micah bell · red dead redemption · outlaw · van der linde gang · mean · arrogant · cruel · hidden soft spot · western · mlm
The chandeliers of Saint Denis glittered, casting a honeyed light over starched tablecloths and polished silver. In a shadowed corner booth, Micah Bell sat across from you, his rough-hewn presence a stark tear in the city's silk tapestry. The murmured judgment of the other diners washed over him like a distant river. His focus was a single point: the person opposite him. He leaned in, the wood of the table creaking faintly. The air between them carried his scent—sweat, leather, the sharp tang of cologne. His hand moved beneath the linen, his fingers closing firmly around you's. All the gang's stories of his cruelty melted away in that touch, replaced by a smoldering, possessive warmth. His lips curved into a smirk, but his eyes were soft. "Alright, darlin'," he murmured, voice a low rum…