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Pearl in Unworthy Hands

(3268 words) by yourlocallygrowngay Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Molly O'Shea/Reader, Molly O' Shea/female reader Characters: Molly O'Shea, Dutch van der Linde, Uncle (Red Dead Redemption), Reader Additional Tags: molly x female reader, angst (obviously. have you played the game), also very much fluff, my girl gets spoiled, as she should, never enough lesbians, molly leave that old creep, molly gets stolen away from dutch, by someone who truly loves her, Kissing and making out, Drunken Kissing, molly discovered the wonderful world of kissing women, Lesbian awakening, or bi awakening (see it however you want), reader is strong, and kinda butch, but i left her vague so you can project on her Summary: Sick and tired of seeing Molly being mistreated by Dutch, reader decides to take matters into her own hands, much to Dutch's dismay.

Beta reading, title and prompt by @red-dead-bisexual. Thank you sm for your contribution!

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There was just something so enchanting about Miss O’ Shea. Nobody else at camp seemed to attract your interest in the same way. You sneaked glances at her, lying in your cot in the humid mornings, one eye open to watch her lace up her boots, brush her gorgeous red locks and put on her favorite necklace. She was the boss’s prize, an untouchable jewel, much like the ruby nestled in gold above her chest. And yet, Dutch Van der Linde didn’t see it that way. Not anymore: they fought every day, multiple times a day, and he refused to listen to her pleas.

“Dutch, I just want to help you!” she cried, exasperated. Her eyes were glazed and widened, trying to get his attention. But he didn’t see her.

“You want to help? Then JUST. BE. QUIET!” the leader’s harsh words cut deep through her. You could see it by the way she let her expression fall, tears silently streaming down her freckled cheeks.

You watched, boiling with rage as he stormed off, leaving Molly sitting in their tent, head in her hands. You wanted to make her feel better, because she didn’t deserve this. Such a beautiful, sweet young woman should be revered, the ground she walks on worshipped, her body and emotions treated with utmost care and gentleness. You resented Dutch deeply for subjecting her to this treatment. It’s true, that was a rather stressful period, having to move once again to escape the Pinkertons, still breathing down the gang’s neck. But that didn’t justify his behavior at all.

To make things worse, the other girls didn’t seem to like Miss O’ Shea very much, always talking behind her back and turning her away when she tried to vent to them. Apparently, she was “a society lady now, too high and mighty for the likes of us”. You didn’t care. If given the chance, you would’ve given Molly everything she wanted, at the cost of stealing from the President or die trying. You were completely, utterly in love with her.

But you were a woman. A poor one, at that. You could not, in fact, give Molly what she wanted. And yet, a small yet stubborn part of you kept trying to get her to see you. Maybe… just maybe, she could accept the comfort you’re willing to give her.

One evening, you gathered up your courage and walked up to her. She was standing alone on the pier, watching the lake. She rubbed her arms and shoulders, freezing in the chilly evening breeze, her shawl not doing much to shelter her from the cold. Everyone else was around the campfire warming up with a drink, or in their cots fast asleep.

You approached from behind, clearing your voice avoid frightening her, placing your warm coat on her shoulders. She turned towards you in surprise. She looked otherworldly bathed in the moonlight, her braid and the strands that framed her face painted silver.

She smiled warmly. “Thank you.” You blushed softly, thanking your lucky stars that it was too dark to notice.

“Don’t mention it, Miss O’ Shea.”

“Ugh” she rolled her eyes. “I’m so sick of being Miss O’ Shea to you all. Please, call me Molly.”

You loved hearing her speak, her thick Irish accent music to your ears. Her voice was just as lovely as she was, deep and velvety, and you wished you heard more of it. You granted her wish, making her feel at your same level as she visibly relaxed her shoulders and her features, her lips curling into a coy smile.

“So, Molly, what are you doing all alone in the cold?” you asked, watching the stillness of the lake. The other woman sighed, moving her gaze to the water as well.

“I’m not wanted there.” She stated coldly. You could see her stiffening up again under your coat, putting on a mask to hide her hurt feelings. You could see right through her. You had observed her mask slipping on and then off, depending on who she’s with. More often than not, Molly kept the act up to appear strong and unbothered. But the recent problems with Dutch had weakened her spirit, and you caught her looking sad more often than you’d like.

Unfortunately, that was true. People didn’t like her at camp. They all kept their distance, be it for her demeanor, or the fact that she was Dutch’s. Maybe she didn’t see it, but Dutch was so possessive that the men preferred to stay away from her, not wanting one look or word directed at her to be misinterpreted.

“I’d want you there.” You replied before even realizing what you said. Molly turned to look at you, puzzled. What could possibly make you want to hang out with her? She wanted to know why.

“It’s not fair that you’re always by yourself.” That was the best you could come up without admitting you liked her. Molly nodded knowingly, a bitter smile on her lips.

“So it’s pity, then.” something in your words confirmed her suspicions: you just felt bad for her. Oh, look everyone! Look at poor Miss O’ Shea, all alone and miserable! That’s what she deserves, for pushing everyone away! The recent events had chewed away at her self-esteem, so much so that she was completely blind to appreciation. Everyone disliked her, so that must have meant she was the problem.

You raised your hands, rushing to correct her. “O-of course not! Miss… I mean, Molly, I just wanted to spend some time with you. That’s all!” Fuck. This wasn’t going very well. You hanged your head, anticipating her telling you to leave.

But she didn’t. Instead, she crossed her arms, looking at you with one tilted eyebrow.

“I mean, who wouldn’t want to be with you?”

“Dutch, apparently.” She surprised herself with her own words. It was like she could no longer control what came out of her mouth. She turned back to the moonlit lake, her voice unsteady. “He doesn’t love me anymore. Maybe he never did.”

As Molly cried softly, you stood there with an aching heart. It was painful, seeing the woman you loved suffering, but it was even more painful to see her in this state because of a man. You wrapped her in your arms, half expecting her to throw you off the pier. Instead, she hugged you tight, clinging desperately to you as her tears kept falling, wetting your shirt. She nestled her head in the crook of your neck as you rubbed her back, trying to relieve her pain for a brief moment. You heart was racing, and you thought it might’ve exploded. She was so close you could smell her perfume, a sweet, flowery scent that suited her so well. You closed your eyes, taking in the moment, memorizing it for the tougher times, when you were away from her.

You two slowly separated after what seemed like ages. Her makeup was ruined, charcoal and eyeshadow melted on her cheeks, but you still found her as lovely as she always was.

She coyly thanked you and rushed away to her tent, wiping the color off her face. You stood there, watching her go, seemingly unable to move. A gust of wind made you tremble, but your coat was still on her shoulders.

Molly came up to you the next afternoon, as you were trying to untangle the fishing line of Kieran’s fishing pole, muttering all sorts of swear words. She timidly greeted you and handed you the coat, her cheeks slightly flushed.

You dropped what you were doing so fast when you saw her. That day she was particularly gorgeous: her hair was all done up into meticulous curls that cascaded onto her shoulders and her green corset blouse hugged her body perfectly, giving you some nasty thoughts you hastily tried to shake off. That was not the time to think about Miss O’ Shea, that pretty green blouse on the floor of the tent, mapping the freckles on her body with your fingers…

“Hey, are you still there?” she waved a hand in front of your face, bringing you back to reality.

“Sorry. What were you saying?”

She clasped her hands behind her back, a hint of a smile on her red lips. She wanted to thank you for last night, for… keeping her warm.

You fondly remembered your hug. “It was my pleasure. How are you doing today?”

That familiar sadness briefly returned in her green eyes. “A bit better. I think… no, it’s not right for me to ask” she waved off her idea, beginning to walk away. You gently grabbed her arm and invited her to tell you what she meant.

“Please, tell me. If it’s something I can do, I’ll gladly do it.” you smiled reassuringly and Molly looked down, biting her lip in hesitation.

“Would you… maybe… take me to Rhodes?” She explained that she was tired of being confined at camp and would appreciate a change of scenery. “I know it’s a lot to ask, you’re always so busy…” she looked down at the messy tangle of fishing poles on the sand.

“I can always ask Uncle to do it. Wouldn’t hurt him to work for a change!” you exclaimed, in his direction. He jolted awake from his alcoholic slumber and glared at you. You picked up the tangled mess and threw it at him, then beckoned Molly to follow you.

“Hey, you’re the new one! It’s you job!” Uncle tried to protest, but you and Molly were already approaching your horse, a white Roan Nokota named Cloud, ready to take off.

“Hi, sweet girl!” you greeted her, giving her a snack and petting her long neck. Molly watched intently, admittedly jealous of the treatment the horse was receiving. Oh, how she wished for you to call her that…

‘Don’t be ridiculous now, Molly. She will never see you that way’, she reminded herself, her smile disappearing into her thoughts.

“Here, let me help you get on” you offered, carefully picking her up and hoisting her onto Cloud’s back. Then you climbed in the saddle and took the reins, guiding the horse to the dirt road leading out of Clemens Point.

You rode silently for a while. Molly was too busy feeling flustered, thinking about her secret crush sweeping her off her feet with ease, a moment she kept replaying inside her head. She stared at your broad back, at the exposed, toned arms coming out of the rolled-up sleeves, and daydreamt of being lifted and tenderly kissed by the strong woman who came to her rescue when everyone else abandoned her. She imagined your soft lips on hers, smudging her lipstick, getting it on yours too and making such a mess, and she didn’t care. She dreamt of you retiring to your tent, undressing each other, getting so close you could hardly breathe, the mere thought already making her breathless.

“Are you okay back there?” you yelled, spurring the horse on. Yeah, she was more than okay. She’d never been that okay in her life. This felt like an adventure, like a well needed distraction, like… the start of a new chapter, maybe.

A few minutes later you both arrived in Rhodes. It wasn’t the best place to hang out, but it was the only city that was close to camp. Besides, you didn’t need a fancy place to have fun. You were determined to make Molly have a great day.

You helped her down and she kept her hand in yours, refusing to let go and lacing her fingers with yours. You asked where she wanted to go first.

“Mh…” she thought, swaying your joined hands back and forth and smiling like a child inside a candy shop. “Let’s go to the general store, maybe they have clothes there!”

Molly tried on so many skirts, blouses, vests and accessories and wanted your opinion on each and every one of them. You obviously told her she looked amazing in everything, and she twirled to show off her skirts, laughing, and you giggled at her unbridled joy. You could get used to this, you thought to yourself. Seeing her this happy was like a wholesome balm for your heart.

Her white ankle boots were becoming red from all the dirt, but she didn’t care, because she was with you. And you were away from camp, away from all the worries and frustrations. She was having so much fun, way more than she ever had with Dutch. He always spewed senseless poetry and sappy compliments at her, only ever concerning her looks. They all felt like recycled phrases he used to woo the ladies. But you didn’t, no: when you complimented her you were direct and genuine, and you saw her as a person.

Molly admired you as you browsed the weapons at the gunsmith, emptying the chambers and examining the quality of the materials. She thought you looked so attractive brandishing shotguns and revolvers like a natural gunslinger, and she knew you would gladly use them to protect her. She felt so safe with you by her side, and so grateful you decided to take her with you.

The saloon was you last stop. You ordered food and drinks and talked for hours as you indulged, sitting at the counter, feeling like the only people there. You downed your third shot, hoping to get the courage to reveal your feeling to her, but the words would not come out. You just settled on enjoying the moment with your dear Molly, savoring these last few moments of freedom with her.

You were both getting quite drunk, losing your restraints and getting closer to each other, both physically and emotionally.

“You know, I don’t even love Dutch anymore…” she slurred, throwing the shot glass behind her back. You laughed at the smashing glass and nodded exaggeratedly at her words.

“Fuck Dutch Van der Linde!” you yelled, raising your now empty bottle of beer. You two began chanting this phrase like a mantra until you could no longer speak, the hilarity getting to you and making your stomachs hurt.

“Okay, that’s enough for you two” the bartended warned, shooing the both of you away from the counter.

“Fine, Mister, we’re taking off!” you screamed way too loudly, making him wince.

“Yeah, thank you for the fine night, kind sir!” Molly added, grabbing your arm and dragging you out of the saloon.

“Hey! That’s the wrong-“the words died in the bartender’s mouth as you opened the back door. At least you were out of his hair for the night.

“Ugh, I don’t want to go back” Molly confessed, slumping against the wall, following the last carriages leaving town with her eyes, gaze filled with melancholy.

“Me neither. I wish this day would never end” you sighed, the booze making you way too honest.

“Let’s just stay here for a bit.” She took your hands and pulled you close to her so that you were pushing her against the wall of the Parlor House.

“What are you doing?” you asked, incredulous as she placed your hands around her waist and hers around your neck. You faces were so close all you could do was whisper, your voice trembling as your heart raced in realization.

“I want you to kiss me, miss” the redhead pleaded, looking up into your eyes with an angelic expression. There was something else behind those jade eyes: sadness, desire, maybe a little bit of shame. But not an ounce of guilt.

“We’re not supposed t-” you protested, but you shut your eyes and you could feel Molly’s breath on your lips and her breasts rest against yours. Suddenly, it didn’t feel so wrong. How could it be? You were about to kiss the person you loved. Were you so stupid to let the fact that she was a woman stop you?

‘Not a chance’, you thought. Next thing you knew, you were leaning into the kiss, letting yourself go and savoring her over and over again, until you were tasting everything, from the whisky she drank to the lipstick she wore, now smeared on both your open mouths as you desperately made out, an invisible force keeping you glued to each other until you could no longer breathe and regretfully had to pull yourselves apart. Enough time to get some air in your lungs and you were already all over each other again, Molly’s hair in you mouth and your tongue in hers, your desire growing more and more as she emitted little moans of delight, totally lost in a pleasure the likes of which she never experienced before. It was nothing like kissing a man. No, this was better! You were softer, and you tasted amazing, and your grip didn’t bruise her hips. Her mind was opening to a world of new possibilities, and she wanted you to guide her through it.

“We should go… Dutch will be worried” you exhaled, breathless, and Molly’s disappointed gaze drove a knife through your heart. It hurt you to stop, too, but you couldn’t stay there all night. You couldn’t give her what she wanted in the back of Rhodes Parlor House. You wanted to do things right by her.

“We’ll go out again. I promise” you lifted her face upwards to gaze into her eyes and caressed her cheek. She smiled sadly and nodded. “You promised. I will remember you did.”

You got on Cloud and she took the both of you home. The trip was silent, but hopeful. You two had each other now. It was going to be difficult and painful, but you were ready to do it all for Molly O’ Shea, and she felt the same. Before you rode back into camp, Molly helped you wipe her lipstick off your face with a handkerchief and you walked the rest of the way to make as little noise as possible, sneaking in more kisses while you were in the thick of the brush, already dreading having to sleep apart. You both greeted Lenny as you came in and Molly rushed to bed while you hitched Cloud up.

As you walked to your cot, you saw Dutch standing in front of their tent, glaring and following you with his eyes. You approached him, the rest of the alcohol left in your body giving you the guts to face him.

“Good evening, boss!”

Dutch blinked a few times, incredulous. “First of all, it’s the middle of the night” he growled. “Secondly, what were you thinking, bringing Miss O’ Shea out of camp?”

“She needed a day out, Dutch. I don’t know if you noticed, but she’s been miserable here.” You chose not to hide the passive-aggressiveness in your tone. You had enough of this fool.

“She could’ve gotten hurt!” Not that he cared. This was his way of telling you to back off from his property.

“I was there, and I was armed.” you replied sternly, gripping at your gun belt.

Dutch sighed and turned to see Molly sleeping peacefully in her cot, a big smile on her face. Then turned around and shot me a venomous look. “Don’t you dare tell me what she needs. That does not concern you, miss.”

“It will, if you keep neglecting her like that.” you replied, threatening him back. You walked away while that pathetic man stood there, seething in anger and storming off like a moody toddler. Now he had competition and, oh boy. He did not like it.

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