Playing Dangerous ? ||RDR2 // Arthur Morgan X Reader||

'All those special times,
you said that I'm your girl.
You made me feel,
like your whole world.'
~~
'Because I'm pretty when I cry'

-
** warning: this chapter contains some themes of a stressful nature. If you are sensitive to content related to/suggestive of intended rape, please read this chapter with caution**

-

Barely a soul was conscious as the four of you returned to camp, windswept and breathless from that last long gallop to clear the final stretch back to the safety of Horseshoe Overlook.

Sean had been chuckling to himself as he slowed his fine horse down to a trot, and there were obvious trinkets in his satchel chinking.

"We've really done it here, lads – Dutch is gonna be made up!" Sean whispered excitedly.

The lads had been rather awake, the adrenaline had an affect on them that hadn't quite sustained itself to you. You figured that may be because the boys were used to being skilled outlaws, and were used to the late nights and high-octane madness in the shallows of the night.

Where as you- you barely stayed up past 11 and had never been on a heist like this before. It was all very new, and very exhausting.

Hitching the horses and untacking them for the night, the band of outlaws were quick to gather by the dwindling flames of the fire, to count the riches raked in from the night's job.

Perching on a splintered wooden crate, your tired eyes sleepily studied the glamour glints of the jewellery that the boys passed over to one another; adding their takings into one big pile. By now you were stifling each yawn that slipped past your lips, and Arthur – who had been sat opposite you, had been watching you for a little while now.

"You don't have to stay up with us now," he started, looking at you tenderly through the calmer orange flames of the slow-dying fire. "Go to bed, get some rest, (name). You look exhausted." Arthur added, the smallest hint of a caring smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Touched, you could not help but offer a tender smile back – it was sweet to know he had been watching and noticed how exhausted you looked.

"Alright then, that sounds really good to me." You replied to the gunslinger, lifting your achingly tired form from the sharp-splintered wood crate. Skirting around the fire, you went to Arthur's side where he was looking up at you almost in confusion – considering your tent was in the opposite direction.

"Good night." You offered in a small and soft tone of voice, leaning down to kiss your lover's cheek goodnight. As you did so, few strands of your (hair colour) hair drifted lightly into your face, causing your fingertips to sweep them back behind your ear.

His stubbled cheek was slightly scratchy and rough under your gentle lips, but you noted his skin was warm from his close seat by the fire. You loved the smell that emitted from him to, the smell of cold fresh air from the night's riding, with a potent mixture of smoky gunpowder that hung pleasantly about his person.

As you pulled away, Arthur displayed the smallest signs of a growing smile of gratitude, his hand reaching out for yours – a low and subtle gesture, as he took your dainty hand in his own weathered paw. A gentle squeeze around your fingers said the thank you he hadn't vocalised in front of the others.

"Ugh! Go on – get outta here-" Sean pretended to gag, pulling a face as if someone had just made him smell a pile of dog muck. "I can't bare to see it anymore – Arthur Morgan bein' all lovey-dovey."