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

chapter 19; yes to heaven

A/N: This is my lil chance to thank you all so much for 10K reads on this story – to think it came from a simple one shot – and blossomed into a full-fledged story. I am so blessed to have such lovely readers, supportive and kind people who give me the drive and encouragement to write.

That said, let's dive back in.

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'If you go, I'll stay.
You come back, I'll be right here.'

-

"Yes. Actually."

A smirk worthy of a demon crept onto Bronte's seeded expression, there was a cocksure look in his eyes as he stood there, surveying you as if he could see straight through the brave exterior you were putting up.

Your hands grasped tightly onto the cases in your hands, (eye colour) eyes darting quickly back to address the fact that you had seen Dutch and Hosea. Both men looked stunned to see you, but equally unnerved by the situation that was unfolding.

"(name), sweetheart...." Hosea's voice started unsteadily, it was gentle – like a calming beacon of light through the thick of a storm. You found yourself instantly looking into his direction for some comfort.

Lashing around, Bronte shot a bewildered look at Dutch and Hosea, who were still pinned in by two guards. A questionable look crossed the Italian's face – an irritated expression of awe.

"You know these yankee scum?" Bronte then address you harshly, his derogative tone set you ablaze with anger immediately. Your fiery glare spelled it all, for if you opened your mouth you were fearful of a bullet.

The top-dog chuckled quietly to himself, it was a laughter reminiscent of deviant behaviour – someone of darkness, complete undoing. It reminded you a lot of Micah's irritating laughter. Bronte paced around the landing, his mannerism passive and collected like he had every ounce of time in the world. Your eyes were flickering worriedly to Dutch and Hosea, who were looking about at you with a gaze that seemed to ask a million questions.

"What you doin' with our girl then, Bronte?" Dutch sounded angered now, it was clear to see the gang leader had now very much realised just what Bronte had done – made him look a total and utter fool. Dutch's statement however, despite the fact the man had been so quick to turn you away on that horrible day – set your stomach tightening in knots. Proud knots. A sense of belonging crept back in.

"Your girl?" Angelo sounded totally disgusted, and his berating look over your form made your eyes cower to the ground with the sense of impending doom you felt. You knew where this was going.

"I had no idea she was yours." He made you sound as if you were merely some stray dog off the streets. A short silence followed, and then came the rising rumble of dark laughter.

"She made quite the good fuck toy."

How degrading. The shame dragged you under like a tidal current and drowned you in masses of regret and guilt. It hurt so much knowing that this was the truth they needed to hear – a truth that Arthur was going to have to hear soon enough too.

Bronte snickered louder seeing the way he had caused you to introvert, he clearly enjoyed making you feel small.

"I rather regret this now." Like a card, his side changed – he was no longer laughing. He sounded incredibly ominous, lingering on the edge of violent. "If I'd of known she was mixing with some half-breed American scum-"

All whilst Bronte had been further belittling you, reminding you of all of the bad things you had done – you found the shame turning itself inside out. It flipsided, like a coin – and you were able to see the other side. A side that reminded you that just because you had done these things, to survive – it didn't make you as a person.