Red Dead Redemption II [ one shots ]

Love to Fight - A.M (Smut !)

OH it's a long one. I ain't sorry. BEWARE OF SMUT BTW.
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I exhaled a steady stream of smoke, leaning forward on my saddle, soaking up the view and just trying to take a damn break.

I'd left our haphazard camp earlier in the week, kind of following a few leads, but mainly to get away from the goddamn crazy shit that seemed to be stalking the gang these days.

I shook my head, drawing on my cigarette again, eyes flickering negligently over the scenery as I recalled the disaster that was the Blackwater heist, and the subsequent miserable escape through a blizzard. Somebody- probably Micah- fucked up, and now we're stuck in the damn mountains, freezing our asses off while we wait for the scandal to die down.

As if summoned, the icy wind blew harder and I shivered, scowling as I tugged my threadbare coat tighter around me. Can't fucking wait to head back west. Fuck this cold weather shit.

Muted thuds, the sound of incoming riders on the hard packed snow had me tensing, my hand resting on the grip of my revolver. With all the damn O'Driscoll boys around, you can't be too careful.

I squinted, focused on the approaching figures, my eyes watering painfully as the wind whipped at my face. I relaxed slightly when I recognized the silhouettes of the two men heading towards me– good, old Charles Smith and the infamous Arthur Morgan.

But the scowl remained on my face, as I was already anticipating the rude remarks that were sure to follow a certain cowboy's arrival. Just what I need, Arthur fucking Morgan coming by to give me more shit.

"Well Miss Y/N." Arthur called out sarcastically as he and Charles neared. "What luck we finally caught up to you." His tone was ripe with malice, and it promptly got my back up. Oh here we go.

I rolled my eyes, taking one last puff of my cigarette before tossing it into the deep snow. Though it was hard not to snap back at him, I decided against answering, as the only thing that pissed Arthur off more than my smart mouth was when I ignored his petty comments.

"Hey Charles," I murmured casually, smiling slightly at the other man. I could see Arthur's frown out of the corner of my eye.

"Y/N." He responded, nodding to me. "We've been tracking you for almost two days now. What's going on?"

I sighed, leaning back in my saddle. "Just scoping out the area, looking into possible...business ventures."

"And killing O'Driscolls?" Arthur put in, voice sharp. "We're trying to lie low, Y/N, and you're letting everyone know we're camped up here?"

"I didn't kill anybody who didn't start shit with me first. What did you want me to do? Roll over and die?" I tossed back, feeling that familiar, frustrated fury rising up in me. Goddamn hypocritical bastard.
"And it's not like you wouldn't be doing the same if you weren't stuck being errand boy, so don't try and bullshit me." I finished, meeting his furious blue eyes with my own.

"Horseshit." Arthur spat back, his temper simmering as he restlessly urged his mount in a slow ambling walk around Charles and I.

"Yeah, real good comeback, Arthur." I sneered, always delighted when I won one of our little spats. Charles sighed, unfortunately used to our incessant bickering. It'd been this way ever since we'd met, all those years ago.

I'd met Dutch, Hosea, and Arthur as a very young woman, bit of bad luck had set me right in their path, with nowhere else to go. I'd joined up with them, and though I'd liked the young outlaw well enough at first, Arthur was always meanly teasing and picking fights with me, which eventually wore my patience thin. His constant belittling and harsh comments made it seem like he didn't want me around, which had killed any hope of us ever having a pleasant relationship. We'd been at each other's throats ever since, which was a big reason why I took it upon myself to get out of camp more often than not.