#rdr2 verse

[mettleborn-a]

Another Kiss Prompt

@strawberryswalker said: a kiss stemmed from jealousy - to Sam

“He’s bad news that one…don’t waste your time.”

Sam’s eyes narrow at the man staring at Thaddeus from across the bar, there’s a cold rage simmering in his stomach, not simply because he thinks Thad deserves better, but because that particular cowboy has a habit of playing rough and Sam’s been there, one time too many, frankly. Hell, Thad has better sitting right next to him, doesn’t he?

Grabbing either side of Thaddeus’ face, Samuel plants a firm kiss against his lips, the movement causing a rowdy cheer from the bar’s patrons who have clearly assumed the kiss to have been in jest; a ‘fuck-you’, rather than a fuck-me.

Watching as the man who’s been making bedroom eyes at Thaddeus all night, finally takes his leave, with an annoyed grimace, Sam allows his hand to covertly sit softly on Thad’s knee for a moment as he glances over at him.

“Don’t go gettin’ soft on me or nothin’ now, just don’t wanna see you get hurt, that’s all.”

[mettleborn-a]

Plotted starter for @xgoldenhour​

It’s a quiet road, not many riders or wagons, kind that is good for a slower trot down as Samuel considers his options. Just a few more hours until sundown, meaning he’ll likely need to make camp soon; it’s still a day’s ride before he reaches Rhodes and the guesthouse that has fast become his home, when he has enough cash for a few games of poker, a room and a bath, that is. Once rested there, he’ll likely head over to the Sherriff’s office to see if there’s any new bounty notifications that have been posted; any worth pursing anyway.

Hearing the distinct sound of some distress up ahead, Samuel pulls at Diego’s reins to slow the Mustang further, coming to a complete stop as he spots the woman up ahead, who is sitting down in the dirt, apparently pained in some way.

Undeniably she’s a pretty young thing, of course, they always are, aren’t they? Pretty enough to prompt a fool to immediately gallop on over and jumps down from his steed to help, while the other members of her gang slip out from the woods to steal his horse, gun, boots and everything else along with them. 

Waiting for a moment, to see if she glances back towards the woods at all, the old Bounty Hunter begins to cautiously move forward at a snail’s pace, though he makes sure to draw his loaded rifle from his saddle and ready it.

Staying mounted, he approaches her, bringing Diego to a stop directly above her. Front hooves mere inches away. 

“You in need of some assistance, Miss?” He asks, leaning over, playing along, while keeping an eye on the woods either side of them, watching for anything suspicious. Flashing her a chivalrous smile, one that is at least genuine, he eases as he notices not a single rustle of leaves; it appears there is no one else around. 

[mettleborn-a]

continued from x

@strawberryswalker​: 

Thaddeus looks up to the other, and his face is a little confused but that sounded nice. It could be nice. Could be bad.

Mouth going dry, he was a fine fuck sure but he was dumb as hell. All muscle and no brains.

“It has?”

Samuel and Thaddeus had tension, and Thaddeus liked that tension. But never knew which way it was gonna end sometimes. And that was a bold thing to say, and what the hell did it mean?

“What you mean?”

========================

“You’re comfortable in your skin in a way I ain’t never been, Thad.” Samuel admits, holding Thaddeus’ gaze. 

“You got a quiet life here, nice, peaceful like...”

Lighting a cigar, Samuel sucks on the end of it thoughtfully, before releasing a determined sounding breath. It’s time, he can’t keep living like this, thinking the next bounty he captures might be his last. 

“Got me a bit of land over near Beecher’s Hope, bought it years ago. Think I’m gonna build myself a home there, maybe finally settle down, find myself a bit of that peace.”

[mettleborn]

Open Starter

Muse: Samuel Silas

Verse: Western / RDR / Westworld

The brown haze of corral dust kicked up by a passing wagon causes Samuel to dryly cough as he slowly ventures into the nearby saloon. Inside sit the usual band of miscreants; drunk gamblers cheating at cards. There is one among their number who clearly doesn’t belong, the one with the clean boots and overly polished gun; the one who is failing to blend in despite their best attempts. It is the job of a bounty hunter to recognise the wolves who would aim to disguise themselves as sheep; the better they are at it, the higher the bounty.

Easing himself into a stool at the bar, Silas orders two fingers of whiskey. Tossing money over to the surly looking bartender, Samuel takes time to light a cigar before turning every so slightly in his seat to subtly keep his eyes on the target.

He’ll need to wait until they leave the card table, take them out when no one is watching; stun, not kill; it’s always better to bring them in alive, pays better anyway.

[mettleborn]

@strawberryswalker liked for a starter

"You know they got a poster up here for a chicken rustler, Thad. You ever hear of that, chicken rustlin'? They expect me to go chase down a bounty and get a man hung in the town square, just for stealin' fuckin' chickens?"

[mettleborn-a]

Kiss Symbol Meme (no longer accepting)

@manhattanopus said:  🥂 – a drunk kiss (@ Sam for either verses )

She’s too close and far too pretty with the flicker of firelight reflecting in her eyes. His face feels warm, flushed by the fire and by her attentiveness and the whiskey which has loosened his mind and threatens to loosen his tongue too. Does she realise how her light touches twist him up, how her loose embraces break him? Does she know the effect she has on him or is she completely oblivious to it? Should he tell her, can he dare to?

As the wind picks up, briefly dampening the fire and she moves closer to him, to press her shoulder up against his arm, he can only gulp hard, hoping to swallow down the words that could so easily spell the end of their friendship; she may think it crass of him to think of her so fondly, as if he is trying to capitalise on her position; an outlaw on the run that can’t afford to place her trust in anyone else. In truth it is a fear that has so far kept him from blurting out the way he feels, but tonight with a belly full of whiskey and little else, he’s starting to wonder if it’s worth it; worth letting her know that he thinks of her in terms far more romantic in nature, terms that would see him love her and bed her, if she would allow.

Wrapping an arm around her, he pulls her close and before he knows it, he finds himself pressing his dry lips to her own, chastely and briefly admittedly but it’s a kiss none-the-less; caused by the courage of liquor in his veins.

“Guess we should get some sleep.” He blunders, offering it as an excuse as if it’s entirely normal for him to offer her a kiss goodnight.

[mettleborn-a]

Kiss Symbol Meme

@xgoldxnhour​  said: 🥂 (Sammy boyyyy any verse)  - Drunk Kiss. 

Moonshine has a way of creeping up on you; the first few swigs are usually like drinking liquid fire; a caustic poison that tastes like it shouldn’t be fit for human consumption; probably because it really isn’t. After only a few sips you usually find yourself nicely numbed to the point that the liquor no longer stings and instead it starts to go down well, a little too well in Samuel’s case. Silas is currently lying belly up by his campfire, speaking absolute nonsense to Diego who is tethered to a nearby tree.

As soon as Eloise emerges from the trees with water she’s gathered from the river, he is up, though he is a great risk of tripping over his own feet by the time he stumbles over to her. 

“Here...here...give...give me that.”

Reaching for the full pail, to take it from her, he immediately thinks the better of it; if he spills it in his drunkenness and must go to collect more, he’ll likely fall into the river in this state and find himself waking up in Saint Denis.

Ignoring the bucket, his hands grasp at her waist to pull her to him, eyes wide and wild as he thrusts the bottle of moonshine into her hand, offering her a drink.

“Good stuff…” he whispers, rocking her back and forth as if they’re dancing with their feet still, barely paying any attention to the bottle as he stares at her lips, all raw hunger and drunken heat.

As his hands move to release the clip at the back of her head, a pleased hum fills the air as he watches her golden curls spill down her shoulders.

“How…how’d I get so…so god damn lucky?” The words are slurred and there’s a sway in his hips but regardless, he holds her steady as he bows his head to kiss her, liquor hot on his breath, as his un-coordinated lips seek to clumsily claim her own.

“If you’re wonderin’ if that’s my gun stickin’ into your hip, El, it’s not.”

[mettleborn-a]

continued from x

@blackriverkiller​:

The grey mare whinnied as the reigns pulled tight, forcing her head awkwardly to the right. Perhaps driving Fantôme back through two states on no sleep wasn't Maggie's most well thought out plan, but the alternative was easily worse. She tutted to incoherently to the agitated horse, a bizarre string of French and English, doing little to actually calm her. Surely the horse knew the way home. She'd be okay to close her eyes for a minute - just to rest them.

A violent shake racked her body as her reflexes took over, waking her. She blinked unsteadily. Was that another person? No. Well, maybe. It was hard to tell as everything doubled and faded together.

Act natural. Inconspicuous.

"Mowdy himster."

Nailed it.

=========================

It’s been a long night and a long day, little sleep afforded as Samuel continues to track the outlaw he’s been given the writ for, not a wily one by any means but a man constantly on the move, who has given Samuel the slip once already this week. If he doesn’t catch his man soon, he’s determined he’ll move onto the next bounty, rather than continue on into Saint Denis, given his particular aversion to the city; a stinking cesspool that’s far worse than it’s surrounding swamps. 

Slowing Diego, as he hears the familiar sound of horse hooves, Samuel squints his eyes in the late evening sun as he watches a rider approach, one who is seemingly lurching heavily to the side and looks like they might ease all the way out of their saddle given the clear sleep deprived state of them. 

For a moment the Bounty Hunter can’t help but wonder if they’ve met before - she looks strangely familiar, but in a way he simply can’t place. 

The confused introduction has Samuel smiling as he brings his Mustang to a slow halt in front of her. Though having noticed the quality of the pistol at her hip, he makes sure to keep his hand on his own; he’s learned that hard way not to give strangers the benefit of the doubt. 

“Mowdy.” He laughs, shaking his head. “Looked like you were about to slip off that fine lookin’ horse of yours straight down into the dirt.” 

Slipping his hand into his saddle bag, he removes an apple and eases it round into Diego’s mouth. Briefly he considers throwing one over to the stranger to feed to her mare, but given the bleary-eyed state of her, he decides against it. 

“If you’re in need of some shut eye, there’s a decent guesthouse in Rhodes, bout a mile down that way. Headin’ there myself, if you’d care to join me.”