#i retconned who arrived in guarma when

[reddeaddenial]

Hi friend! May I request 38 with Micah? Thanks a lot! 💚

“Hand me the gun and I’ll kill him myself.”

Micah x Reader Part 1

[Part 2]

Word Count: 2051

Welp this turned into an angsty reader x micah somehow lmao. I’m gonna retcon some minor stuff after Guarma cuz it makes no sense imo but i dont think it’s too noticeable lol This got really long for no reason and I’m very sorry. I tend to write ramble when I’m not sure where I’m going with something so this just sorta happened haha

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Abandoning Shady Belle was a quick and panicked mess. You packed as quickly as you could, you knew you and the group couldn’t dawdle. Couldn’t have time to mourn. But it felt like like abandoning the old camp was also abandoning the others who they had to leave in Saint Denis after that horrible bank robbery gone wrong.

Good people died. Hosea… You adored Hosea like a father. Took you into the gang near a year ago when you had no where else to be. Lenny. That poor boy didn’t deserve the end he got. And then the others according to Charles, smuggled themselves on a boat. A boat that no one has heard about since. But there was mentions of an awful storm not a day later and everyone feared the worst.

That was a good portion of the gang missing and it was an awful blow to morale in their new camp in Lakay. Dutch, their slowly unhinging leader. Arthur, probably the most realistic voice of reason and right hand to Dutch. Javier, the group salvaged his guitar, but was left unplayed in a corner of the camp. Bill, they made sure to take all the horses, even those without their riders now; but Brown Jack was growing increasingly restless without the usual attention and pampering from his owner.  

And then there was Micah. And honestly, no one in camp made mention of missing his presence. Or any comment at all. At least not around you. Because for reasons that they and even some days you could not comprehend, Micah and you were sweet on each other.

Well maybe sweet wasn’t the right word. More of a tolerance. That tolerance started with holding your ground over Micah’s aggressive and rude talk to you and the others. Your quick witted back talk seemed to annoy him at first, but it then became the norm for you two to just banter. It was an amusing show to some, with how quick tempered who bother were and constantly clashed, but it kept Micah from harassing others in camp mostly so no one seemed to care. But then things…changed after a party at camp one night.

Too many drinks. You ending up in Micah’s lap, playfully arguing with him. Next thing you know, you’re both kissing heavily, much to the shock and disgust from those who noticed. After that, things were different yet… not. You would still shout and fight with each other. But more often than not after, Micah would yank you behind some trees or tent and fool around. A lot. What can you say? The man was an asshole but he was very skilled in other areas.

But what was most shocking and just a secret between the two of you, was just the normal conversations when alone. Stories about past robberies, or life before, complaining about Pearson’s food. It was small things, nothing earth shattering. But those tiny quick moments seemed to bring you both together more than any fooling around did. He wasn’t a nice man, you couldn’t fool yourself that he was even if you tried. But you liked him. A lot more than you should have. And you hoped to think the feeling was mutual.

But now the bastard had gone and got himself lost in a boat at sea. And you were more torn up about it that you ever thought you’d be. In a sense you were grateful no one made comments, good or bad about Micah Bell. Most days you could just go about camp chores without thinking too much on him. The times you did though.. He was probably dead. Dead and gone but no one would care. You cared. You cared enough to cry into your pillow some nights. You hated it, Micah would have called you out for being such a whimpering weak willed thing for crying. You cared and you hated that you did.

It took several days and nights but with a lack of hearing his name around camp, hearing his voice, you were getting better. Not over it, but you were more focused on keeping the rest of the group alive, helping Sadie and the others where you could.

But then, one day Arthur Morgan walked right into Lakay. Looking a bit worse for wear but he was alive. And according to him, everyone was. Dutch, Bill and Javier. And Micah. You didn’t know how to feel. Ecstatic at first but… Now you were just mad. Furious. You wanted to punch that fool. No. Shoot him in the damn leg so he couldn’t go wandering off on boats and getting shipwrecked in god damned fucking Guarma. Really? Guarma?!

The group could feel your storm of emotions and wisely left you be. They knew how you got when you were in one of your Moods. A day or so later, Dutch and the others showed up to camp, exhausted looking, but alive and breathing. And there he was Micha Bell. Alive. Not even looking in your direction and antagonizing Sadie and the others. You scowled, hating at how hurt you actually felt by it. You stalked off, going to find a place to cool down before you caused a scene.

About an hour later you wandered out of your hiding place in one of the wagons and walked about looking for the fiend that had an unfortunately tight grip on your heart. There he was, on the porch overlooking the swamps leaning back lazily in a chair. Alone. Good. Maybe you could both just… talk.

You walked across the porch, the taps of your boots across the rickety floor made your presence known as you stopped beside him. “Micah.”

Micah looked up at you with an unreadable expression, and just looked away indifferently. “What you want y/n?”

Ouch. You took a steady breath trying to keep your growing pent up anger from bubbling over. “Think you know Micah Bell. Haven’t seen you since that nightmare of a robbery in Saint Denis.”

Micah snorted and crossed his arms. “So? What, you here to check up on me?” You almost needed to physically restrain yourself from reaching for your gun to… to do anything. Anything to just get him to even fucking look at you. You swallowed your pride though and answered him honestly. “…Yes.”That had him looking at you again, but you caught a flash of genuine surprise in his eyes before it was hidden with indifference again. Which confused you all the more when he said “It’s no concern of yours. Now how about you run along and go chat up someone else? I’m not in the mood with putting up with your usual shit.”“Why are you acting so-?!… I thought you… and me…” Dread was filling your gut, the emotions of all the awful things that have been happening these past weeks were really messing with you right now and Micah acting so indifferent. You knew there was a good chance that he didn’t give a shit about you. You knew that the little bonding moments could mean nothing. You knew all of that, but your heart was being shot up into little pieces right now. You had only yourself to blame. You knew… but you had hoped. “You and me what? Thought you were smarter than that y/n.  Got more things to worry about than your pining.” “Pinin’?!” There is was, a crack in the dam keeping your anger at bay. Your voice raised a bit, eyes narrowing. “I’m the only one that tolerates your shit attitude in this damned gang! Sure you can shoot a gun, but if it ain’t for that. No one ‘round here woulda hesitated puttin a bullet in your head with the way you go on!”Micah scowled and stood up from the chair, facing you completely. This argument was different from all the rest you both had before. You could tell how the way he was looking at you. Something changed in him. Was it from the incident at Saint Denis? What happened in Guarma? You weren’t sure. But whatever cruelty he held back on you was let out full force in his next few words. “I never asked for you to tolerate me! Never asked for your company. Never asked for you to follow me around with your simperin’ feelings.” He stepped closer, getting in your face with a sneer and completely shattered your hopes in two quiet sentences. “You’re so easy to read now y/n it’s borin’. How ‘bout you wander off and go do something useful, and if I need your services, I’ll give ya a holler.”

That was it. You saw red, behind your damp eyes. You roughly pushed Micah’s chest away, making the man stumble back and hit the porch railing. You went for you gun. Micah’s eyes widening in shock as he realized what  you were doing. You had only just began to aim, when you noticed from the corner of your eye an outreached hand whipping out and grasped your wrist tightly yanking your pistol out of your grasp. You glowered at the man who only tiredly looked at you in disapproval and sympathy. “You need to calm down y/n. You’re lucky I got here when I did.” “This don’t concern you Arthur Morgan. Hand me the gun.” You spat out glaring between Arthur and an oddly silent Micah. “Look y/n, as much as I’d love to see this sack of shit dead you-” “Then hand me the gun and I’ll kill him myself!”

“-You can’t be doin’ that. We need every workin’ hand here to keep the gang together. We can’t ourselves killin’ each other when we have a whole lot of problems out there tryin’ to kill us!” He raised his voice over your own, trying to get you to see reason. And you did. Arthur was always good at that. After a few moments of silence you nodded. You sniffled and glanced at Micah, who was just watching you warily like he’s never seen you before. Squaring your shoulders, you collected yourself and took a deep breath. Enough of this. You were better than that. So much better. And definitely better than Micah fucking Bell. “You don’t get to talk to me. You don’t get to be near me. And you sure as hell don’t get to touch me. You… You are not worth this Micah Bell. I’m just sorry it took me this long to realize it.” And just like that, you turned your back to him and walked past Arthur who was still holding your gun. Micah didn’t say a damned thing. This was probably the quietest you’ve ever heard the man. He let you leave without a peep. You walked to the absolute farthest part of the camp away from Micah, leaning against a tree, wiping your tears. You were done with crying over that lowly snake of a man.

Footsteps.

You turn your head and see Arthur awkwardly shuffling there and your lips upturned to a faint smile. This man was awful with trying to cheer people up but offering your gun back was a good attempt. “Promise me you won’t shoot em? At least not yet.”“Promise. I’m… sorry you had to hear all that, had to butt in.” “It’s fine. To be honest, I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner. Bright side, looks like you scared him quiet with that act. Wonder how long that’ll last though.”You gave a bitter chuckle and you both looked out at the fading sun through the gaps of the trees. “I’ve been a fool. But he’s an even bigger one. He’s gonna regret makin’ so many enemies out of people.”Arthur huffed a laugh and crossed his arms. “Don’t I know it. Till then… you ever feel like you’re about to get trigger happy on him, just come my way alright?”“Thanks Arthur… You’re a good man.” You smiled softly, hearing his quiet grumbles of denial. Lord that man couldn’t take a compliment. But you felt… better. Lighter. As much as you hurt right now in this moment, you knew you’d come out of this stronger. Arthur mentioned Dutch, Bill and Javier would be here soon as well. The gang together again, you could all move forward, get back on track. Lay low, earn money, and get the hell outa here. You could do it, you were a survivor. And no heartless Micah Bell was going to stop you.