despite the abrupt change in scenery the camp wasnt too bad all things considered.
If it hadn't been for the old man hoisting you over his horse in his getaway, you'd have still been loitering outside of shops, watching and waiting to alleviate generous women and careless men of their pocket change. And now that you’re here, you find that things have changed, and priorities shifted. Rather than picking through idle saddlebags and pockets, you’re picking through the dirty laundry strewn about camp (courtesy of the witch ms. grimshaw, but you wouldn't dare say that aloud, though). And rather than digging through pits of trash, praying to find a dented can or some sort of scrap of food to eat, you get a warm bowl of stew shoved into your hands every night ( and a short session of mother henning from sweet ms. bessie). Instead of lying under trees and logs in wait of either element or animal to finish you off, you've got a bed and space to call your own.
and before you hadnt thought it possible but-the people, you missed being around people. espcially good people. now you're not one to dictate how much goodness a bunch of homeless conmen, whores, and murderers can possess but you'll admit, youve been afforded more kindness by these "outsiders" than you'd ever been with civilied folk. more kindess than you thought possible for somone who'd stolen from them once upon a time
more kindess than you deserve
Days and weeks passed with little worry. And that was the problem, wasnt it? The longer you stayed here, tucked within this newfound community, getting to know these humble people– the harder it became to believe it’d last. Nothing ever lasts. With good fortune comes misfortune; goodwill comes malice–no matter what that dutch guy says about stealing from the rich and giving back to the poor. Nothing is without its extreme other and this community, this “family” as the old man had described it, would not be immune to nature. These good people would die; same as the vagrants you’d slept next to in abandoned buildings, same as the ones you’d hungered beside. It was only a matter of time till the other shoe dropped. You just dont know when. Or how.
“you eat yet, kid?”
Hosea's voice brings you out of your musing. your eyes fall to the steaming bowls held in his hands, bowls of stew you assume. he has a small expectant smile on his face, awaiting an answer he knew he’d get. For the last few days you two would play the same song and dance. you stick to yourself, he ropes you in with food (great tactic), you resist but follow anyway, eat with him, rinse and repeat.
“No”
“Well, come on then. ‘Dont want this to go cold now do we?
And its funny how despite your attempts at trying to pull away–to avoid the inevitable, you still found yourself following after hosea.
And as he’d sat down in front of you on the bench, watching you expectantly to take your first bite you chose to play along. you're endebted to this man who'd had no business in saving you but did so anyway.
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(reader signals arthur to sit down next to them in the lean-to)
R: what in the hell is wrong with you
A: not sure what you mean
R: you're killing people, arthur...i mean, we all kill people, its what we do. but i aint ever known you to be this nasty
A: some folk need to be reminded of their place
R: and their place is at the end of your gun? why? because they dared to fight back when you threatened them?
A: its not as simple as that
R: then tell me, arthur! talk to me! let me hear it from you, not from some mini mob of widows cursing your name every step I take with you in some dusty town
...
A: im sorry
R: im sorry too
A: i aint mean to yell at yah. I-I don't know whats happening to me I,,,I just get so angry sometimes...and I take it out on people less deserving
R: arthur...i have stood by you for more than half my life. and never have i had to question why. 'cause I know you. the real you. and though you tend to be forgetful at times I am more than willing to stand by your side and remind you...but you need to calm down, ok?
A: alright
R: i wont keep you any longer. but dont be a stranger, ya hear?
A: sure
(a little inspiration after i got pressed by mary-beth AND tilly in camp)
just me thinking of the outlaw reader being there for every romantic hardship arthur's been through and them just never finding the right time to admit their affection for him
first its mary
then its eliza
and then it becomes eliza and issac and no matter how deep the roots of envy dig into you you cannot deny the happiness that seems to seep out of arthur's very pores
hes happy
and proud, so very proud of his family...
his family
and then some cruel bastards comes to steal away what little joy arthur had
and
and arthur breaks
and you and the gang are left to help pick up the pieces
summary
you and barry decide to go on an adventure, but end up getting too drunk and stay at a hotel.
warnings
smut, unprotected sex, p in v, oral (f receiving), both are intoxicated, munch barry, fingering, mdni!!
you giggle as you make you way up the steps, feeling barry’s hand slide up and down your waist, keeping you steady. the second you hit the second floor, you inhale deeply, barry’s hands still wandering your body. “what’s our room?” you whisper, slowly stopping at a room that splits hallways.
“go right, mama,” barry mutters, following behind you as he hooks a finger around one of your belt loops, his glazed eyes running up and down your body.
“fuck, fuck, fuck-” you cry, head falling back on barry’s shoulder, his lips attached to your neck as he pulls and pushes you back and forth in his lap, up and down until your brain goes foggy and your legs feel numb. your thighs shake, breath hitching as he pulls out of you. he kneels before you, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you to the edge of the bed. before you knew it, his face was buried between your legs, his tongue moving expertly over your clit. “oh, oh fuck!” your back arches off the bed, hands grabbing onto the sheets as barry pins your hips down, keeping you from squirming under him.
“shh, baby,” barry begins, pulling out from between your thighs to look up at you. “want the people in the room over to hear us?” you shake your head, your right hand running down the back of his head, rubbing over his buzzed head before you push it back down. two of his fingers slip into your cunt as he groans, sucking on your clit with just a little more pressure than before. “come on, mama, give me one more,” barry moves to kiss your thighs, his fingers pumping in and out of you as he sucks on your skin.
“shit, barry,” you whine, hooking your legs around his head as you take a drag of the blunt you were supposed to be passing with him. you exhale, hands rubbing at the top of his head, almost as if you were rewarding him. “thank you, baby.” you smirk, laying back down on the bed, staring at the ceiling as barry kisses his way up to your chest.
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theres a legendary bounty in rdr online where you have to hunt this gang of 'fallen' women and i cant describe how fucking cool id be if there was a reader like that
reader just being a leader of a gang of just women who're just fucking monsters who kill and torture for the hell of it, folk in nearby towns are throwing themselves behind cover when they hear your gangs hollering, just the uttering of your name is enough to make people shiver in their boots. at any opportunity ya'll are causing chaos for the sake of it and reveling in the blood and violence ya'll cause
Hi Lady! I was thinking since you love cowboys so much, we can do something a little different! Can I request the Sharpes (or just thomas) having a run in with an outlaw after running away to the Old West?
Much love as always!!
I fricking love cowboys! I wanna do outlaw stuff!
WARNING: Gun Mention.
Outlaws From The West
The train kept a steady pace, Thomas stared out the windows. Looking over the vastness around him, having to take a train across numerous states to get where he needs to be. He figured New York would be far enough from home, far enough for him and his children to start over. Unknown to everyone there, just a couple of strangers from across the sea. Thomas smiled as his baby daughter shook her little rattle about, he hoped none of the other passengers minded. Adelaide securely sat on his lap, he dressed his daughter in her Sunday best. They were all wearing their best today. He ought to hand her over to Ernest but he thought it would be nice to give his son a bit of a break, he had been nothing but loving towards her. Holding her at all hours of the day, saw it as his duty to protect her. They were only children, it was Thomas' job to protect them both. After what happened to their mother, to Lucille. She lost her mind back there, he did what he had to do in order to protect the boy and his sister. Thomas flinched at the sudden sound of a gunshot coming from the next carriage, he was quick to wrap his free arm around his Ernest. Pressing him into his side, what was happening? Before he could blink, the door bursts open. A group of people barging into the carriage, pistols raised. Their faces hidden by bandanas and scarves, Thomas couldn't believe it.
''Hands up ladies 'n' gentlemen!''
The passengers begin to panic as the people start demanding their money and jewellery, Thomas had nothing. What could he possibly give them? He spent all he had left just to get his family to America and onto the cross country train, his lips trembled as one of the outlaw made a beeline over to them. Clearly interested in taking whatever it is he saw, Thomas had nothing. Ernest's silver locket still in his pocket, it was all the boy had left to remember his mother by. Thomas would rather not part with it, they left everything behind in that rotting mansion. Adelaide whimpers as the man's heavy footsteps get louder, rather unkempt. Wild. Thomas couldn't believe they existed, all those stories he's heard over the years of these criminals living all across the wastes. The west had been full of them, gunslingers, thieves. He couldn't believe they were still around or even real for that matter, he believed them to be all fiction. Suppose any and all fiction is inspired by something real, the man in front of him grabs the silver rattle; ripping it away from Thomas' daughter. Ernest whimpers.
''I'll be taking that!''
It didn't take much for Adelaide to start wailing, both of Thomas' children kept one piece of their mother with them. The locket and the silver rattle, he tried comforting his daughter. It was foolish of him to hope that Adelaide would settle down, as much as it hurt to see his daughter's favourite and only toy be taken away, her life meant more to him. The moustached man began taunting them, shaking the rattle in Adelaide's face. Animal.
''Hey! Damnit Jonah!''
Thomas heard a woman's voice shouting on the other side of the carriage, now stomping over to where they sat. A woman, an outlaw? He was more and more bewildered by today, things had been so quiet this morning and now they were here. Sat in a cage, trapped like rats. Being played with by the big cats, Ernest hides his face in Thomas' side. His son was scared and he was right to be, Thomas was afraid. Adelaide cried so painfully, the woman hit the back of the moustached man's head. Did she run this show? He hadn't seen a woman wearing trousers before, it was intriguing. Thomas' chest heaved at the sight of her.
''What'd I tell ya'bout takin' things from children?''
Terrifying, interesting. The woman looked over to him, her eyes widened to see a lone man with two children. Suppose she was surprised to see that there was no woman sat with them, the mother nowhere to be seen. Thomas wished she was, he wished she was here. His lips trembled, he had to keep his family safe. Surely she could understand that, perhaps most of them could understand that but he wouldn't be willing to put his money on it. If he had any. Lucille couldn't understand the importance of his children, why they meant the world to him and look where that got her. Abandoned in a sinking house in Cumberland, alone.
''Please- Its all she has left of her mother...''
The moustached man who goes by the name of Jonah chuckles, Thomas was starting to recognise him. He had seen a poster at the train station of him. He was wanted in two states, went for a nice price of three hundred dollars. Suppose there were more dangerous people out there but he remembered his face now. Just his luck, he had to board a train the same day it got robbed. They hadn't even gotten far, the train had only been running an hour or two. Ernest shivers, what Thomas wouldn't do to make this all go away. Jonah huffs.
''It's just a dumb rattle sweetheart, come on!''
The woman rolled her eyes, ripping the rattle out of Jonah's hands and proceeded to hit him in the head with it. Clearly very unpleasant for Jonah as he grunts and backs away from them, Thomas wasn't sure as to what was happening anymore. The outlaw holds the silver rattle out to crying Adelaide, waiting for her to take notice of it. Why was she being kind?
''Here ya' go, sorry 'bout that.''
Adelaide sniffles as she grabbed the rattle, Thomas made a mental note to give it a clean. His daughter calms down, shaking her toy once more. There was something a bit off with this picture, from what Thomas knew of outlaws and criminals is that they were most unkind. The stories he's read always painted them as monsters, suppose they might've been wrong. Thomas ran away from his past, he'd keep running until his legs couldn't move any more. It wasn't about him, it was about his children. His son and daughter did nothing, they were the innocent ones. They needed a clean slate, a life where they wouldn't be branded as the spawn of a conman; a killer and a monster. Thomas took all of those women's deaths with him, he felt at fault. He was a part of it all, he was just as guilty as his sister was. He looked up to the outlaw woman, she didn't seem to mind what she was here to do. Robbing the innocent of their valuables, she had her standards though and Thomas was grateful.
''Thank you...''
Her smile was brief, suppose Thomas should've known.
''Now, hand over whatever ya' got that ain't sentimental.''
