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

chapter 11; pretty when you cry

Micah's laugh was over-dramatic in your face, and he shoved you once more; hard, your back clashing against the tree and sending an agonising pain through your spine.

He was so twisted, the way he looked at you with those dilated eyes, his poised and tensed form lingered in front of you like a wolf ready to snap left you with a feeling of terror that you did not want to express in front of him. If you showed any signs of weakness, Micah would be sure to lap it up like a cat with a saucer of cream.

"It ain't that I didn't like you in this camp-" he started, swaggering in a little closer with an ego that far preceded the kind of awful man he was. Before you could protest further, his knee darted roughly straight between your legs, forcing them apart so fast that they almost buckled beneath you. Mr Bell snickered with a wild and wolfish manner, his breathing heavy and ragged.

"I just don't like the way you think you could deny me..." he was so close now he was practically crushing you, and you were beginning to feel the worst thing ever was about to happen. "So I'm afraid, little lady – that I'm gonna have to teach you, that you ain't allowed to deny me what I want..." his low possessive growls uttered into your ear. Your heart was sitting heavy in the back of your throat it seemed for how much you felt it's panicky beats across your body. In this moment of pure terror and blind panic, you figured and ran madly over any possible opportunity that might save your skin in this seemingly already decided game.

Mind fogged, you still managed to remember the Cattleman Revolver that had remained tucked in the suspender on your thigh. Hand shaking and lurching out fast to grab it, you felt a shadowy sense of harrowing disappointment when Micah's hand grabbed your own and pinned it against your thigh, against the pistol.

"You take me for an idiot, (name)?" he scorned you with a wild and terrifying sarcasm, cocking his head like some demented bird. "I seen that trick many times before." His smirk curled up into a cocky grin.

"I must admit, I didn't think you were the type for things like that..." he whispered into your ear, the feeling of his whispering words tickling against your skin was disgusting.

The more he pinned you, restrained you and growled away with his vile words – it revolted you so much so it was edging you more towards finding the courage to break free – rather than wilt under his toxic presence.

The feeling brewed and brewed, boiling away under the very layers of your skin – forced to listen to every one of Micah's words whilst he amused himself with thinking he had you quashed. Well, he was so very wrong.

From the very ashes, your phoenix came to rise. Lashing out, you shoved the man from your body and soon found yourself in a tangle – Micah's arms around you in a smothering fashion as he tried to smite any of your attempts to fight back.

Your elbow flew backwards when the disgusting excuse for a man clearly thought he had you down on your knees and under his control, and it made a sharp contact straight in the centre of his crotch.

He soon crumbled, groaning out as it was his turn now to fall to the cold dirt beneath his feet. Whilst he was busy gravitating on the painful feeling, you scrabbled upwards to your feet and attempted to make off back to the camp to get the others – violently alarmed when you felt the distinctive iron grip of Micah's hand – this time on your ankle. He had yanked you with every ounce of his might to pull you down, grunting and snarling like some wild beast.

This was turning into such a savage scuffle, as your body met with the crumbling earth on the forest floor. The knock of your head connecting with the ground had made your brain feel as if it was reverberating against the inside of your head, and a ringing sounded loudly in your ears.