. 

Looking around at so much naked skin, you're sporting a little tent with no interest in showing it to anyone. You watch John and Sean closely since they are the closest to getting naked beside you. Sean actually loses, but instead of getting up, he pushes his underwear down under the table. 

"You fellers are really eager to get some Irish dick," he jokes, making the others laugh while you do your best not to look over to him.

John is about to deal the next round when he suddenly stops mid shuffle. "Sean's already naked, what happens if he loses again?"

"I guess he's just out of the game then," Arthur says.

"Then we'll all end up sitting here naked, and nobody loses or wins," Javier huffs, and John goes back to his earlier argument.

"Yeah, that's boring as hell."

"What do you want him to do?" Arthur grunts. "Sit on 'the snake'?"

Everybody stares at Arthur out of big eyes, and Bill has a horrible coughing fit. With your heart pounding like crazy, you take a deep breath, asking a question that you know you'll regret. "What's 'the snake'?"

"I'll get it," Javier says, jumping up from his chair and walking over to his tent.

"I was joking," Arthur calls after him, and a weird atmosphere takes hold of all the men. It's anxiety and excitement at the same time, and when Javier comes back, you get an idea why. He puts "the snake" in the middle of the table, making Arthur roll his eyes. "Why would you get that?"

"John wanted to have some stakes," Javier says with a grin. "That's a stake."

All eyes fall to the middle of the table. The snake is pretty much a wooden penis, with a small base on the bottom so it can stand on its own. The tip is a little thicker, and carvings in the wood actually make it look a little like a snake. 

"I've never asked where you even got that thing," Sean says, lifting his hand as if he wants to touch it, but then he just rubs his neck.

"From a nice girl, I met," Javier says, his eyes glazing over as if he remembers something. "She sure knew her way around that thing."

John is leaning over the table, inspecting "the snake" from all sides before looking at Arthur. "So when you said 'sitting on it,' did you mean like getting off on it?"

"How often do you want me to say that I was joking?" Arthur says, rubbing his forehead. It seems that he's finally reaching the end of his rope after all. "We're not doing that."

"Then we're back to money?" John asks, looking at Sean. "You might need to get your big dollars out after all."

Sean is about to jump up but thinks better of it. "Oh no, I'd rather sit on that thing."

Everybody falls quiet for a long time until Javier pushes 'the snake' closer to Arthur. "Come on, big boy. You really want to chicken out now?"

Arthur rubs his beard, thinking about it, and finally, he throws his hands in the air in defeat. "Shit, we got this far, might as well go all the way. But I ain't forcing anyone. If you want to get out, now is the time, and nobody's gonna give you shit for it."

He looks around the table, and you know you should get up, but something deep inside of you forces you to stay. It's a thrill you can't quite explain. Both the thought of watching one of the others doing this, or maybe even being the one yourself, makes your cock twitch. Heat takes hold of your body when John picks up the cards again, sealing all of the players' fate when he deals the next hand. 

Sean gets lucky, and instead, Arthur is the one who has to give up his pants. Your body grows uncomfortably hot when you look around the table. There aren't many items of clothing left, and Sean is still in danger of ending up on "the snake" in the next round. 

It doesn't come to it, though. Instead of Sean, you're the one who has to get rid of your underwear. You pull it down under the table just like Sean did. Still, that doesn't change the fact that you're on the hot seat now as well. And now it's Sean's turn to deal. You wouldn't accuse any of the guys of cheating, but the thought still takes root in your mind. 

"Luck of the Irish," Sean quips at the end of the round while your heart stops. You stare down at the cards, cold shivers running down your spine. There's no way around it. You lost. It's your turn on "the snake." "Go on then," Sean says with a nudge of his elbow to your ribs. 

John clears the cards off the table, the only thing remaining is "the snake." All of a sudden, it's seems so big compared to any guy you've had in the past. And it's not soft or yielding like a penis. It might be polished a whole lot, but it's still solid wood. With a deep breath, you get up, holding a hand over your genitals to have at least a last line of defense. You won't be able to hide how this fucked up situation actually turns you on, but for now, you can pretend.

After having a quick look around, you get up on the table. All eyes are on "the snake," and you try to figure out the logistics when Charles suddenly holds out a hand. 

"Wait!" he says, stepping over to his tent, before coming back with a small bottle. "Here."

You give him a thankful nod, and after a deep breath, you take your hand away from your crotch. Some hushed sounds are coming from the men around the table, but you can't pinpoint who it is. Instead, you try to forget all about your surroundings. This is about getting through this with as much dignity as you can, preferably without hurting yourself. 

After unscrewing the bottle, you get a good amount of oil on your hand and grab "the snake." Holding it like this takes a bit of your anxiety away. You clearly had bigger cocks in your ass, so there's no reason why you should be afraid. Running your hand up and down the wooden length, you try to imagine that it's just that, the cock of a feller you just met, and you're getting ready to go for a ride. 

With a new portion of oil on your hand, you prepare yourself next. Leaning forward, you bring up your fingers to your hole, making circles around your rim before pushing a finger inside. Your cock keeps twitching, and you can hear the breathing of the men around you, the silence sometimes interrupted when someone shifts into a new position. 

Without looking at them, you dare to imagine what they think. There's a reason why Bill suggested strip poker in the first place, and Javier was all too eager to get "the snake." Even Arthur, joke or not, had the thought of someone actually riding that thing. It might be weird that you're turned on by this, but the guys around you aren't any better. Hell, it's not like any of them is leaving. With that thought in your head, you decide to make this good for everybody involved.

Arching your back, you push back onto your own finger, letting it slide in and out a few times before you take it out. Then you reach back and grab "the snake," positioning yourself above it. As graceful as you can, you sink down slowly, the tip sliding into you. Resting for a moment, you get used to the feeling before pushing further down. The toy glides into you without trouble, and you begin to enjoy the stretch. 

It's actually not so different from what you're used to, and without looking at anybody in particular, you roll your hips. "The snake" creates a nice rub inside of you, and it stands stable enough that you can actually ride it as if there was a guy under you. At first, you keep yourself propped up on the table while you move up and down, but then you sit back, letting your hands roam over your body. 

With one hand, you tease your own nipples and massage your chest, while the other hand runs down your stomach. You cup your balls and roll them around in your fingers, keeping your hips always in motion to push "the snake" in and out. There are more sounds around you. Breathing, coughing, even quiet grunts, and shuffling of feet. You try your best to ignore it, especially when your hand finally grabs your cock. 

Every muscle in your body is tense, and your legs feel tired, but you keep going. Once in a while, you sit so far up that "the snake" almost glides out of you. Then you push back down with one harsh thrust. The treatment makes you gasps, but you can't help doing it again. Your fingers move up and down your length at a steady pace. Whenever the toy is buried deep inside of you, you tease the tip of your cock with a quick rub. Smearing precome over yourself, you know you won't last much longer, not if you keep this pace.

Moans and more gasps escape you as you quicken your movements. You need "the snake" deeper inside of you, and soon you're going so hard that you have to concentrate on not losing it. The hand on your cock loses its rhythm more often than not as you're stroking yourself in a frenzy. The tension in your body grows, your balls tightening. You bite your lower lip and move so fast that your balls slap against the toy, making a sound that echoes through the night. 

You have your eyes closed by now, only focused on the sensations in your body. Your mind is racing with scenes and pictures that you imagined in some restless nights, all the men around you making an appearance. A new idea pops up in your head, letting you think that they could get up and touch you. Somebody could take out "the snake," making room for his own cock. They could take turns fucking you, reaching around to tease your cock, make you come. You're sure your mouth wouldn't go unnoticed. They could hold your face, make you suck them off, push deep, and come down your throat.

The picture becomes so clear in your mind, it's almost as if it's really happening. With loud moans, you pump your cock so violently that there's no turning back. With you pushing yourself hard onto "the snake," it goes in as far as possible, hitting just the right spot deep inside. Your balls tighten and your cock pulses, hot strings of come shooting out of you onto the table.

Everything is quiet then except for your hard breathing. You carefully stroke yourself a little more before slipping of "the snake."

"I hate to interrupt a good party, boys, but you might want to get decent," a voice says next to. "The ladies will be back any second."

Your eyes fly open, and you stare right at Dutch. You have no idea when he came back, and if he saw what you did, but even if he just came in, he'd have a pretty good idea of what occurred. The men around you scramble to their feet, looking for their clothes. Arthur is kind enough to hand you your coat so you can cover up quickly. Javier pulls out a bandana and hastily wraps "the snake" into it. While Dutch walks back to the horses, you pick up your clothes.

At first, you're horribly embarrassed, but looking around, you notice how most of the other guys do their best to quickly get into their pants. They turn away from each other, hiding their crotches and avoiding eye contact. They aren't a lick better than you. 

Holding your head up high, you don't bother to dress or even close your coat. Instead, you look at all of the others in turn. "I think the next time we play, whoever wins should take the place of the snake. I sure wouldn't mind losing."

There are silent grunts and curses, clothes falling to the ground, and men tumbling to the floor. Your heart beats like a drum as you walk through the camp, watching as the men flee in their respective tents or opt to hide somewhere in the woods. You know what they're doing, and the thought that you brought this on, maybe entering their minds in minutes, gives you such a powerful feeling that you know exactly what you're going to do in your own tent. You're more than ready for round two.

[whitewallwhispers]

Little Lies

Narcos - Javier Peña - Series

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine

A young writer moves to Colombia to perform research on the drug war for her latest novel. She’s willing to do anything for information, which leads her down a rabbit hole that begins to blur the line between pretending to be someone and becoming something she might not be ready for.

Her latest target is a D.E.A. Agent named Javier Peña. Now they’re both being pulled into something neither of them were expecting.

Warnings: Smut - unsatisfied partner, cum play, daddy kink. Extreme violence. Very explicit. (Guns, gunshot wounds, blood, brain matter, knives, stabbing, more blood. Very graphic.) Strong language (pretty much every expletive under the sun.) Nothing you haven’t seen in the show, but a lot for a fanfic.

My hope is that you can imagine this character as any race with any style of hair (as someone with short hair I get annoyed when every fic mentions long locks and ponytails). Also (super minor detail) as right or left handed.

Author’s Note: This starts out very lighthearted, I hope it can make you laugh. But then it gets very dark. If you feel like you can’t stomach that part, don’t worry. I’ll have a non-explicit summary in Part Eight to get you up to speed without the gory details.

Tag List (Open! Chat or Reply): @fanfiction-trashpile | @sophster1881​ | @theringostarfanclub | @thinemineours

“Cum on my tits,” she mewled, arching her back with faked pleasure and need.

Don’t you dare cum inside me, you bastard. There was only one person allowed to do that.

The paunchy old man began to grunt like some sort of farm animal, his hands hooked under her knees and holding them apart unceremoniously. Uselessly.

She wasn’t even remotely aroused - it was a miracle she wasn’t as dry as a desert, but thankfully at least her body knew how to cover the basics. She’d spent the past five minutes moaning half-heartedly while thinking about what she wanted for breakfast tomorrow.

It seemed to be working for him, though. His pace was already stuttering, his breathing ragged, sweat pouring down his forehead and chest like a pair of greasy waterfalls.

Okay, ew.

She needed to stop looking at him. So she closed her eyes and thought of England.

“Please, daddy, cum all over my tits,” she panted, clawing at the sheets beneath her as if she was unable to contain herself.

Finally, the fucker obliged, groaning like he was about to die. Painfully so. Unfortunately his aim was terrible and a stream landed square across her face.

Oh, God. She braced herself, blocking off her throat so as to minimize how much she’d taste. She wiped his sticky semen up with her thumb and stuck it in her mouth, sucking it clean while moaning as if it was as good as sex itself.

She hadn’t done enough. It tasted as rank as she’d expected and it was all she could do not to gag.

“That’s a good girl,” the man panted. “Lick up daddy’s cum, all of it, and daddy will treat you extra good.”

Fucking everloving fuckity fuck fuck.

She was too desperate for cash not to oblige. But not until she got paid.

“Put it on the table, daddy.”

He rolled off of her with yet another animalistic grunt and went for his wallet, pulling out an unexpectedly hefty stack of bills and putting it on her nightstand. He turned to face her, looking down at her with hungry, piggy eyes as he stroked his cock.

“Lick it up, princess.”

She deserved an Oscar, an Emmy, and a Tony Award for the show she put on cleaning her chest of his spew and swallowing it like it was five-star caviar. By the time she was finished he was half hard again, but she wasn’t about to let things develop into round two - she wasn’t that desperate.

“I have another client due in five minutes,” she lied, laying out on her side and grinning at him with eyes as wide and lustful as if he were a Greek god. “I always lose track of time when I’m with you.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow, then, princess,” he answered with a wink. “Same time?”

Oh, goody.

“Of course, daddy.”

He couldn’t have gotten dressed any slower if he’d tried, his eyes raking over her body the entire time, his sweat immediately pooling and sticking to his shirt as soon as he had it on. Her room would smell like his body odor for the rest of the night - if she was unlucky, until tomorrow morning.

It felt like a miracle when she finally got him out the door, but not before he gave her one last kiss, shoving his slimy tongue in her mouth and making it explore her like a drunken slug. She slid the locks into place and slumped against the door, feeling like she’d just rolled around in a gutter.

The shower was so hot she thought she might give herself a first degree burn, but it felt too good to turn the temperature down. She scrubbed herself three times over before stepping out and drying her body, too tired to do the same with her hair. She slipped into her pajamas and pulled her soiled topsheet from her bed, tossing it in the corner to be washed later. Grabbing a blanket from the couch, she wrapped herself up as she counted her cash.

He’d paid her time and a half, all for that stupid last-minute show. At least he made it worthwhile. She reluctantly got back on her feet to make her way back to the bathroom to roll up her wad of bills and stuff it into the tampon box in the cabinet under her sink.

When her head hit her pillows, she fell right asleep.

The sound of screeching tires jolted her awake.

Immediately, an innate and instinctual fear rippled through her, sending the hair on her arms and the back of her neck standing up straight. Car doors slammed - three of them. Feet shuffled loudly up to the doorway beneath her window, fervent murmurs dampened by the glass.

She was out of bed in a flash, ripping open her sock drawer, hands blindly feeling around in the dark until her fingers found the cold metal of her gun. She pulled it out and cocked it, keeping the safety on. For now.

Bang.

A gunshot. Something shattering. Then the repeated thump, thump, slam of what she could only guess was someone busting open the front door of her apartment building.

Her blood became frigid but her skin felt like it was on fire.

Fuck.

Whoever it was, whatever was happening, it wasn’t good. She raced across her apartment to hide herself around the corner of her bathroom, closing her eyes and trying to steady her breathing. For a while, there was only deafening silence.

And then came the clamor of footsteps thundering up the staircase, the slam of fists on doors, voices shouting “Open up!”

Some hopelessly optimistic part of her hoped that it was the police coming to arrest someone. Someone who couldn’t possibly be her.

“Where is she? Where does she live? The foreign bitch. Which apartment is hers?” The voice was familiar and she nearly vomited on the spot.

Manuel.

He’d found her, and if he’d seen her walking around with her gun it hadn’t phased him.

She was about to make a break for it to get to her phone when there came a violent crash at her door.

“I know you’re in there, you filthy fucking cunt!” Manuel roared. “Police whore!”

The weak wood creaked loudly and she could hear the hinges rattle loosely in their sockets.

Gunshots.

Three, then four, then five.

Wood splintered and metal clanged, followed by fierce, repeated kicks.

All at once, there was a great eruption of tearing and shattering. The lights flicked on.

“Come out, you stupid bitch.”

Several sets of footsteps entered her apartment, and she knew this was it.

Life or death.

She grit her teeth so hard she half expected her jaw to snap. She swallowed, her breathing so rapid it scared her and her heart pounding harder than it ever had before. Adrenaline was coursing through her like high voltage electricity, making her entire body feel like it was being pulled taut, held together by strings and wires stretched to their absolute limit.

One set of footsteps began to grow closer, and she could make out the sounds of her bed and couch being scraped across the floor.

She switched off the safety.

Something came over her.

Live or die.

Kill or be killed.

All of a sudden it was like she was standing outside of herself, watching the scene unfold. Everything slowed down, as if she were moving underwater.

Her hand went out around the corner first, already firing, before she pivoted the rest of her body around.

She’d gotten lucky - she’d shot the approaching man right in the stomach.

As he fell to his knees he fired a shot at her, then another bullet came from across the room.

She crouched and shot the man in front of her again. He was close enough that she got him right in the head, and before his body fell to the ground she launched herself across the floor so that he landed against her.

Three bullets sunk into his back, making the most sickening thuds, spraying blood everywhere. She was vaguely aware that blood and something else was dripping onto her from the gaping wound in his head, but couldn’t afford to care. She gripped his shirt and rammed her shoulder into his chest to keep him upright, the dead weight of his corpse threatening to knock her over.

She reached her hand out around him and began to shoot wildly in the general direction of where she thought the bullets might have been coming from. When another man cried out in agony, she knew she’d at least been somewhat successful.

More bullets flew past her, a few sinking into the back of her human shield again.

Then there were footsteps racing towards her.

“You fucking bitch!” Manuel screamed, firing shot after shot as he ran towards her.

She tried to shoot at him as he came down on her, but he knocked her gun out of her hand and it went skidding across the floor.

He pointed his barrel directly at her head, the scorching metal burning her forehead as he thrust the tip of it into her skin.

That was it.

She’d failed.

But at least she’d tried.

He pulled the trigger.

Click.

Either he was out of bullets or his gun had jammed, but it didn’t matter.

She stood and grabbed the barrel, pointing it up, trying to wrench it out of his grip, but she didn’t have the strength.

He fired a shot into the ceiling.

Fuck. So it wasn’t empty.

With her other hand she punched him as hard as she could in the balls.

He doubled over, collapsing over the corpse of the other cartel member and tumbling to the floor. She sprinted towards the kitchen, turning the corner just as another round was fired at her from across the room.

Whoever she’d shot, she hadn’t killed them.

She could try to run, but she’d never make it. Manuel had already gotten up and was firing at her again. She barely ducked in time, bullets shattering the tile backsplash above her stove. She ripped open the nearest drawer while staying as low as she could. Her hands fumbled for a moment before she found what she was looking for - thank God she barely had anything in there.

Two of those few things were a pair of large blades - one a cleaver, the other a sharp chef’s knife. Staying low she scooted to the far end of the counter. Waiting.

Manuel’s footsteps grew closer and his bullets more accurate, sending shards of the counter raining down on her. He probably could’ve killed her from there, but that wasn’t his style. He’d want to get her point blank in the head, looking her in the eyes as he ripped the life from her.

When he rounded the corner, his gun once again pointed right at her, she threw herself at his legs with all her might, one hand sinking the chef’s knife into his thigh and the other pulling at the back of his knee, trying to knock him over.

He fired another shot into the ceiling as he lost his balance, but by the time he hit the ground she was already swinging the cleaver at his inner thigh, biting through his jeans into the flesh as she yanked it outwards, hoping to lengthen the cut and maybe catch an artery. With her other hand she began stabbing at his stomach, her own turning each time her knife sunk into him with thick, wet sounds.

Manuel screamed, lifting his hand to fire at her again. He got one bullet out before she turned the cleaver in her grip and sliced out at his wrist, slamming the blade through his skin and tendons so hard the handle flew out of her grasp as he yanked his arm away.

He dropped the gun, but his other hand was reaching for her wrist that still stabbed at his stomach wildly. Manuel was able to wrench her hand back, and she thought he might be able to grab the knife from her, but then he coughed.

A cascade of blood flew from his mouth and he began to choke.

His hand slipped from her wrist as he tried to sit up, weakly reaching for the cleaver, but before he could get to it, his entire body went limp. He convulsed for a few moments, a horrible gurgling sound bubbling from his mouth as it overflowed with blood.

And then he was still.

But she didn’t have time to process it.

A bullet whizzed by only inches from her face and she launched herself backwards behind the safety of the counter. She scooted back so she could lie on her stomach and slid herself as far out as she dared to grab Manuel’s gun and yank it towards her. A bullet flew by her arm and sank into what remained of the door.

She had no idea where the last man was. Carefully, she sat up and rested her head against the corner of the counter, turning just enough that she could see a sliver of the room beyond.

He was propped up behind her bed, chest and arms laying across it, bleeding profusely from his right pectoral as he shakily pointed his gun in her direction. He must’ve sensed she was peeking out at him, because he fired right at her again.

Thankfully his aim was worsening, because it sank into the wall instead of her head.

She shuffled back again, trying to think of a plan.

He couldn’t see her when she was low.

There was no way for him to know where she was behind the counter.

So she slid about two thirds of the way across it, by the edge of the sink, and collected herself, dropping her knife and gripping the gun in both hands.

She might only get one chance.

If she fucked this up, she might die.

After what seemed like an eternity, she finally launched herself up, firing as soon as the gun cleared the counter, desperately hoping that she’d get close. He fired back, but only for a moment. As she caught him in the arm he dropped his gun and flopped backwards onto the floor.

But was he dead?

No.

She could hear his ragged breathing, and after a moment he began to shout.

“Fucking police whore,” he bellowed. “You’ll fucking die. We’ll fucking kill you. Where this came from? There will be more. They’ll fucking get you. You’re dead. You’re already dead.”

Slowly, she knelt down to pick up the knife again, holding her gun in one hand and it in the other.

With measured steps she made her way from behind the counter across the room to the end of her bed.

She could see him, then, laying on the ground, bleeding.

Wounded.

Not enough to die.

Upon seeing her, he launched himself up again, making for his gun.

She raised hers and shot at him.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Now it was out of bullets.

He was desperately trying to reach his firearm.

Maybe he couldn’t have grabbed it.

Maybe she was already in the clear.

But she was still outside of herself, watching her body go through motions of violence and chaos.

So she dropped her gun and closed the distance between them, standing behind him and gripping his hair in a fist. She yanked his head back.

He looked at her.

His eyes were a soft, light brown. He had thick black brows and full lips and a bit of stubble on his chin.

He was a human being.

He was probably younger than she was.

He was afraid.

But she was outside of herself. Her mind registered these things, but her body did not.

So she ran her knife along his throat all the same, slicing it deep and even.

Blood began to gush from the wound so fiercely it scared her and she released him as if he were on fire.

He flopped forward, crashing onto her bed, his hands clawing desperately at his neck as blood poured between his fingers. His body slid to the ground and he looked up at her with his beautiful eyes until they clouded over with the unflinching stillness of death.

Only then did her mind and body became one again.

The first thing she did was throw up.

Right onto his torso.

Out of all the emotions she could be experiencing in that moment, the only thing she felt was guilt. Guilt for defiling his body like that. For some reason it didn’t matter that he’d been trying to kill her. Somehow the crime of puking on his corpse felt like the worse of the two. The concept of death was still sacred to her, and she had just defilied someone in what should be their final state of dignity.

Once her vomit faded to bile, then dry heaves, she was able to straighten herself up. She dropped the knife and ran a shaking hand through her hair. The clatter of the metal hitting the floor was deafening. She winced. There was an unbearable weight on her, something coating much of her body and pushing her down. Mostly her arms, her face.

She looked at her hands.

They were completely crimson, soaked and dripping in a thick coat of blood.

She gagged again, but nothing came up.

Desperate not to look at herself, she surveyed the room.

They’d broken through her door through the hinges, shooting them off and forcing their way in, kicking in much of the half-rotted wood on that side.

All of her locks remained intact.

Something flew out of her then, something that may have been a laugh but was accompanied by a flood of tears. By sound, it continued to be a laugh. A roaring giggle that made her shoulders shake and stomach hurt. But she was crying - hard. Harder than she ever had before.

Then, she was on autopilot. Still laughing and sobbing over the state of her door, the state of her apartment, the state of herself, she somehow made her way to her phone.

She’d memorized Javier’s numbers in case she ever felt unsafe.

Even though her attackers were dead, she’d never felt more unsafe in her life.

Never had a ring sounded so long, so loud, so grating and awful.

One, two, three, four. Again and again.

Then nothing.

His cell phone was a bust.

So she tried his office.

One, two.

“Peña.” He sounded tired. Annoyed.

“Javi.” Her voice was so strange, so strained, so weak and foggy. “It’s me. Something happened. I - I don’t know what to do.”

“Something happened? What happened?” His voice was laced with concern and impatience.

“They came, and then I -”

And then I what?

Murdered three people? Shot and stabbed three men to death?

Covered my apartment in blood and bullets and brain matter?

“Holy fuck, Javi, I think I -”

“Who came?”

“Manuel. The friend who beat me. And other cartel members.”

“Are they still there?”

“…yes.”

In the technical sense, sure. But did a corpse count as the self?

“I’ll round up a team. I’m on my way.”

“No!” she yelled. “No, don’t, don’t bring anyone, you can’t. Just you. Just you, please, Javi, please don’t bring anyone else. They can’t see, no one can see, I can’t…Javi, I can’t. No one can see, no one can -”

“What happened?” Now he sounded concerned. Maybe even scared.

“Javi, please. Just you. Just come. I don’t know, I - I don’t know.”

She hung up then, unable to stand any more questions.

Suddenly exhausted, she leaned up against the wall and sunk down to the floor, latching her hands onto the hair on the sides of her head and curling herself up as small as she possibly could.

[reddeadinmybed]

Chaos (F)

It was meant to be a quiet evening. It was, I swear. Everyone had decided that staying up till four in the morning was tiring so we all went to bed. Well, that was the plan initially. Abigail was pregnant and everyone thought that it would be best to keep her away from John and any other boys while we slept. They (probably Miss Grimshaw or John, I don’t know who) thought that she’d try strangling them in her sleep. 

If one thing was for certain, Abigail was a moody cow when pregnant. Not that she wasn’t moody when she wasn’t pregnant, it’s just doubled ever since she became pregnant. 

Anyway, the night was going perfectly. I was just about to go to sleep, Abigail’s snoring not helping but I was used to that. Sometimes when she snored, she would just stop. Then it would be quiet. Those were the nights that I loved. When Abigail’s snores would cease, I could sleep without having a steam train next to me. 

Well, like any other ordinary night, Abigail’s snoring stopped. In my head, I was jumping up and down. Y/N was going to get a good night sleep tonight. Nothing was going to ruin my sleep, nothing.

Then it happened. Something, in fact, ruined my sleep. 

I couldn’t believe it, it was so despicable and it was something that I wouldn’t forgive. It made me scoff every time that I thought about it. I was in complete and utter shock. 

Abigail had whispered in my ear right before I was asleep. 

“Y/N, my waters broke.” Those three words scared me. Not because of the fact that there was going to be a little baby in the camp now but because she was laying right beside me and her waters broke. Her waters broke. My eyes cracked open. 

Holy fucking shit. 

I shot up like lightning, jumping out of the tent. If I needed to be awake for this whole ordeal, so did everyone else. I can’t believe that I was placed in the same tent as Abigail. Karen, Tilly, and Mary-Beth would’ve been perfect for supervision as well. 

“EVERYONE! Abigail’s water has broken!” I yelled out. Tilly was the first one to wake up, along with Karen and Mary-Beth. They were hardly under a tent so they copped the full swing of my shout. The rest of them weren’t really in tents, they were just far away from my tent. 

One by one, everyone came closer to the tent. People were muttering, questioning what the hell I was talking about. Their muttering was silenced when Abigail groaned in pain. 

“What’s happening?” John asked, walking up to me. He side glanced the tent every few seconds. That’s cute. We all know John isn’t accepting of the situation. He had a big fight with Abigail on how he doesn’t believe the kid is his. He accused Abigail of cheating at first. John still cares for Abigail and I know deep down he wants this kid too, he just wants the outlaw life more. 

“What’s happened is that Abigail’s waters broke,” I responded. John’s face distorted into a face of confusion. John can be smart at the best of times,  but right now is not one of those times. 

“What’s that mean?” I widened my eyes at John’s question. How can he even ask that? It’s simple when a pregnant woman's water breaks it obviously means it’s the end of the line of pregnancy. 

“It means she’s having the freaking baby!” I yelled so everyone could hear me. Miss Grimshaw immediately ran to the tent to aid Abigail. It was quiet for a minute, Abigail’s wailing in the background silently fading. 

Then Abigail screamed, “You bitch! Get away from me.” 

We all looked at each other with wide eyes. This was not good. None of us knew how to give birth. I looked over at Arthur and his eyes were wide. He flicked them from side to side. When he made eye contact with me, he shrugged. Karen, Tilly and Mary-Beth giggled. I could tell what they were thinking. 

Miss Grimshaw was a bitch after all. She wasn’t nice to any of the girls. There was not one of us she likes. She gave Abigail lenience because she was pregnant. Is that what I have to do to not be grumbled at by Grimshaw? 

“Y/N, quick, grab me water!” Miss Grimshaw’s voice called out from the tent. I turned and quickly went to grab water, almost bumping into Reverend Swanson (who was drunk and singing horribly) on the way. I almost tripped over my own two feet too. Clumsy Y/N.

I grabbed water and quickly came back. Miss Grimshaw was barking orders, telling Tilly to grab a cloth. For all the men to stay back. Also for Abigail to breathe. It was constant back and forth. Every few minutes I had to go back and grab more water. 

It was chaos, people running around everywhere, trying to grab all that was required for Abigail. Our camp must have looked crazy to outsiders. Hell, it even looked crazy to me and I was in the gang. There was never a dull moment in this gang.

Sean, Bill, Javier and Arthur sat down at the table, not bothering to get involved. Miss Grimshaw did tell them to stay back after all. Dutch was with Molly at their tent. No doubt Molly was pestering Dutch about having a baby. Micah, Hosea, Lenny, Reverend Swanson and Charles were around the campfire, listening to Hosea recall the “old times.” Pearson and Sadie were in the kitchen cooking up a fresh stew for when the baby is here. Lastly, Karen, Tilly and Mary-Beth were giggling near their tents over the fact that Abigail had yelled at Miss Grimshaw and got away with it. 

John was standing next to me, looking at the closed tent. We were both tense, not knowing what was happening, No one in the camp had been pregnant before and this was the first time. Arthur told me that he once had a child, he told me it wasn’t meant to happen but in a way, he was glad he did. Then he told me that the child and the mother of the child had died. I could tell it pained Arthur so I never brought it up. I also never mentioned having children with him. Was it right to have a child in this world?  

“JOHN DON’T EVER BRING YOUR DICK NEAR ME AGAIN!” Abigail screamed out, causing all of us to chuckle. Minus John, of course, he had his eyes wide and his cheeks flushed. He was embarrassed and it looked hilarious. If only I had my camera, this was a face surely one would love to capture.

“That’s not what you were saying before all this!” John yelled back. 

I actually gagged. That was gross, why would John say that? Was he trying to make us all sick? To say something like that out loud where everyone was sitting or standing. I mean, it was a John thing to say after all. 

Approximately 5 hours and 17 minutes, baby Jack was born. Everyone awed at him and watched. The baby was gorgeous and the look on Abigail’s face as she saw her firstborn baby, it almost had me in tears. Baby’s were so cute. I love babies but I fear that I wouldn’t be a good parent. Being an outlaw is my life, is it cruel to grow a baby up into our world, not knowing anything else than stealing and killing? 

Arthur walked up behind me and wrapped and his arms around my waist, his chin resting on my left shoulder. We stood like this for a few minutes. I missed this, ever since transferring to Abigail’s tent, I didn’t get the small tokens of affection from Arthur. My hand grasped Arthur’s arms and I leant back into Arthur’s warm embrace. He was always warm and I loved it, especially since these nights were so cold. 

“That will be you next,” Arthur whispered in my ear. 

I stood up straight, confused as to what Arthur had just said. I could’ve sworn I had just heard him say I would be the one with a baby next. Surely I must have heard wrong. Arthur wouldn’t say that, would he? 

I turned to face him. Arthur had a pleading look on his face. Does he really want a child? Why would he want one? He wasn’t planning on leaving the outlaw life and it was going to be hard having a child here. I guess little Jack will have a friend to play with but still...is this really what he wants? 

“Arthur, are you sure?” Arthur nodded his head frantically. 

I thought I would never hear the day when Arthur tells me he wants a child. I don’t know what to do with this newly found information. 

“You’re the only one I would want a child with now,” He whispered again. My cheeks flushed, he was such a sweet talker. Also a persuader. I sighed and looked at him once again with a smile. He knew what that smile meant and he pulled me close again, placing a gentle kiss on the top of my head. 

Well, looks like I’ll be the one calling Miss Grimshaw a bitch in 9 months. 

Thanks for the reads.

- REDDEADINMYBED

[micxhbells]

Fem!Reader and Micah p2

This fic is now on AO3 as well, called “Did Ya Hear?”

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

Now here’s part 2 cuz I really wanted to type it out right away.

The next day, you woke up, thankful that you didn’t have as bad of a hangover you thought you would.

You stood up quickly, reminding yourself of how important the day would be for you, first you had to find someone to help you out. You got up and saw most of the gang was already up, eating breakfast.

“Mornin, everyone.” You said, sitting down after getting some coffee.

“Mornin’ (Y/N)!” Mary-Beth greeted, scooting closer to you. “I heard you guys had a good time last night. Wish I stayed up and joined.”

“Oh, well, it was just a few beers between girls. Not that big of a deal.”

“Yes but the stories I must’ve missed. (Y/N), sweetheart, if there’s anythin’ you want to talk about, you just come to me, ok?”

You blinked. Mary-Beth was always kind to you, but not like that. “Thanks, Mary-Beth. I’ll be sure to remember that, then.” she smiled at you before going back to her book.

As you ate, you noticed everyone would glance at you now and then, smiling occasionally. Even Strauss would look up from his notes. Although, Karen and Tilly seemed to be the opposite, eating quietly and quickly, rarely looking at you.

You were still so confused when Reverend Swanson sat down beside you. “My girl, who knew you’re worse than I am with a bottle in your hand.”

Oh? Oh.

Oh no.

You stood up, eyes wide, staring at all of them. “Oh my god! You all know!?”

Karen immediately stood up. “It weren’t my fault, sweetie! Uncle woke up and blabbed to everyone!”

The drunk stood up next. “Now hold on, I only told Lenny! And Javier cuz you know, he was right there.”

You shook your head, covering your blushing face with your hands. “I don’t wanna hear anymore! Does, does he know?” You had to ask. You ran everything in your head, if you left now, you could escape to South America, change your name and-

“Now that was an ominous soundin ‘he’, d’ya mean Dutch or your sweetheart Micah?”

You wanted to scream at Uncle. “He ain’t my- Wait, wait, Dutch knows!?”

“What would Dutch know?”

Hearing that voice made you want to run. Far away and as fast as you could. Maybe Hosea could give you a horse. Any horse.

“Ah, there you are Micah.” Now in front of you was Dutch, and you still refused to look at the man behind you. “And (Y/N), you picked that extra gunman yet?”

You perked up, trying to distract yourself from the man behind you. But before you could say a word, that man spoke up. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. What’s going on? Why she need someone with her?” And now he was right beside you.

“Coach robbery, Micah. Maybe you could go with her.”

No. No. No. Nope. Not happening. “Dutch, I was just about to ask Javier to go with me.” You said, and honestly he was really just the first person you saw when you finally looked up towards Dutch.

But then Micah had to put his hand on your shoulder and you swore you heard Mary-Beth squeal.

“Nah, I’ll take ya.” He said and any other time you would’ve been thrilled but oh my god did he know?

You shook your head. “You must be tired. You just came back, right? One of the other boys can take me.”

Micah rolled his eyes. “Darlin-’” And hear you were sure you heard a squeal that time. “In case you forgot, Arthur and the rest here are deputies now, can’t be seen doin’ some… non-deputy type of work. As for Javier, Lenny, and Charles, well, you’ve seen how they treat their kinda folk around here.”

“Oh, I don’t think Sean-”

“What is with ‘ya girl? I’m a better shot than they all are anyway. Come on, you can tell me about this little coach on the way.” Micah let go of your shoulder and was already walking towards Baylock.

That was that, apparently.

You looked back at everyone else in camp. The girls were smiling, and the guys were snickering. Dutch though, looked very impatient.

“Go on, then. If he tries anything on ya, you let us know.” Ok, maybe Dutch didn’t know. And hopefully neither did Micah.

Hopefully.

You nodded at Dutch, then looked at Karen and Tilly. “I love ya gals, but this ain’t over.” And with that, you walked away, towards him.

“All right, pay up.” Strauss announced, as everyone started handing him a dollar each.

Dutch narrowed his eyes at the loan shark. “What’s all this, then?”

Strauss shrugged. “I suppose there’s no harm to it now. It’s (Y/N), she has feelings for Mr. Bell, apparently.”

The gangleader waved him off. “No, I know that, I heard Swanson screamin’ it earlier. I meant, what’s with the money?”

“A friendly wager. We all knew about the robbery today, and I simply bet that Mr. Bell would volunteer himself to help the poor girl.”

“And you’re the only one who made that bet?”

Strauss nodded, pocketing the money. “Indeed. If anyone else was more observant around here, they’d notice that her feelings aren’t exactly one-sided.”

Hearing that made the girls giggle as Dutch also gave a soft chuckle. “Well, Herr Strauss, I only have one request.”

“And what is that?”

“I gave the idea to Micah to go with her. I want my cut.”

You arrived a little ways east of Rhodes, towards Saint Denis. Far enough from the town to not cause too much suspicion. The coach was due to pass by in a few more minutes, based on what you heard. The whole ride there, you simply explained the plan to Micah. Nothing else. Purely business.

“So, what was all that back at camp?”

Well, it was purely business.

You gave him the most innocent face you could muster up. “Whaddaya mean? I didn’t notice much.”

He scoffed. “Don’t give me that bullshit. ‘Sides, I heard somethin’ interestin about you from Bill while I was ridin back.”

You were going to kill Williamson.

But first, innocent face. “Oh? What’s that?”

Micah grinned. “It’s fine, miss. Won’t change much of how I see ya.”

That… wasn’t exactly what you were expecting to hear. “It, it won’t?”

“Nah, so what? It happens. The same if it’d been any of the other girls, ain’t that big of a deal.”

You felt your heart break. It would’ve been the same with any of the other girls? Well, maybe not with Abigail. That lucky bitch. Well, might as well move on sooner than later.

Didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt though.

“Hey, looks like your information is good, darlin’, there’s the coach now.” Micah said, breaking you from your thoughts.

And it was. It was a coach delivering payroll to a factory in Saint Denis. There were a few guards behind it. You let out a deep breath, back to business. Heartache could wait, later, when you had another bottle of beer in your hand.

“Let’s get goin’ then.”

You spurred on your horse, hearing Micah do the same behind you. The dynamite was already planted on the road. All you had to do was shoot it. It was a perfect shot and chaos soon erupted soon after. With the coach down, you both just had to deal with the few guards left.

“Whoo! Thrillin’ ain’t it, (Y/N)?” Micah said, as you both continued shooting. Your aim could’ve been better, but soon they were all down. And you could’ve smiled from how well that went, if you weren’t so pissed off by that other circumstance

You entered the coach, looking for the lockbox. It had tipped over so you had to jump in to grab it. You were just about to bang your gun against the lock when you heard a noise.

“Oh hey there, feller. Seems you just jacked our score here.” You couldn’t see who it was, but you were sure it was a Lemoyne raider.

You heard Micah chuckle. “Well, I got here first, friend. Fair’s fair.”

Did he just say I? Did they not know you were there inside?

“That’s your first mistake, then. Comin’ in alone. You must be an amateur, huh? An amateur that got lucky with a stick of dynamite.”

You had to stop yourself from snickering, did they just call Micah Bell an amateur? But you had heard enough, it was time to save Micah. You peeked around and saw three pairs of legs. Standing up, you shot the man with his gun aimed at Micah. While the blonde took out his two revolvers and downed the two others.

You both holstered your guns, and you jumped out of the coach, dropping the lockbox onto the ground.

“Ya did good back there, darlin. Real good.” Micah said, as he watched you open the lockbox.

“Thanks. Hosea’s a good teacher.” You said, thankful your voice didn’t crack when he called you darlin’ again.

“How are you in a knife fight, though?”

You stood up, handing him his cut, not wanting to look him in his stupid blue eyes. “Could be better, I guess.”

“Maybe I could teach ‘ya a bit more about it then?”

You would’ve been thrilled, but knowing that he couldn’t return your feelings only made it hurt. You simply shrugged. “Sure, if ‘ya got the time, I guess. Anyway, shouldn’t we be splittin up by now? Law could be on the way.”

He grabbed your arm before you could make it to your horse and cry on the way to camp. “Whoa, whoa, hold on, (Y/N). We ain’t gotta split up if we’re fast enough. C’mon, I can go back with you.’

No.

“No, I’d rather go alone.” You said, but Micah still refused to let you go.

“What’s with that attitude all of a sudden?” He asked, annoyed, and you refused to acknowledge what could also possibly be concern from him.

“It’s nothin, Micah. Adrenaline rush from my first job, I might just be crashin’ from it.” You felt his hold slacken and used that moment to get away. You got up on your horse and started riding. Unfortunately, Micah was a stubborn man and followed you.

“Hey! Is this cuz of what I said earlier? I didn’t mean to offend ya, miss.”

You scoffed, lifting your head up and willing your tears to stay the hell away. “Didn’t mean to offend? Yes of course. I reckon that’s what you say to all the girls who like ‘ya.”

“...What?”

“Sure I may be sweet on ya, but to compare me to them other girls in camp? I thought we were friends, at least. I don’t know.”

“Hold on, (Y/N), hold on-”

“Leave me alone, Micah.”

“Listen to me darlin’!”

You stopped your horse, and turned to face him, glaring at him. “Do not call me that. Cuz I clearly ain’t your ‘darlin’. If you think you can just-”

“He told me you got drunk!” Micah suddenly yelled.

That made you pause. You blinked twice. “Wha- what?”

“Bill, all he told me was you sing loud if you got enough to drink. That’s all.”

You were really going to kill Williamson. Of course that’s what he’d pick up. You didn’t know what else to do. All that anger, for nothing.

You saw Micah get off his horse and approach you. He had his arms extended towards you. “Now come on and get down here.” he said.

“Why would I do that?”

He didn’t wait though, and grabbed you by your waist, you were so surprised that you didn’t fight back once he got you down and placed his lips on yours.

You tensed, but soon relaxed into the kiss, when it became very clear he wasn’t stopping anytime soon. You placed your arms around his neck and kissed him back. Micah for his part, held you even tighter. You refused to let go, afraid this was all just some kind of cruel joke.

And you just never knew with Micah.

It soon ended though. But the look Micah gave you, his blue eyes staring right at you, it made your heart beat so fast.

“That’s what I really think about your feelins darlin’.”

You laughed breathlessly. “Wh-what?”

He grinned, the same one that made you fall for him in the first place. “I’m sayin’, that I like you too. For a while now, actually. Me askin’ to teach you how to use a knife, well, that’s when I was supposed to make my move.”

You smiled even wider. “Why, Micah Bell. Who knew you were such a romantic?”

Micah chuckled. “If that’s what it takes to get you, darlin.” He gave you another kiss, then peppered your neck with more.

You couldn’t help the small moan that came out. “Micah, we should get back to camp.”

He stopped the kisses, and placed his forehead on yours. “Actually, darlin’, we just came into some money. I reckon we head into town, and rent ourselves a room. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds like a plan, Mr. Bell.”

This isn’t the end though! One more part should be up soon.

[shamelessinnerbeast]

who are your fave characters in RDR2 ?

Of course, I adore Arthur Morgan.

Note that I went with a very, very low honor and violent Arthur Morgan (for example, he refused Mary Linton’s request, doesn’t help anyone if there’s money to grab somewhere else, provoke practically everyone at the camp. I took so many punches from Bill and Charles already by the way, it’s really funny XD) I’ll do a good guy Arthur in my second playthrough. Therefore, of course, the list below would vary depending on the honor of Arthur. It’s a bit rp XP

So, apart from Arthur, “my” top favorite fictional characters are (If these characters have a mission for me, I’ll immediately run to them. They have priority over everyone else) :

- Molly O’Shea (my Arthur has a soft spot for her, so yes she’s useless in Arthur’s eyes, doesn’t do anything for the camp, but strangely as I never provoked her, when I asked her to do her part, she said “okay” like she accepted it, but I doubt it’ll change anything. I wonder if the fact that you never greet or never provoke a character truly changes something or not ? in the available interactions I mean.)

- Micah Bell (action action action + both maniacs leaving tons of dead bodies each time they go out + both annoying and antagonizing everyone at the camp + maybe soft spot but that’s my bastard Arthur after all ) (As a note, I don’t know if it’s like with Molly, if it’s because I never provoked him, but when he was annoying Charles for example, my Arthur just asked him to stop and asked them both to go working and they just did as they were told, so no bodyslam for Micah from Charles)

- Reverend Swanson (so much fun and wtf, so even if useless, Arthur kinda likes him. He provokes him sometimes but for fun, no real meanness)

- Simon Pearson (what would they do without him XD ! Never provoked ! My Arthur is always super polite with him XD)

Characters slightly liked : Sean Mcguire (funny guy) ; Hosea Matthews (THE real father figure, a lot better one than Dutch for my Arthur) ; Jack Marston (only because Arthur sees his own dead son, Isaac, in Jack)

Neutral characters : Abigail Roberts (asks for a lot but does nothing) ; Karen Jones (doesn’t bring enough to the camp) ; Tilly Jackson (same as Karen) ; Javier Escuella ; Sadie Adler

Characters disliked : Leopold Strauss ; Uncle ; Lenny Summers ; Mary-Beth Gaskill ; John Marston (the tension at the beginning of the game didn’t fade away)

Characters strongly disliked :

- Dutch Van Der Linde (to me, he’s the politician of the group, like big promises and nothing concrete, spending his time reading books at the camp but asking everyone to work… Also, I still didn’t play that part but I already saw it on Tumblr and stream, I hate how he doesn’t react to Molly’s death, so, no matter how is my Arthur, high or low honor, I’ll surely dislike this character.)

- Susan Grimshaw (only since the day she forced Arthur to wash himself and even slap him like BITCH PLS WTF ??? XD i’m gonna draw my bad Arthur’s reaction to it by the way)

- Kieran Duffy (too much of a whining victim in Arthur’s eyes for now. Perhaps it’ll change as I keep playing but at the moment, he dislikes him.)

- Bill Williamson and Charles Smith (because of the many punches in the face that were completely deserved by the way XD)