Makri :)

I happen to have a playlist that I like to listen to that I'd love to share also right here... Lana Del Rey, Two feet, the smiths - teenage girl starter kit? perhaps.

Caught

♡ Series (Arthur Morgan × f!reader)

Summary: You rode up in the mountains after your gang - the O’Driscolls - planning to rob a train belonging to a Mr. Cornwall. Come to find out, the O'Driscolls werent the only ones who were preying on this train.

Accumulated word count: 66.7k

Wary Accord

♡ One shot (Arthur Morgan × f!reader)

Summary: Invited to Angelo Bronte's garden party, you couldn't see anything fairing well. However, as the evening fades to night, and nothing goes wrong, you let yourself enjoy it more than you planned.

---

Word count: 3.4k

♡

"Hey, hold still." You whisper, patting your horse to calm her. "Tryna braid your mane, girl." Continuing twisting her hair together as she nuzzles you, you finish another braid. She leans her head over, her upper lip brushing your arm. Her eyes were glossed over, content as could be.

"What is it silly?" You question, scratching her neck in different spots to see if that was what she was messin with you for.

It was early, too early for nearly everyone in camp. Aside from Hosea, of course. You weren't sure about Arthur though, you had left him next to his bedroll upon finding yourself unable to go back to sleep. So, you decided to pamper your mare while you didnt have anything to do. But it wasnt more than mere seconds fore a hand rested on your shoulder, giving you a little startle.

"What're ya up to?" Arthurs voice, still quiet and a bit rough from just having woken not long ago.

You turn your face to him, giving him a soft smile. "Just takin' care of my girl." You answer, finishing the braid in your hands. "I thought you were still sleepin'."

"Nah," he pauses, taking your hat off for a second to give you a peck on the cheek. "C'mon, I made ya coffee."

His affection was few and far in between, especially in camp. But when he did grant any im the absence of wandering eyes, your face sizzled right up and you melted in his touch. "Thats sweet of you." You thank, walking with him as his hand finds yours.

"Course." He squeezes your hand as you sit down at the table, the coffee steaming slowly, every so often brisked away in the breeze. The morning light shone gently through the trees as the sun struggled up over the horizon, the fog retreating in its arrival.

You sat, expecting him to as well, though instead he gently collected your hair, brushing his fingers through it. This was new - not sure what he was doing, you glanced up at him with a brow.

"What? I'm only braiding your hair." He gives a little grin under his hat, brushing off the apparent shyness he was now facing.

"Well, no, thats no problem," you giggle, warming your hands on the cup in front of you, happy as could be with his fingers running through your hair. "Maybe I'll have you do this every morn'."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "I'll think about it."

As you surveyed camp, waiting for Arthur to finish, you caught Hosea's eye, whom of which already had a smirk on his face.

"Why, Arthur," he approaches with a laugh. "I aint use to seein' such a soft side of you." He sits across from you both, his own coffe cup full.

"Oh, dont you start Hosea." Arthur grumbles from behind you, massaging your shoulders for a moment after he finished.

"Dont mind me," he continues, blowing on his coffee. "You two remind me of Bessie and I when we first married."

You and Arthur certainly got a bit flustered, but nothing you two couldnt handle from Hosea. At least it wasn't Sean or Uncle.

"Phew" you blew out, trying to distance the stench in the unmoving, haunting, humid air that encompassed the further outskirts of Rhodes.

Arthur glanced over at you as you held your nose, his eyes communicating better than his mouth usually did. This whole scene was a massacre.

"Hey, come have a look at this." Summoned Deputy Gray as he crouched by one of the causes of the stench you were trying to avoid. "Look... suit and tie, one bullet clean through the forehead"

Arthur was the first to see as you walked up behind, the colorless body of a fancy man - at least one that once was.

"My money says this is the handiwork of a gang called the Lemoyne Raiders." He continued, kneeling by the body.

"Yeah..." Arthur drawls as he gives you another glance. "We've run into them."

There was a sudden cough that came from the deepest part of your chest, the memory hitting you like a train. Arthur seemed to catch wind of what you were thinking of too.

Arthur quickly turned his attention back to Archibald, trying to avoid the blush sneaking up on him despite the apparent seriousness of the scene in front of you.

The Deputy searched for some identification, shooting a nervous look or two over his shoulder. "We should get going." He hesitated as his pace quickened back for the carriage he and Arthur rode together.

You grabbed the reins to your horse before bouncing up, and collecting Arthur's horse. A quick nod to Dutch and Bill prompted them along as well.

The rest of the ride, you heard bits of what the Deputy had gleaned from the pages. Something about one of the deceased being a state legislature - the Braithwaites, per usual. And of course, the raiders.

You tried to pace with the carriage to nosy closer but amongst the creaking of the wheels and the beats of hooves, there wasn't much to hear. Shaking your head at the thought of asking Arthur about it later. You knew how he'd be.

Dutch mumbled here and there to Bill, but you missed that too as you focused on the path ahead. The dreary, unsightly fog, uninviting as your group pushed on.

The trees, although not dead, dawned limp moss and vines as if they were. As an O'Driscoll, it was typical to avoid these woods with the rumors of some folk about these parts that weren't quite... folk.

Outlaw as you were, the shivers of a nervous fear rattled ever so slight within your core from those ghost stories told around the fires you once joined amongst the O’Driscolls.

As the carriage came to a stop ahead of you, with a peeping about the fog, you slid off your horse.

"Now, anyone we find here, we bring in alive, understood?" Deputy Gray insisted. Course he would. You had little desire to handle the types that'd be dealin in the moonshine business. "Round them up, then take this operation down for good."

Dutch, Bill and Deputy Gray all walked ahead, but Arthur strayed back with you as you both grabbed out your necessary accessories.

"How come you ain't never get Sean or John or Javier to come along instead of me?" You sigh, shaking your head at the dealing you'd soon be in the midst of.

Arthur's eyes meet yours as he pats his horse, content with his shotgun and pistols at his side. "Why..." he huffs out with a partial chuckle, "gotta keep an eye on you, remember?"

"I think you're hopin' I'll be the 'accidental casualty' amongst one of these loony ventures you yank me along on."

He shakes his head in agreement, a smirk on his face. "Haven't the heart to put you down myself no more."

You raise a brow, scoffing as you shove his shoulder forward to follow the others. "Ya just a big softie. At least I wouldn't have messin' with this if you weren't. But you didn't spare me that trouble.”

His eyes flicker to your shoulder as he steps with a drudge and a half smirk. Obviously misery desired company. "I get to hear about that enough." He refutes. "You're useful sometimes. Thats why I kept ya."

As you and Arthur crept up behind, Deputy Gray exclaimed with his find. The moonshiners, across the bog seeming ever more distant with the thick fog. "I told you this place was crawlin' with vermin." He continues. "And we just found the rats nest par excellence as they say in Paris."

Dutch crouched to his left, his thick brows accentuating his little lasting patience with the prattling on. Bill seemed entertained with the show.

You give a quick snicker next to Arthur, close enough only for him to hear. "Runs in the family, doesn't it?" All the Grays seemed to not let their tongue rest.

"Unfortunately." Rolling his eyes with his familiarity.

"My aunt, she went to Paris back in '78-"

"How we gonna handle this?" Dutch cuts out Archibald entirely, eyeing you and Arthur.

"Well, the way I see it-"

"Actually, let my friend here decide." Dutch prompts again, offering Arthur instead. "He doesn't have your fine way with words, but he's definitely the man for the job."

The Deputy, despite his prior acclaimed head of the moonshine takedown, gave way as one typically did when Dutch wanted his idea to come to fruition. You couldnt blame him.

"Let's split up." Dutch finally decides, "Arthur, y/n and Bill, me and Archibald. You boys... and lady, want right or left?"

You nodded with an indifferent shrug, crouching through the bushes along with your predictably assigned group.

Arthur made the decision for left, Bill taking the lead.

"Let's stop these filthy degenerate tax dodgers. The cheek of them." Dutch tightens his fist in some sort of attempt to be motivational.

He certainly had a way with all types. Although he gave a perfect description of you lot and yet he managed to deflect it entirely.

"A fine idea." Archibald agrees dually. Unaware of the blatant hypocrisy.

"Hush, buddy." Came a stern retort from Dutch that gave you a little grin. Arthur couldn't help but join upon seeing your humor.

As you all snuck closer, you tuned out the noise to focus. The silhouettes of the men unbeknownst to their own impending victimhood. Perhaps there were four - maybe three? Whether that one shape was a head or a log resembling one would have to be figured soon.

"Remember what he said," Bill whispers gruff. "We need them alive. Lets just knock 'em out and tie' em up."

"Got it, Deputy Williamson." Arthur sasses before stopping with hesitance over the fact that he'd have to go through the bog water.

That meant you did too. You sighed once more. The discomfort that was prospected from this was not greatly desired. Arthur ushered you along, making you ever more discontent.

"You need me to hold your hand?" You murmured a hushed tease, feeling the murkey, green-brown water fill your boots.

He squints for a moment before ignoring you all together. At times it seemed you both forgot that most of your predicaments were to be actually taken seriously.

Bill threw a glance back, clearly having heard your slight. He pointed to a man on the wagon that seemed oblivious.

As you all, as quiet as could be with squelching boots, hid behind the embankment by the wagon. "I think you take this one, Bill." Arthur recommended, watching as Bill did just that.

"With pleasure." He takes his chance, a surprisingly sly man despite his structure.

There were another two upon getting close enough to see that in fact, it was but a trunk. You and Arthur continued across the boards that led across the bog to a little wooden stick structure that barely held itself.

Arthur points to the man fiddling about with a barrel, directing you to take advantage of his distracted state. You nod, sneaking behind him, waiting for Arthur to get close enough to his pick.

You drew your revolver, the metal at the grip of it being your best bet. As the poor sap tilted his head down to continue his task, you took your best chance.

A thud from his head disabled the rest of him, it wasn't but a second more you heard glass shatter suddenly, followed by another thud.

Your ropes slid out as you grabbed for them, tying the man's wrists, securing them how yours had once been. Strange the ways you found yourself in at times.

Now you had to figure out if you could carry him or not. Arthur lifted his catch over his shoulder with ease, and a part of you was perhaps a bit jealous of the strength this particular activity required.

The man in front of you wasn't rather big by many means, so you attempted your grab on him and by some miracle you managed to lift him.

"Add him to the pile, Arthur." Dutch pointed to the three he, Archibald and Bill gathered.

You sped up as you heard their voices get closer, or as much as you could with the weight you held.

Bill started chuckling as he saw you, not expecting the sight. You clicked your tongue at him, proud that you could keep up just like the rest of them.

"Well, what do we do now?" You heard Dutch ask as you dropped your collectible.

Archibald thought for a second, not long before settling. "We better destroy all this." He overlooks the camp, or what little you could see through the fog. "Any of your boys handle explosives?"

You and Arthur met with similar looks before glancing over at Bill.

"Sure, anyone but him." Arthur quips, gesturing a hand over to Bill.

"Think you're real funny, don't ya'?" Bill rejects, heading back over the bridge for the purposes given.

"That is the last time I'll mention it, I swear." He chuckles along with your little snicker at the reference. You'd heard plenty about it from Sean and Uncle.

"Yeah, I'm sure." He grumbles back, distancing himself.

As Arthur walks to the first getup, you head further in toward the small shacks. Shuffling through your bag to find the dynamite you knew you had somewhere.

A red object finally peeked through and right as you grabbed it, you heard something. Not from behind you, rather in front and it didn't sound like the various critters about the place. Like voices you couldn't quite distinguish.

BOOM.

The sudden set off of the dynamite shook your very tie to this earth, and further did the sudden hollering of men you knew weren't ideal to run into.

Shit. You drop down instinctively, reaching desperately for your repeater.

"Hey, that belongs to the Lemoyne Raiders," a man's voice angrily shouts, "you sons of bitches!"

Gun shots started, a surprise all too expected.

"Shit!" Bill couldn't have said it better. "We got men over here!" He yells to Arthur, neither of which you could see from where you crouched.

You returned their fire, your shoulder taking the recoil that cost your target his living.

Arthur and Bill were somewhere behind you, hopefully they saw you, else the crossfire might be something fierce.

You cursed with a hiss, hitting the raiders that emerged from the shacks, your arm tiring with the reloading and recoil. There were so damn many of the bastards.

"Sorry, boys, we're puttin' you out of business!" Arthur taunts in response, his gun sounding off promptly after.

"Theres more comin' from those huts!" You attempt to yell over the other many noises, hoping they heard.

Suddenly Arthur slides in next to you, bumping your shoulder as you aimed. The man at the other end of your gun jumped aside as the wood merely a foot away shattered and splinted.

"Sorry," Arthur claims, pulling back the hammer before you could say much of anything in response.

With another attempt, the second hit landed right as you did your best at ignoring the stink beside you.

But a sudden warmth filled you with him beside you.

With a slight seizure of fire, you found it necessary to move up, as did Arthur.

There was only one more scruffy man left, taunting. "Is that all you got?"

Arthur took his aim, and all settled. Your breath announcing your relief.

"I don't see anymore, do ya'll?" Bill questioned, scanning the area.

"No." You both answered in unison.

"Let's find Dutch and get outta here."

---

The blade reflected its warning in the candle light as Javier's fingers danced with it.

Eyeing each precise movement he pulled off before finally stabbing the wood between each of his fingers with rehearsed skill.

The faint scars from past practice visible between the faint retreat of the shadows as the flicker from the flame fought the slight breeze.

"You're good, Javier." You offer, watching him as he completes his second round, the old, worn stop watch clicking as you stopped the time for him at ten seconds. "Not sure if I can beat that," you point, a nervous tingle sprinkling itself in your stomach.

"Ahhh, c'mon, O'Driscoll." He jeers, his aloofness ever so slightly offset by a squint in his eye as he stated your undesirable nickname. "You've played before, no?" He pointed to your own few scratches here and there.

Your own knife scars were few, having only played a few times with your previous gang. You hesitated with responding. Not by your own accord.

Hennesey's eyes that day searching for Colm at Six Point still filled your conscience with guilt, and betrayal. A sour taste filling your mouth as Javier watched your face intently.

"Sure I have. But you seem to have sniffed out my amateur nature."

"Give it a go, l/n." Micah called from the far end of the table, snapping you back into the present.

His sinister grin shone, a piece of grass sticking from it. Watching you from behind his hat and stringy blonde hair.

Javier nodded to you, a silent agreement to dismiss Micah in hopes he'd leave. He grabbed the stop watch from you, giving you his focus

As you prepared yourself for the possibility of sore fingers, you started slow with the knife, picking up pace. Feeling both Javier and Micah's eyes on you as you stabbed the knife between your fingers.

Micah started sucking through his teeth as the ten seconds came to an end, the tension building further as you counted 17 and Javier clicked the stop watch.

"What was that, 17?" Micah sighs a haughty chuckle.

You stared at him, your disgust with him more than apparent.

"Go do somethin’, Micah." Javier warned, his glare alone threatening.

Before anything could go south, Uncle, of all people, came to save the day. In a state of expected impairment nonetheless.

"Micah..." he slurred, leaning against the table for support as Micah clearly spoke with his eyes that he had unfinished business with you and Javier now. "Anyone tell ya..?"

"Tell me what?" He hissed, pushing his shoulder as he walked past him, uncle stumbling to follow.

"How much ya look like... my late auntie." Their voices faded into the back drop as they Micah stomped away angrily, uncle stumbling behind him in an attempt to keep up.

"First time I'd thank uncle for anythin'." Javier laughs, reaching for the knife you offered back.

You laughed along, trying to shake off all the feelings you were most unfortunately feeling. Micah, your past, your guilt and now... Arthur. Arthur?

"I need you to do somethin' for me." He interjects between you and Javier. Your reputation building time. He wasn't even on your mind until right now, shockingly.

Javier watches you two, your stare indignant toward the second man of the night to interrupt an otherwise enjoyable moment.

He stares back, ignoring your rather clear response. "I ain't askin', I'm tellin'."

Javier offers his excuse to escape the awkward third party position, sheathing his knife and collecting his stopwatch. "We'll play more later, y/n."

You nod a sorrowful glance to him as he leaves you and Arthur to it.

"What is it?" You grumble up at him looming over you as you sat, unmoving.

"I left my satchel somewhere," he states at first with an accusatory brow, switching to a stressed glance around the camp.

You breathed a heavy sigh, yawning and stretching for a long while before saying much else. You had too much on your mind to deal with him right now. "Haven't seen it, maybe ask Mary-Beth or Ms. Grimshaw."

"Already did." He responds instantly with that sass that was sure to peeve you off in a moment.

With a twitch of your eye, you stand, pushing him with your pointer to give you some space. "Where have you been? Did you leave it somewhere earlier?"

He thinks for a second, staring at the ground as he considers you.

"Horse, perhaps? Hell, man, have you even looked yet?" You bombard him with another question before he can even respond. Typically, being a grouch wasn't in your nature.

"Yes, I've looked there and around Dutch's area." He stumbles over his words as he tries to answer everything. "I thought I left it by my bed."

You consider him. And his likely oversight. "All them years of gettin your head hit must be catchin' up." You mumble as you push past him to his setup.

"What'd you say?" He questions, knowing full well what you said already.

"Dont bother me if ya want my help, princess." You quip in retort.

Arthur grumbles something fierce as he follows to help you look, his movements more and more jerky as his anxiety and frustration grows.

"Is there a chance Jack took it?" You ask as you give his area a search.

He stalls for a moment, considering.

"Possible," he nods before swiftly turning to find Jack.

With a big huff, you plopped yourself down on his bed, but not for long.

Shaking your head, you started thinking perhaps this was a night to go by yourself to town.

Quiet ride, quiet night. All these feelings were beginning to become overwhelming.

A quick glance for Arthur and with the coast clear, you made for your horse with a bounce in your step.

-

Your boots went flying every which direction when kicking them off with fervor.

Soon as that was done, you grasped your gun belt and folded it neatly on the nightstand next to the bed.

Hopping into the bed, your whole body instantly relaxed into the barely acceptable old mattress.

The day took a toll on you, running these crazy errands and well... the rest of it.

To think back to your O’Driscoll days - you had your qualms with many of the men there but it all seemed simpler then.

Simpler perhaps because you weren't busy crushing on some outlaw. Now look at you. Time to think for yourself, what a hell of a thing.

The more you thought, the more you just wanted to stop. Shutting your eyes in defiance and attempting your best at sleep.

That worked for long enough to be nearly asleep when you suddenly heard hushed voices from outside your door.

Your eyes shot open as you essentially halted your breathing to hear as best you could, seemingly they were right outside your door.

The faint giggles of a woman came from the other side of the wood and a man voice.

Needless to say, from what you thought it might be, two people getting it on was oddly relieving, considering alternative figures... the Raiders.

You closed your eyes once more, releasing the tension in your muscles. Properly ready for a good sleep.

"Leave me be, woman." Came a voice more clearly now.

That was until you heard the doorknob being tried. The old metal clanking as it struggled against the hand that tested it.

For fucks sake.

You slid out of bed, tiptoeing across the ragged floor.

Your gun? No bother.

You yanked at the nob with frustration and just like that - a tall, dirty blonde man stood just a toe or two away from the doorway.

He quickly pushed past, escaping the disheveled lady now staring at you in confusion. She gave a brow as she fixed her bussle, brushing off the unseemly rejection she faced.

You shrugged, almost apologetically. But a part of you was happy he so callously removed himself from her attention.

Now. You turned to him, ready to give him your mind. Grabbing his shirt collar and shoving him to the wall. "You're like my guilty conscience," you grumble accusingly. "Seems I can't ever escape it."

His eyes stared into you, focused on the fact you were wearing only your shirt and under garments.

And you let him stare.

He cleared his throat, averting his eyes to the best of his ability. "Why'd you come here?"

"Theres no reason I'd give fine enough for you to leave me be." You quip.

"You were supposed to be helpin' at camp."

Your eyes kept fixed on each other, a tension in the darkness anyone could feel.

"Why cant ya leave me be, Arthur?" You question, balling his shirt into your fists more. "One night is all I ask and you track me down?"

"It ain't safe 'round here, you know that." He quips. "Plus, you oughta be at camp."

You scoffed pushing on his chest with your fist, all these built up feelings were overwhelming you. Anger, stress, overthinking, whatever it was you felt for him.

"Head back to camp. I'll be back come morn'." As you said that, you let him go, turning away from him in hopes he'd accept it and go.

You didn't get far however, as he grabbed both of your forearms, pulling you back in.

He paused as he stared into your eyes, your shock keeping you silent for a moment long enough for his lips to meet yours.

And at this point? What held you back for so long seemed to disperse entirely.

You leaned into him, kissing, biting his lip.

His hands moved to your waist, gripping your hips, pulling you in closer.

Obliging him further, your hand on his chest and another running through his hair.

The kissing soon became heavy breathing and soft moans into each other's mouths.

His hands never seemed to stray though, aside from the occasional grasp from the... situation.

You started unbuttoning his shirt as you continued, working your way down until you met his gun belt.

He finally took the liberty to unbutton your blouse, which luckily enough for him, was one of the only few things covering your body.

Arthur pauses for a second, looking you in the eye.

You gazed into his eyes and to his lips again. Maybe a few more times you didn't care to count.

Words were exchanged. But they only expressed pure desire and passion.

Guiding his hand to your breast, you watched his reaction.

A hesitance filled his every breath and glance. His rough hand you could feel so well on your skin. With it came a shiver you haven't felt in so long.

"Arthur..." you mumble, a softness to your voice you'd never let him have before.

His whole demeanor switched in what felt like an instant. His hand squeezed gently with that permission, his other now pulling you toward the edge of the bed.

Your lips hit his again with an insistence so strong it almost hurt. Your heart pounded as your kiss turned into breathy moans and mumbles.

Arthur's clothes didn't last long, not with your hands on him. His gun belt hitting the floor with a loud clank and his boots with a thud.

"Y/n," he breathed, wincing as you ran your hand down his chest, teasing him as you met his lower waist.

You felt every muscle, every movement as he tensed and struggled with the light brushing of your fingers.

He let out a soft grunt as you finally felt it. "Dont tease... me like that." He huffs between each kiss.

Letting out a small giggle, you move back up his chest. Messing with his buttons but never further than that. "Im not teasin'. How lucky do ya think you're gonna get?"

Arthur pulls away ever so slightly, his eyes ever so desperate and fierce. "I should hate you." His voice matched the desperation in his eyes. Something he was still trying to convince himself of. “But I can't stay away from you.”

His words shocked you, something you really did not expect to hear.

You started getting nervous as his pants started to come off too. Judging what you felt, what you were about to see...

Staring. You saw it, yes.

"You really get the ladies with that?" You chuckle with a low, anxious sigh. Shocked? Perhaps. That thing was going nowhere fast. "Thats not a big deal."

Even now, you messed with him. He seemed to enjoy this banter now.

His brow shoots up, a smirk spreading across his face. "Ya' scared, hm?" He pushes you lying down on the bed, his knee sliding between your legs as a pry.

You wanted it. You wanted him. If you couldn't admit it now, definitely you never would.

His hand continues to explore your body, kissing you, your neck, your breast.

He took off your bra - it took him a second, as if he hadn't handled one for a while. Which was definitely the case with hiw he is.

It wasn't long fore your undies were missing as well. He slides them off, that shiver quickly returning as that final barrier disappears.

You breathed, fully coming to terms with what you were getting yourself into.

His finger grazes down your chest, then your waist, then...

Your back arched in a desperate movement as you felt his hand slide between your slick.

"I did this?" He questions, his finger pressing lightly against your hole, gentle, teasing.

You roll your eyes at him, scoffing with dismissal. With your hand in his hair, caressing slowly, you pulled him back in again.

Your tongues did all the confessing that the both of you found easier to express entirely unclothed and on top of each other than under any normal circumstance.

He pulls away once more, this time ever more playful than the last. "Answer me, y/n."

You turned your head, breaking your eyes from Arthurs. He continued to tease you in an attempt to coax the response he knew already. Letting out a small moan with a wince, you pressed your hips deeper into his hand.

Unwillingly to give in. Wasn't having you in this position enough?

"Fine," he interrupts your defiance. "Imma make ya admit it somehow."

With a sudden pressure, he spreads you open with two fingers. The warmth you felt from him compared to the chill that spread up your back sent you into a haze - like you couldn't think right anymore.

Every thought, every worry, wasting away in the heat that washed over you. It was like you could only see him. The man who changed your whole life. For the worse or for the better?

You answered your own questions by the situation you put yourself into.

He watched you intently as you bit back your moans, your eyes no longer trained on his face, but his body.

You could see every muscle in his arm move as he pumped his fingers inside you, every motion brought you closer to finishing.

"Is that all you got?" You breathe out, doing your best to fight back the noises he was so close to getting. He was already getting to see you like this, he didn't deserve the sounds too.

That pushed him further. Further into you, his fingers speeding up as he curled them up into you, hitting you just right. He moved closer back, biting and sucking gently at your breasts. Fuck.

"Morgan.." You grabbed the sheet underneath you, gripping it with desperation. In which, Arthur, of course, noticed.

He was good at this. Too good.

Inevitability, you let a moan slip as your back arched in a final release, squeezing your thighs together with his fingers still inside you.

He gave a smirk as you finished beneath him, watching your tense body relax with the ecstasy He of all people, gave you.

"Youre alright, I suppose." You granted, chuckling slightly at your own obvious lie.

"Whatever you say, Princess." With his free hand, he pushed your thigh away to pull his hand out of you, cleaning his fingers off with his mouth.

Something about that... you shook away the thought.

Suddenly, he grabs your hips, pulling you to the edge of the bed, to which you promptly tried scooting back up.

"Im not gonna even feel that," you admonish sarcastically, giving him an eye. You knew you would.

The look he gave you as he held you in place made it clear he knew you were bluffing.

"C'mere." He runs his hands underneath you, picking you up in a swift movement all too quick.

"Arthur-" Now you're getting nervous. You could feel him at your entrance as he held you with one arm, guiding his tip right where he wanted it.

Your whole body froze up as you held close to him. Teasing you with his tip, running it over your clit more times than you could bear.

"What?" He grins. "You're not gonna feel it anyway." He plays on your joke, gripping your ass harder. This was ridiculous, the way you were letting him do this.

You breathed out a sigh. "Impress me, Arthur."

He took his opportunity, pushing inside you slowly.

Letting out a small, pained moan, you nearly felt like you couldn't breathe as he filled you. You bit into his shoulder as you took him.

"Fuck..." Arthur grumbles, stopping so that you can get used to his size. "You're so tight."

You look down at the mark you left on his shoulder and gave a little smirk. "Is that all of it?" It sure felt like it.

He pulled you in with his eyes again, kissing you before he thrust the rest into you.

"Ah-" you cry out softly, muffled by the fact he was still kissing you. Something inside you felt like it broke as he filled you entirely. Your pride certainly, and you knew you were going to feel this tomorrow.

Your nails dig into him as you try to drag your mind down from the high he had you in, between the pain in the stretching you felt and the contradicting pleasure he gave you.

"Goddamn." You struggle out.

"Still can't feel it?"

"Not in the... slightest."

That did it, he didn't hold still anymore. He guided your hips into him, he went slowly for a few moments as you acclimated to his size. But then- he didn't.

Perhaps if you could be less cocky for once, he'd take it easy on you. But could you? Not possibly.

This time you bit into his neck, trying to relieve some of this overwhelming feeling he gave you.

It was getting harder and harder to fathom just exactly what you were doing right now.

"I can't believe I'm letting you do this to me." You huff out between winces.

"You have no idea how insane you drive me, y/n." He replies with an implication that filled you with butterflies. "Everyday, I can't tell if it's just me or if you know what you're doin' to me."

He hugs you closer as he voices his admittance, calming his speed to slow, gentle grinding. Obviously, he wanted an answer.

"Well, not only did you shoot me," you remind, "you ruined my life."

His eyes soften, whether it was the guilt that loomed over him or sorrow. It made you wanna kiss him more, so you did.

He continued pushing into you slowly, and the pace quickly left you desperate for more, you could barely take it.

"I think somewhere along the way I grew soft on you."

"Hah." He scoffs. "That really so? I couldn't tell."

You couldn't keep your hands off him, running them through his hair, thumb on cheek. Nothing was off limits now.

"Dont get me wrong, it took awhile."

"I s'pose that's fair." He chuckles again, his breath heavy.

The conversation barely held through the many in-between makeouts and the fact he was as close as he could be with you. Or in you, rather.

He stopped suddenly, pulling out as he did, which filled you with confusion and a longing for more.

Laying you down on the bed, he ran his hands down your body, every scar, every bruise. Admiring every bit of you as he did.

But they lingered on your damnable shoulder. The scar and last of the scabbing, made it, in your opinion, rather ugly.

Arthur ran his thumb over it gently, he met your eye for a few moments. But this wasn't something you wanted attention to at this second.

"Arthur," you murmur, "don't stop."

He waits patiently, as if you didn't say the right thing. Again, he decided to tease you instead.

You grumble a curse under your breath and he perks up in anticipation. "Please, Arthur?"

He was getting a more than necessary kick out of this. Finally, obliging you. His size - god.

Pushing into you again, he gets on top of you, careful of your shoulder as he does.

"Goddamn, y/n." He huffs, his pace now pulling a few moans out of you.

In the intervals you didn't have your eyes shut out of pure pleasure, you saw his smile. His pride that he was making you feel this way.

"I love hearing those little sounds," he grins, nipping at your neck and under your chin.

"Dont get too full of yourself..."

"Im not," he continues, "you're full of me though."

"Aint you just the wittiest thing-?" You begin, but he didn't give you the chance to finish. He dipped into you harder and harder, it seemed with every breath he was finally close to finishing.

"You feel so good..." he trails off, like the ecstasy suddenly cut him off. Your nails dug into every bit of his back, clinging onto him as he pounded into you.

"Arthur-" you managed, right before his lips hit yours again, a passion so deep that you couldn't help but reciprocate as he thrust into you once more, filling you entirely.

Both your bodies finally relaxed, only heavy breathing and pure bliss remaining.

In the next few quiet moments, he left gentle kisses down along your body as he pulled out.

Your legs shook, everything between tingled and a sudden sleepiness washed over you, but the pleasure still flowed through you.

It was hard to think about anything other than who was on top of you. And for once, you were content with it entirely. A calm easing you into relaxation.

That was only temporary though when a quick survey of Arthur indicated your night was still not over.

"You're kiddin', right?”

—

Heyyyy babesss, sorry for the cocky block…. Hopefully, I delivered this time! I wont even make excuses for myself this time, its so hard to dedicate a lot of writing time now that ya girl aint unemployed no more. But I will be on my hands and knees and bring this as retribution 😩😩

There are really a lot of words that i hate when writing smutt so I hope that its both not too bland or too much!

And again, thank you all for the support! I cant believe its been a whole ass year since I very reluctantly posted the first chapter. Seeing the support and everyones comments on how much they enjoy my writing makes me so happy and so glad I did it.

But thats enough from me, love you guys a bunch and I will do my best to get another out for chritmuh time 😘😘

Caught XVIII

"What?" You groan in response to the soft hand on your shoulder, gently waking you from your rough sleep.

Your eyes had trouble adjusting amongst the still dark surroundings- which disheveled you further.

As you caught a glance between your tired, struggled blinks, the night sky above peeped back at you. It couldn't have been more than an hour or two since you took up guard.

"Y/n." Arthurs accent coos, his own voice drowsy from the late hour. And his typical nagging done without appearance. His voice brought warmth and comfort, rather. "You done let in a few briganders."

That did it. Now you stared up at him, he stared down at you. Standing over you with a smugness you were all too familiar with, his arm propping himself up against the tree you regrettably slept on.

"What'd you do with 'em then?" You murmured your question, an ache in your lower back took your focus. Matter of fact, there were many spots on your body that ached.

He paused as he thought up his fib to further your supposed mistake. "What you were supposed to."

"Oh, please," you swatted at his legs, struggling to collect yourself through the ensuing pain and dreariness. "Why'd you wake me up this early anyway if you took care of 'em for me?"

"Slept rough," he responds simply. That wasn't it though, you knew he had more. "Seems you did as well."

"So you woke me up to keep ya company, huh?"

You gazed up at him as the cogs behind his eyes turned, surely thinking up something silly. Considering you, a shy, tired smile crept up on him. "Who better?"

Jeez. This man and the trouble he brought with him - whether he knew he did or not.

"Most everyone in camp reckon we're 'conspiring'."

He hums out his thought, "they been botherin' you 'bout it?"

If that was any way to put it.

"They make it known." You nodded in a slow agreement. "Just don't want it to affect you."

"That so?" Arthurs brow raised, analyzing just what exactly you stated. "You goin' soft on me now, y/n?"

"Well, you ain't gotta put it like that."

He knelt down to your level, as he did, your stomach, your face - everything went awry. You felt like a schoolgirl with a silly crush. Absolutely ridiculous.

"Reckon that's how I'll take it though." His voice strained as he joined you up against the tree, not at all careful to keep space between you.

"Isn't that what ya do anyway?" The warmth from his body tempting you to lean into him. "Take it your way?"

"Mhm-" He pauses, his hand grasping yours firm, pulling back your sleeve while holding your arm out to inspect it closer through the sparse and dim morning light.

"Couldn't get enough of me?" You question superstitiously.

"How did this happen?" Arthur ignores your affront, his demeanor falling subject to a serious, demanding tone.

When he showed you your own wrist, even you were surprised. Black and blue painted your skin.

"Y/n?" He questions again, his words more concerned than they'd ever been. "I didn't do that yesterday, did I?"

"You didn't." You both so carefully tiptoed around the... entanglement you had both become entwined in. "It's just a bruise."

Arthur eyed you harshly, his conquest for answers not so easily defeated. The pad of his thumb running over the circled mark gently. "'Just a bruise?'"

You inspected your wrist closer, an almost hand sized mark encapsulating it. Seemed Micah had done more than you initially felt.

"How else did you get a bruise like that?" He reiterates once more, his tone and expression stern and unrelenting.

With a raised brow and slip of your hand away from his, you avoided his eyeballing. "It doesn't matter. Just somethin' that happens."

"That doesnt just happen," he scolds, watching you closely despite your reluctance.

As you tried getting up to avoid further interrogation, Arthur kept you down.

"Someone do that to you?"

His question panged you. Something so blunt you hadn't quite expected. You avoided the eye contact that came with it, turning your attention elsewhere.

"Y/n." His hand on your cheek softly brought you back to him. Caught within his will once more. "Who did that to you?"

He searched your eyes for an answer, though there wasn't much to study. His stern expression fading, replaced with a softness in his eyes you were only ever vaguely familiar with.

"I already took care of it-"

"Was it Micah?" He interjects brashly.

You nodded, with a huff nonetheless.

Arthur's face filled with an expression you had been plenty familiar with in the past, but now it didn't seem directed towards you. It was a glint just for a moment, then gone the next when he suddenly started chuckling.

"I figured he messed with someone," He sat down next to you finally, laughing as he reimagined what had just snuck into camp. "Got that bastard lookin like a damn raccoon."

You were confused between the irritation he just caused and now the casual humor he found from it. But nevertheless, you were laughing too now, wanting to see your own handiwork.

"What'd he do to manage such an 'unexpected' reaction from you?"

Rolling your neck and stretching your back with a groan, you decided to finally fess up the details. "He wanted to know what we was up to."

Arthur nodded slowly along, his eyes trailing down to the marks on your wrists he just uncovered.

The next part caused a hesitation you didn't quite expect. Perhaps for a reason you were scared to admit. "Then he felt it necessary for me to know he desired some form of intimacy."

Arthur still nodded, though this time quiet. He seemed to have heard enough as he got up from the tree. "I'm guessin’ he got those shiners before he let you know too well."

He extended his hand out for your convenience, the ache from your back making it all the more difficult to get up. "I'm flattered that was your first assumption."

"I feel I know your antics well enough now." He remarks as he pulls you up. "Where else did he get you?"

You stood there with a yawn as he examined you further, but it was mainly your wrists Micah had done a number on.

"Not where he got me," you answer, "but where he was tryna get me." You cringe with a solid shake of your head.

He nodded again, his focus direct on camp. He invited you to follow with a small gesture, but all else, he was bound for camp.

"Arthur?" You sped up, trying to keep his pace.

Through the brush and the trees, the fire light started peeking more until you were finally able to see what of camp was still active.

Bill laid turned back from uncle, who seemingly joined him after he had already claimed that spot. He seemed to grump even as he snored.

Sean, Javier and Micah were still up though, each minding their own silent business around the fire. Micah, however, was quick to notice who exactly was rustling through back to camp.

"You back to bother more, Morgan?" He squinted through the flames that hopped through the air as Arthur approached, "found your girl, did ya?"

Arthurs pace didn't slow at all as one might expect a normal conversation to go.

Micah's haughty gaze started weaseling away from him as soon as he noticed Arthurs barely discernible expression under his hat.

He started to look squeamish, his eyes flickering up at him from where he sat.

Arthur was silent as he stepped past Javier.

That, he always tried to shadow with a cocky anger. "There a problem, Arthur?"

Just as you were about to open your mouth to attempt a seizure to all of this, Arthur's hand lifts Micah by the throat, pulling him to eye level.

"What'd I tell you, Micah?" He growls, his grip tightening as he fought to push Arthur away.

"We all have-" he hisses as he chokes out his excuse, "...Morgan-" Micah struggles as he fights for a breath.

Arthur's fist swings around, a single blow above Micahs eye landed him on his ass.

He started coughing and gasping amongst other angered, breathless noises.

"You'll goddamn regret that, Morgan." He held his throat with a comfort, his sneer extended to Javier and Sean, whom in their tired drunkenness, were entirely confused.

"I hear 'bout anythin' like that again, Micah," Arthur retorts harshly, his shadow looming over him as he slowly regains an upright position. "Whatever it is I decide, will be long overdue for you."

Javier's glazed over eyes seemed ever so slightly more alive in the moment as he questioned you with a brow.

You shrugged, shaking your head as if you knew the same as him. You only wanted less attention. As usual that's what you got most of.

Micah took what little dignity he had after cuddling up to the ground, only to slink off into the very forest you had just come out of.

Arthur eyed him all the while, his tension relaxing.

"What the fuck was that, Arthur?" Sean, producing an unexpectedly coherent sentence.

"Fighting over his new lover," Javier smirked with a murmur.

You had been hoping they were a bit more drunk than this. It was time for sleep, that was all you wanted.

Arthur ignores their banter, his attention fixed on you again. The look on his face gave you the idea he was going to give you some of that too now, but he didn't.

"C'mon," he encourages, his hand on the small of your back for a few moments to guide you. "Micah likely won't bother us tonight."

"Enjoy that while it sticks." You sighed. It was almost embarrassing to thank him.

He hummed a small humored agreement as he walked with you. Quite frankly, you weren't sure where you were going till his bed got closer.

You gave him your eye as you tried to confirm his intentions. "First Micah, now you?"

He squinted at you harshly. Though he seemed glad you didn't seem too affected by what had transpired earlier. "You've offered it to me, not him."

You smiled with a roll of your eyes as you pushed his shoulder. "Still waiting for the five."

"Just get in bed, woman." He rebuttals, waiting for you to make your way into his little build up. "Got any idea what time it is?"

"Alright, alright." You laugh as you kick off your boots to claim his spot.

He gives the treeline a quick examination before sitting himself up against the box he fixed into a nightstand.

Both of you went quiet, the escalation of the night finally dropping off. But you still felt that nervous beating in your chest. The kind that grew with each moment of silence.

You thought of that night as you watched Arthur slide his hat down over his face. In all your life, expecting certain things would never particularly turn out.

Your face felt warm. Warmer than you liked it.

"Arthur?" You question lightly, all too impulsively. You hardly knew what to say. All you knew was that you wanted to perhaps say something grateful.

He was still a moment, his body slow to react before giving you a sleepy peek from under his hat. "You gonna say somethin' nice for once?"

Well, that was easy enough. Suddenly those flutters in your stomach vanished easily enough.

"Be that way." You shrug with a huff. "Im chargin’ you for sleepin’ in your bed."

"You're chargin’ me for extendin' to you a kindness?"

"I was sleeping plenty fine out there. You woke me up so you wouldn't be lonely."

He scoffed out his chuckle, cracking his knuckles as he considered himself.

"I think, you, y/n," Arthur continues, "are lyin' right yet."

"Why?" Sarcastic as can be. "I gave no reason to indicate anythin' of such nature."

He raised a brow, tired of both you and being awake. "It was like finding someone's grandma collapsed in the woods."

You gasped as if a child had shown you a poorly executed magic trick. "It's not surprising you like 'em older with how you act day by day."

"You keep sayin' that,” His little smirk grew to a grin he hid by placing his hat back where it was. “And maybe I'll have to prove you right.”

Rolling over with fervor, you shook your head. "Too late. I'm raisin’ prices." Shutting your eyes, you were keen on ending it there.

"Whatever you want, princess."

Could it be helped? You were all fired up now. "You wouldn't actually. All hat, no cattle."

When a suddenly rustle of something paper and the clinks of coins started from behind you, your eyes shot right open.

"I haven't even stated the amount."

"Five and a quarter."

"Jeez. Am I worth that little?"

"You said five yourself, Miss l/n."

"Well, ain't you heard me? Prices increased."

He was silent a little, fore you heard him take in a breath for what foolish thing he was to say next. "I told you, I'll prove you right. You keep on."

As soon as you turned to face him, he stopped. A coy little look of victory slathered on his dumb face as opposed to your wide eyes and furrowed brows.

"I like bein' right, that you know."

Was that red on his face? You couldn't quite tell through the dark.

"I think you oughta let me sleep peacefully for once."

"Dont get too high and mighty." You jest, having yet again, the high ground.

“Long day in the morning. You dont shut it now, you won't be able to open it tomorrow.” He grumbles from under his hat brim, settling back down.

“What?” You haven't heard a thing about this. “What's tomorrow?”

“Figure it out then. I aint tellin’ ya nothin’ tonight.”

Psh. You roll back over, now considering what it was Dutch had planned. It usually includes only finding out last minute Arthur has decided to cast you into it as well.

Just when you thought you could be sure how you felt about him, he hauled off and made you spited again.

—

♡

Hello, my lovelies!

First off, I come to you on my hands and knees with this begging for forgiveness. I know I left y'all on a cliffhanger and then I also dropped off after promising a lot. Im terrible horrible, I know. 😫

Ive been pretty busy with school, graduation and vacation, so I've been thinking about you guys but only recently started working in this again. I know this one is short, but I wanted to get something out for you until I got home to finish what else I have planned for this chapter but part 2.

Special little shout out to Shiyochi for encouraging me and of course, everyone else who enjoys my fics!

Love you all a bunch, I need to turn on the fan with how steamy this is getting. 😉

Love, M.

Authors notes: Personally, I am one who really likes to immerse myself into the story, so I do like to write out a bit more detail - the story starts out a little slow but picks up pretty fast. I'm also going through and re-editing each chapter, slowly but surely. Im adding extra bits and peices to make the story flow better. 😋

Total word count: 66.7k.

Average chapter word count: 2k-4k.

Last updated: Nov 18th, 2025

Status: In progress.

Caught

Ao3 or Wattpad

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VIII

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XII

XIII

XIV

XV

XVI

XVII

XVIII

XVIII Pt 2

♡♡♡

"You're too good to me!" You chirp, more than elated with the man you found in front of you. "Let me pay for our drinks this time."

"Oh, bosh." He reached up to adjust the bowler hat you remembered so fondly atop his head. "I got nothin' else to spend it on!"

"Well, I owe ya one anyway." You remark reluctantly, undelighted with his stubbornness.

"That blouse suits ya' well y/n." He spins a finger around, pointing at his wife's shirt that you had on. "I'm glad you're gettin' good use of 'em."

"I still owe you for that too, I reckon." You chuckle, all his favors for you made you feel bad without reciprocating.

"You're puttin' them to use. That's all you gotta do for me."

The generosity of this man baffled you. It weighed on your conscience, your life's path was not one deserving of the kindness he bestowed.

You patted his hand as a thanks. "Nevertheless. If there's anything you ever need, David."

He gave you a grin, shaking his head. "Just accept my drinks and we're square."

"I'dve never expected to have found you in Rhodes, David." You continue, watching Arthur who had positioned himself a few seats away from you and David. "What brings you to this dusty little town anyway?"

"Well, I'll tell ya what-" Slapping one hand on the bar and a head cocked back, the liquid in the glass vanished. "I'm gon' see how Saint Denis treats me. Just a pit stop for now."

David had clearly been here for a while already, his pockets loose and not a worry too light. His warm, bubbly attitude felt comforting. A man who didn't care about your past.

Arthur sat a few seats down, seemingly fine on his own, but his glares every so often made it obvious he believed you were unworthy of a gifted meal.

"Yeah?" You chuckle, "From my own experience, its high fliers too big for their britches and the ones that knock you upside the head for the few rocks you got in your pocket."

"Psh.. they wouldn't mess with me, ya know." He jests before grabbing another glass, though he seemed to have noticed Arthurs occasional glare which he promptly searched you for any explanation. "You know that man?"

"Don't mind him, he's had a long day." You stared back at Arthur while you spoke, eating his food so uptight.

As unexpected as it was, David started laughing. A small chuckle that grew.

You cocked a brow, unsure if it was the alcohol or just something you had said.

"He somethin to ya?" He asked with a grin, motioning for another drink.

His question felt like it squeezed the air out of you.

You felt stuck. Even with every feeling you felt for that man, they amalgamated into something you couldn't articulate.

David sat calmly, your aversion to your own feelings he seemed to sympathize with.

"I don't know."

David's eyes fixed on yours and with just a soft nod, you felt at ease. That alone was enough for him to understand.

He offered you the next drink and you didn't need any extra encouragement.

"I feel a lot of different ways about that man right now." You stared at the empty shot in front of you, disregarding the fresh dinner on your plate. "And I'm not so sure what of its right and wrong anymore."

David swirled his drink, his usual demeanor hazed with a soft and contemplative veneer.

"He's wronged me more times than I can count and yet I still find his presence appealing."

"Another ladies offering him a night." He blurted suddenly.

Your eyes shot over to Arthur, though one still alone upon a quick inventory.

David shook his head and started up with that chuckle again.

"You'll be the end of me, David, right in this chair here." You heaved a sigh, covering your face with your hand.

"I reckon you could deny it for the rest of your days, you'd also come to regret it as long too."

His words steamed over you once more, lingering and burning a hole inside you.

Oh, how obvious it was now.

You shoveled a few bites into your mouth, his reasoning sorting out the mess of your feelings.

"It's not often ya find one like that, y/n." David laments, "you feel right 'round him, don't ya?"

"More than I should, I suppose."

Despite your sentences growing short, you only filled with a sense of longing. Your glances over to Arthur becoming brief and timid.

"I have a firm reason to believe it's not reciprocal." You murmured. Talking about this aloud and with Arthur so close? Perhaps you were about to find out from his own appearance.

He hummed a familiar tune before taking one last swig of his drink. "He's waiting for you." He pats your shoulder before popping himself out of his chair, stretching on his way out.

You hesitated before standing up to send David on his way, surprised he was leaving so soon.

"I'd do anythin' to tell my wife what I feel for her once more." He whispers as he embraces you. "You owe me after all. Don't lose yourself on silly worries and wind up like me."

He was right, whether fortunately or not. That you couldn't deny.

"Thank you, David." The unfamiliar feel of your lip quivering frightened you, tears welling up threatened further punishment. "I'll do my best for you.

"I know you will, y/n." He smiled, on his way for what he desired in Saint Denis.

You watched as he walked out of the saloon, still contemplating the conversation that had just transpired. The one man not predestined to despise you for being an O'Driscoll- or a traitorous Van Der Linde member leaving you to yourself once more.

A large hand on your shoulder startled you out of somber thought, bringing you back to the present predicament.

"You gon' finish that food?" Arthur questions behind you, finally deciding to waltz up to you.

"You can have it." You offer, turning back to sit with him. You didn't feel like eating anymore.

He stood over you, deciding on your words before walking to sit down with you. "Ya sure?"

You simply nodded. Staring down at the dirty floor boards as you collected yourself. No way were you gonna let him see you shed a tear.

"Who was that man, anyway?"

Clearing your throat, you swallowed the lump in your throat, assuring that today was not the day to let loose. "Good buddy of mine."

Arthur seemed to pick up on whatever it was you were feeling. If not due to your unusually quiet demeanor then perhaps he'd noticed the shake in your voice.

"Not your fabled husband then?" He inquired, his typical smirk adorning his lips.

The age old fib you had tried to sell him he still brought up every so often, ruling out the ability to be in the doldrums.

You scoff with a growing smile, "I'm afraid he's not annoying enough, Mister Callahan."

That, he had not expected. A soft chuckle erupted from him as he looked you over. "We happen to marry drunk? I cannot recall."

"Me neither. Suppose we'll have to make up a date."

As Arthur finished the rest of the food, you both spoke back and forth about various aspects of the town of roads and the contents of its residents, particularly the grays. A light hearted conversation free of the angst and trouble often given by the one or both of you that was often the set tone.

The saloon soon grew in capacity, prompting you and Arthur to pack up. Neither of you wanted the attention you felt you were getting now.

Eyes of many ogled and monitored you both when a pack of men most recognizable by their yellow scarves pushed through the doors.

Their cheering and hollering lessened as they paused on you and Arthur, of whom kept close to you.

One of the men mumbled something you could only catch bits of, which filled you with dread as you pieced it together. "I know that face from somewhere."

Arthur glanced at you with caution, avoiding the men.

"Hey." A gruff, messy and an overall unfortunate sight stopped you two, his eyes trying to gather just where he might've seen you. "Y'all aint gon' be trouble are ya?"

His comrades surrounded your sides, everyone else had quieted down, not sure what they were to anticipate. Like a hungry hoard of coyotes.

"Just passin' through." You oblige, stepping for the exit with Arthurs in tow.

"You do look awful familiar." He interrupts so callously. The man held out his hand as to halt both of you, taking the chance for further inspection. "Say... what's that gang, boy?"

He reaches out with a harsh slap on his pal's shoulder. A younger but just as rough member of his gang. "Van Der Linde." He musters with a hiss, comforting his shoulder.

"Ya aint one of em, are ya?" He interrogates, his eyes beating through you. "What's your names?"

"Arthur and y/n Callahan. Just through this way to marry, that's all." Arthur admonishes, grabbing your hand as a demonstration. "We're only leaving."

"Married?" He was taken aback, as if it was unheard of. Light chuckles erupt from the encasing of men, some hollers and whoops once more. "Why, congratulations!" The taunting irked you and Arthur, squeezing his hand to encourage him out with you.

The man seemed to accept that as you pushed past him, but that sentiment was cut short. It was like they saw through it.

"Give us a little show, ey?" He remarks, everyone moving out onto the veranda as you and Arthur made for the horses. "Y'all ain't leavin' otherwise."

"Newly weds oughta." Another harps, egging the rest on.

"Christ." You drawl, still with Arthur in hand as you both stopped. "What's it take for a break?"

"Go bout your own business." Arthur grumbles, waving him off. He was about to continue on when the all too familiar sound of a cocking gun sounded from the group.

"That or ya sit here and wait till we figure out where we remember y'all from." His voice deepened, breathy and threatening.

Your heart. Your stomach. Everything retangled, worse than before. Arthur glared at the men, hand still held firmly in his grasp.

"It ain't hard to kiss your new wife!" Came from the left and an agreement shouted from the right.

Arthur hesitated, his eyes darting to you and back several times. Your hands grew so hot, sweating was unavoidable at that point.

You couldn't, could you? Could he? Would he?

"They fibbin', ain't they, boss?"

The man hummed, your chance was about to vanish and trouble worse than a kiss would follow.

With a heart beating like mad and an arm around Arthur, your lips met his with nerve.

A tense and swiftly executed action.

The whooping, hollering and laughing arose once more as the men got what they wanted.

As you pulled away ever so slightly, his eyes met yours, searching each other for any semblance that this was unwanted - undesirable and forced. It was an impossible find.

Arthurs arms pulled you in firmer, his eyes lit with that hunger you'd only seen sparsely.

Intense yearning drove your every instinct as your lips met again, the all familiar taste of whiskey and cigarette meeting your tongue.

Every fiber of your being wanted this moment to last forever. Not even the bother of the infuriating crowd discouraged you, that was hardly a worry.

Your stress, your worries, your overthinking- a remedy above any and all amounts of alcohol, disappeared like it'd never been.

Pulling away with a heavy breath, Arthur reluctantly let you go, gesturing to leave with his hand on the small of your back.

The men let you be as they all continued with their previous intentions, leaving you and Arthur to sit with what you had just done.

He still tensed as he walked with his shoulder scraping yours lightly, brushing his fingers across his lower lip.

“Are you okay?” He peeps, his eyes searching for assurance.

“Dandy.” You muster, continuing with the plan to hide your burning face with a hand over your mouth.

You felt about ready to blow. If that was any descriptor.

---

Javier strummed his guitar lightly, tuning it as he ran his finger across each string to adjust it better.

The occasional pops and crackles from the fire added to the song Javier was warming up for. Lighting the faces around the fire.

Sean and Bill's voices heightened every so often as their conversation slighted to bickering and back again. Something about the military and another about Ireland, you couldn't quite catch what they were on about.

Kieran had just gotten done reporting to you his catches from the nearby fishing spot he'd found. Some talk of a massive, mythical sounding bluegill. He was particularly excited about it and you were glad he was getting his mind off of the people in camp.

But you could not get one particular man in camp off your mind.

He was sat on his bed across from camp, nose in his diary. The dark made it hard to see exactly whether he was drawing or writing, either way you were curious to see.

The bustle of the camp started to die down as night befell the land, a calm you always looked forward to.

Fiddling with your pistol in hand, you decided to give it a quick clean. Running your fingertips over the engravings, the accidental scratches and dents that signified all it had been through with you.

The rag you used was due in for a cleaning of its own, the gun oil and dirt splotched the once red color of the fabric. The flame of the fire danced in reflections along the barrel of your gun, a mesmerizing sight.

From the first sin you committed, to the many that followed suit after, the feeling inside you was not one you felt you would ever succumb to.

That kiss lingered in your mind, unrelenting in its replays. The taste of him still on your tongue, the look in his eye before he kissed you.

Men are not typically a subject of desire, particularly in your field of work. They were rotten, vulgar, dangerous.

Not to say you nor Arthur were above that, but rather, it simply just didn't seem so bad with him.

It felt silly. A crush? Arthur seemed not the type for shenanigans like that either. Love. That's the worse one.

You tapped your finger against the gun in your palm, checking your bullets.

Confessing? You cringed back at the thought. Was it obvious with that kiss? Or did he feel it just a ruse as it was meant to be?

Standing before him and muttering a phrase that barely made your feelings understandable to him was particularly deplorable. What would he say to that anyway, how would he react? Maybe he'd finally tell you to get lost for good.

Uncle came lumbering out of the woodwork to join you by the fire, though not giving you much space. "Just 'bout nearly pissed myself." He groaned with a stretch of his back, having exerted himself to such exhaustion.

Javier glanced up with a furrowed brow, shaking his head, his light strums on the guitar interrupted. "We always enjoy knowing that, Uncle."

Sean had himself a giggle at Bill's glare, dismissing Uncle's antics to return to his previous rant.

"You can't thank me enough, huh, O'Driscoll?" Uncle elbows you lightly, bringing your attention to him. He noticed something amiss.

"I don't reckon I'll ever be able to show my gratitude." You smiled as you reholstered your revolver, Uncle's breath nearing a biohazard.

He chuckled his usual loud chuckle, a bottle in hand and his red pajamas soaking up the droplets he spilt as he took haphazard drinks from the bottle.

He smelt of a lot of unpleasant things, mainly alcohol and musk but the man was as aloof and happy as can be.

It wasn't long that he had another story to tell everyone who'd listen. You weren't one for it tonight, longing for the quiet some space would give you.

Excusing yourself from the fire, you decided to take the guard position. It'd give you some time to think - away from everyone else.

As your eyes adjusted to the dark, you saw Lenny come out from some brush, shotgun in hand. He walked with a drag in his step and slump in his back but a glint of hope sparkled in his eye when he noticed you.

"I'll take over for you, Lenny." You extend your arm to relieve him of his duties, though he hesitated for a moment, eyeing you.

"I ain't been out here for long," he states, "you sure?"

"It ain't no trouble."

He nods, setting the shotgun in your hands, leaving you to the dark of the surroundings.

He certainly wasn't sure of you still either, as was the running theme with the members in camp. You knew and sympathized with the reason, but you were beginning to feel the desire to be a valued part of the gang. To just be.

Reminiscing on the nights that you'd find yourself around a campfire with the O’Driscoll boys, some of your best comrades, singing, drinking, eating by the fire. A true feeling of belonging. They had trusted you.

Perhaps it was retribution. Never feeling proper after what you'd done to them.

You felt overwhelmed as you sondered into the dark, shrubby forest, walking the border quietly. Gazing up every so often as you breathed in the stuffy air, the stars sporadic in their blinking. As if in a way to remind you of that night, your near fatal mistake that landed you here.

Barely were you paying attention, lost in your thoughts, though still sure to keep your distance from whoever else was on guard, when two hands pinched your shoulders tightly.

Letting out a gasp as you tensed, a voice hissed out, "O'Driscoll."

Whipping around to free yourself, the voice matched who you suspected.

"Micah." You return, clutching the shotgun in your grasp. "You ain't gotta take over yet."

He scoffs harshly, "I wasn't bouta take your duty off your hands." The sneer on his face barely visible through the shadow, though his wiry blonde hair was clear to see.

"Then we got no business," cynicism and doubt lined every word of yours. "Do we?"

"Oh, we do, O'Driscoll." His voice always did bother you. There was something about the man you couldn't stand. "I've been catchin' you and that other rat 'round camp- doing what I can only imagine to be conspiring."

He paced a small stretch in front of you before looming over you in a fashion that seemed to be signature to him. "We just wanna be knowing what's being said."

Conspiring about a fish out of a fairy tail, perhaps. You shrugged him off and stepped away. "Kieran and I are on our best behavior. We dropped the O’Driscoll kinship long ago."

"Say what ya want, little lady." Micah followed, his voice sharp and menacing. "Dutch... Arthur- Arthur. " He repeats out his name with pure malice, "They might be lettin' you off easy? I'm not."

Micah's hand grabbed your healing shoulder with every intention to make it sting, his other targeting your neck.

"What the hell?" You choke out, shocked he felt he had much of any right to be doing what he was doing.

Shooting the man off you was desirable. But as you tussled underneath him, grunting as you fought off his hand, you knew it wasn't an option.

"I want to know," he grips onto your wrist to drive back your arm, "exactly what you're tellin' each other, especially Arthur."

He wasn't a feeble man by no means, which alarmed you as you swung wrestled with him, the leaves and brush making it hard to get good footing. "You're poisoning him, aren't you?"

"He tells me bout his fish, I tell him bout my fish." You remark angrily amongst the struggle before dealing out the classic. The side of his thigh met your knee as if he knew exactly when you'd utilize it. "Goddamn you big bastard! Arthur and I hardly stand each other."

"God may damn me all he wants." His hand on your wrist and another on the shotgun, he tried yanking from you, which you had no intention on letting happen. "But that ain't it. There's things happenin' that shouldn't. "

"Get off me, 'fore I do something we both'll regret." You hiss out before your back hits a tree. The situation ever more dire.

A shit eating grin split his face as he knocks the breath out of you, your lungs both struggling in the heavy humid air. "I want answers, O'Driscoll."

His eyes a blue that pierced through the darkness, and they sent a message, clearly, nothing short of frighteningly.

"I have nothin' to say to you, Micah." You state firmly between breaths, anger boiling your skin. "Get off me."

He hums a consideration not dually considered, his face horribly close to yours. His eyes trailing to your lips and back up.

For a moment, he paused. The only sound amongst you was heavy breathing.

The horrible feel of his free hand running down your waist zapped you of your breath. Never did his eyes stray from yours as your face twisted in disgust and horror.

"So close to camp too, no one would even bat an eye." He enjoyed every which way your face distorted because of him. Deriving a sick pleasure from your terror.

"Tell me just what you've been telling him." He demands once more. Your entire body shivered, wanting to simply dissipate or perhaps make him do so.

The tingle of your trigger finger turned into a deep nauseous ache in your stomach as his hand reached lower.

"Or ya gonna be quiet enough..." his grin turned into a hoarse, sinister cackle as if he knew you couldn't do much against him. That he could do as he pleased. "that we can have a little fun right next to camp?"

As his hand made for your belt buckle, he glanced down to take it off, and the hand he should've held shot up into his eyes.

He gasped out something fierce as you pointed the shotgun at him, the barrel stabbed harshly into his skin as you used it to shove him away.

"Damn whore!" He snarls as he hunches over, pained by the blow you dealt him.

The hammer of your revolver clicked back, a menacing and unfavorable noise to be heard in the dark. "Consider your next move a return to camp, Micah."

Now you had both your guns in his face. A bit much? Perhaps. Though that wasn't a concern now.

"Don't get too excited, O'Driscoll." He warns harshly as he wipes his eyes vigorously. "I'm not done with you." His words echoed with intent akin to the most sick of the population.

Keeping your aim trained on him, you stared as he stumbled out of the forest, grumbling his hate under his breath with each step.

As soon as he disappeared back into camp, you sighed out your relief, slumping with exhaustion. You were in shock, to put it lightly. The adrenaline bringing you down with it.

Straying further into the forest, you found your previous thoughts had left you, left you with nothing except for one.

Arthurs arms firm around you filled you with such a sense of comfort. A way to easily cope with Micah's actions toward you.

A feeling that shouldnt come from the very one who did the opposite for so long.

The whole day had taken a toll on you. The chance you took for peace veered horribly south, you didn't even know what to make of it, were you to say anything?

Would they even care? Believe you? O'Driscoll traitor accuses loyal Van Der Linde member. You shook your head.

Hugging the shotgun tightly, you trudged back and forth as long as you could muster. The fire and liveliness from camp dispeled gradually until it finally became near silent.

The frogs and crickets kept you company through the ensuing hours, an occasional firefly alerting you to its position amongst the trees and bushes every so often.

Needless to say, it was a mistake to sit down against a tree for a break.

♡

P.s.

This one I finally gave in, I couldn't WAIT to get to this chapter, I also had to star David cuz I unfortunately do have daddy issues and appreciate the found family trope way too much, but I tried to keep it minimal.

Just wanted to say I appreciate everyone who reads my stories, I absolutely love writing them despite how long it takes sometimes (cries dies) and there will be more soon, big, big plans.

I also have a little fic out based off a removed gunslinger in rdr2, I thought he was sexy so I couldnt help but write something about him... dont be shy to head over to that one.

A Kinship, of sorts. 🫣

Also, also, plan on a mini series where I write buncha one shot shenanigans with the all Van der Linde members, based off the events in this story, just know I do plan on spoiling you guys, I feel it necessary 😘

Im going through each chapter again, rewriting and adding little tid bits here and there. I also havent fixed the lemoyne raider in valentine mishap.. I had a dream I did or maybe I didn't save my changes ☹️

"Hey, uh-" Arthur hesitates before peeping over at you for reassurance. "I was hoping you'd talk a moment."

The man sweeping the porch in front of you barely paid you and Arthur any mind. Probably used to various visitors of many sorts.

"We're students of the history of the... region. And uh.."

"I ain't the one to speak to." The man interrupts callously. "Try master Beau. He's probably down there by the wood store, boys got all the time in the world."

Arthur nodded his head, then glanced over to you, leading your horses in the direction you assumed was where the worker had pointed too, and as soon as out of ear shot, you started snickering at Arthur.

"Students of the history of the region." Your giggle picking up as you repeated such a silly claim, made even worse by Arthurs live reaction as those repeated words came out your mouth.

"Shut it." He demands, heaving out a big sigh. "I couldn't think of much else."

"At Least he didn't care." You calm yourself before anyone else could hear. "Students." You once again repeat, shaking your head at how much neither you or Arthur looked like a student. "They would've sniffed our funny business out for sure."

Arthur. He tried to bite back a smile, but it was there. You both never did get real angry with each other anymore.

Dutch had sent Arthur out to poke around the Gray's place for any leads. You weren't asked to do so as well but Arthur thought you should've been.

"You are to speak to this Beau. I'll watch." He states, relieving you from your stress free position of the sidekick. "Since you think it's so easy to improvise."

"Oh, come now. What if I said worse?"

"You wouldn't, lest it was intentional." He eyes you, knowing how you get.

"You're so sure." You offer, scanning as you cross the large plantation. Workers spattered about as you passed the main manor.

"I trust you, on occasion." He admits bluntly.

"Don't trust me on this occasion." Attempting your best cop out, but one you could tell Arthur wasn't letting you out on.

His face said it all. "I'll trust you on this occasion."

You let out a light groan, on the lookout for the boy - man, young man? You had seen when you and Arthur had a rumble with the Anderson boys.

"There." You point, a man in higher class clothing, which seemed to resemble the one at sheriff Gray's. "Reckon that's him, no?"

"Seems to be." Both you and Arthur slid off your horses, leaving them mere feet away as you met with Beau.

He glanced up from his book before being a bit startled by both your presence.

"Beau Gray?" You question politely, gesturing your hand with a small wave. "I don't suppose you recognize us?"

The boy looked a bit lost, to say the least. "Excuse me, friends.." he mumbles.

"We friends?" Arthur asks, a bit more gruff than perhaps he meant, but you never knew with that man.

"Not yet, but here's hoping?" Beau gave an expectant brow. "We don't get a lot of travelers here, and suddenly we have a whole phalanx of mysterious but strangely helpful Yankees 'bout the place."

"Is there?" Arthur replies, in a sarcastic tone maybe not everyone would pick up on, but you certainly did. Elbowing him in the least suspicious way you could, as he had told you to talk, yet was still running his mouth.

"What you doin' here?" Beau questions rapidly. He seemed onto you both.

"We're just lookin' for work," you chime, trying to oust the reputation your gang was garnering already.

He lets out an amused half chuckle, "lookin' for somethin'." He agrees. "Don't worry, your secrets safe with me."

"What secret?" You and Arthur nearly question at the same time, a fools duo. Kicking yourself for jinxing it. The man simply spoke as he pleased.

"I got a secret of my own!" Beau gushed, putting his book of drawings down.

"Are you secretly normal?" Arthur blurts, true to his brash nature. Instead of your metaphorical foot, you kicked his actual foot. Getting fed up with this man's speech.

"Excuse me?" Beau sounded unaware of Arthurs insult.

"Never mind." Arthur dismisses, obeying your act of punishment.

"The thing is," he screens the corner for any potential ears. "I don't care if you kill the whole lot of us, and the Braithwaites!"

"Whoa, hang on, we ain't killin' anyone." You emphasized, both you and Arthur taken aback by the claim.

"I love her, you know." Beau announced with chest.

"Love who?" Arthur replies, amusement in his voice at the ordeal.

"Penelope! But it's impossible."

"Love tends to be complicated." Arthur admits, scratching the back of his head.

"She's a Braithwaite.. I'm Beau Gray, Son of Tavish Gray- nephew of Lee Gray, the Sheriff. Grandson of Ol' Murdoe Gray."

Beau was certainly a bit of a talker.

"We Gray's have been loyal to the state and murderous to the Braithwaites for so long now, no one can even quite explain why." He didn't like his roots, which by the explanation, you couldn't blame him for. "Beyond blind loyalty and stupidity!"

Arthur stared at you for a few moments while Beau paced, ranting about his troubled family and thereby love life. You hid away a smile from his reaction, he wanted no deal in it, you could tell.

"I'm supposed to be loyal to some... nonsense! While she- she's amazing! She's like a woman from the future. She's like tomorrow, if tomorrow turns out fine."

"Well. We're sorry for your predicament." Arthur interjected, placing his hand lightly on the small of your back, his desire to leave communicated.

"Would you guys help?" Beau began, and before you could say anything, Arthur dealt with it whilst helping you along.

"We don't wanna get involved- gang feuds, seems unseemly."

"I'll pay." Beau pronounced sharply, unwilling to relent his chance. "I've got money, we Gray's, we've always got money, no brains, mind, but money."

Arthur halts, quickly, at that. You couldn't believe this man. The way he conducted business was different from your style of conduction.

"Well, in that case." Arthur accepts simply.

Beau moved swiftly, excitedly, like a young child ecstatic they got their way.

"I know she loves to sit out in the gazebo, on the edge of the Braithwaite property. Take her this letter and this bracelet, please."

Arthur took the items he was given, then you both were off.

---

Your horses trotted side by side calmly down the path to the Braithwaites residence. The red dirt underneath your horses hooves clouding up with each step.

"Looks like it's fixin' to rain." You observe aloud, Arthur gazing up ahead to see for himself, the sun peeking half way through the now cloudy sky.

"I reckon so." He agreed, adjusting himself in his saddle. Arthur seemed to have something on his mind, his eyes searching everything but never meeting yours. "You think this is silly?"

"What, being their courier or their situation?"

He thinks on it, lighting a cigarette as he did. "All of it, I suppose."

"Well," you consider. "We're gettin' paid, so I guess it's not too disagreeable - considering you changed your mind real snappy once he offered." You snicker at the recall of Arthur promptly turning 180 to accept.

"I like my money." He shrugs, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"That's certainly clear." The smell of earthy humidity became more apparent as the clouds completely engulfed the sun. He was waiting for you to continue your thoughts, so you obliged. "They're young but I don't think it's all that silly. Like you said, loves complicated. They just have to figure a way 'round their families."

The gray sky groaned its sorrows, proving your obvious prediction. Arthur nodded along, quietly, letting the small droplets run down his face as he looked up.

He was awfully deep in thought. Or tired, perhaps? Last night was a bit rough, due to the liquor and the dinner. He simply wasn't too talkative after the ordeal with Beau, maybe now feeling the consequences.

The rain quickly turned into a downpour that was certain to leave you both soaked if you didn't find something to hide away under, though there wasn't much more than trees.

"Goddamn," Arthur lifted up his arm to shield his face from the spraying. "That tree there, quick."

He'd chosen a fairly large, aged tree that offered a decent cover from the water. A few drips here and there, but other than that, it kept you both dry.

Deciding to get off your horses to wait it out, you sat next to each other, watching the rain come down from beyond the tree.

He still was being rather hushed. He sat close to you, though, the way his eyes avoided you, made you think he'd suddenly found you scary, or something enough to put him off.

"You ever been in love like that, Morgan?" You asked to break the silence, leaning over a bit just so he could hear over the downpour.

Now his eyes met you, a soft fleeting gaze. He hadn't expected the question. "Once. Somethin' similar, didn't turn out though."

You hummed your understanding, deciding then perhaps it was a more sensitive subject, so you didn't question further. The dots connected in your head as you realized that was probably the lady in the frame he kept.

The silence returned once more - well, as quiet as it could be with the harsh pouring and you let it be.

You and Arthur's shoulders brushed against each others, nearly completely in contact. As comfortable as you were with him, your heart still quickened with his touch. Something that seemingly only started due to this stiff quietude.

"Have you, y/n?" His typical rough voice now softened as he finally said something more. "Been in love?"

(I'll leave this open for interpretation. Whether this y/n has had a previous lover or not is up to you ;)

"Perhaps. It wasn't anything important, as you can see."

The tension grew heavier like the humidity had from the rain, sitting there together so still.

"Maybe if I had, I wouldn't be living my life outside the law." You remark, thinking how differently being settled down would have changed your present moment.

You'dve never met this man in such a way, or done the things together that you have. The conversations and situations had undeniably made your life worth living again and you found yourself wanting more. More than you even knew yourself.

"You ever wish you had?"

Glancing at his solemn blue eyes, you figured your answer.

"No," you shake your head, "wouldn't have come across your sorry ass."

He finally granted you a stronger reaction, a small chuckle, smiling while keeping his eyes fixed on the ground.

The rain let up as the clouds parted. The sun's rays reflected against the persistent droplets, like shiny little gems slipping from a jeweler's hand.

"Guess I don't entirely regret missing that shot." He admits truthfully, his sarcastic honesty made you hopeful, hopeful for what though, you denied.

Your nervous stomach started messing with your ability to speak, the silence once again obvious.

"Would you ever try it again?" You asked the question suddenly, not for yourself, you assured.

His eyes didn't leave you this time, causing you to nervously flick your eyes back and forth to him and off again.

"It's something I'd consider."

Your shoulders met now, and the sun on his face made the shadow from his hat recede.

Every scar, every bit of his sun-kissed cheeks were easy to see for once. Every detail you found yourself longing for.

His eyes searched your face as did yours his, and all you could hope was that there wasn't anything on it. You felt self conscious around him now and you weren't particularly enjoying it.

You didn't like the things he was starting to make you feel, nor the way you craved his presence everyday. Something you'd never thought you'd ever need so much.

Your faces were close. Too close. The air seemed hard to breathe in and it wasn't just the heavy humidity now either.

Unwilling, your imagination ran off with you when your eyes repeatedly and accidentally fell upon his lightly chapped lips.

Your whole face felt much too warm, inversely a chill running down your spine as your heart helped none, beating out of your chest.

It all became too much for you.

Clapping your hands together, you got up and offered your hand. "Reckon it's a good time to continue on, no?"

"Reckon so." Arthur held your hand for the moment that you held it out to help him up, him viewing you over once more before patting his horse and getting himself up.

---

The tall blades of grass below you dampened your pant legs from the fresh rain as you and Arthur snuck about the place.

You were doing your utmost to miss the guards as you followed behind Arthur.

Considering that it was still day, it was certainly much easier to be spotted. The grass, although tall, wasn't enough to cover the top of you and Arthur.

You watched your backs as Arthur led you forward, heading toward the back of the house. At another glance, the frightening sight of a forearm and a barrel of a shotgun came into view just behind the tall cover of the growing greenery.

"Shit-" You gasped in a hushed whisper. You grabbed onto Arthurs sides, shoving him hard enough forward to make him lose his balance.

You landed on top of him with an umph, him sandwiched to the ground.

"What the hell?" He hisses out under you, much like a deflating balloon.

You stayed low, basically entirely spread out on top of him, your hand slapped over his mouth.

"You wanna get caught?" You whisper into his ear, so very close.

He grabbed your hand off and stayed mute, waiting till you checked again. This would've been the proper time to be so quiet.

"Okay." You nodded, getting up and off of him, much to his relief.

He continued leading the way before stopping, causing you to look at what he spotted. "There's that gazebo. I think I see her in there."

"Hopefully she takes kindly to two random trespassers."

"Hopefully." He agrees, allowing you to continue. "Think it's clear from here? We just need to get around this part of the water."

A small part of the land had been crafted into an inlet by the lake, effectively causing a rather tedious detour.

"If we're quick we should be alright." You offered yourself first, a quick pacing was set to be able to make it undetected.

Arthur wasn't far behind, catching up to you as you made it to the gazebo.

Penelope had now noticed you both, a look on her face that was more curious than concerned.

She was certainly fetching. An ivory white dress, complemented with a powder blue bow adorned her. Her soft features match perfectly. You could understand why Beau had such a deal with her.

"Are you Mrs. Penelope Braithwaite?" Came Arthur as your spurs jingled up the stairs.

"Why, yes I am." She affirmed, waving her fan about.

(I'll skip the rest of the convo here.)

Once out of the danger zone, you and Arthur rode off and away from the Braithwaites with much relief. Having done what you were paid for, you felt a bit accomplished for having completed it and a lot more than hungry.

"You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?" Arthur chirps from beside you, evident what he was thinking.

“I wish to god I’d passed her by…” the four of you harmonized, the sloshing of water from the sides of your boat making your voices compete with the noise level. “Taters got burnt n’ so did I! Mmm hmm mmm hmmm.”

The humming graduated into heavy chuckles between you, Arthur, Dutch and Hosea. Arthurs laugh was deep and hearty, a genuine sound you'd never heard from Arthur before and for once his eyes toward you seemed soft. You and him exchanging glances as you sang together, it was enjoyable to be with him for now.

From the way the day began, you hadn’t expected it to end like this, having this much fun singing along with these men, especially Arthur. However, given the earlier happenings, you and Arthur weren’t quite as haughty with each other - for now at least.

From the shoreline birds chirped and the sun set into heavy shades of purple, orange and yellow. Arthur's face aglow with the sun's painting, his face relaxed yet cautiously keeping his eyes from lingering on you for too long.

Once he realized you were still looking at him, he turned his hat down, erasing the light with the shadow of his hat. A small grin still peeked out from under his hat though.

Even a man as chronically grumpy as Arthur could be a bit more chipper at times. It was nice to be around him when he was like that, at least.

Before you knew it, Hosea and Dutch already had already agreed on the next song and one you well recognized from the times you spent with the O’Driscoll boys. “Well, we be three poor mariners, newly come from the seas!”

Arthur started singing along as you did, you weren't entirely sure, but he seemed to keep eyeing you.

The boat came to a sloshy, belated stop, granting you all a good position to pull out your rods and start your quest for dinner.

"I'll be redeeming my fishin' reputation today, boys." You announce proudly, casting your line out and praying for some sort of kind, large, preferably, hospitable fish to bite your hook.

Arthur scoffs and casts his out not too far from yours, giving you a competitive glare.

"See if you can outdo Arthur." Hosea remarks, attaching his lure to his line.

"You know, that actually reminds me of-"

(This is where Dutch tells everyone about Arthur's fishing story, supposedly catching a fish himself that was actually purchased. Which he doesn't like to hear as is but is even more irritated due to your presence. I was too lazy to write it and wanted to get this out sooner)

It'd been a good hour or so you lot had been out here, the sun nearly completely gone and you had caught only but a small perch.

It was looking glum for you, while Arthur was alit with delight.

"This is four. Maybe a good ten or so pounds, what do you think Dutch?"

"Good for dinner my boy, good for dinner."

You fought back a yawn as you scanned the water line, disappointed that your reputation was further tarnished. Small waves reflecting the nearly full moons light that had replaced the sun; thankfully, else it'd be pitch black.

"Y/n." Arthur coo's holding his wriggling fish out just for you to see. "I reckon it's time to get back, suppose your luck ran out today."

As you stared him down your whole body suddenly jerked forward, your hands unrelenting in their grip on your rod.

"What the hell.." You gasp out in disbelief as you start pulling your previoulsy preyed for, yet unkind and inhospitable fish in.

"Keep a hold on it, y/n!" Hosea encourages, now focused on you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Arthur's face of grim dismay, which you couldn't help but start smirking as you did your best to win this fat fish.

You waited till it tired out, then started reeling again. As it turned out to Arthur, your fishing ability was in fact existent.

While everyone sat in silence, only broken by the sloshing water underneath, you stood fighting your second catch of the day.

It wasn't until, with another surprising yank from your prey, did you realize you were too close to the edge and your boot stuck on the side of the bench in the middle, nearly leaning off the side.

"Shit." You curse as you try to regain balance as well as keep this fish on the line.

Arthurs hands gently slid onto your waist, pulling you closer to the center of the boat. You could feel his front on you for a short bit, a shiver running up your spine as your face heated.

For a second, you thought he was going to shove you in to go swim with the fish instead. But, that - that was different.

"Thanks, princess." You grant, although with angst, as your pride was still hurt from his earlier trophies.

"Psh." He scoffs, his hands slowly slipping off your sides. "I should toss you in as bait for that."

"Quit botherin' me." You scold and with a final, persistent tug, you finally got the fish close enough to the boat. Arthur quickly obliged and assisted you with getting the big bastard out of the water.

"Well, I reckon it's about as long as you, y/n!" Dutch chortles as he marvels at your catch, his eyes switching between the two of you for comparison.

If you were anything of the fisherman you said you were, you recognized it to be a sturgeon. A massive one at that.

"Looks to be a sturgeon you got there." Hosea confirms your thought, examining it closer while avoiding the droplets of water that flew from the fish's tail.

You bubbled with excitement and pride, holding the massive thing down.

Arthur had a nearly proud look on his face as he knelt beside you, absolutely gobsmacked with your catch.

"It's fair to say I'm a decent fisher, no?" You laughed, unable to contain your excitement.

"It's fair." Arthur admits, chuckling out his surprise, not even a man as petty as him could deny it.

—

The sun had now hidden itself well beyond the horizon by the time you had gotten back camp and floated up to, what was best described as skeletal remains of a dock.

Fires were lit and dim candle lights came from the tables. A warm setting to come back to, but as much as Dutch and Hosea seemed to disregard your presence as an O’Driscoll, the rest of camp hadn’t yet come around.

As you got out of the boat behind Hosea, Arthur helped you pull out your sturgeon, but his arm, you could tell, was still a bother.

"I can carry it," you gripped onto your fish harder, leaning back with the weight as you stepped one foot over the boat.

Arthur's hand on your shoulder stabilized you as you wobbled and swayed with your fish that you were unwilling to let Arthur help with. Whether out of kindness or pride, you didn't want to admit.

"Just let me take it, I have no problem with it."

"Well, I do, so let me have my fish where I want my fish." You hugged it with all your might as you walked up into camp with your catch, careful to not let it slip out of your grasp.

He started snickering, for what reason, you couldn't tell.

“What?” You grumble, clutching your sturgeon closer.

“Don't worry about it.” He dismisses, yet still laughing.

“Don't tempt me to sin against you, Morgan.”

“There's many ways you've threatened sin,” he retorted with a sneer, “some don't sound half bad now.”

You knew what he was referring to. The remarks you had made with innuendo that could be taken in a certain way - the way Arthur always took it.

“For you, the prices have gone up indefinitely.”

He feigned a big disappointed sigh, “Should've taken my chance when you only wanted five.”

That quickly prompted a raised brow, which of course, had him laughing even more. He was supposed to be showing his disagreement.

With your fresh fish in hand and Arthur lumbering behind you with his dinky fish, Pearson perks up as he looks you both up and down with eyes wide as a dinner plate.

Arthur slightly bumps into you as he stood by you, which prompted a grandiose gesture that the size of your fish was in fact bigger and he should be acting proper.

"Did you catch that?" Almost giggling with excitement as he ushers you guys to deliver them to the cutting board.

"I suppose I did." Your grin wide as could be, this was sure to be something you could hold over Arthur for a while.

"That should feed most of camp. Well done, O’Driscoll." With his hands on his hips, he contemplates his plan with it. "You're not so bad after all."

"Well, thank you, Pearson. At least some of you think so." You elbow Arthur, a suggestion to take a note.

He huffs out a grumble and side eyes you under his hat with a shake of his head. You return that with a big shiny smile, prideful and cocky as all hell.

As you and Arthur start floating away into camp without a direction, Pearson hollers for you both to come back to him.

"Arthur! Y/n!" He calls, waving you both over. With near perfect synchrony, yours and Arthur's shoulders slumped as you realized your work was not done for today. "Do you mind helping me prepare the food for tonight? Abigail and them are busied with work Ms. Grimshaw wants done."

You showcased Arthur and offered him up, volunteering his services. "I'm sure Arthur would be up for it. Kind as he is, cover for me as well."

Swiftly, you were met with a shove forward into Pearson's kitchen get up. "I'd be so glum without you by my side, y/n. 'Fraid I can't let you go."

"Oh, aren't you just darling tonight, Arthur." You mock in a sweet tone, picking up the knife next to uncut veggies. "A gentlemanly side I never thought I'd see."

"You two are quite the entertainers, aren't you?" Pearson interrupts, seemingly unbothered by the childish banter. "You remind me of two of my old crew members..."

Arthur immediately groaned, another story he had probably heard before. Though you were so focused on belittling Arthur, kindly, of course, that Pearson's voice seemed to just fade out, all it was was you and Arthur.

As he bent over to grab the water pails, you shoved your hip into his backside, throwing him off balance but not enough to knock him over.

He hisses something out as he stands to face you, staring you down.

You wave him off with your hand and start your work with the veggies left out for you. He was sat there plotting, not doubt, staring you down before he went to the lake to fetch water.

As you cut the veggies, Arthurs remark from just moments ago lingered with you. What you had meant and what he took it for was different, so what way did he mean what he said just now?

"Just neither of them had come close to dying so many times, I guess." Pearson continues, cutting into the fish as he has many times before. "You both seem to have a knack for it."

"I'd say Arthur started my string of bad luck." You clarified just as Arthur returned back with the full pails.

"Yet without me, you'dve never made it alive." He was quick to raise a brow and lay out his point.

You shook your head. You knew it was true, in some ways. Maybe you would've bled out on those mountains, or maybe, not.

"I guess we need each other then." You hinted toward the fact that you had kept his ass from getting buzzed multiple times, but the reaction you got wasn't quite expected.

His facial expression softened, just for a second, the gaslights and dim fire light adding to his quiet gaze as he stared at you.

It was only an ever so slight change, but nonetheless enough to make your stomach flutter. You searched his face as his eyes lay still on you.

"Need me to save you," he flips the switch, not a moment longer lingering on that look he gave you. "You like me to get you out of the trouble you get into."

Your face contorted and your eyes squinted as you took the blow, a blow you full well expected, despite that small encounter you just had.

It didn't feel normal, but it hadn't not happened before between you and Arthur. There were things going on between you and this big rat of a man that shouldn't be going on.

"Hmm." You hum along, grabbing out your flask for a well deserved drink, even more so after all the quality Arthur time you had today. "That's not how I remember most of it."

He walks right up close, all the while with a haughty look on his face, the reason for it was quick to be figured.

Arthur snatches your flask right as you were about to take a swig of it, instead finishing off the last of what you had left in there.

You glared at him angry and then jabbed his side with your fingers, making him tilt over quick, trying to fend off your attacks.

"Well, hell, woman!" He chuckles, handing back your flask as he holds onto his side. "There wasn't even that much in there." He made it sound like you had promised him you'd save some for him.

—

You had done your best, you really had. Finally giving up on trying to eat the meal Pearson had made for camp.

"Oh.." Arthur groans, taking his hat off and holding it against his chest to pay his respects as he examined what Pearson had done to the fish in the stew.

You both sat there proper defeated, your prized fish in a supper that was - well, edible enough, but not by choice.

There was too much water, rendering the fish tasteless, and the broth just faintly tasting of the potato and carrot you had cut up. It was salty, as salt was also used as the substitute for all other spices.

Arthur tilted his head back, finishing his first bottle of booze that you both had rummaged for. It was enough, luckily to stave off the discontent attitude toward the dinner.

You yawned in your dreary, tipsy state as you reached for your bottle that now matched your flask. Empty.

"What're we supposed to do now?" You pout, not in your right mind, whether it was due to the stew or drinking, you were beyond being able to tell.

He scoffs, shaking his head. "Drink."

Your bottle was empty, so you weren't drinking, but he was.

You scooched closer as he hung his head back, chugging down his second drink and as soon as he set it down, you snatched it.

He made a half hearted attempt to grab it back, his hands around your wrist, yanking you lightly in his haze.

“C’mon now, y/n.” He grumbles, “let a man have his booze.”

You glanced over at him as he made next to no effort to take his bottle back, now it just seemed like his touch lingered, neglecting to pull his hands off you.

His brows rested even, relaxed, and most of all tired. His eyes reflecting the somber feeling of going hungry tonight.

As you greedily slurped up the rest of the alcohol in your hands, you suddenly felt a familiar touch.

Arthurs head fell softly on your shoulder, his weight leaning into you. He smelt of beer, fish, and grime. Probably exactly what you smelled of too but your nose so thoughtfully became blind to it.

You watched him drowsily, the occasional half drunk hiccup both of you had interrupting the otherwise complete stillness.

“Let me see your arm.” You didn't give him a chance to even oblige before grabbing it yourself.

“What-” He questions before hissing out and wincing as you prodded his wound. The fabric had done it's job with stopping the bleeding, but now the blood dried and effectively stuck to his arm. “Can't you be more kind with me now?”

“I don't reckon you've earned it, Mister Morgan.” His satchel was stuffed aside on the table, which you had no qualms with rummaging through as if it were your own.

You felt his eyes burning through you as you searched for his first aid items. Certainly questioning the gall you had to willy-nilly through his things.

The more you searched, the less you came closer to finding the gauze and ointment he kept, which had you confused. The bag he had wasn't that big.

Out of the corner of your eye, his cocky little look worked it's way back into full force.

“Maybe you'll finally let me help you?” Arthur asks, gently pulling his arm out of your lap to show you where he had it.

A tiny, badly sewn and hidden pocket near the bottom left had what you were looking for tucked away.

You considered him for a moment as he set out the things on the table in front of you, offering his arm back.

“Thanks ever so kindly.” You granted with a sarcastic drawl, tending to his arm now.

Most of camp was asleep now, the fires burning out. Soft snores and otherwise quiet conversation from some of the members still awake.

As the minutes ticked by, you finished Arthurs arm, leaving it where it was on your lap, not particularly thinking about moving it.

Sitting there with Arthur, again, on your shoulder, his quiet breathing, his completely relaxed state - it was all strange, yet so calming.

“Arthur?” You beckon in a whisper, trying to see if he was asleep, remaining still for him.

“Hm.” He musters, barely a conscious response.

The question you wanted to ask perhaps wasn't the best suited for this moment, but it was the only time you felt you'd get a truthful response.

“Why is it you let me stick around?”

That elicited more of a reaction from the drunk, sleepy Arthur at your shoulder. He turned his head to meet your eye for a second, not even bothering to remove himself from your space.

“You're a capable young lady. Useful.” His voice labored, but thoughtful. “Despite the trouble you give me for it.”

You stared at the candle on the middle of the table, waxy run off further plastering it to the table.

“You felt that outweighed the risk of me ratting you lot out?”

“Are you confessing?” He murmurs, uncaring entirely, despite the possibility your words held an admission.

“I have no bad conscience.”

He hums out a dismissal of your bothers. “Everyone will warm up to you eventually.”

That felt like it would take years. If you were so lucky.

“You think so?” You continue, hoping the future he proclaimed was to be true. “Well, I suppose you have.” You let a small chuckle out at what you were obviously pointing out, which had Arthur effectively turn to hide his face closer to your shoulder.

That had put an end to the conversation, you finally allowed him the peace to sleep. And on you, nonetheless. You recalled easily the other morning where you had given him much guff for it.

As you stared into the flickering candle light, you realized you no longer heard the rest of camp. At this point, you had no clue what time it could have possibly been.

It was this man who had gotten you here. The one you fought tooth and nail with day by day, and still the one who had your back many times over the course of just a few short months.

He ruined your life.

That was one way to put it. Ruined and completely turned the trajectory of your future. Though, as many cons as there were, the pros seemingly started to outweigh what had transpired.

He wasn’t a terribly unsightly man neither, you had to admit. And now you had him asleep on your shoulder, his arm around your torso and you were letting it happen.

But his thoughts about you were only as confusing as how you felt about him. You didn't know if he actually wanted to be around you or if he just felt responsible to watch over you, as your O’Driscoll status still flew high with the people in camp.

And that picture- the pretty lady he had kept away in his things.

The longer you sat, the less you wanted to move him. As much as you felt it was what you should do, you couldn't muster it.

Your eyelids grew heavy as the surrounding fell deeper into the darkness of night. You hesitated before your cheek rested gently atop Arthur's head.

~~~

The camp was lit with voices and laughing around you whilst you sat unbothered on a log overlooking the lake you had so admired when you had first laid your eyes upon it.

The day had been one of your nicest yet. The Arthur had not been buzzing around for you only to have to swat away. No, rather it was peaceful.

You weren't being unattentive but the sound of soft footsteps still made you snap your head around to look at the person approaching.

The finest lady in camp. Dutch's favorite girl. The one you had no opinion on yet as most of the time neither of you looked each other's way. The way she appeared made it seem like she strayed away too far from her well to do family, but you couldn't tell if that was true or just what it looked to be.

Her skirt dressed the worn wood kindly as she sat with distance from you. Quite frankly you had not a clue on whether you should say something or leave her to her own but she decided for you.

"You're that other O'Driscoll, aren't you?" She questioned, her green eyes giving you only a second of grace before scanning the horizon of the lake.

It took you a moment, unsure of where she was going with this and distracted by the sudden sight of Arthur, who was making his way toward an idling Dutch on the shore of the lake, not too far from you. "Unfortunately."

Molly's eyes scan you up and down, a familiar look of disparage glinted in her gaze. "You seem close with Arthur." She stated outright rather bluntly.

Shaking off the stare she had given you and comprehending her bold words you replied in short, "I suppose it could look that way."

"I feel like you're trying something." Her irish accent shone through with her clearly disdained words.

It was an accusation not unaccustomed by yourself, and you weren't in the mood for more of it. "I have no power to propagandize that man. He's as stubborn as an ass."

It seemed if it wasn't Arthur, it was someone else. Would the O'Driscoll talk ever end? You felt as though you had proved yourself more than needed.

"Why haven't you and your sly little buddy left yet then?" Her interrogation had you slipping on your hat in preparation of departure.

"We're just looking out for our lives, miss. If it's not the law, then it's our former members." You made sure to emphasize the past tense. O'Driscoll's gang was certainly in the past for you, whether you wanted it or not.

With that, you got up and started walking away. Perhaps you'd take a trip to town, get away from camp for a while.

"I didn't say you could go?" She scolded with a bark of her voice.

Saying more could be bad, saying nothing could also be bad. So you chose silence, you didn't want trouble with Dutch's girl.

As you walked through camp with a stretch of your back, a hand stabbed at your ribs, a sensitive part that reminded you unfortunately, you were ticklish.

You hunched over with a gasp, your arms throwing themselves to your sides to defend from further attack. It was already evident who it was.

Dutch and Arthur strolled by you, Arthur with a slight smirk watching you. Dutch caught on and studied you for a second.

"Why don't you come along to fish, Mrs. O'driscoll? Arthur told me of your struggle last time." He chuckled after Arthur gave him a slight shake of his head, a warning to redact his offer.

Mrs. O'driscoll was a new one for sure. The nicknames seemed to come from a never ending stream of creativity you despised.

Was there any way that you could say no to Dutch? No was never to be said to Colm, and learning from that, you agreed. "Alright, as long as it delights Arthur."

"It does not particularly-" Arthur rumbles before he gets guided forward by an interrupting Dutch.

"Oh, he might jump out of his boots with excitement." He laughs with a pat to Arthur's back. Like father and son. It was cute, admittedly, to see notorious outlaws have such a bond.

Hosea was waiting for the pair, and now for you as he questioned your proximity to them. "She taggin' along as well?"

"She needs to see your flare with fishing, Hosea." Dutch proclaims with a grunt as he pulls himself up in his saddle.

"Alright, let me show you how its done then." With an aloof attitude and a nod, he leads the group out of camp.

The ride you had with the three of the men wasn't heavy with feelings of stress or worry on your part. Dutch spoke of the activities he wanted done down in this town, of the money the gang needed. It felt as though you were finally one of them.

Dutch was sure to tell you all that he wanted everyone to be on the down low. Just to snoop around for now. That was easy enough for you.

It wasn't long after you got close to the tracks that the quiet atmosphere of hooves and voices was filled with the thundering of a train.

"Looks like law up ahead." Dutch chimes, his words directing your eyes to the stopped caged carriage up ahead. "Play it cool."

You and Arthur exchange glances before he made his way from your left to your right. A barrier between you and the law for whatever reason.

"Hello gentlemen." Came a mellifluous voice from the metal bars, grabbing everyone's attention.

"Well!" Came a surprised chortle from Dutch. "Look what the cat drug in."

"Ive seemed to have gotten myself in a spot of bother." You hadn't caught it before but now the smooth accent of a brit plastered his words.

You had not a clue who this man was or how he knew the gang. It was only so long that you would find out however.

"Quiet back there." Grumbled the lawman from upfront, his fist hammering down on the metal to rattle the cage.

Dutch examined this for a moment, "lets see if we cant sort this out."

The small talk that commenced turned into the talk similar of a lawyer. Defending the "silly fancy fop." Clearly, he was important if this was worth the trouble.

The other imprisoned men in the back took Dutch's distraction and started picking at the lock, providing entertainment for you and Arthur who sat there watching.

Dutch didn't get finished before the man had the lock off and the creaky doors opening, the other three men following with no hesitation.

"Shit!" Exclaims the sheriff, his and his partners eyes wide as their captives latched onto the train now departing. "The Anderson boys! I cant have more scandal!"

"Allow us to help, my friend." Dutch offers, his gaze not waiting a moment longer to send you and Arthur off. "Arthur... y/n."

Arthur sighed, "chase wanted men?" He confirms, ushering you on with a glance.

"And-" he points to the lawman's partner, "take Archibald with ya."

You followed, your horse already springing into action, your adrenaline not short after that.

"Just what I signed up for..." Arthur clearly discontent with what he got to be volunteered for. "Come on, big guy."

He helped Archibald up on his horse and took off beside you and after the train. The sight of the men on the back of the train and your chasing brought you back to the very day that was the reason you were here now.

Archibald hollered from the back, encouraging you forward with jarring words. "Keep your guns holstered, we need them Anderson boys alive."

You clicked your tongue, pushing your mare forward, surprised at the speed in which the train was already traveling.

Archibald nagged again. "Come on hurry!"

His words were met with swift retort of displeasure from Arthur. "All right."

"Come on, we're losing them!"

"Will you relax? We're not losing 'em!"

"Faster, come on! What's your name, sir?" Archibald seemed to have a speed in mind that a horse would have trouble reaching with two riders on its back. "And how about you, lady?"

"Arthur. Arthur Callahan." Replied a grumpy Arthur. Although you didn't have much sympathy for him, it made you smile in the face of this situation.

"Y/n Callahan." Without a fake last name in mind, you copied Arthurs.

"Faster, Mr. and Mrs. Callahan, please. My neck is on the line here!"

"I get it. We're doing our best." Arthur grunts. His eyes were trained on you, curious that you copied him.

The last of the four was dangling off the back of the train, struggling to pull himself up. His buddy fortunately came back for him.

"You sure I can't just shoot him?" Arthur asks, disregarding what he had been told moments earlier.

"No. Did I not say that?" Archibald scolds, watching the men escape further up the train.

"You've said plenty." Arthur was on his last straw and you appreciated the help from Archibald.

"So long deputies!" Came a man monkeying around on the roof of the final cart, teasing and whooping.

The water tower in the back posed a quickly approaching threat to the completely oblivious man who was but too quick to celebrate his victory.

You cringed back as the harsh smack of the back of his head met with funnel to the water tower. Your horse barely missing his body now knocked clean out on the tracks.

"Idiot. Now get after the others, come on!" He shouted at you and Arthur, keeping your minds trained on the ones who were conscious.

The train started slowing as it passed the big red building that was the station, which Archibald pointed out.

Your horses now were more of a match for the speed and you both came up alongside the train.

"You think you both can jump on there?"

"She can." Arthur outs you with non-existent hesitation. "But why me?"

"Because you ride like my grandmother!" Insisted Archibald, which would have you chuckling right in Arthur's face had you not been distracted.

One of the men started throwing bottles, one would've hit you if the man wasn't so bad at judging distance, the glass shattering in the distance that you covered quickly.

"Now he's throwing bottles. The lowdown bastard!" Archibald squealed, dodging one heading right for him.

You took the liberty of joining the Anderson boys on the train first as you were ahead of Arthur and Archibald. Arthur not mere moments fore he was behind you.

You caught your breath for a second, catching another bottle hurled at you while Arthur faced him head on.

The man atop the cargo on the train managed a good kick on Arthur who fell to the side. His neck quickly subject to the squeezing of the Anderson boy's hand.

"You bastard!" Screamed the man as he held onto Arthur with vigor.

You felt a strange sense of anger wash over you as you made for Arthurs aid, grabbing a good fistful of cloth and heaving the man off with Arthurs help.

"Thats it!" Came Archibalds encouragement from the side lines. In his hands were your horses reins. Kind of him, you thought, to bring your horse.

You helped Arthur up and both of you started for the rest of them, although admittedly, without a gun, you'd have to let Arthur do most of the strong arming.

"Come on, both of you! I'm relying on you guys!" Archibald was certainly one for constant reminding.

The sprinting on the train felt counter productive, it was certainly more work than just regular running.

Arthur made sure to be in front of you, he was like a big shield and ran surprisingly fast for how large he is.

"You hold it right there!" Arthur shouts at the other two men who were barely in sight ahead of you.

You had to jump atop the roof and Arthur, the gentleman that he is, helped none.

This normally would not have been a problem, but with your weak arm, it left you struggling.

Arthur had pushed through it despite his shoulder and was ready to go off and leave you but he didn't. He stood above you and held out his hand.

"Let's go, Mrs. Callahan." His face gave away the fact that he enjoyed this activity with you. Also by the fact he was picking on you again.

"I'm coming, grandmother." You were sure to tease back. His hand gripped yours and with the strength of not a grandmother, pulled you up with ease. He gave you a scoff before continuing on after the Andersons with you.

"Come on, shitbags!" Mocked one of the men from ahead. Jumping from cart to cart and down again to keep ahead of you both.

The second time you both needed to climb Arthur just grabbed you and heaved you up, his shoulder clearly bothered him as a pained grunt was heard from behind you.

Atop this car one of the men was right there, but your mind was on helping Arthur instead. As you gripped under his arms and pulled, footsteps pounded behind you.

The guy came right back around and started coming for you, which was not good. To say the least.

"You're the law?" He scoffs, your not so threatening appearance seemed to spur him on more. "We're runnin from you?" He hadn't seemed to notice that Arthur was also hot on his tail.

He was large and he was not letting up. His heavy footsteps thundering toward you shook the metal roof under you.

Your hand instinctively brushed the gun at your hip but Archibalds multiple requests lingered in your mind.

He was quick to be on you, throwing out your arms to brace yourself and push him away from you as his hands met your shoulders, trying to wrestle you off the train car entirely.

His strength was clear as you both struggled, your body wobbling closer and closer to the edge.

"Not so scary now, huh?" This man derides before his eyes widen at the friend you had in tow.

Arthur pulls him off and throws him to the ground, his back meeting the hard metal with a thud.

You take the chance to continue after the other, perhaps just threatening the man with your gun would do. You felt like you weren't being of much help, which hit you right in the gut.

"Damn bastard!" Hollers the man now at Arthurs mercy from behind you. "Get away from me!"

That was his final spew of nonsense before his consciousness loses itself to Arthur's fist.

Ahead was the final member of this gang that was in need of a catching. You had to jump down and get inside of the car he had slipped into.

The running came to a halt, the final cart being cold and the smell of fresh meat filled your nose. A particular pleasure that wasn't all that pleasurable.

"Quit runnin'. You ain't got much of a chance anyway, Anderson."

"Yeah? And what are you gonna do little lady?" He jeers from his cornered position at the front of the train cart.

"Don't worry your head about me. It's him." You point back to the man behind you. It wouldn't be like that had you been able to use your gun. It certainly felt strange being so powerless but not unfamiliar. Arthur always reminded you.

"Do we need to bother?" Arthur groans, rolling his shoulder with a wince.

"Let me go!" The man demands, his aggressive stomps closing the distance between him and Arthur.

"I can't do that." Arthur replies, holding up his fists. The man had a knife, which worried you slightly as you watched this fight ensue.

The sudden halting of the train threw all three of you forward suddenly, the man caught off guard, was doubly caught off guard by Arthur taking his chance to take him on.

They wrestled around, the sounds of fists hitting bodies were apparent. Despite Arthurs effort, the man kept getting closer to where you stood, which then had you counting your options on what to do if he changes his target.

His knife went clean through Arthurs forearm, who in turn gasped in pain. You wanted to do something, but getting in Arthurs way would do more harm than good.

He stumbled back from Arthur, his proximity to you no less than an arm length, it presented an opportunity. With your good arm and the back of your gun, you brought it down hard on the back of the man's head. Not enough to knock him out but enough for Arthur to.

You and Arthur stared at each other for a moment before hunching over to catch your breath. The spontaneity of this situation finally hit you and the realization made you laugh breathily. Arthur gave you a look before he couldn't help but give a small chuckle as well.

Motioning for his bleeding arm, you tear off the remaining cloth from his shirt and shape it into a decent enough improvised gauze.

"Can't fix my shirt now, I guess." Arthur observes the obvious but he didn't seem to be genuinely mad by the prospect of it.

"All this blood of yours ruined it already." You shake your head, tying the torn cloth gently around his arm gently.

"Suppose you're right." He admits, a conceded smile drawn on his face.

"That's how it always is." You tease, not being sure what to do with your hands now that they have blood on them. "At Least you got him."

"That's also how it always is." He repeats in a voice that sounded like it was suppose to be a mockery of yours.

"I expect no less from you, grandma dearest." You praise, even if it wasn't exactly that.

"Leave out grandma, please." He shakes his head, his laugh turning into a tired smile.

"Just dearest?" Your eyebrow raises with a teasing smirk.

"Just dearest." He confirms, meeting your eyes with an equal look on his face.

Despite him saying things like this before, you haven't found yourself any more prepared for it than the time previous. "If you're going to flirt, at least try."

"Okay then." He stands upright and as he gears himself up for the "flirting" a loud, galling voice comes from the outside of the cart.

"Hello? Is everything alright in there?" For the past minute, Archibald had vanished from your mind, only to return at an unsatisfactory time.

Arthur was audibly and visibly displeased as he reported back to the lawman, "well... I don't think he's dead... but I think we won the fight."

Arthur picked up the downed man, and Archibald pulled the door open to finally see what happened. "Bring him out here."

"Deputy." Arthur nods with a greet as you follow out behind him.

"Sounded like quite a commotion. Is that him?" The lawman examines the blonde Anderson to check.

"I sincerely hope so." Grumps Arthur. His temporary humor gone from just moments ago.

"Old Anders Anderson." Scoffs Archibald with a look of scorn.

That there was the head man, a surprise that he didn't have more in him. Though in all fairness, he got ganged up when you joined Arthur for a second.

You all mounted, following Archibald to where you needed to go take this man not unlike you and Arthur, to the can.

The ride basically amounted to nothing more than a tour from Archibald. He spoke of the Gray's and the Braithwaite's. One, a respectable family. The other, not so much.

Arthur kept glancing at you while you both listened to him talk about these families, their fortune and their feud. You both knew it sounded like something Dutch and Hosea would love to hear about.

The road brought you lot into town quickly, greeted by a fairly large saloon, sure to be mentioned was that it was owned by the Gray's. As most things were said to be in this town. Rhodes, so it was.

Hosea sat outside of the sheriff's office, greeting you all as you rode up and it wasn't long till Dutch barged out of the door behind Sheriff Gray.

"I told you Arthur would deliver, man has a passion for justice." Dutch exclaims behind the sheriff as he meets the rest of everyone back outside.

Sheriff Gray thanked you and Arthur for the help, setting Trelawny free from his imprisonment in return for the task you had completed.

All of this for a man you'd never met. Though as much as you thought about it, there was no regret. Running alongside Arthur and the two of you on that train together had been a surprising amount of fun.

Dutch and the Sheriff exchanged conversation for a short while before warning Dutch to keep Trelawny out of trouble.

Now quickly did you find that Trelawny was quite the talker.

"And you are?" He coo's with a slight bow and a hand shake.

"Y/n l/n." You nod, returning his hand shake.

"How lovely to meet you, Miss l/n." He kindly nods before spinning back around to lead the group of you.

Trelawny reiterated the story of the Gray's and Braithwaite's. Long standing feud, gold that was fought over, cousins marrying cousins or not marrying cousins. It was strangely interesting.

"I want you guys to check that out later." Dutch was sure to mention, directing it towards you, Hosea and Arthur.

Trelawny warned of all the talk, 500 miles around, north and south, "super agents" or sorts of that matter.

Dutch laughed with disbelief. "Super agents? All talk."

"Oh, no doubt." Trelawny agreed before turning back around to face all of you. His words were that of departure, which surprised you, having just met this man no less than five minutes ago.

Dutch shrugged when Hosea looked at him, even surprised, nodding a goodbye to Trelawny.

As your group of four made way back to your horses, Dutch brought up the rich families.

"Hosea, I want you to check out the Braithwaite's. Arthur, you and y/n sniff around the Gray's place."

You nodded your agreement and Arthur his. "Our friend Archibald showed us the Gray's place earlier." Told Arthur, recounting your recent ride.

Dutch and Hosea now chattered together up ahead, leaving you and Arthur to walk together behind them.

The two of you were so close together your shoulders brushed but neither of you seemed to care enough to make any distance.

"So who was that?" You ask Arthur curiously.

"Oh, Trelawny? A slippery con man of sorts. We've known him for a good while."

You hum your acknowledgement, "he's not a part of the gang?"

"He is. Just, that's why he's slippery. Doesnt stay nowhere too long."

You give it some thought. The man looked like a high fligher and in towns like this, spelled trouble. You had found that out before you had become particularly opinionated against the law.

You rubbed your sore arm, the scab formed around the wound was sure to leave a scar. It hurt everytime you prodded at it too much but admittedly it became a bad habit.

"How's your arm after that?" You guessed he was referring to the man you had scuffled with no less than an hour ago.

"It's not bad." You dismiss with a wave of your hand. "Your shoulder is more worrisome, that cut too. Think you should rest it for a while."

Arthur looked over at you with a subtle look of sarcastic shock. "Worried for me now, are ya?"

You bumped into him with your shoulder, your discontent frown unable to stay for long as a smile crept up on you.

As close as that man could get to giggling was what he was doing.

"Quite the fishin’ trip, huh?" Arthur proclaims ahead to Hosea and Dutch.

"The fish weren't so easy to catch neither." You sigh, tired from all that runnin you had to do.

"No, that they weren't." Dutch laughs in agreement, talking like the one who gladly had to do none of the fishing. "There's still time. I'm up for it."

"How about you two?" Hosea questions, looking you and Arthur up and down. "Or have you had enough of the chase for one day?"

Arthur meets your eye, seemingly checking if you'd want anything to do with it first.

"Pearson will need something for the soup." You agreed, pushing down the unsavory idea of handing over your catch for the stew Pearson would cook up.

"Yeah alright then." Arthur adds, agreeing with the rest. Hosea, happy with this, mounted his horse behind Dutch and Arthur.

Amongst the riding, Hosea and Dutch told stories of the past, ones involving Trelawny. Everyone in the group had a good laugh at these stories, and for this moment, you had not a care in the world. Not even the feeling of being an outcast haunted you as you and your fateful friends - perhaps, if you could call them that, made your way to your planned fishing trip.

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