The wild, wild West (Arthur Morgan x f!reader)

PROLOGUE

Hey guys, welcome to my story. I want to say a few things before we get started.

First of all, English isn't my first language, so if you find any spelling or grammar mistakes, please let me know so I can fix them.

I'm only going to include warnings for sexual content, because there are people getting hurt and dying almost every chapter and I'm just gonna assume that playing Red Dead has desensitized you to any kind of violence. Just be aware that everyone will get injured or killed at some point.

The order of certain events in this story is based on my progress in the game, the general storyline is (obviously) not my own. This is a reader insert, however, there a few things be pre-set, like the main characters heritage and her age.

New chapters will be uploaded every Friday. The occasional pictures above the chapters are drawn by me.

If you enjoy this, then feel free to let me know through a comment or a vote. It is really motivating to know that people enjoy my writing. And if something is bothering you, feel free to criticize it in the comments.

Have fun :)

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The mountains were cruel.

The cold bit my skin and left red marks on the little exposed skin of my face. Tiny ice crystals had formed in my lashes and my hair. My fingers were numb, but I still dragged the man with me, desperately looking for a spot that was shielded from the deadly wind. Sometimes, I doubted that he was still alive, but he let out dry coughs and groans from time to time, and then I tightened my grasp on his jacket and pushed on.

I had stumbled across him a few days ago. At first, I hadn't noticed him, as the pack of wolves who had been tearing him apart had been to much of a distraction. It had been seven of them and the remaining four had fled, after I had shot three. At his point, I couldn't remember when I had eaten the last time and was desperate to get my hands on the meat. I had spent a few minutes skinning the dead animals when a weak voice had called out to me, coming from a bloody lump of fabric, skin and hair.

And now I dragged the man with me, unsure why I hadn't just put a bullet in his skull when I found him. Maybe because the loneliness was worse than the fear of starving or freezing to death. He was barely talking, probably because it hurt. His face was littered with deep cuts that felt hot and inflamed after a few days. I had joked that they were probably the warmest thing on us after the last days. Not even the fire I lit every evening could chase the cold out of my body and I could sense that he struggled with it as well.

A snowflake landed on my face and melted to a drop of icy water on my skin. I looked up and furrowed my brows when another one got caught in my lashes. A storm was coming. I tried to increase my speed, but the days of walking in the masses of snow had taken their toll on my body. Each muscle screamed at me to sit down and take a break, to sleep a little, and just maybe never wake up ever again.

I looked back at the limp body of my companion and asked myself if it wouldn't be better for him if I ended it right here. It was a struggle to unclasp my fingers from his jacket, they felt like they were frozen in their position. When I moved them, a tingling pain shot through my hands. Without me holding him up, his upper body dropped into the snow. His bloodshot eyes opened slightly and found mine. They were hazy and disoriented.

I stared at him, one hand resting on my revolver. I knew there were two shots left. One for you, one for me.

I knelt down and pressed a hand to his forehead to check his temperature. It was burning hot and I furrowed my brows.

„What do you think, friend?" My voice sounded rough and foreign and was barely audible over the howling of the wind. I hadn't used it in days. „It is worth to keep this mess goin'?"

I expected no reply and didn't get one. He just kept staring at me numbly. Does he even speak english? I took the Cattleman from its holster and rested it gently against his temple. His eyes widened when my intentions dawned on him. My finger lingered on the trigger, but I couldn't find the strength in me to tighten it.

I stood up again and put the weapon back. „Not today, friend, not today."

And our journey went on.

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-819 words