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

chapter 13; hurts to love you

"Don't worry, miss. We ain't gonna hurt you." His voice was gentle. You cautioned yourself once more that things weren't always as they seemed, and hesitated a moment longer. The man could see you wavering between you worried thoughts.

"We ain't gonna hurt you like them, miss." He added, furthering offering his hand.

There was a gentle look of nothing but modesty in his eyes when you had forced yourself to look harder, and dared you enough to take his hand and lapse away from your guard. Part of you was just so exhausted from being bound to that chair and then racing over every possible thought going through your brain. The exhaustion was so much that you questioned whether you should even care anymore, was life really worth living anyway? If these men did decide you hurt you – you would just simply ask them to kill you, and put you out of your misery.

Taking the stranger's hand, you allowed him to help you down from the horse's back. He held you carefully, but tightly still. Something about the grip he had on you indicated some form of security... and safety.

"What's her name?" an older lady with a big brown bun sat atop of her head said, walking over to you with a big thick blanket. Eyes were expectantly on you now, as the warming item was wrapped around your slight shoulders. With big, childlike eyes, you scanned the group of unfamiliar faces around you.

"M-my... my name is (name) (surname)." You croaked, the hoarseness of your voice seemed to cause a level of pity from the glances around you, whilst a pretty young girl of a similar age to you handed you a distained metal cup containing a hot coffee.

The man with a seemingly big ego and even louder voice put his arm around you, beginning to guide you away from the circle of people who had been staring at you inquisitively.

"You need to get some rest, miss." He had said, his voice low and growly almost. His steps ground to a halt all of a sudden, causing you to jar a little and the coffee to slosh violently in the cup. "Arthur! Get over here!" he then shouted.

Arthur. So that was his name.

Your saviour came wandering over promptly to the raven-haired man, nodding his head softly in acknowledgement of the beckoning call.

"Yes Dutch?" the man called Arthur enquired, his icey blue eyes darting between yourself the man called Dutch.

"Would you mind showing this fine young lady to the back tent? I need to speak to Hosea." Dutch had ordered, and like a little parcel you were passed over in the direction of Arthur.

You had to admit, the man did look a little uncomfortable.

"This way..." Arthur had said, and led the way, walking a little in front of yourself as he made a path through the various tents and wagons towards a neat little camped out area. There was a small bedroll on the ground and some quilts. It wasn't a palace, but it certainly was a damn sight greater than a rickety old kitchen chair and some rope.

He had seen you safely into the tent that night with your coffee and blankets, and left you to it. Inside Dutch's tent, there was a tepid warm glow. Hosea was sat on the chair in the corner by the door, and Dutch was stood by his gramophone, looked deep in thought as Arthur wandered into the gang leader's domain.

"I, uh, seen she made it to her tent." Arthur started nonchalantly, earning a grateful smile from Dutch.

"Thank you, son," he replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "Did she seem a little better? Poor thing, them O Driscoll's really must've shook her up." He said in a pitiful tone, as Arthur nodded in slow agreement.

"Sure, it ain't nice for anyone to have to deal with." He had said, leaning against one of the support beams that held Dutch's tent up. "How long is the kid gonna be with us, d'ya think?" Arthur pressed Dutch with a curious expression.

"We'll figure something out." Dutch said in that tone of voice he used when he had some great plan. "She may have family out here, or somethin'. We'll let her decide."

Hosea and Arthur shared a confused glance between one another. The gang was struggling as is with the amount of mouths to feed, surely one more is not what they needed.

"You sure about this?" Hosea had asked with a look of worry on his face. These days he mostly panicked over the welfare of everybody, he had really become the great father figure In the group.

Dutch's glance seemed to narrow, and was there hint of a smile on his face.

"I'm sure – you never know, this might be fate." The leader added, a self-assured chime to his low tones.

-

Those words had always stuck with Arthur since the rather rocky start to his relationship with you. He had felt Dutch had been right about you that night, and your rescue had been fate.

Reflecting on that night, Arthur found himself drawn back into reality with a painful pressure in his chest. A part of him longed to stay buried in his memories forever, that way he could be there with you for all eternity.

Tipping his hand down further in his eyes, and slumping more relaxed against the tree – the gunslinger wished for his peaceful escape to last forever. Closing his eyes, he listen to the twittering of the birds, the gentle washing sounds of the lake's water, and the ambient whirring of the wind's breath through the wilting trees around him.

Drifting into dreams, he had been so happy to envisage your darling face once again.

-

A/N: Sorry this is a little boring/short. I had wanted to do two chapters, one for your perspective of life after being kicked out of the camp and then this one for Arthur. It's just to explore the feelings of both yourself and Arthur through what is such a difficult time!

I promise the plot for the remainder of the story will be back on track and be the focus in the next chapters 😊