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immajustvibehere · 9 months

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Amidst a Crashing World (3/5)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

Summary: Arthur returns to your cabin after you presumed him dead. The time between your last meetings have lead Arthur to a realisation.

tags for this series: fluff, little bit of angst, no-tb-Arthur, literally your love redemption, maybe smut (but probably not), slow burn (but I mean how slow can a story really burn in five chapters?)

masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

6000 words

Sooner than expected, you heard of Arthur. Unfortunately, not because he sent you a note or stopped by again. As you rode into Annesburg three days after wishing him luck for the big score he had planned, the paper boys yelled through the town: "Saint Denis robbers still on the run! What happened to the gang of Dutch van der Linde? Find out in today's edition!"

Normally, you weren't too big on reading the newspaper, but this time…you hadn't never snatched it so quickly out of the boy's hand, leaving him to boast with the change you gave him. Hosea, dead. Lenny, dead. No account of any other names. You weren't sure who "a further gang member was arrested and awaits trial" meant. It only took a couple of days until everybody seemed to talk about it. Your main source of income being doing women's hair, you got a fair bit of gossip about the news.

Everything you heard from the ladies, took with a grain of salt. Either way, nobody ever mentioned Arthur by name. Your anxiety reached its peak when a rather well-off woman, not typically your demographic, had visited family in Saint Denis and brought an unsettling theory with her. Apparently, the most important members of the gang, including the leader, could have fled on a boat and drowned in the storm that was raging over the ocean the same night.

The "they have fled the country"-rumours were the most popular. Drowned in the ocean or not, the version varied based on who told you their theory. With every day you didn't hear the contrary and had no word from Arthur, you believed that you'd never see him again.

That was until one morning. You were working in your garden, busy with fixing the fence that had long stood neglected, when you saw a rider approach. Whether it was the hat or the horse you recognized first, you weren’t sure. But unmistakenly, the man on the horse that lazily trotted towards your cabin was Arthur.

You put your tools down and approached him, forcing yourself to walk calmly. The closer you got, the more unfamiliar he appeared. His beard had grown out, looking unkempt and way too long for what you were used to see him wear. Long strands of hair spilled out from under his hat. Arthur’s skin was darker than usual, even the unforgiving desert in the west hadn't left his skin as sunburned as it now appeared. Most of the red had settled into a golden-brown tan, particularly strong around the area where he cuffed his sleeves. For not seeing him for almost a month, this was quite a change.

A faint smile appeared on his lips when you reached him and walked next to his horse, leading it to your cabin.

"I thought I'd never see you again", you blurted out straight up.

Maybe a “Hello” or “Thanks for stopping by” would have been more appropriate, but the thought that had driven you insane the last three to four weeks just slipped out.

"I know. I'm sorry", Arthur jumped off his horse when you had reached your newly fixed gate. He looked at you, trying to take it all in. He had missed you; he had thought of you so much the last days and weeks, having you in front of him was a little overwhelming. But you looked like he remembered you. You weren’t wearing your fine clothes that you had worn when you caught him in your pond, but the worn jeans and shirt that had seen many fences painted and potted many plants looked good on you. It looked homely.

Arthur cleared his throat before he asked, "D'ya still cut hair?"

It was awkward...the ways he pronounced his question, the uncomfortable manner in which he scratched his way too long beard, seemingly unhappy with its new length.

Before you could answer, he added sarcastically: "Tried finding a barber on the Caribbean island but didn't came across someone I wanted to trust with scissors."

"Caribbean island?", you repeated questioningly, leading him into the cabin.

The tension between you felt peculiar. If tension were a tangible thing, you could have thrown a lasso and seemingly strangled it out of the air. But it wasn’t, so you and Arthur only struggled with finding your rhythm again.

"I came as soon as I could after returning...", Arthur explained apologizing, as if he had to rectify not visiting you sooner.

"Arthur. I thought you were dead", in front of your table, you stopped and looked directly at the man.

"'m afraid I have to disappoint", he chuckled, "Instead I'm here, asking ya for a cheap haircut because we lost...ten thousands in the sea."

"Ugh", you groaned, readying a chair for Arthur to sit on right at the table, "You sound so desperate, I might just give ya that haircut for free."

Arthur placed his jacket on a hinge next to the door and his hat on a free spot on the table. Again, it felt like he knew exactly where to place them, just as if he was coming home after a workday.

"Where d'ya want me, miss?", Arthur asked politely as if he had just entered a barber shop and there wasn't only one chair that looked prepared enough to serve as seat for his cut. You pointed at the chair a little absentmindedly, gathering your equipment and laying it out in the table in front of you.

"How short were you thinking?", you asked, walking around the seated man, ruffling his hair a little.

"Whatever you prefer", Arthur answered.

"What's that supposed to mean?", you asked, letting your finger scrape through his hair. His hair was wet at the roots, so you added surprisedly, "Did you just take a bath?"

"Might 've...", Arthur shrugged as if it was no big deal.

"You didn’t have to”, you reassured him, secretly amused by how endearing you found it.

"You wouldn't say that if you’d seen me before the bath. After three days in the Caribbean, killing half of the Pinkerton's agency and moving camp, you would have shot me on sight", Arthur joked, a bitter smile playing on his lips. Your answer was a soft chuckle.

After combing his hair, you repeated you question: "You're sure you don't want me to tell you how you want your hair done?"

"I trust ya", Arthur said.

"Mh, big mistake", you grinned. You caught Arthur's eye for a moment, and you could have sworn it was admiration in his expression. And trust, which honestly, was seldom for this man.

"I'll just cut it a little shorter than you had it when you first came to collect me", you said, waiting for his confirmation.

"...collect you and failed miserably at that", Arthur added.

"I thank the lord every day for that", you said jokingly. It was no laughing matter, though. You knew that as well as Arthur. The list of people the gang had lost in the last two months was long and you not rejoining was probably the only thing that had kept your name off that list.

You started doing Arthur's hair and one minute in, you decided to carefully pose the question of "What the hell happened the last couple weeks?". Arthur couldn't stop talking. He explained the plan of the bank robbery, explained when it went south. When Hosea was mentioned, he digressed a little. You too ended up sharing some anecdotes of the old man. You had loved him and felt a pang of guilt that you hadn't sent word to him that you were indeed fine. Hosea had been so kind to you when you expressed your wish to be on your own for a while, he had wished you the best and you had never even thought about sending a letter.

Then Arthur mentioned escape from Saint Denis. Your mouth went dry when Arthur recounted the storm, how he went overboard, nearly drowning and not knowing how lucky he was that he washed ashore on a beach. It was uncanny how some of the rumours you had heard mirrored the actual story.

Then came Guarma and everything that happened there. The return, the Pinkertons apparently following someone to Lagras and finally the move to Beaver's Hollow. They had been up there for a couple a couple of days now, and so much had already happened.

You listened, occasionally asked a question, but most of the time you were concentrating on not messing up the haircut. You had never heard Arthur talk that much before. Sober, that is. He can be quite a chatty drunk, but it seemed like he just wanted to get everything off his chest.

"How does that look?", you asked when you were done with his hair, holding a little mirror for Arthur to see.

His only response was a nob and a slight smile.

"Okay then", you spoke gently, "your beard's next."

The whole retelling of the last couple of weeks was what Arthur needed, but it killed his mood the same time. At least, that's what you though he was silent for. You cleared a spot on the table for you to sit on. It was way more comfortable sitting in front of Arthur while trimming his beard, but if you sat on a chair, you wouldn't have the height you needed.

You took a seat on the table in front of Arthur and noticed how his eyes immediately fixed on the ground.

"D'ya mind spreading your legs a little?", you asked. Despite the request confusing him a little, Arthur did as he was told and you put your on foot on his chair, so you wouldn't topple forward. Arthur tried his best to stifle the cough that worked its way up as he choked on his own saliva at this move.

"We're not going for a clean shave, are we?", you asked casually, trying to catch Arthur's eyes. He shrugged: "Whatever's easier for you."

You shook your head and began to trim his beard back to what you remembered he had the last time he visited you. Soon after you started, you noticed Arthur's cheeks getting warm and red. You were well aware that your cleavage was on his eye-level, probably the reason why he decided he was better off inspecting the floor. Meanwhile, you enjoyed gently tilting his head the way you needed it, finding no resistance from the man himself.

You talked only little, answering insignificant questions Arthur posed when the blade wasn't near his face, and he could actually move his mouth. You were almost done, only lining up his beard to give it an overall cleaner look, when Arthur said something out of the blue.

"Y'know, I been thinkin' about you. A lot," Arthur croaked, his throat dry all of a sudden.

"Mhm", you answered, not sure which direction that was supposed to go. You stopped shaving off the stubble on his neck when his Adam’s apple bobbed.

"Uh, I mean...", Arthur clears his throat, forcing you to stop the shave and look at him. Finally, his eyes found yours, "We're...uhm...friends, I hope." He forced a little chuckle that didn't sound genuine, especially under your curious gaze. You gave a quiet hum as sign of agreement.

"'s just that I...look, I understand if ya've found someone else. Hell, I took my sweet time and it wasn't fair how I treated you when you...", Arthur cleared his throat again, the words coming difficult to him, "when ya told me about yer feelings."

This was the point when your heartrate picked up and you felt your hands become sweatier. You had to put the blade down for a moment to wipe your hand on your shirt. Your mind was still caught on the line 'I understand if ya've found someone else'...like that had even been an option for you. For months you had tried to get over this man, then he came back waltzing into your life and you put your own ugly bounty poster on the wall as a reminder. And the you fixed the bedframe that he had fixed rather unsatisfyingly. You hadn't told him it broke the very same night he had “repaired” it. Nothing had changes the last year, you were pining as much for this man as ever...and yet, you didn't quite know how to react.

"I really like ya", he finally said, " I know well I don’t deserve it, but if ya wanted to give me another chance…"

"Morgan", you exhaled, "I got my boot between your balls and a blade at your throat...if you want to pull my leg I suggest you-"

"I mean it", and Arthur's gaze was so intense, this time it was you who struggled to watch him in the eye. You knew he wasn't lying. Hell, you hadn't really expected that he was just pulling your leg, you just said it to say something…to lighten up the mood that appeared so heavy again.

"Okay", you mumbled, barely able to disguise the tremor in your voice. Then you took the blade again, carefully turning Arthur's head upwards so you could better reach the hair you still needed to shave. There was this long and uncomfortable silence that neither of you wanted to break. You heard the birds outside, the blade scratching the skin and a heartbeat...if it was yours or Arthur's, you weren't quite sure.

Arthur thought that Guarma had been hell, but he found that your silence and okay was even more tortuous.

Finally, you were done. With a hairdressing brush you got rid of all the loose hair that decorated Arthur’s face. He gave you a slightly annoyed look as you tickled him behind his ears. Then you took the little towel that had prevented hair from falling into his shirt out in the garden to shake it out.

The moment you stepped into the cabin again, Arthur's eyes caught yours and they were demanding an answer.

"I've never stopped loving you", the words burned as they left your mouth. The towel was thrown over an empty chair. Saying the words out loud…it changed something. Because as long as you had only thought them, there was this slim chance that they weren’t true. But there was no backing-out now, no denying.

You continued: "But I can't...I won't rejoin the gang. I want to live here."

You said that because you knew that Arthur wouldn’t leave the gang for you, but you wouldn’t rejoin in either.

"Y/n...this thing is pretty much over", Arthur sighed. He was referring to the gang. He had alluded to it when he had recounted the happenings of the past weeks, especially breaking John out of jail and earning Dutch's disapproval. This was the first time he directly admitted it, "I want the Marstons safe...and the women...then it's done."

"Oh, so 'one more big score and then you can leave everything behind", you mimicked Dutch's voice. A tinge of animosity accompanied your words and this certainly wasn’t lost on Arthur. You couldn’t help but feel a bit unfairly placed in this situation.

"C'mere for a second", Arthur beckoned you, his eyes following every one of your movements until you stood in front of him, your hips brushing against the table. Arthur remained seated in his chair. Glancing at the man quickly, you congratulated yourself on having done a good job; his haircut looked sharp.

Then, suddenly, Arthur took your hand. It was such an unusual gesture, it alarmed you immediately. His hands were warm and rough, but not in an unpleasant way. Arthur held your hand lightly, as if he was afraid of hurting you.

"I promise this is the last time. In a week, we're going to hit a train with army pay. Wednesday evening. After that, I'm done", Arthur spoke earnestly.

"I can't-" believe you, you wanted to say, because you knew it had been the same story with Mary. You knew that once an outlaw means always and outlaw. Not even Arthur's word was enough to ensure that those bonds wouldn't bind him to his old life and to the gang.

"Don’t say nothing yet", Arthur interrupted calmly. He stood up and let your hand slide off his, as he walked to his satchel. He pulled out his journal and carefully put it next to you. With no hesitation, he opened and skimmed through it. You couldn't see most of the pages because he flipped through them so quickly.

"It ain't even half-way done", Arthur assessed, showing you the empty pages, "I'll leave that here 'n collect it in a week."

"What?", you questioned, frowning, "What if I decide to read it as a bedtime story?"

"'s nothing in there that yer not allowed to know", Arthur mumbled, "Contrary. Sometimes I think I'm much better expressing my feelings on paper. I've never been a good talker."

Silently, Arthur opened a page in his journal that had a little dog-ear. The left side was empty and only had smudges of pencil on it, on the right side there was this impressively detailed bounty poster. It had the layout of the bounty posters they have hanging all over town, obviously it wasn't printed, but hand drawn. You recognized your name, your 15-dollars-worth and then yourself, staring back at you. You hadn't imagined Arthur to be one to draw people, let alone portrait style. In the brush of his pencil you recognized that he might be more professed in sketching trees and animals, but it was a perfectly decent drawing of you. Hell, it was even flattering, compared to the atrocity they had on your real poster.

Arthur put the journal away, leaving it on top of a pile of books on your nightstand.

"I jus' need t'know if this is a place I'm allowed to return to", Arthur finally asked.

"Always", you replied without hesitation, your gaze still fixed on his journal. Is he trying in tempting you to read it? Because if that's the case, it was definitely working.

"So I won't be greeted with a gun in my face?", Arthur chuckled.

You sighed, taking a brush that stood abandoned in the corner of the room and started to swipe Arthur's hair out of the house. "If you're going to bring that up one more time, I swear I'll give you a reason to fear me", you quipped.

"Oh, I already fear you a great deal", Arthur said sarcastically.

You shot him an intense gaze.

"You staying for dinner?", you asked in between the sound of bristles scratching on wood.

Arthur shrugged, mumbling: "They won't miss me for another day..."

"Good. Then go hunt something", you asserted, gently shoving him outside by brushing against his boots until he took the hint.

"Yes ma'am...", Arthur mumbled, a hint of amusement in his voice. When you had successfully shoved him outside, you closed the door behind him, not without a bit of force. It left him slightly perplexed and wondering.

You had tried your best to hold your feelings together, but it had become a little much. Since Arthur's confession, your hands hadn't stopped shaking and you hastily put the brush aside, sitting down with your back against the door. There were so many feelings inside you that all needed to be addressed, but you struggled to even detangle them.

First and foremost: You had spent months pining for Arthur, only to be rejected in a cruel way and then again wasting months in trying to get over him. Just when you thought you were getting somewhere, he comes back into your life with a request that suggests anything but care for you. So, he leaves, and appears again. Then leaves again, presumed dead or out of country and now he's here again, asking for another chance as if you even had the power to reject him. You didn't know if Arthur would be able to make you happy. In a way, you feared it might be the opposite because there was still one score...one more score. He might die, or he might stay for another score, and another, and so on.

You stifled a sob. Scenarios played out in your mind, and they all converged into two possible outcomes, ending with Arthur dead or disappeared, disappointing you yet and yet again because one can't just stop being an outlaw. The 5000 on his head won't just disappear, presumed or actually dead - it didn't matter much.

"Son of a bitch", you hissed, mad at the situation.

You just wanted to be happy and find some closure for this surge of emotions that had held you hostage for months, if not years.

"Y/n?", Arthur's voice was so soft when he called out your name, you almost jumped in shock because you thought he had long gone hunting. But his voice came from right in front of the door.

"You okay?", he asked quietly.

"Yeah", you croaked, and it sounded anything but convincing.

"Ya sure?", he wanted you to confirm.

"I just need some time to think...", you whispered, trying hard not to sob.

"I'll stay close", you heard him state, then there were his steps leading away from the house.

For a while, you just sat on the floor. How to proceed?

By the time Arthur returned, the door to your cabin was wide open again, the sun shining inside. You had made your decision.

"I got us a rabbit", Arthur announced, "already skinned it. Figured it ain’t your kinda work."

You responded with an appreciative nod.

"It’s a real beauty”, Arthur grinned, a wisp of humour in his eyes, “or was, anyhow. I shot it with a small arrow so I reckon the meat-“ before Arthur could put the rabbit down on the table, you had sneaked in for a hug.

"Oh", Arthur stuttered, carefully placing the rabbit down. He lifted his bloody and dirty hands in the air to make sure not to get any dirt on you. Even though you wore clothes that had seen better days and apparently had been demoted to housework, he still didn’t want to get you dirty. Despite his desire to reciprocate the hug.

"Y/n…", he chuckled apologetically, "I need to get washed up."

At that moment, you suddenly looked up to him, your faces mere inches apart. He noticed your gaze drifting between his eyes and lips, then you leaned in, placing a gentle peck on his cheek.

The blush was immediate. Your hands instinctively found their way to his face and tenderly cupped his cheeks. They were just as warm as they had been when you cut his beard.

"I'm really glad you're here", you said, a smile playing on your lips.

"Yeah, I'm-" Arthur began, but you interrupted him with a proper kiss. It was a brief one, testing the waters if Arthur would be fine with that. As you pulled back slightly to assess his reaction, he didn’t hesitate a second, closing the distance between you once more. "I really …don't wanna get ya…dirty", Arthur mumbled between kisses. He could feel the corner of your lips curving into a smile each time you interrupted him. The man struggled to keep his dirty hands in the air.

The kisses quickly became more passionate, and when your hands left his cheeks, one to rest in the hollow between his shoulder and neck, while the other one boldly explored his chest region. It occasionally shifted to grab his arm and squeezing lightly.

Arthur mumbled your name warningly, twice. Then he couldn't help but put his hand in the small of your back, pushing you closer. His bloody hands would surely leave a mark on your clothes, but neither of you cared about that, as his hands became just as active as yours, sometimes cupping your cheek, at other times allowing himself to explore your body a little.

Arthur had just enough control to not place you on the rabbit, when he lifted you up on the table. When both of you became short of breath, Arthur rested his forehead against yours. Your legs had snaked around his, caging him in.

"Haven't done that in a long time", Arthur's voice was raspy as he tried to apologize for the somewhat sloppy make-out session.

"Me neither", you giggled and placed a final kiss on his cheek, "brushed your hair for nothing", you noted, looking up to Arthur's tousled hair. Your fault.

Arthur backed away a little, as much as your legs allowed him: "Christ." He had left signific signs of blood and dirt all over you.

"Mhh…", you hummed amusedly, "Ain't my fault you can't keep your hands to yourself."

"T'way I see it, darling…", Arthur smiled and tried to brush some dirt off your cheek with his thumb, "it's precisely your fault."

Arthur had headed to a keg outside to get cleaned. You decided to get cleaned up only after butchering the rabbit, as this would get your hands dirty again anyways. As the meat sizzled in the in the pan, you decided it was time to wash up as well. While you put the finishing touches on the dish, Arthur sat at the table, leisurely smoking a cigarette and observing you. He had asked if he could help you with anything, but you had declined, insisting that he had already done his part by hunting the rabbit. It was your turn prepare it.

When you plated the meal, it was really nothing too complicated, and yet, Arthur thought, for a free meal, it was perfect. You initiated a conversation; it was more light-hearted than the one you had when you cut his hair. The weightier themes seemed to have lifted from Arthur’s heart, and both of you sought distractions.

You told Arthur more about how you passed your days, gardening, drawing, riding into town. Really most of the money you earned the honest way, cutting hair and doing the odd delivery job for the grocery store.

It was frightening how easy it was to talk to Arthur. Two or three years ago, you would have never imagined, talking so freely to him. Though he'd always been kind, there was an air of unapproachability that had since crumbled completely after the heartfelt conversation you both shared.

The conversation where Arthur poured out his frustrations and regrets concerning Hosea's and Lenny's death, had brought a sense of liberation. It dawned on him how long it had been since he spoke so openly with anyone. Arthur leaned back into his chair. In front of him was his empty plate, opposite of the table, you sat within arm’s reach, chatting about an interesting traveller that came past your cabin a few months back. Arthur listened attentively, his eyes following the movements of your fingers skilfully rolling a cigarette.

Neither of you ran out of stories to tell the other. Arthur talked about people he had met on his travels, a clumsy photographer, a man obsessed with fast horses and racing.

You only realised how long you had been talking when the light in the cabin became sparse, the sun sinking closer to the horizon.

As the visibility waned, limited to the faint glow emitted by the burning tip of the cigarette, you finally rose to your feet to illuminate the cabin with the warm light of lanterns.

"I'll get my bedroll", Arthur announced, standing up with a grunt. He hadn't allowed himself to be this idle in a long time. All he had done today was sitting still for a haircut, killing one rabbit and then indulging in a lavish meal while engaging in easy conversation. His body had finally caught up with the stress of the last few weeks and he didn't know how to feel about how much his body ached. Despite the sun barely disappearing, Arthur would have been ready for bed. Funny, he thought, admitting one’s feeling for a girl could drain his strength that much.

At his announcement, Arthur noticed that you halted and were about to open your mouth as if to suggest something. But you didn't and let him venture outside.

When he took longer than anticipated, you followed him outside, only to find him leaning against the fence, his eyes in the sky. The sky was in this beautiful transition phase, going from hues of purple to a serene shade of blue with the first stars emerging in the east. You observed Arthur’s profile for a while, he didn't protest or showed any signs of being disturbed by your presence.

He was handsome. Something about his stature made you want to lean into him. But you didn't. Instead, you stood there, finding it hard to peel your eyes off him. Your lips quivered under the urge to say what you had thought earlier. After a big breath, you tried to say as casually as you managed: "I know my bed is too small for two people...but I was thinking if I put the mattress on the floor we could-"

"Y/N", Arthur interrupted you gently. He turned to look at you. Caringly, his hand found your shoulder, "It ain't right just yet."

Lying next to each other, cuddling, hugging, maybe stealing another kiss, you craved it badly. You finally had what you had desired for so long, you wanted it all at once. But Arthur knew that it would be unwise. He thought a lot about you, hell he did. And in his mind, he'd be too embarrassed to admit it of course, you had done way more than just kissed. But he knew it'd be wrong. He didn't want to fully commit just yet, and he didn't want to get your hopes up. It was genuine, when he said that the train robbery was the last score he wanted to do with the gang, but one train robbery is enough to get killed and he wouldn't dream about giving you this kind of pain. If he held it vague, if there was no sleeping close to each other, there was also no missing this proximity...if. Always if.

"Fine", you sucked in a little air, "but you take the bed then."

The two of you headed inside, Arthur with his bedroll clamped under his arm.

He shook his head: "It's your house, I can't jus'-"

"Exactly. It's my house, I can sleep in the bed every damn day. Besides, I don't figure you had a proper bed on Guarma, did you?", you teased.

"No, but-"

"Neither do you have one in camp so please- accept it", you looked up at Arthur rather desperately.

"Fine. You don't come complainin' to me if yer back hurts tomorrow", Arthur quipped.

"Oh, I'll definitely complain", you grinned. Arthur gave you his bedroll to spread in the corner where he had slept the last time. Arthur had sat down on the bed and watched you quietly as you readied your sleeping corner. When you glanced back at him, it was evident how weary he was, his eyes barely open, sitting up only out of politeness.

"You don't have to stay awake for me", you smiled, leaning against the table and studying the exhausted man. You noticed how tired he had become during your conversation. He had at least supressed three yawns.

"I jus'...haven't seen ya for so long, I don't want to waste that time with sleeping", Arthur explained. You found it cute he thought that way.

"You're not wasting anything", 'because we'll see each other again in a week, right?' you added in your mind. "I have this book I want to finish anyways, you just rest", you assured him.

You waited until he had settled in, exchanging a couple laughs about how unstable your bedframe was, and then you did the dishes. It didn't take you long, but Arthur was asleep when you had finished. He was turned towards the wall. On the nightstand was his journal. He had put it on top of the book you were currently reading. You took the book and settled on the bedroll.

You woke up to the sound of the bed creaking and blinked at Arthur, the first rays of the sun casting a warm glow on his frame. At some point during the night, he must have woken up and shed his clothes, as he now rested in the room clad only in his unionsuit.

"'m sorry, darlin'. I didn't want to wake ya", he apologized his raspy morning voice.

"It's okay", you yawned, forcing yourself to throw off your blanket to stand up, "I'll make some coffee."

In a couple big steps, Arthur was at your side: "You sleep some more, it's my turn for breakfast." Arthur squatted next to you and tugged you in before you could protest. You forced your tired eyes to stay on his face and not venture further down, pondering what the thin material might reveal.

When Arthur shot you a content smile, seeing you were up for no protest, a wave of panic washed over you.

"You won't just leave, right?", all of a sudden, you were wide awake.

"I won't", Arthur assured you.

"'cause if you do-", you started, a yawn interrupting your threat. Arthur chuckled at how cute and innocent you looked, happy that your yawn cut off before you could destroy that innocence with another gory threat.

"I'm way too scared of what you'd do", and then, to your surprise, he kissed your forehead. You only relaxed when Arthur had stood up again and indeed started to set up coffee. You were soon off to sleep again, only woken when the sizzling of fat in the pan woke you.

Arthur had made eggs. You ate in silence. A couple of times, Arthur tried to start a conversation, but you weren’t in the mood. He’d be gone in a couple of hours and you’d be left wondering if he’d ever return. Arthur knew that this was what was plaguing you, but he didn’t find the right angle to approach you.

You both did the dishes together, you helped Arthur by saddling his horse and then he had mounted it, looking down at you.

“Ya ain’t so happy about the prospect of me returning in a week, ‘s that it?”, Arthur joked.

“No”, you answered dryly, “I ain’t so happy about you leaving for a week.”

Arthur sighed and steered his horse closer to the fence: “Climb up here, I gotta tell ya something.”

Rather unwillingly, you climbed on one of the horizontal planks that kept your fence together. Arthur offered his hand for support and as an excuse to pull you a little closer. He kissed you, gently, on your lips.

“I promised I’ll be back, didn’t I?”, Arthur mumbled. He wasn’t convinced, and neither were you when you whispered a dire “Yeah..”

You didn’t like the good-bye kiss. In fact, you wished he hadn’t done that. It hurt even more, seeing him disappear between the trees in the distance. For a while, you stood there helplessly, wondering what to do next. Minutes passed before you ventured into your cabin, distracting yourself with some cleaning before your eyes fell on Arthur’s journal. You noticed a piece of paper sticking out. Without thinking, you opened the journal and the loose paper floated to the ground. You didn’t even bother picking it up, your eyes caught the first word written on top of the page. It was your name, written in Arthur’s familiar handwriting.

“Hell no”, you kicked the paper under the bed before you could read any further. You weren’t up for some heartfelt “Good-bye, in case I die I want you to know this”-letter. Frustration and anger bubbled within you as you scrambled into your good jeans and crammed your revolver into its back pocket. With a swift motion, you picked up your hunting rifle, mounted your horse and started to follow Arthur’s track.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x--x-x-x-x-x-x-x

next chapter: here

Shoutout to @little-honeypie who basically wrote the confession scene. I wouldn't have ever finished this if it weren't for them <3

taglist: @photo1030

taglist for this series: @pinkiemme @loveheartarthur @twola @shiokitsune @missredemption @kakashiislut @thewalkingdead1463 @yyiikes @renwai @walk-in-sunshine @rdrlady @ivybeeloved @trinswhimsys @reddedmiller @chiefqueefsosa @sauvignon-velvet @mrsarthurmorgan @readingcoco @pookiesnatcher @gloomdoomraccoon

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead redemption community #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr #rdr fanfiction

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wobblesthecowgirl · 4 months

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I'm No O’Driscoll!

Chapter Four: Lenny!

Tags: Arthur Morgan x Femreader, enemies to lovers, O'Driscoll reader, game plot, Arthur doesn't have tuberculosis, eventual smut, age difference, 18+, mild gore

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this longer chapter! Sorry it took a little longer to get out! They say drunk words are sober thoughts! But don't get it twisted, they still hate each other...

Chapter One

Y/n had gotten closer with Mary-Beth, seeing that she was the only kind member of the gang. Plus, they both had a thing for reading, so the conversation possibilities were endless.

Today was no different, the two women were sitting on a blanket under the canopy, discussing Mary-Beth's novel ideas, the dark night bringing an odd sort of comfort. An owl was hooting in the back, and small mummers of those around, when Lenny came bounding in on his horse. This was the first time Y/n had seen the boy, but luckily her new friend had gone through everybody here. He went running to Arthur and Dutch who had been previously discussing something important.

“Dutch, Arthur. They got Micah.” He panted, hopping off his horse with a small, panicked stumble. The rest of the camp were watching curiously, as Dutch, Arthur, and Molly walked over to the younger boy.

“What’s going on?” Dutch asked, trying to calm him down. Lenny continued, still not calming down, “They got MIcah. He- He’s been arrested for murder. He was in Strawberry and…”

“It’s ok, son. Breathe.” The gang’s leader soothed him, Lenny took a deep breath, leaning forward with his hands on his knees before explaining what was going on.

Mary-Beth leaned over to Y/n and murmured. “I hope he does get hanged.”

“Woah, Mary!” Y/n exclaimed, surprised at the sudden hostile sentence hushed at her new friend's mouth; she definitely wasn’t the type to throw that around with no reason. If you can piss off her, you gotta be a bad person.

“…and there’s talk of hanging him.”

Y/n turned her attention back to the scene unfolding before them. She watched Arthur’s lips turn into a playful smile, “Here’s hoping.”

“Arthur!” Dutch warned him.

“What?” He asked innocently, as if he didn’t just wish a man to be hung. She found herself giggling. Ok, that was actually a bit funny. The two continued to go back and forth as Lenny sat on a nearby table, looking distressed.

“You take that kid into town, Valentine, not Strawberry. Get him drunk.” Dutch paused and looked around until he caught eyes with Y/n. He pointed at her, “And take her with you. This is a great opportunity for what we discussed earlier.”

She quickly stood up, the pain in her leg had gotten better but still not perfect, and turned to Mary-Beth, “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to leave you quickly.” She sped-walked towards the men.

“Mr Van Der Linde,” She began, “I appreciate you being kind enough to let me stay here despite my past. However, please don’t make me hang out with Mr Morgan.”

“Yeah, why have I gotta drag her along? I’m fine with just taking the boy.” Arthur protested; a pleading look in his eye. Yet Dutch wouldn’t hear them out, and instead waved them off.

With a sigh, Arthur turned to Lenny, “Come on, son.” Before calling out to Dutch and made his way to his horse. Y/n awkwardly tailed behind him, unsure how this was going to go down. She was going to get a drink with a man who hates her, and a boy she’s never met. The men got on their horses and he turned to look at her.

“You gonna refuse my help again, princess?” Arthur looked at her, as she huffed in annoyance, grabbing the saddle and pulling herself up with a small grunt.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He said as she finally got on, before they made their way out of camp.

“So, who are you?” Lenny shouted from behind as he followed Arthur. Y/n looked over her shoulder and smiled politely.

“I’m Y/n L/n!”

“She’s an O’Driscoll!” Arthur interrupted her which caused Lenny to grimace.

Still looking at Lenny she corrected, “Don’t listen to him. If I was, do you think Dutch would let me stay?” Lenny nodded but his face told a different story. Great, there goes my chance to fit in.

The two of them continued to talk about what went down in Strawberry as the woman kept to herself, she didn’t really feel welcomed, why Dutch made her go is beyond her. They finally made it to Valentine and Y/n realised this was the first time in weeks where she had seen a proper town. It was dark, but plenty of streetlights to keep it well lit. Some drunk men stumbled around, and shops were closing for the night. The men hitched their horses outside the saloon, Y/n taking extra care when jumping off. She could feel Lenny’s stare at the back of her head while Arthur went inside.

She followed him to the bar and found herself in between them both, most likely in case she tried to do anything funny. The men put some money down and that’s when she realised. She looked down to see her tatty clothes (which thankfully she washed recently, but still had a hole on her thigh), and no satchel.

“What’s wrong?” Lenny inquired as she sighed.

“My bag was taken when I was hostage, and I haven’t asked for it back yet.” She looked at Arthur who could only shake his head and put another coin down for her. She knew she should say thank you, but she was too suborn to say thank you to him.

“Just one or two…right, Arthur?” The younger boy sounded stressed, leaning over the counter a little.

“Course, just a drink, no big drama.” He turned to the bartender, “Can we get three beers please?”

The bartender looked petrified to see him, which only made her curious as to the kind of trouble he has gotten himself into around here.

“I don’t want no trouble.” The bartender put his hands up in defensive as Arthur groaned, “And you’ll get none from me. I was defending myself.”

Y/n chuckled; she highly doubted that was the case. He gave another coin to the bartender for himself to get a drink- which was actually more likely to just shut him up- and Lenny and Arthur continued to talk about Strawberry. Y/n was beginning to feel a little left out, chugging her entire beer to pass the time.

A stranger stumbled over to them, a little too close for comfort and smelling of booze.

“I seen a lot of crazy, crazy stuffy” He mimicked Lenny. Arthur grunted, “Will you shut up?”

They went back and forth for a bit, Arthur increasingly getting angier.

The man faced Y/n, leaning in too close which made her lean away. She felt Lenny put a hand on her shoulder and snapped at the man, “Leave the lady alone.”

“Leave the lady alone.” The man mimicked again, “Ladies have been leaving me alone for the last ten years, I’m bored with being left alone. Come with me, pretty lady.”

“Get any closer to me and I’ll knock your front teeth out.” She hissed, which only made the gross man more determined.

“Don’t be like that missy. I promise I’ll show you a good time.”

Arthur piped up, irritation laced in his voice, and fully turning his body towards him.

“Listen, buddy. You’re a charming fellow. But she’s a taken woman, and me and the kid here, we’re tryin’ to talk business. So, could you possibly leave us alone? No offense intended.” He treaded carefully with his words, as the man took full offence and began to stumble away.

“Ain’t no pleasing some folk. I was just, trying to be friendly.”

The three watched him leave, before sighing.

“I think I need another drink after that.” Y/n mumbled, Arthur nodded before giving her a handful of coins, much to her surprise.

“That’s you allowance. Don’t spend it all in one go.”

She placed a coin down for another beer, “Don’t treat me like a child.” She snapped, before going quieter, “Thanks.” He grumbled in response, getting himself another drink. As the time went on, the two drinks went to three, then four. The men were outdrinking her, and unfortunately, she was doing her best to keep up despite being a lightweight. Lenny had even bought her some, warming up to her. Arthur was becoming louder, cheerier than his usual grumpy exterior.

“You gotta slow down, girlie.” Arthur chuckled as he watched her chug another glass down. Her cheeks had become rosier, and she was definitely becoming more relaxed.

“Ay, you have to stop bossing me around, old man.”

“And you hafta stop calling me old man.” He grumbled, sipping his beer.

She watched him stumble towards the piano man and laugh at his playing, complimenting him. She found the way he was acting funny, giggling as she made her way over to him. She watched as he looked towards her, a drunken smile on his face before it contorts to that of confusion.

“Lenny, where are you?” He suddenly shouts, causing the woman to cover her ears. She looked around for the younger boy, feeling guilty for not realising he had wondered off somewhere. The lights of the saloon seemed a lot brighter than before, and the music a little louder.

“Lets go find him, Mr Morgan.” She said, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him gently. They looked around, and she occasionally asked some women who shook their heads apologetically.

“Hey, you seen my friend anywhere?” Arthur asked as a man on the stairs hinted at Lenny being upstairs.

“Hey! I see him!” Y/n shook Arthur’s shoulder and pointed at Lenny who was leaning against the banister. Arthur leaned down to her eye level so that his head was near her shoulder and ear, and peered so he could see what she was seeing. She could smell him: a cheap cologne, tobacco, and a lot of beer. She gently nudged him, “Do you mind? Personal space.” He slurred out a sorry before walking over to Lenny.

“What are you doing, kid?”

Lenny was trying to balance a beer bottle on his head. Y/n stifled out a laugh before complimenting him, “That’s very impressive!”

“Hello Arthur, Y/n. You know what, I don’t know.” His concentration was broken when the bottle fell. All three of them tried to catch it but failed as it smashed on the bottom floor. The older man laughed and patted him on the back. He turned to the woman and snatched the beer bottle out her hand.

“Now you try, Princess!” He was already trying to put it on her head while she attempted to swat his muscular arm away.

“Get your manly arms away from my head, idiot!”

Arthur continued to fight her, Lenny was holding onto his stomach and laughed, “Come on, Y/n! Balance it!”

She held still as Arthur placed it on her head… and it instantly fell off and smashed. The men laughed as she kicked the shards away from her feet. The three of them were way more relaxed now, chatting away and howling with joy. Both men were even making sure she was involved.

“Well, why ain’t the two of you ever married?” Lenny asked them both; she looked to Arthur who pouted like a lost child and moped.

“No one would have me.”

She patted his back, “It’s ok tough guy.” The men looked at her, waiting for a response, which she simply shrugged, “I’m not sure. Too grumpy I guess.”

“That’s very likely!” Arthur cackled which earned a slap on the back from her as he continued, “That pretty face is wasted ‘cos you’re so sour, like a lemon!”

She grumbled some more insults as Lenny began to dance, and held a hand out to her. She took is and boogied with him while in the background, Arthur was jumping up and down. She blacked out for a second and woke up to Arthur shouting.

“Lenny? Lenny! Come on you unhelpful woman.” He rolled his eyes and dragged her back to her feet, causing her to use him as support for a minute. She then realised the position they were in and pushed him away, as he continued to call for their friend; where they found him was on top of the bar. He was swinging at a few men who were trying to grab him while the bartender cowered away.

“Hey” Y/n barked, storming (or stumbling) down the steps with a pointed finger, “You get the hell away from that boy!” They all turned towards her, some smirking and the rest confused.

“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to, bitch?”

She felt a large hand hold her shoulder and pull her back as she saw Arthur come into view, “Nobody. She’s talkin’ to nobody,” One of the other men piped up.

“What did you say?”

“Get lost, buddy!” It was clear that Arthur was incredibly drunk given how badly he was slurring his words. She couldn’t help but laugh at his sorry state, like she was any better.

“What you think you laughing at?” Another man sneered at her.

“Your ugly fucking face!” She laughed harder, before blacking out again.

When she came back to her senses, both men were gone. She called out for Arthur, even getting a few random strangers confused for him. She finally got a lead by one of the women, “Was that the big guy you was with? I think he’s outside, ‘round the back.” She thanked her and wobble walked to the back door and opened it.

“Goddammit woman!” He freaked out and quickly turned his body around. She was confused at first until she saw the stream of piss coming out of him. He had turned around in time so she could only see how his belt was undone and the way he leaned back slightly with his hands holding…it.

“What are you doing! Use a god damn toilet, you animal!”

“There aint none!” He snapped back before finishing, and she realised she was still looking at him, so she too faced away until she heard his jeans being zipped up.

“Come on, lets find that boy.” He muttered as he walked past her and opened the door, herself right behind him. He stumbled around, thinking everyone was Lenny and laughing until the patron’s got annoyed with him. He looked around and saw her before laughing and coming over, grabbing both her shoulders.

“Got cha Lennnnny!”

“Arthur you dumbass. It’s me!”

He stared at her intently before making an o shape with his mouth and letting go off her. She looked over his shoulder and pointed, “There he is!”

Lenny heard her and smiled, shuffling his way to them. He grabbed the older man and asked, “Arthur, Arthur! What are you doing?”

Instead of replying, they had a slap contests, the whole bar cheering. The woman decided to get another drink while they did so, just in case they got her involved, and chugged the whiskey down. Her body heat was causing her to sweat slightly, her hair sticking to her forehead, and her eyes to go droopy and hazy.

She heard Arthur order a drink next to her.

“You gotta be by my side all the time?” She joked as he grinned at her.

“I hafta make sure the lady is behaving now, don’t I?”

“No you don’t. You’re not my boss.

He took a sip of whiskey, “I aint? Pretty sure I am, Lemon.”

“Lemon?”

“Yeah, ‘cos you’re sour.”

“Shut up.” She huffed as the man who gave them trouble when they first walked in stumbled over.

“Not you again.” Arthur shook his head but the drunk ignored him and turned his attention to Y/n, standing close to her side. He grabbed her waist and smirked, and she put her hands on his chest and shoved him. He stumbled but regained his composure and went for her thigh.

“Get off me!” She shouted, backing up into Arthur.

“You hear the lady! She don’t want you!”

The drunk groaned, “Oh come on lady. I don’t see your man anywhere. Just come home with me.” He tried to grab her again but her older companion stood in front of her so she could hide behind him.

“Listen here. If you don’t get the hint and leave my woman alone, I’m gonna drown you.” He threatened. Y/n couldn’t deny she was thankful, but a little annoyed that she was depending on him.

“She’s yours? Rent her for the night?” The drunk chortled as Arthur suddenly grabbed his ear and aggressively dragged him outside. Y/n quickly drank the rest of Arthur’s drink for him and stumbled outside. In horror, she found him trying to drown the man like he promised. She grabbed his bicep and tried to pry him off the man, which he did with reluctance. The stranger gasped for air, looking petrified and scampering away.

“Why would you do that, you fool? You trying to get arrested?” She told him off, but he didn’t look remorseful.

“Hada teach him a lesson. Not to mess with my woman!” He joked as she laughed.

“Never in a million years.”

They heard Lenny come outside shouting their names. The alcohol was really getting to them now. The men were rolling around in the mud, and this time she joined in with the rough housing, getting covered in the dirt as well. As they danced in the middle of the street with the younger boy throwing up a lot, they heard shouting. Lenny got tackled by a deputy as another two went for them, “Come here! You drunk fools!”

“Come on, Lemon!” Arthur snatched her wrist and began running behind the saloon. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion and she watched the way his back moved and the tightness of his grip.

“You’ll never take me alive!” He boasted, a unusual cheeriness in his voice which caused her to giggle.

“Turn right, Mister!” She laughed as another man cut them off. Arthur was laughing just as much as she was as he screamed, “Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness!” They came across a fence so he let go of her wrist and jumped over before turning around and putting his hands under her armpits and picking her up with ease. Like I'm a ragdoll!

He moved her into a bridal hold as he ran; she wrapped her arms around his neck and screamed, though she wasn’t sure what for. The adrenaline, the drunk butterflies, the running, or the fact this man was carrying her like she weighed a couple of feathers. It was sort of comforting, so much so that she blacked out again.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

When she woke up in the morning, her throat was dry, and her eyes couldn’t fully open because of the light. She groaned before realising she was laying on something. She looked to her right and saw she had been sleeping on Arthur’s arm. The man was completely sprawled out on the grass and looked like he was dead.

“Oy. Wake up, you fool!” She slapped his face hard as he jolted awake and groaned in pain. His eyes met hers, and a confused look spread across his face.

“You? Where are we? What happened? Were we sleeping together?”

She tried to stand up but had to hold onto a near tree, scared she was about to vomit but swallowed hard.

“Don’t say it like that. We ran away from the law and passed out.” She looked around and saw they were on the outskirts of Valentine near the barn.

“Looks like we didn’t get that far. Come on, lets go bail Lenny.” She watched as the man threw up and rubbed his eyes.

“Whatever happened yesterday, that doesn’t make us friends.” He pointed a finger at her as she made a slow walk back to the town.

“We never were.” Y/n paused, “But I did have fun last night.”

She saw the corner of his mouth turn up slightly.

“Me too.”

#arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction

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wrr000 · 2 years

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Van Der Linde gang when you randomly kiss them - short headcanons PART 2

AN: I'm posting this as fast as I wrote it 'cause I'm afraid of burning out AGAIN. Hope y'all like this! Feedback appreciated :]

»»————-　♡　————-««

Featuring: Dutch, Sean, Kieran, Micah (KIERAN STANS ASSEMBLE!)

Summary: pure fluff (and I mean a BIG FLUFF), kissing on the cheek (just to clarify)

Warnings: none, just really short

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

--Dutch

On one hand he is paranoid and bounty for his head is always on Dutch's mind so it would be normal that he's on high alert even in the camp

On the other hand he's usually reading a book and his thoughts are drifting in the fantasy/idealized worlds from the novels

When you came from behind with a gentle kiss on his cheek he immediately wanted to drew a gun

Luckily he quickly realized it was you *sigh of relief*

"Oh dear-- If you want a kiss just ask, I could have shoot you!"

But he isn't angry, just stressed and tired

After a while he pulls you closer to him into a tight hug and kisses your forehead

Don't feel bad! He knows that you didn't mean no harm and finds it kinda sweet

His little lover wants his attention which means you love him and think about old Van der Linde in your free time

Dutch is sure happy to have you and he's all for your kisses, but would appreciate if you changed the form of affection

You can always surprise him in other ways! Sneaking from behind leave for more peacful times

--Sean

He did not saw it coming, you got him there

BUT Sean would pretend like you didn't 'cause you know--'everybody loves him and he always expect affection' (you know that talk, we all heard it, right)

Inside he's so fluttered and happy and you can tell that by a stupid grin on his cute face

"Oi beautiful, you love me that much that you can last a minutes without me?"

He wraps his arms around your waist, kissing you back

One kiss on the cheek, one on the lips, one on the nose... And there's no end

Boy is just so in love with you that he doesn't want to let you go, not now at least

Little attention seeker will make the most of the opportunity to spend a sweet time with his beloved

Sean adores everything you do and especially when it involves him so please do it more

You trying to surprise him and make him feel loved it's what melt his outlaw heart!

He's always up for your kisses and hugs :>

--Kieran

HIS SOUL LEFT HIS BODY--HEART ATTACK--THE BOY JUST DIED

Everyone is threatening him in the camp so Kieran is constantly very stressed

It wasn't much of a surprise, but he isn't upset with you! He knows that you mean no harm

More like glad that wasn't a Sadie or Bill coming for his head

Big sigh of relief from him, but you felt kinda bad anyway

"Ah--! You scared me, babe! But it's glad to see you"

Smile crawled on his pale, but slighly red face as he gently returned a kiss

This sight broke your heart, so you embraced him, pressing your lover tightly to yourself

He hugged you back of course, it makes him feel loved and he doesn't want to let you go (your body feels so safe to him)

Kieran is really REALLY happy to have you a walking sunshine in this waking nightmare

I can asure you that this boy loves you very much and deeply

He's so happy when you two are close and you're showing him affection, but maybe try not to scare him next time

Try anything but that, you can even surprise him with a nice flower and he would be grateful!

JUST GIVE HIM ANY LOVE AND PROTECT HIM AT ALL COSTS, HE NEEDS IT

--Micah

You gave him a goosebos, but he would act like the knows you're coming to surprise him

Acting all tough, unphased and irritated just to fool you

Or maybe he was a little scared that he let his guard down and you managed to sneak to him from behind? Guess we will never know

"I knew it was you. Why are you even tryin', cutie pie?"

But on the inside he's kinda fluttered 'cause he can't hide it that your kisses are good

Not to mention that in some way he enjoys you crawling for his attention

He may not kiss you back (maybe in private) , but he pulls you closer to him, placing one hand on your waist and the other on your thigh

Ignore his words and try it next time

In fact, Micah wants you to surprsing him like that more often, but for his own peace of mind he acts like nothing in this world can surprise him

He is an attention seeker and a touch starved bastard after all, he needs to know that you still love him as he loves you

So more random kiss are welcome!

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spoonsand · 1 month

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CONTAINS SPOILERS

Just finished my second playthrough and I have to say: I hate Dutch more than Micah. Don’t get me wrong Micah is scum, but Dutch knew (mostly) everybody in the gang for over a year. Sometimes over a DECADE- and he still turns his back on them. All the kids he and Hosea raised, didn’t matter, the ‘last’ score mattered. The last robbery mattered. Not the orphans or runaways he raised, taught and loved.

Micah is a superficial type. You know he’s evil. When you first meet him, you know he’s bad. But I liked Dutch in definitely the first 3 chapters, I was still liking him in 4. Guarma was iffy. Beaver Hollow is where it all goes downhill. I noticed the decline since chapter 3, but I feel it really steepened in 4 and 6 (Guarma didn’t happen). But back to Micah- you know he’s evil. The way he talks, the way he acts, his beliefs, you just KNOW that this guy isn’t who you’d want to come to your rescue (RIP SADIE). Micah did what he had to do to survive. He never had loyalty in mind, he has his own being in mind.

The Van Der Linde’s whole gang/family was so BASED on loyalty that people killed and died for the gang. Miss Grimshaw mentions killing another traitor. Molly (mistakenly assumed as a traitor) is killed because that’s how strongly they value loyalty. Loyalty (mostly to Dutch) was how the whole gang was founded.

Hosea had the same loyalty, but he actually cared about the people. I think Dutch only cared about the image. Hosea said that he cared for the people that died following Blackwater- that they mattered to him. He wanted closure. Dutch used their deaths as ammunition for his speeches. As a reason for the gang to keep on going. The only thing that set him apart from the O’Driscolls was the fact he cultivated the image that they were a family and that he might have cared. The O’Driscolls didn’t have the same loyalty to their members. When Kieran was captured they didn’t try to get him back. He said he was as good as dead if he wasn’t with the Van Der Linde’s. Dutch took Kieran in to set himself apart. The loyalty. The image.

Hosea kept Dutch in check. After Hosea died, Dutch couldn’t be kept in check. He didn’t have someone he valued highly who truly cared anymore. Micah took over Hosea’s place as the highly valued peer. Micah’s influence was never for the good of the gang- and that wasn’t a secret. Micah’s influence was for his own gain. But what I can’t get over is once Micah had that influence, Dutch didn’t care about anyone anymore. Especially towards the end. He used Eagle Flies, he left Arthur, left John (TWICE), didn’t care about the women, didn’t care about little Jack. Dutch cared about Tahiti. One last score. Reallllly messing with the Pinkertons. Getting the gang to safety wasn’t a priority. As I mentioned earlier- loyalty to Dutch was how the whole gang was founded- Dutch says something about John and Abigail and that women are poison. At the end, John was more concerned with Abigail and Jack rather than Dutch. He didn’t like that. Dutch didn’t like that John was more loyal to his FAMILY than him. He didn’t like that Arthur was more loyal to John than him. Micah, Bill and Javier didn’t have family available to have that stronger loyalty to. They had Dutch and only Dutch. I’m sure that Dutch also had beef with Hosea and Bessie; especially when they left.

But Dutch turned his back on John and Arthur- his sons. He raised them. When Susan was shot, he didn’t bat an eye. He loved her at some point. All these people he’s known for 20 ish years. Or the newer ones, that again, he either raised or feigned affection. And nothing. Turned his back.

FUCK DUTCH YOU BASTARD I HOPE HELL IS AS NICE AS TAHITI

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queer-irritator · 1 year

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Stress Relief (Arthur Morgan x GN Reader)

Prompt: Reader stumbles upon an herbalist on a solo adventure and gets some useful information on a new plant that can aid a certain cowboy in relieving some stress.

Content warnings: Drug use, smoking, vomit, violence, hunting, peer pressure(??)

Takes place at Horseshoe Overlook, not proof read

Precedes Bloody Knuckles and Impure Thoughts

You’ve been running with the Van Der Linde gang for a little over a month. Hosea had caught you red-handed, trying to pick-pocket him. In your defense, he seemed like an easy target. An older, gentle looking man alone in a packed saloon? Usually things go off without a hitch. Luckily for you, Hosea was actually impressed by your skills, particularly with your innocence act when you got caught. You spent the night talking and drinking with him, swapping sob stories, and by sunrise you were following him back to a secluded camp on the outskirts of town. There was a mix of reactions from the rest of the gang, mostly you were welcomed, but a few members had their reservations about you, and some still do. When you drunkenly stumbled into camp following closely behind Hosea, you laid your eyes on the most beautiful human being you’ve ever seen. Arthur Morgan. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the cowboy’s stunning beauty that made your stomach do flips, resulting in you emptying your guts in front of practically everybody. But you heard Arthur’s low, raspy chuckle for the first time.

“You alright there?” Arthur questioned you, one eyebrow slightly raised.

“Oh yeah, I’m wonderful…” You replied, bracing yourself with a hand on a tree trunk. Your face was flushed red from a mixture of alcohol and embarrassment.

Luckily, since that first day you’ve redeemed yourself with most of the gang. Most importantly, you’ve redeemed yourself with Arthur. You tagged along for a homestead robbery and shot some bastard right between the eyes when he was on top of Arthur, choking him.

“Are you okay?” You called to Arthur, running over to him only a split second after discharging your gun.

Arthur shoved the corpse off of him and caught his breath, “I am now… Thanks to you.” he said, sitting up.

“Oh, it’s no big deal…” You tried to keep yourself cool and collected and slid your gun back into your holster.

“No big deal?” Arthur repeated your words as he looked up at you, his knee bent and his extended arm resting on his knee, “You saved my hide, that ain’t “no big deal” ‘round here.” He stood up with a slight grunt and gave you an approving slap on the back before walking over to his horse. “Yer alright, kid.”

You couldn’t hide the smile that crept onto your face. A weight you didn’t know you’ve been carrying around had been lifted. Getting Arthur’s approval of being part of the gang meant more than you thought it would.

Since then you started seeking out Arthur’s company more and more. You’ve developed a stronger bond with him, but have been careful to keep your attraction to the cowboy to yourself. You had a good friendship, and you didn’t want to screw it up.

Currently you were out hunting alone. You had a knack for getting perfect rabbit pelts with a bow Charles had given you. So far you got three rabbits, but you needed one more to have enough material to make a pillow cover. Plus, Pearson always appreciated the meat. You took out your binoculars and surveyed the field, looking for any rabbits in the distance. You spotted your final prey of the afternoon. Sliding off your horse quietly, you grabbed your bow and started to sneak up on the rabbit. You got into position and took aim, drawing your bow back. You let out your breath slowly and released your arrow, getting another pristine kill. You rushed over to grab the rabbit and stow it on your horse. Just as you were preparing to hop back on your horse to ride back to camp, a figure in the distance caught your eye.

You grabbed your pistol from your holster and started to approach a stranger a few hundred feet away.

“Hey there.” You greeted the stranger, cautious but not in a mood to spill more blood if it wasn’t necessary.

The stranger turned his head and gave you a wave, “Hello! Beautiful day out today, isn’t it?” He had a white horse with him that had bushels of herbs stowed on it.

You slid your gun back into its holster and got within a few feet of the man, “What’cha gathering?” You questioned, looking at the plants wrapped in burlap and sitting on the back of the horse, it looked the same as a patch of plants growing from the earth near the man.

“Some medicine.” The stranger bent down and picked a flower off the plant, “This plant does wonders for feelings of anxiety and stress!” He presented a funny looking green flower bud in his hand.

“Really?” You questioned him, inspecting the plant. You did have a lot of feelings of anxiety recently… “D’ya just eat it?”

“Oh, no no. This works best after it’s been dried. You smoke it, just like tobacco.” He explained to you. “Here, I have some ready to go!” Turning his back to you, he rummaged through a bag on his horse and handed you something that looked like a cigarette.

You took it from the man and inspected it and gave it a sniff. “It kinda smells funny.” You observed aloud.

“Ah, a small price to pay for the medicinal properties.” The man secured his goods on his horse and hopped up on it. “I should be going now, but I highly suggest setting aside a few hours when you smoke it. It can make you feel… funny.”

“Funny?” You looked up at the stranger, “Funny how?”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it, but it’s also a good idea to have a friend or two around. Come find me if you need more!” The man commanded his horse to get going, leaving you slightly bewildered.

“Huh…” You carefully tucked away the cigarette and mounted your horse. On your ride back to camp, you thought of a particularly stressed cowboy that could use some medicine to help with that.

You arrived back at camp in the late afternoon. Camp was bustling with the women finishing up chores and Pearson putting the stew on the fire. You hitched your horse and grabbed your rabbits and slid the cigarette in your pocket.

“Got a present for you!” You called to Pearson, holding up the rabbits.

“You got perfect timing, kiddo.” Pearson praised you.

You laid down the rabbits on his workstation and got to work on skinning them. “You seen Arthur around today?” You questioned the cook.

“Saw him this morning… I think Dutch said something about him going into Valentine.” Pearson was always in earshot of whatever Dutch was hollering about, so he knew just about everything. “You sure spend a lot of time around him…” He hinted at you.

His comment made you whip your head towards him. “What are you talking about? I spend a normal amount of time with everyone..!” Your defensiveness was definitely not helping your case, and neither was a faint dusting of pink across your cheeks.

“Okay…” He dismissed you, not convinced by your shitty excuse.

You huffed slightly and collected your rabbit pelts and took them over to your tent and hung them up to dry.

Your tent was situated next to Lenny, he was one of the first members to make you feel comfortable and welcomed. You often had guard duty with him, and the two of you always end up slacking off and get a tongue lashing from Mrs. Grimshaw. Plus, your tent’s location gave you a great view of Arthur’s wagon. Right as you were about to start bitching and whining to Lenny about what Pearson had said, you heard the clap of horse hooves approaching camp. You turned your head to see Arthur, feeding his horse a snack and giving it a pat on the neck. Seeing Arthur lightened your mood by tenfold. You watched him as he exchanged a few words with Dutch and then headed over to his cot. Now that he was a bit closer, you noticed a bruise starting to form on his cheekbone and that he was covered in mud. You walked over to him just as he was sitting down.

“You okay, Arthur?” You asked him, concern laced in your voice.

He lifted his head slightly to meet your eyes, “Yeah, it’s nothing.” He always dismissed his own issues. Sure, maybe it was stupid to ask if he was okay when he clearly looked like shit, but you still had to ask. You looked him over now that you were standing only a few feet from him, he looked more tired than anything.

“Go get cleaned up, and I’ll wash your clothes.” You instructed him, you learned quickly that you need to insist he takes care of himself, or else he won’t do a damn thing for his health.

“Naw, really I’m fine.” He began to protest, slightly waving a hand in dismissal.

“Arthur.” You said sternly, giving him a glare. “Get your ass cleaned up, and I’m going to wash your clothes.” You instructed him once more.

Arthur furrowed his brows and met your glare for a few seconds before letting out a sigh and standing up, shrugging off his coat that was caked in mud. You gathered Arthur’s clothes, along with his boots and weapon holsters and headed off to the wash basin to get them clean. You kneeled down on the ground and began scrubbing his clothes clean. You lifted your head frequently to fixate on Arthur. It’s the first time you’ve seen him without 3 or more layers of clothes on. Arthur was slightly bent over at a barrel of water, washing his face in just his union suit. Other men around camp would often walk around in their union suit, especially early in the morning, but you never gave them a second glance. Arthur, however, was another story. He was quite more muscular than you had imagined, and his ass looked perfect. You tore your eyes away from Arthur and forced yourself to focus on getting his clothes and gear clean. You were definitely smoking that funky cigarette later, and dragging Arthur into your shenanigans as well.

A few hours later dinner had been eaten and much to your dismay, Arthur had changed into some real clothing. The sun had set not long ago and things were quieting down around camp. People were retiring to their tents, sitting around the fire, or getting ready to swap look-out shifts. You spotted Arthur smoking a cigarette, leaning on a tree at the edge of camp. You approached him, excited about the plans the man didn’t yet know he was getting roped into.

“Hey.” You greeted the cowboy nonchalantly. “Your clothes should be dry by morning.”

Arthur gave you a nod as he flicked the butt of his cigarette off to the side and blew out some smoke. “Thanks. Ya didn’t have to do all that.”

“I don’t mind.” You assured him. You looked up at the stars, trying to think of a plan if Arthur rejected your offer of smoking something a stranger gave you in the middle of the woods… Maybe you’ll leave that part out.

“Uhm, I got something for you- well, us. Something for us to share.” You glanced at him, becoming nervous all of a sudden.

“Well, aren’t you full of surprises? It my birthday or somethin’?” Arthur joked, making himself the punchline.

“I dunno, is it?” You chuckled softly.

Arthur shook his head with a smile playing on his lips, “Luckily, it ain’t.”

You reached in your pocket and took out the home-made joint you got earlier in the day. “I was out hunting earlier and I found some plants. Kinda like tobacco, but different.” You explained to him.

Arthur squinted his eyes slightly to get a better look at what you were holding. “Ya just picked some plant and made a cigarette outta it? Seems kinda… odd.” he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. He didn’t want to offend you, but this seemed idiotic.

“When you put it like that, you make it sound like I’m trying to kill ya.” You turned your body towards him, trying to seem more serious. “It’s not just some random plant though. It’s medicine that helps with stress. And you are the most stressed cowpoke I know.”

Arthur looked at you for a moment. He could tell this meant a lot to you, for some unknown reason. He glanced at the “cigarette” in your hand. He’s probably put worse in his body, “What the hell.” He states, taking the joint from you and lighting it with a match.

A smile spread across your face, glad that Arthur is letting himself relax a bit. You watched as Arthur inhaled the smoke. He suppressed a few coughs and blew out the smoke, knitting his eyebrows together at the strange taste.

“How is it?” You ask him, extending your hand toward him asking for him to share the smoke.

“See for yourself.” He passed the joint to you as he focused on not coughing like a kid trying to smoke for the first time. You brought the joint to your lips and inhaled, only to start coughing right away. “Jesus christ.” You shoved the joint back into Arthur's hand as you brought a hand to your mouth to cover your cough.

Arthur looked at you with a tinge of concern, “You sure this is safe?” He questioned you.

After taking a few deep breaths you had collected yourself, “Yeah… Yeah, I’m sure it’s fine…” You dismissed his concern. “Medicine isn’t always enjoyable, y’know.”

“I guess…” Arthur took another inhale of the joint, more prepared for the effects now. This time he only cleared his throat slightly before passing the joint back to you.

You decided to take two puffs this time, wanting the effects to start to kick in so you didn’t feel like such an idiot around Arthur anymore. Not used the smoking as much as the cowboy next to you, you still coughed a bit. You passed the joint back and forth a few more times.

“So, it’s just ‘sposed to make you… relaxed?” Arthur questioned, starting to think that this “medicine” was a sham.

“That’s what the guy told me.” You shrugged.

“Guy? What guy?” Arthur looked at you.

“Well… I was out hunting and there was this guy and he had these plants. And he said they help with stress and it might make you feel funny.” You confessed.

“Feel funny?” Arthur questioned you, glancing at the joint that was practically finished by now.

“Yeah…” You didn’t know why he was repeating everything you said. You snatched the joint from him and took the last drag of it.

Before Arthur could reprimand you for taking drugs from a strange man in the woods, a voice rang out from the other side of camp.

“God dammit, who the hell let a skunk in here?” John’s voice called out.

You froze, hearing John’s voice. You had forgotten that it wasn’t just you and Arthur alone outside. You sniffed the air, and then the joint, which did indeed smell similar to skunk. You tossed the butt over your shoulder quickly and glanced at Arthur, biting your lip to hold back a laugh.

Arthur was frozen as well, only his eyes shifted to meet your gaze. He had a dumbfounded look plastered on his face like he’d just been caught in the act of something deplorable. This caused a giggle to form in your throat. You put your hand over your mouth to try and keep quiet, unsure of why exactly you were trying to keep quiet.

John had wandered over to where the two of you were standing. “You guys seen a skunk ‘round here?”

You couldn’t hold it in anymore, you let a string of laughter escape your lips. Suddenly, you heard a low chuckle start to fill the air and you turned your head to see Arthur laughing as well. Of course this only caused you to laugh louder, you raised a finger to point at Arthur in surprise. You’d never heard him laugh like this before. Arthur placed a hand on his stomach and started to laugh properly now, not just a chuckle.

John was left baffled, “What the hell is wrong with the two of you?” he muttered more under his breath as he turned to leave you be.

Your laughter was booming now and your knees were starting to feel weak. You lightly slapped Arthur’s shoulder and pointed at John as he walked away, “He…he thought there was a skunk!” You wiped away some tears that were forming in the corner of your eyes.

Arthur’s laughter matched yours, surely the two of you were disturbing the entire camp by now. “What a jackass!” Arthur mocked John and placed a hand on your shoulder. Your face began to heat up, and both of your laughter began to die down.

You were down to letting out a laugh occasionally now as you looked up at Arthur, his features dimly illuminated by the moonlight and the lanterns around camp. He was absolutely gorgeous. He broke your trance when he spoke up, “Hey, are you hungry?”

You took a moment to tune into your body and hunger cues, but once you did your stomach growled, “Yes!” You gasped as you answered him, like he was a genius for figuring this information out. “We should go to Pearson’s wagon.” You proposed.

“I like that idea.” Arthur agreed with you, pushing his weight off the tree he had been leaning on and wandered over to Pearson’s wagon. He glanced around to make sure no one was around before rummaging through the wagon like a raccoon.

“Here.” He gave you some bread rolls, cheese, and apples.

“Ooooh.” You cooed at the haul Arthur had passed to you. “Let’s eat by the fire.” You began to wander to the fire pit before waiting around to hear his answer. “Yeah, okay, sure.” Arthur grabbed two beers from a crate nearby and joined you by the fire. He plopped himself down on a log, almost falling backwards.

You giggled at his lack of balance, “Be careful.” you warned him as you ripped off a piece of bread and placed some cheese on it and ate it in one bite. Arthur popped open the beer bottles and took a long drink of one.

You grabbed an apple and took a large bite. “Oh my god.” You moaned at the taste of the fresh apple in your mouth. “Oh my god.” You repeated yourself, mouth full of unchewed apple, “You gotta try this.” You held up the apple to Arthur’s mouth, somehow ignoring the shade of pink his cheeks had turned.

Arthur placed his hand over yours and guided the apple to his mouth and took a bite. You had finally begun to chew the food in your mouth, “So good, right?” You asked.

Arthur nodded and took another long drink of his beer, trying to distract himself from the sound you had made and the feelings it stirred deep inside him.

“Mh, good idea.” You said when you saw the beer bottle. You snatched it up and took a drink from your own bottle. You handed Arthur a roll with a piece of cheese in the middle, and the two of you happily stuffed your face in silence for the next few minutes.

Once all the food was eaten, and you took the last swig of beer, a wash of tiredness rushed over you and you let out a yawn. You scooted closer to Arthur on the log you were both sitting on, close enough so the outside of your thighs were touching.

“ ‘M starting to get tired.” You announced.

Arthur looked down at you, “Ya wanna lay down?” He was starting to feel tired himself, especially after the day he had.

You nodded in reply, “Here.” You got up and grabbed a tarp and laid it down by the fire and also grabbed a blanket. “A bed!” You proudly presented your shotty excuse for a bed.

Arthur chuckled slightly, “Alright. Well, get in.” He stood up, getting ready to retire to his own bed.

“You’re coming with me.” You enlightened Arthur as you grabbed his hand and led him to the makeshift bed. You sat down and tugged him down with you.

“What’re you doing?” Arthur questioned you, looking down at his hand that was being held by yours.

“Goin’ to bed, silly.” You told him like it was obvious. You let go of Arthur’s hand and lightly pushed him down so he was laying. You scooted right up next to him and laid down as well. You rested your head on his chest and pulled the blanket over the both of you. You made yourself comfortable at Arthur’s side, draping your arm on his stomach and closed your eyes. “Goodnight, Arthur.” You said, already half asleep.

Arthur accepted his fate, too stoned to protest or think about the consequences of everyone in camp seeing him like this in the morning.

“G’night.” He replied to you, lazily placing a kiss to your head as if this had been his routine for the last 10 years, before drifting off to sleep.

You awoke to the sound of murmuring. You blinked away the sleep from your eyes and adjusted to the harsh light of the sun. An unfamiliar presence was pressed up against your back and you heard a soft snore. Once your eyes adjusted to the daylight, you could see some camp members gathered around you, with knowing looks on their faces.

“I told you they’d get it on!” Sean’s voice rang through your ears.

Suddenly, the events of last night flashed through your mind and your cheeks were quickly heating up.

“Arthur! Get the hell up.” Dutch said as his figure was towering over the two of you.

Arthur’s hand that had been lazily resting on your side suddenly gripped you and pulled you close as he jolted awake, “What the hell?” Arthur groaned as he was ripped away from a peaceful sleep.

You reluctantly wiggled yourself out of his grasp and sat up.

“There is work to be done.” Dutch stated. “We ALL,” he paused to give a glare to the crowd that had gathered to gawk at Arthur and you, “have work to do.”

With Dutch’s warning, the small crowd dispersed with a murmur. Arthur had gotten his bearings now and sat up with you, a blush creeping onto his cheeks as he put on his hat.

“Just gimme five goddamn minutes…” he mumbled, rubbing a hand over his face. Arthur knew he would never hear the end of this.

#rdr2 #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 fanfic #arthur morgan x gn reader

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meowdymista · 17 days

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Reflection on Herr Strauss. Spoiler alert for his character's outcome in ch6 and epilogue below the cut

I've just kicked Strauss out of camp (again) and while I've never liked his character in game, I always feel really bad for him when Arthur kicks him out of camp.

I get it, I do.

1. He's a loan shark targeting vulnerable people which is a million miles away from them Good Old Days when the curious couple and their unruly son would rob from the rich and give to the poor.

2. He takes joy in the collection of the debts, again, often from vulnerable people and often delighting in how they've been roughed about by Arthur

3. Dude is still raking in his ""investments"" after it's clear the gang are not going to make it much further. People are dropping like flies, they're sick, they're frightened, they're whispering behind each others backs but he is still Super Jazzed To Get On With His Day!

Believe me, I get it. But even after all of that, seeing his shock when Arthur orders him off... He didn't get the chance to change. As we hear from Charles in the epilogue, he is surprisingly loyal for someone who doesn't dirty their hands with chores or make any effort to camp beyond the sharking.

I think that's why everybody starts asking Arthur if he's going to kick them out too. It feels petty, but NOBODY there is a good person. The closest to innocent you get is Jack and Cain. Even Pearson knows the gang are robbing and murdering people, but he continues to stay and feed them because Hey! If you're gonna have a job might as well keep it with Dutch Fucking Van der Linde! Think of the stories he'll tell!

Strauss is confident (cocky) because he is still creating a hefty income for the gang. He knows he isn't any use in a gun fight, but he buys his place by keeping them in cash /through legal means/.

Arthur tells Mary Beth that there's "nothing left for him here. Maybe not for the rest of us neither". Is that it really? Does he see Strauss is not reading the situation and is gonna get himself killed by staying until pinkertons come and shoot him? Does he see that Strauss isn't appreciating that the money flow isn't going to protect him from the bullets? Does he just see that strauss needs a push to protect himself, or is Arthur trying to trim the fat off the gang in the hopes it might help save lives or talk Dutch back to reason?

Idk just rambling I guess... TLDR does anybody else feel bad for Strauss when Arthur throws him out of camp?

#leopold strauss #herr strauss #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2

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river-of-wine · 1 year

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I would love to hear all about your Outlaw!Molly AU. 👀

I would love to tell you about it!

Saying up front that this whole thing is very self indulgent, but that’s the point!

Things play out as usual up to the Saint Denis bank robbery. Hosea and Lenny still die, John is still in prison, the guys are still in Guarma, and Molly still leaves camp. She brings anything she owns that is worth money (mostly her clothes and jewellery, since she doesn’t seem to have many possessions) and sells them wherever she can so she can have some money to support herself. Since Agent Milton knows her face (he would have seen her when he showed up at camp in chapter 3), she is quickly taken in by the law when she arrives in Saint Denis and is intensely interrogated. She refuses to tell them what she knows, but it is obvious given her close connection that she knows plenty about Dutch and the gang that she is not telling them. By the time they give up, Molly is completely mentally worn down and physically bruised, and for what? To protect Dutch van der Linde? The man who lured her into this life of crime and violence, who stole her from everything she knew, who used her and discarded her the second she started to irritate him?

Molly doesn’t know what to do with herself. She doesn’t feel safe in Saint Denis around so many lawmen and people who’s motivations she can’t be sure of, but she doesn’t know where else to go. Most of the country is a mystery to her, and she has nothing to defend herself with.

Well, she can change at least one of those things.

Using what she has left of her money, Molly buys herself some supplies. A revolver, a knife, some ammunition and enough food to keep herself alive for however long it will last. At this point, she is under the assumption that Dutch, Arthur and everybody else in Guarma will not return, wether they die or just never find a way back. She doesn’t think she will see him again.

After a LOT of trial and error (and almost all the ammunition she bought) Molly finds herself to be a pretty good shot. That’s not to say she’s a natural at it, she misses her fair share of stationary objects more times than she would care to say when she’s still getting used to things. She’s better with a knife, though, and when she gets over the fear and squeamishness (and the disgust over blood, which almost makes her sick the first time she kills something) she starts to hunt for herself. Eventually, she is doing rather well. She has meat to feed herself, pelts she can sell, and enough skill with weapons to defend herself. She moves daily, walking in whatever direction feels right or leads her away from any sounds that feel threatening. She finds herself back in Rhodes, that horrible town she heard about where Sean had died, and makes herself scarce after she sells some rabbit pelts and uses the money to buy some supplies and a gun belt, plus the hat I drew her with because it wouldn’t be Molly if she wasn’t still prioritising style.

Her routine becomes setting up a small camp wherever she’s ended up and staying there for however long she may, keeping herself occupied with her foraging, writing whatever poetry she can in the notebook she took when the inspiration finds her or general thoughts when the inspiration does not, and upsetting herself by seeing just how different she looks, living rough and sleeping rougher, in the reflection of her pocket mirror, the last thing she has from home.

Eventually though, the little camp Molly has set up for herself gets found. A man tries to rob her, thinking her an easy target. Molly just barely fights him off when she pulls out her revolver before he can grab his, shooting him in the leg, stealing his horse (a REALLY nice horse which she’s happy about) and leaving him there. She rides up near Annesburg, where she sells whatever pelts she had on her that she hadn’t already sold and trying to work out where exactly she is.

It is while she’s there that she sees Arthur returning from the mission that would’ve been That’s Murfree Country, and her certainty of Dutch’s death is thrown out the window. If Arthur made it, surely he must have, and she is hit with a feeling she cannot describe, but she imagines it is what Mrs Adler must feel about the O’Driscoll boys, because all her willpower to stay away from Dutch for the rest of her life is out the window and she is back on her horse.

From a distance, she follows Arthur back to their new camp. She dismounts her horse and hitches her nearby, hiding out in the treeline and observing what remains of the gang like she always had before. Dutch doesn’t leave his tent. If her absence has been noticed, he clearly doesn’t care.

When everybody has gone to sleep, Molly gets back on her horse and rides closer to Dutch’s tent. Somewhere easy for her to run to, which she will need to do soon enough. I won’t type out the whole ordeal and I’m sure you can tell where this is going, but Molly enters Dutch’s tent and - after some well earned taunting and monologuing - stabs him in the throat. With the amount she ends up stabbing him when she flies into the blind rage we all know she feels, she almost decapitates him. If the sounds he made didn’t wake the gang up, her setting fire to his tent does.

She rides away, but not before being seen by people. Most notably Micah, who is ready alongside everyone else still loyal to Dutch (Bill, Javier, Grimshaw) to go after her, and Karen and Mary-Beth, who are ready to do the same, just with a different end goal in mind. I haven’t worked out the details of what happens to the whole gang just yet, but Arthur and Sadie still rescue John from prison and Tilly still gets Jack out of there, just with Abigail alongside her this time.

Karen and Mary-Beth find Molly first. She has dismounted her horse and is in a pretty bad way emotionally, panicking and face drenched in Dutch’s blood. She’s never killed a human before, and she went about it in quite a brutal way. Mary-Beth tries to comfort her to some kind of success, relaxing her until she is stable enough to walk. The three find a place to hide, and Karen has questions for Molly after Mary-Beth falls asleep, because neither of them are able to.

They have a pretty serious talk about the danger Molly has put herself in. Truth be told, it was such a quick decision that Molly hadn’t considered what the rest of the gang would do to her once she killed Dutch. There’s no telling if others will join Micah (who’s motivations are up for debate) in his hunt for her once John is saved. Molly knows how to survive, but she doesn’t know how to live on the run aside from being pulled along wherever the gang goes. The gang itself is no more, leaving Karen and Mary-Beth with nowhere to go and no one to go to, and Molly desperately needs some people to help her out. Thus begins the start of Molly’s gang.

Molly decides once she has gotten over the impact of murdering Dutch that she wants to get back to Ireland. She can’t live like this forever in America and she doesn’t want to be there anymore. Getting back to Dublin becomes her goal. Steal enough money to get out of this country and stay back where she shouldn’t have left. Karen and Mary-Beth quite wisely don’t make the comparison of Dutch and Tahiti, both because Molly will definitely not want to hear that and this idea is actually feasible, given it’s just to support the travel and livelihood of one person. Just a nice note, she wants to become a poet when she moves back.

This is where I’m up to, but I have general ideas for later! Molly eventually gains more members to her gang, prioritising women in similar situations to her. Women that she sees men mistreating (she kills the men more often than not which raises her bounty high enough that she’s very thankful for her very fast horse) or women who are otherwise vulnerable. Maybe she finds another Irish immigrant woman who is in need of help, which would result in a very emotional conversation for both of them. But yeah! That’s what I have so far! Thank you for your interest!

#sorry if this isn’t the best written I am very tired today but ask about molly and you shall receive!#rdr2 #molly o'shea #outlaw molly #this started with jokes I made with a friend and now it’s a whole thing I have going

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