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

chapter 8; never let me go

'If you love me hardcore,
Then don't walk away -
It's a game, boy- I don't wanna play;
I just wanna be yours, like I always say:
'Never let me go''

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You were admittedly glad to see the first hints of the morning sunrise after the terribly demoralising day that was yesterday.

The first chirps of the early morning birds brought you from your bed, and to the edge of the sheer cliff. The morning seemed still, the first light was clear and a grey white – not sunny, as if a collection of clouds veiled the crests of the mountains.

Just simply taking in a breath of that crisp, clean air – filled your head with a moment's clarity. Yesterday was a mess, from start to finish. You were hoping now you could start to move forwards, and avoid Micah for as long as you possibly could.

The fresh country air that swirled around you was chilly, and the gentle breeze curled it's arms around you – forcing your small hands to clutch your shawl that bit tighter around your person. Today didn't feel like it would match the heat of the previous few days.

A scant sound of movement rustled behind you; and feeling much like a skittish rabbit fleeing a fox – your jarred your head quickly back to take a look. Your heart both seemed to quicken and cease beating all at the same time in that mere second you set your (eye colour) eyes on him.

"Arthur?" you whispered quizzically, trying not to sound too shocked or enthralled by seeing him there. The man was stood to the back of the tents, nothing identifiable about his expression as he stood there, large arms crossed over his broad chest – blue shirt clinging to him painfully perfectly.

"I want to show you somethin' today." He said, his tone of voice collected – and the rather vague statement sent your mind reeling into a spiralling course of confusion. The gunslinger gestured his head to you slightly, uncrossing his arms.

"I'll leave you to get ready, then come find me." he said simply, and turned to walk away, boots treading through the dewy morning grass.

Just what did that mean?

Left to ponder over the thoughts, you took yourself back to your small area, and get yourself ready for whatever Arthur had in mind. However despite the level of concern you had over the transparency of his words, the excitement was still quietly bubbling away under the surface.

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The rest of the camp were just about stirring by the time you had readied yourself, pulling your (hair colour) locks back into the tidiest bun you could manage – and throwing on one of your more simpler linen dresses that you often wore for days just working around the camp. Knowing Arthur, he'd have you rolling around in dirt hunting animals or something.

You sincerely hoped it wasn't that.

Your gaze didn't have to search long to find him, as Arthur had propped himself up by the hitching post Phantom was tied to, and as usual – Mr Morgan was scribbling away in that journal of his.

"I hope you are writing lots of horrible things about Micah in there." You started as you approached him, beginning to feel a lot less tense by the simple display of a smile from the handsome man. Arthur chuckled at your words sneakily, tucking the worn old leather bound book back into his oak brown satchel.

"I could fill a whole damn journal with crap about Micah." Arthur replied to you, the smile lingering on his face like the warmth of a pleasant summer day. You found yourself lost in your favourite expression of his, before guiding yourself back down to earth.