hannah paula

If you tried to talk to him his voice would be high pitched which he would grimace at every time he heard it, he'd stumble over his words too and he'd be so embarrassed he'd excuse himself.

Which would probably leave you confused as hell considering he's not like that with anyone else. (Especially if you're oblivious)

He'd feel bad but he'd kind of avoid you, not to be rude but he just couldn't face you with how you make him act.

If you asked him about it he'd try to play it off, "Me? Avoiding you? What.. noo..." Which is not convincing in the slightest.

Avoiding you would make him feel horrible too, he'd get pissy if he didn't see you or if you didn't sit near him at the fire.

Which makes the whole avoidence thing a whole lot harder for him and a whole lot confusing for you.

It's not like he doesn't like how loud you are, it's actually what drew him to you in the first place. He's just a very awkward guy and you being you makes him trip on air.

He'd gain more confidence over time and start trying to impress you more often, he'd put even more time into his appearance than usual, he'd put more effort into his singing, all hoping you'd take notice.

Gets jealous easy but it makes him feel horrible about it because you're not his yet. He doesn't have that relationship with you yet so he feels wrong when he gets jealous.

He'd dedicate songs to you, would he tell anyone they were for you? Hell no, but they're still for you nonetheless.

If he did get the confidence to confess it would take him forever, he'd have everything planned out but he'd overthink it so it would take him forever to actually go through with asking you out.

He'd get you flowers, ones you'd mentioned liking and something you'd been eyeing in a store window everytime y'all went to town, he'd take forever getting to the point but eventually a confession would stumble from his lips.

After that he would be insufferable for everyone, his ego would be boosted and he'd be on cloud nine from finally being with you.

He loves when you talk nonstop about things you like, he could listen to you yap for hours and hours. Sometimes he'd sheepishly ask questions about things you said just to get you going again. "um, Amor, what was it you had said about those wildflowers you like?" And he just looks at you so sweetly as you talk.

If you're talking with the girls and you laugh or raise your voice when talking he'd stop whatever he's doing to whip his head around in your direction. Smiling dumbly as he looks at you. John and Bill actually start gagging everytime he does it.

The yelping of the foxes running around makes Arthur’s mare agitated. He pats her back, soothing her, as he rides until the fringe of the woods surrounding the creek. Arthur slides off his saddle, leaving his horse running down the small hill, enjoying the fresh grass of the pasture. The river flowing down the rocks coming from below the tree line creates a melodic rhythm. The light morning breeze makes the leaves shake a little. It’s peaceful. Refreshing. 

He remembers coming here with you a little more than a week ago. 

Arthur was about to leave camp for the day when he spotted you waiting underneath a tree near the horses, early one morning. 

“Got some time to kill?” He asked, nodding towards the book in your hand. 

“I was waiting for you to wake up.” You replied cheerfully.

“I am all ears” Arthur stepped closer to his horse, tightening his saddle on the back of the animal. 

You got up from the chair, and slowly walked around him. “Pearson is asking if we can get some food… said we could go to the general store or… we could go hunting, doesn’t matter we just need something to keep everyone fed. He told me to ask you to take me there” You never asked Arthur to take you anywhere before. So you were trying not to show how nervous you were. 

“Ain’t nobody else to take care of this today?” Arthur asked back, harsher than he intended to. 

“Why? Are you on your day off?” You joked. 

“I was… I was supposed to go fishing.” He mumbled, nodding towards the fishing rod strapped to the side of his saddle. 

“Fishing?” You exclaimed, incredulous. “Arthur Morgan… I would never have thought of you as a skilled  fisherman” you teased him, your playful eyes never leaving his reddening face. 

Arthur scoffed, slightly embarrassed… a skilled fisherman… “I am not… it’s just.. Javier showed me this place a couple days ago and… I reckon it was a pretty nice spot. Calm. Just me and my horse…”

“Oh…” you let out, understanding he would rather spend some time alone, unable to hide your disappointment. “Well it’s okay Arthur, I’ll ask Charles to take me to town, he is supposed to come back later this morning. Enjoy your morning Mister Morgan” you said with a soft heartbroken smile, slowly walking backwards to the camp. 

Arthur noticed it right away, the shadow of sadness painted across your features, mentally chastising himself for being so damn awkward. 

He called out your name as you were turning on your heels and walked towards you.

“Wanna come with me ?”

“I don’t want to be a burden Arthur if you want to get some quiet…”

“You won’t be a burden. And… Well. I want you to come with me.”

“Arthur… I…”

“You don’t know how to fish?”

“I don’t but…”

“I could teach you… ain’t easy but… maybe it will help us bring back more food for Pearson. So what do you say?”

“Okay… let me borrow a rod, I’ll be right back”

He watched you running off to your tent, feeding your horse a carrot. Nice save… he thought as you walked back to him, smiling so bright it made his heart clench. The two of you spent the morning trying to catch something… to no avail. You both promised not to mention this to anyone, feeling very lucky that the whole camp wasn’t awake enough when you got back in the middle of the morning, saddles full of provisions you bought at the general store… 

Arthur smiles at this memory, taking the small path down to the creek, but he stops dead in his tracks when he notices a woman getting rid of her skirts on the shore… He is very grateful for standing up on the hill, surrounded by vegetation, so he won’t spook the nymph taking advantage of the coolest hours of the day in this peaceful clearing. As he’s about to take the path down the hill, something catches his attention : the horse drinking a little further down the stream, and the dark brown saddle. Arthur squints his eyes… and yes. It’s you, slowly walking in the water, your back facing him. He immediately steps to the side, hiding behind a bush tree. He takes off his hat and holds it against his chest, face flushed, breathing erratic. He could blame it on the ride but the way his heart beats right now reveals that it is the vision you just offered him, the white of your wet chemise glowing in the morning light, the fabric sticking to your skin, kissing every curve of your body, that gets him so flustered. 

Peering above his shoulder, Arthur notices you can’t see him, not from where you stand… If he is silent enough, he should be able to find his mare in the pasture below, and hit the road without getting spotted… But as his eyes find your swimming form in the water again, he can’t look away. He sneaks out of his hiding place, a branch scratching his forearm in the movement, and stands there, above the little hill, admiring you. Your hair is adorned with droplets of water sliding down, creating an ephemeral crown made of the fragilest diamonds. He watches you moving so gracefully, without a care in the world for who could come across you in these woods. It should worry him. It’s a wild land after all. But he knows you enough by now to trust your ability to protect yourself. 

He debates, for a slow moment, as he leans against a tree, the sun caressing his face, the sight of your beauty bringing back dreams of the night his lips finally touched yours, if he should take this path down to the river and join you. It would be nice if you could share a moment alone before returning to camp, before the outpouring of joy about a job well done and worries about the darker future ahead of the gang will inevitably fall upon him as soon as Dutch will hear the hoovesteps of his mare crossing the threshold of their temporary home. He never felt like he deserved them, these congratulations, even after all these years endorsing his role as Dutch Van Der Linde’s enforcer, his most trusted man. It has always sounded like a curse to him when he thinks about the cold bodies piling up in the wake of his leave. 

His chest constricts at the thought, but the sight of you diving under the waterline makes it easier for him to breathe. He missed you. More than he has the right to. His hand twitches by his side, finding its place on his gun belt, a desperate gesture supposed to ground him. He can’t just show up like that after sneaking up on you. He shouldn’t disturb your peace. 

He should leave, before you can see him up here… he wonders what you would say about him watching you. You would have all the right to feel offended, to call him out for violating your privacy… but a part of him wonders if you would feel flattered, maybe your heart would  beat as fast as his, knowing that he would have loved to join you in the water… 

You are swimming back to the shore now, facing him, blinded by the sun coming from behind the hill. Your sparkling skin captivates him… What the hell are you doing? He mutters to himself as he gathers the courage to step away from the creek and leave you alone. 

Arthur is about to turn around, sighing to let out his frustration, when he notices it. Red. Red stains the immaculate white of your chemise, slightly diluting as it spreads on the fabric. 

It tears him out of his thoughts immediately. 

It seems to surprise you too, enough to make you run out of the water. 

You sit on a rock near your discarded clothes, the barrel of your gun shining bright next to you as you quickly rummage through the pile. 

As his hungry eyes roam down your wet silhouette, the chemise sticking to your skin, he reckons it feels wrong to stay there, he should go, but worry gnaws at him, and he just wants to make sure you’re okay. He crouches down, trying to stay out of your sight, and observes intently the way you peel the skirt off, revealing your bare thighs… What he sees next isn’t doing anything to reassure him… You wince and curse as you take a bandage in your hands, and bring it to your mouth to tear off the right amount of fabric. 

Arthur isn’t happy about this. As he finally takes his eyes off you, he whistles for his horse, not caring if you'll notice him standing there anymore. He puts his hat back on his head, trying his best to calm down the blood boiling in his veins. The gang can wait. He has a more important task to do right now. He walks down to the animal, and disappears behind the trees.

The echo of a horse riding away makes you turn around quickly, worried about someone appearing behind the bushes. You spot a tall shadow melting away under the morning sun, the rustle of the tree leaves the only indication of them standing here a couple of minutes ago.The area is still safe enough, no need for you to jump on your gun. It was probably just someone passing by, probably someone who wanted to come here to fish and didn’t want to disturb you… And if it was an ambush… they would have attacked you already… and if someone followed you here…you would have known. You are safe. No need to overreact. 

It’s been a little more than a week since you came here for the first time, when you went fishing with Arthur the day before he left…and you’ve come here every morning since then, enjoying some peace far enough from camp where the fear of getting caught by the Pinkertons starts to seize everyone’s attention. It’s a beautiful place, but considering your poor fishing skills and the lack of collaboration from the aquatic creatures, you decided to come here to bathe, read and enjoy the fresh air. 

Tying the old gauze around your thigh, you let out a deep breath. Despite your best efforts, the gash opened again on the parts the knife cut you more firmly… You thought you wouldn’t need stitches, trusting your body to heal itself with a bandage tight enough… This was stupid. It could get infected… 

You tried your best to keep it clean but now… now you aren’t sure what you are doing anymore. But there ain’t no doctor around… and with the men out for a job, you can’t spend your days injured and useless… 

Finishing your handy work, you gather your clothes, put them back on, the dry skirts getting humid at the contact of your wet body, the blood stain on your chemise covered by the brown fabric of your dress. Nobody will see you injured, nobody will ask questions. 

As you ride back to camp, each bump on the road making you wince in pain, you think about Arthur… you’ve been thinking about him since the moment he left, wondering where things stand between you two since the kiss you shared that night under the stars… You haven’t brought it up yet, and you are cursing yourself for it. You got close to opening up to him the day he took you fishing but something inside of you told you to wait, afraid to make a mistake and scare him away… But you miss him and you wonder if he misses you too. You realize that Arthur wouldn’t be very happy about your reckless behavior… bathing alone in the woods, injured… not properly taking care of your wound…but he won’t know anything about this. You still have a couple of days before he gets back to camp. You will heal before then. 

The sun is setting down on the edge of Flat Iron Lake, the last rays of yellow light piercing the shade of the trees surrounding the camp. The sound of Javier’s guitar accompanies the cheerful laughter of the rest of the gang, as you discreetly give the content of your untouched plate to uncle, the old man silently thanking you, peering above his shoulder to make sure Pearson didn’t notice anything. 

You take the path up to your tent as soon as you hear his name being shouted by John. Arthur is finally back, earlier than expected. You suspected it when you noticed Charles and John’s horses in the early afternoon. Arthur would come back soon enough. You struggled to hide your nervousness all evening, busying yourself with some laundry, trying to sew up your torn dress, the one you wore when you got injured on that job… You can’t let Arthur know or else he won’t let them take you out for a score ever again. 

As you rush through the tents, you peer above your shoulder.  The outlaw doesn’t even have the time to get off his saddle, and he is already solicited by the whole gang. Everyone gathers around Arthur, little Jack holding out his hands towards his uncle to greet him. Arthur gives him an old copy of wild west heroes, and turns over to Dutch, to hand him a pile of dollar bills. Dutch’s lips turn into a huge grin, and he gives the younger man an embrace, shouting to Sean to get some whiskey out of the crates.

“We gotta celebrate!” Everybody cheers, and gathers around the fire, corks are flying to the ground and Javier starts another joyful song. You hesitate, for a second, to join them and share this jubilation moment with the gang. But Arthur’s eyes find yours across camp, and you panic, hurriedly pushing the flaps of your tent open and hiding inside. 

Arthur excuses himself and strides to your side of the camp in an instant, not caring about what people will say about him acting so desperate to see you : they’ll be too drunk to remember by the end of the night. He doesn’t announce himself, barges into your tent, barely giving you the time to adjust the side of your half undone dress. 

“Arthur… What are you doing here?” you manage to ask, eyes wide in surprise, putting your clothes back in place. 

He turns around, leaving you a minute to put yourself back together. 

You weren’t expecting him to come see you this quickly, he was pretty avoidant before he left so you figured… Maybe he didn’t want to see you at all. But now that he is standing in front of you, hands resting on his waist, head tilted down, you start worrying. 

“Thought you would come and say hi earlier, wasn’t expecting you to flee as soon as you’d spot my horse” he states as he turns around, watching you trying your best to sit down without wincing in pain. He sees the way you frown immediately, eyes avoiding him. You don’t want to give yourself away, and it makes him mad that you could be so determined not to ask for his help. 

“I wasn’t… fleeing… Just felt a little tired, thought I could go to bed earlier for once” you lie, joining your hands on your lap and giving up on the idea of moving. 

“Right. Yeah sure… I could use an early bedtime myself, might go and do just that too… Just wanted to check on you first, see if something was wrong…” Arthur mumbles, walking a step closer to your sitting form. 

“Nothing’s wrong” you reply a tad too quickly, insecurity weighing on your voice. It’s too high pitched for you, and Arthur sighs, knowingly.

“You ain’t going to make it easy on me, aren’t you?” Arthur frowns and throws a brown package on your mattress. You scan the item, hands patting the fabric wrapped around it. 

“Is that for me?” you ask, a little taken aback. If it’s a gift, he doesn’t seem very happy to give it to you… 

“It’s for your leg” Arthur says harshly, standing right in front of you. 

Your eyes grow wide as your hands stop on the package. You open it slowly, before looking up at him. It’s a sewing kit, in decent shape. It looks pretty clean, and you’ve never got the chance to see one in this condition, unfortunately used to borrowing some embroidery needles from Mary-Beth to patch up the wounds of the men. They’re thin enough to do a decent job, sure, but they’re too small. 

You sigh, contemplating your options. You could confess, now. Tell Arthur that you’re hurt, that you got stabbed during your last job, a moment of distraction, resulting in your flesh being cut by the hand of a thief worse than the bunch you roll with. Better a knife than a bullet. But you chose to lie again instead. You feel like Arthur will beat himself up for not being there to protect you that day, for leaving instead of taking care of you, and you’re not going to let him feel guilty over your recklessness. 

You clear your throat, trying your best to sound convincing “I don’t understand what you’re talking about Mister Morgan. My leg is perfectly f…” 

Arthur cuts you off with a pleading whisper of your name. “Don’t lie to me… I know you are injured, let me just …” He crouches down in front of you, his hand resting on your knee.

“I am telling you I am fine Arthur… it’s just a scratch.” You blurt out, pushing his hand away. As you get up from the bed, a sharp pain stabs you right in the thigh, making your leg wobble.  

Arthur hesitates for a second to catch you, but the look you give him suffice to dissuade him. He clearly isn’t welcomed any longer…

“Alrigh’. Just a scratch. Well… I’ll leave you now but you keep this. Just in case. If you don't need to use it on you at least you’ll have it in case you need to patch me up” 

You just nod, watching Arthur stepping aside and heading for the flaps of your tent. You want to fall back down on your bed, and start taking care of your wound but Arthur is surprisingly slow at going out. You think about the gash on your thigh, notice the way you shake just holding that pair of scissors in your hand…. You can be stubborn all you want, you can’t do this alone. 

You let out a deep sigh, sitting down as best as you can, gathering the skirts of your dress up your leg. 

Arthur notices movement in the corner, and stops, his hands stilling on the canvas. 

“Arthur…?” you ask in a feverish voice. 

He doesn’t say anything, just ties the knot of the tent’s flaps and walks back to you, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. 

The relief is short lived. Arthur watches intently, heart beating loudly in his chest as you lay down on the bed, revealing your wound to him. 

“Jesus Christ woman… I thought you were alright… that’s … that’ doesn’t look alrigh’” Arthur curses as he inspects your thigh, staying afar at first. 

“It ain’t quite as bad as it looks” you seeth, jaw clenched as his warm hands inspect the flesh surrounding your bruise now. It’s swollen, a little purple and the gash is a deep shade of red, blood coagulating in the middle. 

He touches your leg a little too harshly and you hiss. 

“Why didn’t you tell me anything sooner ?” He snaps as he sees your face scrunched up in pain. 

“I thought that I could deal with it by myself” 

“Well clearly you did a great job…” He mutters with a disapproving look. 

“I don't need a scolding Arthur. I just thought stitches weren’t necessary.” You notice the way he scoffs, and feel the need to explain yourself further, despite the evidence that you made the wrong choice… You know you should have told something sooner. ”I took care of it… It isn’t even that deep, I swear, but I guess I must have moved too much or rode too early and now… ouch” you whine as he presses a cloth to wipe the blood stains off your skin. 

Arthur pulls back, jaw clenched, upset for causing you pain.  

“I am sorry. I guess you did a decent job keeping it clean. Now don't move, I’ll bring warm water to deal with this… And you're gonna need something strong to handle the pain” He states as he gets up from your bed, rolls up the sleeves of his shirt and heads outside. 

You throw your head on your pillow, and cover your legs again, counting the minutes until Arthur returns. He comes back with a bucket full of warm water and more clean cloths you put to dry on the washing line earlier this afternoon. 

He carefully washes his hands, then pushes his hair out of his face and washes his hand again, looking at your laying form nervously… He patched up the others multiple times, he usually tends to his own wounds, he even pulled a bullet out of his own side once … But this is different, you look so… delicate and your skin is so soft, he doesn’t want to damage your body with his rough hands and tenuous surgical skills. 

You observe Arthur frozen in place, silently looking at you, wondering if maybe he intends to sew you up by the sole power of his mind. 

“Arthur? Are you okay?” You ask him, pulling him out of his trance. 

“Ah shit, I forgot the rhum… wait here” He cusses, already moving towards the exit.

“Wait! I got a bottle stashed somewhere” you yell as you lean over the edge of your bed, pulling out a brown bottle from an old leather box with a groan. 

Arthur whistles as he takes it from your hand. 

“I guess you’re spending too much time with Miss Jones” he jokes, dusting off the label.

“I won’t let Karen’s bad influence get to me” you laugh. “It’s for colds and emergencies… though I wasn’t expecting to use it for myself” you admit sheepishly. 

Arthur gets rid of the old cork and sniffs at the content of the bottle. 

“Where the hell did you get yourself some fine rhum like this one” he manages to say as he suppresses a cough, the warm and heady smell of the alcohol burning his nose. 

“Me and Karen stole some bottles from a store when we went in town the other day” you reply proudly, head high, a wicked smile on your face 

Arthur shakes his head disapprovingly, but he can’t help but smile too. 

Your face heats under his gaze, and you almost forget why you asked for his help, if it wasn’t for the way you suddenly hiss in pain as your thigh muscle contracts. 

Arthur hands the bottle to you, and you take a generous swig, the burn in your throat making you understand this whole gig won’t be very pleasurable. You hope the alcohol will make you feel dizzy enough to numb the pain, and the unstoppable thrill coursing through your body at the thought of feeling Arthur’s hands on your skin again. Maybe the sudden dizziness taking over your body is caused by Arthur’s presence rather than the acrid taste of the rhum. 

Arthur starts picking up the tools, and asks you to pull up the edge of your skirt and gather it above your waistline. You pick up the fabric with shaky hands, suddenly feeling self conscious. You already showed him your naked legs earlier but it was just for a quick glance. 

“I won’t look more than necessary, don't worry” he reassures you, settling down on the floor. 

“I'd rather have you looking at me so you don’t butcher my thigh, mister Morgan” you tease, trying to lighten the mood, pushing your hair back behind your shoulder and readjusting your leg to expose your wound to him. 

“I can’t make any promises” Arthur laughs and takes a deep breath, hands getting closer to your skin. 

You both let out a shaky exhale at the same time, and you freeze when you feel him clean the injured area with some balm first, very slowly. When it’s done, Arthur tries to put the thread in the needle. He is so nervous and shaky that he can’t even see what he is doing. 

“My fingers are too big I can’t…” he sighs, frustrated. If it was for himself he would have thrown that needle to the ground already. But he needs to be more patient, for you. 

He tries again, before you grab the needle from his hand and sit up, brows furrowed as you pass the thread through the eye on the first try. 

“Hey it’s okay Arthur.” you whisper as you give it back to him, fingers wrapping around his wrist to force him to look at you. 

“I don’t want to hurt you even more darlin’” He exhales, shoulders slumping down, clearly handling this whole situation with great difficulty.

“I am not made of sugar Arthur, I’ll be okay.” You reassure him kindly, holding his gaze as you talk slowly. “Just… do whatever you need to do, I don’t want it to keep opening and bleeding forever, it needs to heal. And I trust you.” You let go of his hand, realizing the way you leaned over him, your face so close to his that you see the way his throat trembles as he swallows, trying to gather the courage to stitch you up. 

“Okay. Lay back down. But y’let me know if it’s too painful ‘kay?” he says as you lean back on your pillow, face buried in the soft fabric. You trust him, he can do this, he convinces himself, offering you a shy smile. 

You nod, focusing on the frame set on your bedside table, the worn out canvas thread hanging up above your head, the patches of wild clovers peaking through the wooden plank at Arthur’s feet. Anything, anything to avoid thinking about the pain as he starts sewing the wound, threading the needle through your skin. It’s not a very profound cut, but it’s a long one. You bite your lower lip as soon as the cold metal touches your skin, refraining yourself from screaming. Arthur asks if you are okay and you just nod, tears streaming down your face, the pain almost unbearable. You knew it would hurt, but this is even worse than what you were expecting. Soon, the dull ache is replaced by some kind of numbness, you ask Arthur to stop, pick up the bottle again and get some more alcohol in your system. 

“You good?” Arthur asks, the back of his hand caressing your forehead softly. The way you look at him tugs at his heart… Hell he hopes he’ll never get to see you in such pain again. “Won’t take too long now, I’m almost done” he whispers soothingly, stopping himself from kissing you to make it all go away. 

You shiver at his gentle touch and the genuine concern his blue eyes show. “I am ready Arthur. Let’s get this over with” 

Slow and steady, one hand firmly pressing on your skin around the gash, making sure the stitches aren’t too spaced out, avoiding to leave you with an ugly scar, Arthur finishes his handy work, before delicately wrapping your thigh in a clean bandage. 

“Might hurt for a while, and bleed a little around the stitches for a couple of days. Y’gotta keep it real clean okay? If you notice any weird color change, y’call me, I’ll take you to the doctor” 

You don’t look at him immediately, too busy calming your breathing. Arthur’s hand finds your face, he cups your jaw and brushes the tears sliding down your cheeks with the pad of his thumb. He calls out your name softly, asking if you are okay and you just hum back, feeling your heart beating in your thigh. 

“I’ll go into town tomorrow morning, I’ll grab you something better than this to help with the pain..” he says, head tilting towards the bottle at your side. 

“You don’t have to… I can…"

He says your name again as he tilts your head up, holding you by the chin. It’s a warning this time. 

“You ain’t gonna do anything. I’ll take care of it”

“Okay” 

Arthur’s hand falls down on your naked thigh, he brushes the edge of the bandage, the tip of his fingers caressing your skin, raising goosebumps as they trail down to your knee. He rests his hand there for a moment. “You did good, you’re very strong” –  He says softly, the praises falling from his tongue warming up your cheeks.  – “You didn’t even scream… you should have seen Marston when we fixed his face… even with a shot he yelled like a baby” he laughs, and you join him, smiling. “But you better take it easy now okay? I’ll ask someone to cover for your chores” 

“You should ask Karen… she owes me a couple of favors” you reply smugly.

“I didn’t know you were keeping tabs on people like that” Arthur stands up, rolling down the sleeves of his shirt. Hell he ain’t going to tell you this but the fabric is drenched. He never thought taking care of injuries could be so stressful. 

“Well, I am keeping her secrets, she can do that for me” you say nonchalantly.

“Secrets?” Arthur exclaims, interested. 

“I am not going to tell you Arthur, don’t even try” you warn as you sit against the iron headboard of your bed, trying your hardest to keep your leg still in the process. 

“I am sure it’s nothing I don’t already know anyway” He brushes you off, clearly vexed for not being part of the confidence circle. 

“Ohhh really?…. Maybe you do know, you have such good observation skills, nothing gets past you, right? Remember that rabbit we tracked for an hour the other …..” you tease him, enjoying the way he starts to act all awkward, clearly embarrassed that you picked up on his hunting struggles that day. 

“Sure alright you can laugh. I leave you be with your secrets. But my observation skills got me here tonight, patching you up, so you should be grateful” Arthur says loudly to cover your giggles, regretting it immediately as soon as the words left his mouth. His heart stills in his chest for a long unpleasant minute, the silence stretching the confusion between you.

“What do you mean?” You frown. 

“What?” Arthur asks back.

“You heard me just right Arthur” 

“I haven’t said anything. I’ll come by to check on you tomorrow” He starts walking to the flaps of the tent, nervously scratching the back of his neck, before waving you goodbye.

“Arthur Morgan” You yell and he stops. “How did you know I was injured? 

“Intuition” he replies quickly, trying to sound convincing. You shake your head, not believing this at all.  

“You were out of camp when I got hurt. I haven’t seen you in days… Or did you come back earlier and avoid me the whole time?” You ask genuinely fearing that he didn’t want to see you.  

“Nah it ain’t like that I…” he starts, hesitating to run out of your tent as fast as he can. He walks around the small space, trying to gather the courage to tell the truth, the sounds of his boots hitting the wooden plank resonating in his mind. For some reason, something in his guts tells him to go sit by your side instead. Maybe it will make you see for yourself that there wasn’t anything… immoral in his actions. 

“You?” You press him, losing patience, your eyes scanning his face. 

“I …This is just…” Why is he being so ridiculous about this? He can tell you… You won’t be mad at him for being worried about you, right? 

“Arthur…come on we ain’t got all night. You won’t get out of my tent without telling me”

“And what are you planning to do to keep me here with an injured leg? Y’can’t exactly run after me…” He smiles, but you move your hand to slap his arm. Arthur stops you before you can touch him, laughing at your frustration. 

You plead one last time, eyes reflecting a concern he feels eager to relieve from your mind. He gives in, a deep sigh escaping his lips, followed by his confession.  

“Fine. I saw you” He says after waiting a beat, voice lower than you expected. 

“You saw me?” You frown, leaning closer to him, not understanding what this is all about. 

“Yeah… saw you this morning at the creek” he mumbles, ashamed. 

“Arthur Morgan! This…It was you! I knew someone was there!” You gasp exaggeratively, flying backwards until your back hits the headboard again.

“I know I know I have no excuse I wasn’t … I wasn’t spying on you or anything I just… I just happened to take a break there and I didn’t think you would come to bathe here. I didn’t even know it was you at first and I…” He can’t stop the blush spreading on his cheeks as he keeps going with his explanation. He remembers the way your wet chemise hugged your silhouette, the way your skin shone in the morning sun… a skin he had the chance to caress with his rough hands earlier, for a fleeting moment. He takes off his hat, thinking about some formal apology to give you. 

Your heart is fluttering in your chest, heat warming up your face. Deep inside you feel flustered by his reaction, the way he starts playing with his hat, not looking into your eyes. 

“It won’t happen again… it was just… and I haven’t looked for too long I… that's not… I meant no disrespect, I was just concerned and I… Well I guess I was right cause something was definitely wrong…” He nods towards your leg. 

“I am not offended Arthur, it’s okay, don’t worry” you reply with a kind smile. 

“Right… it’s just… I don't  want you to think I did it on purpose. I ain’t that kind of man” He is still actively avoiding your eyes, focusing on his boots instead. 

“I know.” you place your hand on his, stopping his fidgeting. He lets his hat rest on his thighs. 

“Good.” He finally says, looking at you. 

You stop breathing for a moment, completely lost in each other's eyes. You want to tell him you wish he would have joined you in that creek, that you’ve been riding out there every day since he took you to this place, that you missed him every minute he was away from camp. But you stay silent, afraid to be too straightforward, keeping your thoughts to yourself a little longer, until the moment feels right. 

Arthur clears his throat, reluctantly looking away from your beautiful face. 

You want to ask him to stay…but the words get stuck in your throat again, and before you can say anything, you feel his weight lift from the small mattress of your bed.

“I think… Well… I am going to join the others for a while…” 

“Of course.” You nod a little too enthusiastically. “Thank you, for coming here tonight, for making sure I was okay, for patching me up.” you smile, heart breaking at the idea of having to stay alone in here while he’ll be with the others. 

“Sure. Anytime.” Arthur says, standing up in front of the flaps, rolling one side up, letting the moonlight illuminate his frame. He puts his hat back on his head and bids you goodbye, his silhouette disappearing in the night. 

“Goodnight Arthur” You whisper to his shadow as you lay back down in your bed, hiding yourself behind your covers, the sounds of his steps walking away accentuating the longing feeling in your heart. 

You sigh, letting your arms fall on your chest. You feel stupid, stupid for wishing he would have stayed at least a little longer, for wishing he would have kissed you good night. 

You still remember the feeling of his lips on yours, the night you first kissed in front of the fire, the way your heart beat in its cage, how light you felt when his arm circled your waist and pressed you against him, how hard it was to watch him go after he walked you back to your tent, without adding another word, how stupid you felt already when you realized what you just did… You sigh and close your eyes, hoping that the sleep will make you feel lighter again. 

Arthur curses as soon as the light breeze hits his damp shirt… He feels stupid, a heavy weight on his chest leading him directly back to his tent instead of joining the others. 

As he sits on his cot, he wonders why he didn't take the opportunity to taste your lips once again, despite how he’s been dying to do so for weeks now, he wonders if it would be too selfish, too foolish to want you. 

He doesn’t give himself the time to ponder, the sounds of his spurs echoes through the night again, the sound of Javier’s singing muffled by the noises of the wind moving through the branches leading him back to you. 

When the flaps of your tent open again, this time the moonlight lights up your face as you watch Arthur striding through the small tent, bending over your bed to press a single kiss on your warm lips, his hand finding the side of your head, angling you perfectly towards him. You feel like you are floating, the pain erased by the softness of his lips on yours. You open your mouth and welcome his tongue inside, rising from your bed to deepen the kiss. 

He doesn’t let you make this moment last, already parting from you, a look of worry covering the fondness in his eyes. 

“Arthur” you protest, pouting. 

“You need to rest now darling.”

“Okay…” you surrender, smiling as you feel him press a chaste kiss on your forehead. 

“I need you to promise me next time you find yourself in any kind of trouble… you come to me alright?”

“Promise” You nod, tears filling your eyes again. You think about what you wanted so desperately to tell him earlier, and now that he came back, now that you got the chance to kiss him again, you aren’t scared anymore. 

“Arthur….” You say, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?” He murmurs, pushing a strand of hair off your forehead.

“I missed you” 

Your heart is pounding in your chest, but the way Arthur’s eyes soften, a little huff of relief escaping his lips, makes you feel like you couldn’t have said it at a better moment. 

“I missed you too darlin’” His lips find yours again, and he hopes it is enough to show you just how much he cares about you, how desperate he was to see you again. He slowly parts from you, but before he can step away, you let your hand wander at the back of his neck, caressing his hair, holding him close. 

“Promise you’ll be here tomorrow?” You ask, your nose brushing his. 

“I promise” Arthur says as he rests his forehead against yours, overwhelmed by your admission, vowing to himself that he’ll never let anything happen to you again, as long as you will let him take care of you.

a/n: thank you so muche for reading, comments and reblogs are always making my day! <3

Dutch van der Linde

    It wasn’t unusual for you and Dutch to show affection in public. Any time the man felt like kissing you, he would, and a few pairs of eyes weren’t going to stop him.

    If anything, you were the one who was more reserved in front of people. Not that you didn’t love his attention, you did, of course. He was just so good at getting you flustered that sometimes you had to step away from him just to give your face a moment to cool down.

    Today had been a fairly calm day at camp and everyone was taking it easy for once. Javier sat by the fire strumming at his guitar with Sean next to him singing words you really couldn’t understand. Charles leaned against a tree as he crafted some fire arrows. Dutch, Arthur, and Hosea sat at the domino table, having a coffee and reminiscing about the old days. You and the other ladies sat on a large blanket under the shade of a tree, talking about whatever gossip you’d heard in town.

    You’d managed to tune out the gossip as your eyes met Dutch’s across camp. He gave you a smile and raised his mug in greeting. Returning the smile, you gave him a small nod in return.

    Suddenly, a hand was being waved in front of your face.

    “We were talkin’ to you,” Tilly chuckled softly.

    “Huh?” You shook your head, refocusing on the women around you. “Sorry, guess I got a little distracted there.”

    “Oh we know exactly what you were distracted by,” Karen grinned knowingly, wiggling her eyebrows at you. “You were busy starin’ at that man o’ yours over there.”

    You felt your face grow warm now that you’d been caught staring at Dutch.

    “Well can you blame me?” You defended. “He’s a fine looking man and he’s mine, of course I’m gonna stare.”

    “I think it’s sweet that you love each other so much,” Mary-Beth smiled at you.

    “I think so too,” Tilly agreed. “It is kinda weird seein’ Dutch look like he’s some schoolboy with a crush, though.”

    You chuckled softly, nodding along. He did seem to grow rather soft when it came to you. Glancing back over at him, you watched as he laughed loudly about something Hosea had said. His head was thrown back and his smile was wide.

    “Ladies, I’d love to continue gushing about Dutch, but I think I may just have to go over there and talk to him for a while,” you said as you stood up from the blanket.

    “Go get your man,” Karen called after you as you began walking towards the domino table.

    As you made it to the table, you slid one hand over Dutch’s shoulders, giving one a small squeeze.

    “Afternoon, my love,” Dutch greeted, looking up at you from where he sat.

    “Hi, honey,” you hummed in reply, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “You boys mind if I join you for a little while?”

    “Of course not,” Hosea answered as Arthur shook his head and gestured to the free chair at the table.

    You knew that all three of them were almost certainly expecting you to pull the chair out and sit down. Everyone around camp knew that Dutch was usually the one tugging you onto his lap or into his arms. And usually, they’d be correct to assume you’d take your own chair.

    But today, for some reason, you just longed to be close to Dutch. So, you decided to sit in the best seat available.

    Taking Dutch’s coffee mug from his hands, you put it on the table before settling yourself right onto his lap. One arm wrapped around his shoulders once you got comfortable. Naturally, his hands fell to your hips and waist to hold you to his torso.

    “Well hello there,” Dutch chuckled softly, placing a kiss on your cheek. “What’s the special occasion? Usually I’m the one pulling you into my lap.”

    “Just felt like you were the best seat around,” you shrugged, laying your head against his shoulder with a smile. “You don’t mind, do you?” You hummed out.

    “Of course not,” Dutch shook his head, using his grip on you to pull you even closer to him.

    Once he was sure you were comfortable, he continued on with whatever story he’d been reminiscing on before. Something about Arthur buying fish instead of catching them. You listened to him speak, laughing along whenever something struck you as funny.

    After a few more stories of their younger days, Hosea and Arthur decided to go down to the river to fish for a while, for old time’s sake. You offered to get off Dutch so he could join them, but he wasn’t having it. He insisted that they could all three go another time.

    Arthur and Hosea said their goodbyes before heading off to make sure they had all the supplies for their little fishing trip.

    “So, is there any particular reason you’ve turned me into a chair this afternoon?” Dutch asked teasingly, giving you a squeeze.

    “Nope,” you shook your head. “Just wanted to come over and spend some time with you. The girls caught me staring at you a little bit ago. They teased me for it, and I decided I’d like to sit with you a while.”

    Dutch chuckled softly, kissing the side of your head.

    “That’s cute, my dear,” he grinned. You felt his head turn before he spoke again. “Seems like the ladies are very invested in our relationship. When I looked over, they all looked away giggling.”

    “They think it’s sweet that we’re together,” you explained. “Mary-Beth thinks it’s romantic that we’re always catching each other’s eyes and looking at one another.”

    “Well I think she’d be right about that,” Dutch hummed, resting his cheek on your head. “But then again, I suppose my opinion is biased.”

    After a moment of silence, you spoke again. 

    “Dutch?” You asked.

    “Hmm?” He hummed in response.

    “I think I need to sit on your lap more often,” you chuckled.

    “It’s yours any time you’d like,” he laughed softly with you.

Arthur Morgan

    For a rough and tumble outlaw, Arthur Morgan was rather easy to fluster. A simple kiss could have his cheeks growing pink and cause him to look off to the side. He may look big and mean, but under that act, he was a real sweetheart. A big softie, just for you.

    Because of his apparent shyness, the two of you didn’t often get too affectionate around others. Sure, he’d slide his hand into yours or throw an arm around you pretty often. Occasionally, you’d share a peck on the lips or you’d send him off to town with a kiss on the cheek. Beside that, you kept most of your relations private.

    Tonight, however, you seemed to be unable to get close enough to Arthur. Everyone at camp was drinking and having a good time, celebrating after a job well done earlier in the day. You’d been by his side all day, practically clinging to his arm.

    The sun had long set and the only lights came from the campfire and the various lanterns around camp. Most everyone was sitting at the fire or around the poker table. Arthur had opted for the former. For most of the night, you’d been sitting next to him drinking, but right now, you were dancing with the other ladies, who had dragged you off the log with Arthur and into the grass.

    You were all laughing as you danced together and yelled the words to whatever song Javier happened to be playing on his guitar. At some point, Sean had tried to join in and dance with all of you, but he’d been quickly pushed out and he’d left to pout by the fire. Didn’t he know that it was a girls only dance floor? Still, Karen had promised him a dance later in the night.

    Currently, you were twirling Mary-Beth around. The two of you broke into more laughter as she nearly tripped over her own dress and went into the grass. Thankfully, you were able to keep her upright, but the situation still caused plenty of giggles from the two of you and the rest of the girls.

    Unfortunately, you all eventually got tired. You were also a little dizzy from the drinks you’d had so far combined with the spinning. Deciding to take a break, you stumbled back over towards Arthur. As you reached him, you grinned so wide your cheeks hurt. God, you were so in love with him. How could you not be?

    He was sitting on the log by the fire where you’d left him, his cheeks the slightest bit pink from the alcohol he’d had this evening. His hat was missing, probably discarded in his tent somewhere. That left his ruffled hair on display and you suddenly had the need to run your fingers through it.

    “Did you have fun, sugar?” He asked once you were closer, tilting his head as he looked up at you. “You looked real pretty out there dancin’.”

    “Had so much fun,” you nodded. Without another thought, you planted yourself right on his lap and kissed his cheek. “Missed you, though. And Mary-Beth almost fell right on her ass.”

    Arthur blinked a few times, his hands seemingly not knowing what to do. His flush from the alcohol grew darker, but this time it had nothing to do with drinks.

    It was only then that you realized what you’d done. You’d never done it before, and you weren’t sure why you had now. It had just happened without you thinking about it.

    “Oh, gosh,” you started. “Sorry, I should’ve asked,” you began to stand, but Arthur seemed to finally snap out of it.

    “No,” he interrupted, gently holding your hips in his hands. “You can stay,” he insisted. “I ain’t used to it, but I think I’d like you to sit on my lap.”

    Relaxing onto his lap again, you gave him a wide smile. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pecked his lips. One hand gently twirled the longer hairs at the nape of his neck.

    “Thank god, because I really didn’t wanna get up,” you chuckled.

    Arthur chuckled with you, shaking his head.

    “So, would you like to tell me how Mary-Beth nearly fell on her ass?” He asked, referring to your statement from before.

    “Well I was twirlin’ her around and then she stepped on her own dress and just about fell right over,” you explained with a laugh. “But then she grabbed me and we managed to stay upright.”

    “I can’t leave you for a few minutes before you’re causin’ trouble,” he clicked his tongue.

    “Oh, you’re one to talk,” you playfully smacked his chest. “At least the trouble I cause doesn’t end in a bar fight or someone gettin’ shot.”

    “Need I remind you of that night in Valentine?” He raised a brow.

    “Hey, that was one time,” you groaned dramatically. “And in my defense, that lady was a bitch. She deserved that punch.”

    Arthur laughed and shook his head, pulling you closer to him so he could land a kiss on your cheek.

    “Alright, alright,” he surrendered. “I can’t disagree with that. You really did give it to her.”

    Grinning victoriously, you moved around until you could comfortably tuck your face into his neck. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or just the comfort of being wrapped up in Arthur, but you were growing tired.

    “Someone gettin’ sleepy?” Arthur hummed softly, rubbing your hip gently.

    “Mhm,” you nodded, closing your eyes and curling in closer to him. “You’re a comfy seat, I can’t help it.”

    “Well, sugar, you can fall asleep on me anytime,” he smiled. “Do you want to head to bed?”

    “Nope, I wanna stay right here,” you replied, yawning.

    “Alright, then, I’ll carry you off to bed when it’s time to turn in,” he promised, kissing your head.

    “Thank you, Arthur,” you said softly, already fading out.

    “Any time, honey,” he spoke lowly in response. That was the last thing you heard before you were drifting off to sleep. You were sure you’d found your new favorite napping spot.

John Marston

    It wasn’t that you or John were against public affection. In fact, neither of you were shy about showing off your relationship and your love for one another. If you felt the urge, you were going to kiss the man you loved, and vice versa.

    Despite this, most of your affection was rather calm around your friends. A kiss here, a little pat on the ass there. That was mostly John, but you made sure to pay him back every now and then. Especially if he was talking to the other guys. It was fun to watch his face get warm as he processed what you’d done. And though he’d never admit it, you knew he loved it.

    Most of the time, you two didn’t have much time to just sit around and cuddle one another unless it was night and you were in bed. You’d enjoy more time with John, but you both lived chaotic lives, so you were happy to take the moments you did get.

    Occasionally, he’d slide up behind you and hold your hips as you chopped vegetables for dinner. Or if you were repairing someone’s pants, he’d stand behind you and gently massage your shoulders as you caught up with one another for the day.

    Today was just like any other. Filled with chores that kept you busy. Too busy to go off and relax with John. 

    Now, he sat next to the fire, having just gotten back from guard duty. He’d been out for hours, so he was taking a well earned break. Once you realized he’d probably be sitting there for a while, you decided to take your own chores over and sit next to him so you could at least talk with one another while you worked.

    You grabbed a few things that needed mended along with some supplies before heading over towards John. 

    “This seat taken?” You asked playfully, nodding at the empty space next to him on the log he was sitting on.

    “Only by you,” he answered, patting the spot with one hand.

    As you began to sit down, you managed to lose your balance. Since your hands were full, you didn’t have anything to catch yourself with. 

    Thanks to John, though, you didn’t have to worry. He steadied you just enough that you didn’t crash down onto him. Still, you did land on the man. 

    “Careful, there,” John chuckled. “I know you like me, but there’s no need to go and fall for me like that,” he teased. 

    “Oh shut up,” you huffed playfully, beginning to stand up so you could sit next to him. You were stopped, however, by two hands clamping down on your hips and pulling you back down onto his thighs.

    “Now where do you think you’re going?” He asked, pulling you into his chest.

    “Well I was gonna sit next to you while I worked on repairing these clothes,” you explained.

    “Way I see it, you can mend those clothes sitting right where you are,” he reasoned, kissing your cheek softly.

    “I suppose I could,” you nodded. Truthfully, it sounded like a pretty good idea. You’d get your chores done and get to sit on John’s lap. It was a win-win if you’d ever heard one.

    You settled sideways on his lap and put all your supplies on the ground next to you. Next, you grabbed what you needed to start on the first piece of clothing and got to work.

    John watched your hands as they began to repair the pants that were laying across your lap.

    “You know, I think this is how you should work more often,” John commented, leaning in and kissing your neck a few times.

    “John,” you chuckled, shrugging your shoulder to deter his tickling kisses. “I’ll never get any work done if you keep that up.”

    “Well I’m more important than those pants,” he huffed.

    “Honey, they’re your pants,” you laughed softly. “I think you may need them at some point.”

    “Not as much as I need to kiss on my woman,” he replied smoothly, lifting his head from your neck to catch your lips with his. “Can you blame a man for wanting to love up on the woman he loves?”

    “I guess I can’t,” you shook your head, a fond smile on your face.

    “Then you do your job while I do mine,” he joked, kissing your cheek a few times.

    “I’m not sure kissing me is considered a job,” you argued, “Unless you’re saying it’s work to have to kiss me.”

    “You know damn well that ain’t what I’m sayin’,” John huffed, pouting at you.

    “Oh stop pouting, you fool, I know what you meant,” you smiled, kissing the pout off his lips. “I was only teasing you.”

    “So mean to me,” he complained, but he had a small smile of his own on his face.

    “Mhm, I’m a real bully,” you rolled your eyes with a snicker. “Sitting on your lap, mending your pants, lettin’ you kiss on me. Such a mean woman I am.”

    John didn’t reply, instead opting to resume his kisses on your jaw.

    You let him, not minding having the attention from him. Eventually, his kisses slowed to a stop and he instead just laid his cheek against your shoulder and watched you repair his pants with care.

    “I was serious, you know,” he commented. “About you doin’ your chores like this more often. I like holdin’ you and watchin’ you work.”

    “I’d like that too,” you agreed. “And Grimshaw can’t even hound me for sitting around with you because I’m still gettin’ my work done.”

    “Why didn’t we think of this before now? Coulda been doin’ things like this the whole time,” he complained.

    “I dunno,” you answered honestly. “Just never crossed my mind. But I’m glad we got the idea now.”

    “Me too,” John nodded, pulling you closer into him.

    John liked having his hands on you, and now he had one more excuse to do so. He was a very, very happy man.

Sean MacGuire

    Sean was one of the most hands on people you’d ever met. And by ‘hands on’ you meant his hands were always on you. If you were within arm’s reach, the man was touching you, and if you weren’t, he was moving closer so you were.

    It was something that everyone noticed. The man was practically attached to your hip, it was rather hard to miss. Not that you minded. You loved having Sean around and showing you how much he loved you. He was a real sweetheart and you enjoyed every second of it.

    You especially enjoyed it on nights like tonight. Most of the gang were gathered around the campfire, singing songs and telling stories that were definitely exaggerated. Nobody was being particularly rowdy, everyone seemed to just be enjoying the drinks and the company.

    Sean sat on a blanket, leaning against a small log behind him. You sat next to him, leaning into his side and laughing when he’d stumble over the lyrics of whatever song was being played. His arm was slung over your shoulder, keeping you close as you enjoyed the night with your friends.

    Despite being pressed into his side, Sean seemed to think you needed to be closer. He used his arm around you to try and pull you tighter against him. He scooted closer too, so close that there wasn’t a single part of your sides that weren’t pressed together.

    “Sean, what in the world are you doing?” You chuckled softly. “You’re acting like you’re trying to melt into me.”

    “Maybe I am,” he replied, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “Can never get you close enough,” he explained as if it was the biggest problem he’d ever faced.

    “I think we’re physically about as close as two people can get without being surgically attached,” you laughed, shaking your head.

    “Still not enough,” he complained. “It’ll have to do, though,” he sighed dramatically.

    Now that you were nearly glued to his side, Sean got back to paying attention to the story Hosea had been telling everyone.

    The night went on normally. Sean pressed so close to you that you could practically feel his heartbeat against your ribs, drinks flowing, everyone laughing. 

    Eventually, as you finished up your first bottle of the night, you realized you’d have to get up if you wanted another. Sighing, you set the empty bottle aside and stood up from where you’d been sitting.

    “Hey,” Sean frowned, looking at you like you’d just smacked him. “Where ya goin’?” He asked.

    “Just gonna go grab another bottle,” you chuckled at his expression. “I’ll be back before you even know it.”

    “Don’t make me come lookin’ for ya,” he teased, reaching up to land a smack on your ass.

    You yelped slightly, surprised by the sensation. Smacking his hand away, you shook your head and walked off to get your drink. The crate wasn’t too far, and you grabbed a bottle for you and one for Sean, knowing he’d want another as well.

    As you grabbed the bottles, you thought about how clingy Sean seemed to be tonight. Even more so than usual. You assumed it was due to the multiple bottles he’d already downed during the festivities. Chuckling softly to yourself, you turned and headed back to the fire.

    Just as you promised, you returned before a few minutes could pass. You were about to sit back down next to Sean when an idea struck. If he wanted you as close as possible, you’d get as close as possible.

    Instead of sitting next to him and tucking into his side again, you planted yourself directly on Sean’s lap.

    Sean, who had been singing when you returned, went silent as he realized you were on his lap. For a split second, he thought he’d fallen asleep and was having some wet dream.

    “Sean?” You hummed, gaining his attention. 

    At first, he just blinked at you with a stupid grin on his face. You thought he was having a stroke until he finally said something.

    “Goddamn, I am one lucky bastard,” he said proudly, taking the last swig of the bottle that had been in his hand and tossing it aside. “A pretty lady comes and sits on my lap and brings booze with her. It’s a dream come true.”

    “You’re an idiot,” you smiled fondly, offering him one of the bottles in your hand.

    “And you love it,” he replied cockily, taking a drink of his new beer and wrapping his free arm around you tightly.

    “That I do,” you agreed. You then leaned in, kissing along his jaw gently, giving him his much wanted attention.

    “You are the perfect woman,” he sighed out, leaning his head back to let you shower him with affection.

    You couldn’t help but chuckle quietly against his skin. The man loved your kisses, it was practically an addiction at this point. One that you really didn’t mind enabling. After a few minutes of kissing his jaw and neck, you laid your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes.

    “Hey, what’s the hold up?” He playfully complained. “I was enjoyin’ that.”

    “As much as I’d love to kiss you all night, it just isn’t possible, my love,” you reasoned, pecking his neck since it’s what you could reach. “I’d end up suffocating.”

    “But what a way to go,” he grinned, laughing softly. “I’d happily die suffocatin’ because o’ kissin’ you.”

    “You know, that’s oddly endearing,” you joked. 

    “I’m a very sweet lover,” he nodded. “You really shouldn’t be surprised.”

    “I never said I was surprised, I know you’re sweet,” you smiled.

    Sean just smiled and held you close, starting to sing along with the song Javier was playing for everyone. You just listened, occasionally drinking your beer.

    It wasn’t long before you were growing tired in Sean’s arms.

    “Can we go to bed soon?” You asked, lifting your head to look at Sean.

    “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he shook his head.

    “What?” You frowned, “Why? I’m tired, love.”

    “Because if you get up, people are gonna see somethin’ they don’t want to,” Sean answered, looking down to your lap, which of course, was on top of his.

    “Sean, oh my god,” you laughed. “I thought that was your fucking gun, you pervert.”

    “I ain’t even wearin’ my gun belt,” he wiggled his eyebrows.

    “You are disgusting,” you huffed, but leaned in and pecked his cheek.

     The man was always happy to be around you. You just hadn’t realized he was that happy.

Josiah Trelawny

    Unlike most of the other gang members, Josiah wasn’t one to be around camp very often. Usually he was off working on some grand scheme to bring in a big payday. He came and went from the camp as he pleased. Still, he always made sure to find you often. Occasionally he’d come stay at the camp for a few days, or you’d just leave camp and travel along with him to wherever he was headed.

    Thankfully, today was the day Josiah had promised he’d return to camp. He’d also assured you that he’d stay for a while this time. When he’d left, he had given you a kiss and told you that he would settle for a few days, maybe a week, before starting off on his next job. You were excited, you always enjoyed having Josiah around. When he was gone, you missed him terribly.

    You were working on mending a shirt that Arthur had ripped on a branch when you heard a horse riding into camp. Looking up, you spotted the very man whose return you’d been awaiting.

    Putting Arthur’s shirt aside, you stood and hurried over to the horses’ grazing area where Josiah was dismounting his horse. You tried not to seem too eager, but at the end of the day, you were ecstatic, so you didn’t care all that much.

    “Hello, my dear,” Josiah smiled at you once he was on his own two feet. He opened his arms, which you happily ran into.

    Your arms wrapped tightly around his middle as he hugged your shoulders. You let your head rest on his shoulder as you breathed him.

    “I missed you,” you sighed out, content to be in his arms again.

    “I missed you too, darling,” he replied, kissing the side of your head. “But now you have me all to yourself for a week,” he reminded you. Not that you needed reminding. You’d been counting down the days.

    Lifting your head, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips. Then you allowed yourself a moment to just admire the man you loved. It had only been a few weeks, but that was much too long in your opinion.

    “How was the trip here?” You hummed curiously.

    “Long, but worth it,” he smiled, giving you a small squeeze.

    “Such a flirt,” you playfully rolled your eyes. “You must be hungry, though. If you’d like to go sit at the domino table, I’ll get you some lunch.”

    “That sounds lovely, but only if you’ll join me,” he suggested.

    “I think I could do that,” you nodded, leaning up to peck his cheek before letting go of him so you could get him a bowl of stew.

    Parting ways, you walked off towards Pearson’s wagon while Josiah headed over to sit at the table. Once you had his lunch, you also poured him a cup of water and started towards the domino table.

    “Thank you, my dear,” Josiah hummed as you sat his lunch down in front of him. “Did you not get yourself any?”

    “I ate earlier,” you explained, sitting down at one end of the table so you were in the seat next to him. “I don’t mind sitting with you while you have some, though.”

    Josiah nodded in understanding and began to eat his stew. You both knew it wasn’t exactly top tier cuisine, but it was what you had, and it kept everyone fed, so Josiah didn’t complain.

    As he ate, you rambled about the goings on at camp recently. There wasn’t anything major, just little things that you thought were worth sharing. He listened intently, asking questions whenever he had any.

    It wasn’t too long before he had finished his stew. He leaned back in his chair with a content sigh. Even if the food was mediocre, the company was the best he’d ever had.

    “And that’s how Sean caught his pants on fire,” you finished your current story, shaking your head.

    Josiah laughed, his own head mirroring yours.

    “So nothing new, then?” He joked.

    “Not really, no,” you chuckled. “What about you? Anything interesting happen during your travels?” You asked curiously.

    “Darling, I’m offended you even felt the need to ask,” he placed a hand on his chest as if he was truly wounded by your words.

    “So dramatic,” you huffed out a laugh. “Let me rephrase then. Tell me what interesting things happened while you were away.”

    “Much better,” Josiah nodded approvingly. “I did meet an interesting fellow on my way here today,” he started. “He was rather odd. The poor man was running around in the woods naked, like some feral animal.”

    “Oh dear,” you couldn’t help but laugh softly at the image that was forming in your head. “Sounds like quite the gentleman.”

    “I called out to him to ask if he was alright, but the man growled at me and ran off,” he finished with a sigh. “I was almost certain he was going to bite me.”

    “Well that would make one hell of a story,” you joked.

    “That it would, my dear, that it would,” he agreed, an amused smile on his face.

    You were sure the grin on your face looked goofy as you practically stared at the man in front of you. But in your defense, you just couldn’t help it. You’d missed him with your whole heart while he was away and now he was with you again and you were over the moon. 

    Feeling the need to be in his arms again, you moved before your brain had even really processed what you were doing. You got up from your seat and rounded the corner of the table. Once you were right next to him, you planted yourself in his lap sideways.

    Josiah’s arms wrapped around your hips on instinct, holding you firmly on his legs.

    “Hi,” you smiled sweetly at him.

    “Hello, darling,” he chuckled in response. “Is there any particular reason you’ve decided to sit on me? Or is it just for fun?”

    “I was just thinking about how much I missed you,” you admitted. “I just wanted to be closer to you after all that time apart.”

    “It’s like you read my mind,” he replied, kissing your cheek. “I would hold you for the entire time I’m here if I could.”

    “You’d hear no objections from me,” you grinned, leaning in to lay your head on his shoulder.

    “Don’t tempt me,” he joked, patting your hip.

Kieran Duffy

    Kieran wasn’t the most affectionate person when others were around. Not because he didn’t love you, or love showing you just how much he did. It was mostly because of the ribbing he’d get from the other guys. Mostly Bill or Micah. You didn’t mind all that much. In private, Kieran was always going to make sure to give you every bit of affection he said you deserved. 

    Despite the teasing, Kieran never minded spending time with you around camp. As long as nobody happened to catch the two of you stealing a kiss, the jabs were minimal. And typically, if it was coming from Micah, you’d use it as an excuse to tell him off anyways.

    You were next to Kieran as the two of you sat around the camp fire with a few of the other members of the gang. Most everyone had gone to bed except for those in the small group that were still up drinking. Kieran had been nursing a beer while you’d listened to the Hosea talk about nearly being killed by a giant bear.

    Deciding that there was no attention on you or Kieran, you reached one hand over and interlaced your fingers with his. Your hands laid on one of his thighs.

    When Kieran realized what was happening, he glanced at you with a shy smile. He took a drink of beer to try and cover it up, but you had already seen it and found it rather sweet. You’d have to mention it later just to watch his cheeks heat up as he tried to deny it.

    You smiled at him before refocusing on Hosea’s retelling of his near death experience.

    It wasn’t long before everyone was laughing. Especially when Hosea claimed he was too old to still be going up against big bears.

    After Hosea’s story, everyone seemed to want to share their own near death experiences. First Pearson went on about a boat nearly capsizing while he was chopping vegetables. Next, Sean went on and on about how a man had nearly beaten him to death when Sean had asked his wife how far along she was. Turns out the woman hadn’t been pregnant at all. That one earned hearty laughter from everyone around the fire.

    As you listened to the stories, you laid your head on Kieran’s shoulder. It was nice to show your affection like this in front of your friends. Nobody was paying attention to the two of you, but still it felt good to not hide it just to avoid some stupid men making equally stupid comments.

    Of course, thinking about it seemed to jinx it and Bill decided to open his big mouth.

    “You know, you might get a disease or somethin’, hangin’ on an O’Driscoll like that,” he warned with a rude laugh.

    “Oh shove it, Bill,” you scoffed in return. He just couldn't mind his own business.

    Kieran tensed next to you, his fingers flexing between yours. You knew he liked being able to hold your hand next to the fire. Hell, he’d like to kiss you whenever he wanted. But he also just wanted to be accepted by everyone in the gang, which you understood. That would never happen if they kept teasing him about your relationship.

    “He’s right, you know,” Micah chimed in. “They carry sickness.”

    “So do rats,” you narrowed your eyes at the man.

    You tried not to laugh when you heard Sean snickering to himself at your insult.

    It was so tiring. The incessant teasing, the constant jokes. It was driving you crazy and you were sick of not being able to show the man you love any affection. It was time to stand up for the two of you.

    You got up from where you were sitting, then sat right back down, this time on Kieran’s lap. Your arms wrapped around Kieran’s shoulder and you landed a kiss on his cheek.

    “You two are just jealous that he has a woman that’s willing to be around him for free,” you reasoned. “He doesn’t have to pay a woman to act like she’s into him. If anything, the two of you could learn a thing or two from Kieran on how to get a lady to actually like you. Or tolerate you, at the very least.”

    Kieran was shocked that you’d planted yourself on his lap. Sure, you did it often enough, but that was in the privacy of your tent, not right by the campfire. He seemed to catch up, though, and wrapped his arms around your hips like he had done every time before.

    “Me?” Jealous of some O’Driscoll trash?” Micah rolled his eyes as if it was impossible. Fortunately, at least Bill had been smart enough to shut his mouth.

    “Yes, Micah, you,” you continued. “You’re a real piece of shit. It’s pathetic that you make fun of a man just because he has something you can’t have because of what an ass you are.”

    Micah stood up, causing you to do the same. You stared at one another across the campfire.

    “What’re you gonna do?” You asked, your eyes staring into his. You weren’t scared of such an insecure little roach. You knew that’s all he really was behind all those mean words. His hand was on his revolver, but he wouldn’t do anything. Coward.

    Before he had a chance to reply, Hosea stood up and placed a hand on Micah’s chest, pushing him away from the fire, and away from you.

    “I think that’s enough excitement for one night,” he reasoned, always the level headed one. “Micah, take a walk.”

    You stood your ground, keeping your eyes on Micah as he walked off, mumbling curses on his way. Once he was out of your sight, you let out a breath and turned to look at Kieran.

    He looked shocked, but he also had a look you recognized well. Pride.

    Sitting back down on his lap, you paid no attention to what Lenny began talking about just to change the subject.

    “Thank you,” he spoke quietly, holding your waist once again. “You didn’t have to do that.”

    “I did,” you insisted. “I’m tired of some idiots getting in the way of me being able to love you how I want.”

    “I think from now on, I’d be alright if you wanted to do this more often,” he admitted, gesturing to where you sat on his lap.

soft!javier who sings you songs by the fire, voice low and sweet, fingers dancing across the strings of his guitar like he’s playing only for you. He always finds you in the crowd, gaze locked on yours like no one else exists.

soft!javier who calls you “mi vida” like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Careful, mi vida,” when you’re riding beside him. “Don’t push yourself too hard, mi vida,” when he sees you looking tired. His voice always soft, always warm—like you’re something precious he’s scared to break.

soft!javier who murmurs “mi alma” when you’re curled up beside him at night, his hand smoothing down your hair. His lips press against your forehead, breath warm against your skin. “Mi alma… mi corazón…” as if the words alone will keep you safe.

soft!javier who pulls you away from camp when things get too loud—too chaotic. He leads you somewhere quiet, somewhere peaceful, and just holds you. His arms loop tight around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as he whispers, “Just breathe, hermosa... I got you.”

soft!javier who insists on teaching you Spanish, even if you’re hopeless with it. He’s so patient, so gentle—correcting your pronunciation with a soft chuckle. “No, no, cariño—like this…” His fingers brush your lips as he guides you through each word, gaze lingering a little too long.

soft!javier who presses lazy kisses to your hands when no one’s looking, murmuring “mi amor” against your skin like a prayer. His lips linger at your knuckles, his dark eyes looking up at you like you hung the stars.

soft!javier who gets so shy when you kiss him first. Like you’ll grab him by the collar, pull him close, and his breath will hitch—cheeks turning pink as he laughs soft and breathless against your lips. “Dios mío, mi vida…”

soft!javier who carves a little heart into the back of his guitar—a tiny symbol of you—and refuses to explain it when anyone asks. But when you see it, your chest tightens because you know exactly what it means.

soft!javier who kisses your hair every time you sit beside him, murmuring “mi querida” like it’s second nature. He’ll sit quietly with you for hours, hand resting on your knee or fingers tracing lazy circles against your palm—content to just bewith you.

soft!javier who gets so flustered when you flirt with him. Like you’ll call him “guapo” just to see him smile, and he’ll cover his face with his hand, muttering “Ay, no me hagas esto…” but you know he loves it.

soft!javier who sings you to sleep when you’ve had a hard day. He’ll sit on the edge of your cot, fingers gently strumming his guitar as his voice melts through the quiet. Soft Spanish lullabies that sound like home—like love.

soft!javier who presses his forehead against yours after every argument, voice low and shaky as he whispers, “Lo siento, mi amor… por favor, no estés enojada conmigo…” He’ll kiss you slow and soft, like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers if he’s not careful.