#Arthur would also find some candies left on his office from time to time because while Meta is rebellious he wasn't entirely a jerk xD

[starlytenight]

Come to think of it, did baby Meta or any other of his brothers get in the vents, causing basewide panic when people noticed they were missing, and later, in the vents with no clear way to get them out while they kept on crawling away?

Oh definitely. This little incident definitely taught these troublemakers not to go into the vents and when Arthur says STAY PUT, you DO that.

Bear in mind these boys first landed on various planets and fended for themselves from a few months to a year before they were found, so they're very used to doing their own thing or fighting something they clearly aren't ready to tackle.

Arthur had a learning curve with their behaviors and would try to explain to them that he wasn't just being a killjoy with his orders, he was just trying to keep them safe.

Also this sort of thing really hit Meta hard with needing to be saved when he was used to doing the saving back where he came from. He reaaaaallly strove toward wanting to become stronger out of the three. It sometimes worried Arthur how hellbent he was some days.

Needless today though, once Meta got teleportation powers... well. There went Arthur's sanity. When Meta got strong enough, there was less worry and more frustration from "Just come back for training in the morning and don't stay up too late" because he certainly loved doing his candy raids whenever the military ship landed somewhere.

[rogue-durin-16]

THINGS NEVER GO AS PLANNED (Part VI/VII)

"the downfall"

Summary: After Fred's death, George and Y/n lean on each other to carry on. This wasn't the most brilliant idea, though; George was pretty much in love with the girl, and Y/n— well, she had been dating Fred prior to the Battle of Hogwarts.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst mostly

Tags:

Suggested by: @crispykittywitch

Things never go as planned: @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @beautyschoo1dropout @s1ut4georgeweasley @sunshineandshadows @missmulti @accioweaslcy @andreaareynoso @georgeweasley16 @dianarte @skarlettmikaelson

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality

Warnings: language, allusions to sex

A/N: my apologies for keeping y'all waiting for this one darlings, but here comes the next part YAYY! Enjoy <3

Prologue: the aftermath

Part I: sleepless nights

Part II: candy floss

Part III: shock therapy

Part IV: wrong name

Part V: the perfect excuse

Part VII: apart

Epilogue: I still love you

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

He had left me in the room that morning, alone, with regret and guilt straining my chest, with embarrassment and panic heaving over me, my only company being a terrible headache and a sore body.

I was still waiting for him to come back. Of course, he still lived in the apartment, but the day after, he slept at Shell Cottage because Bill needed help with the chores, and the next night at the Burrow because Molly had asked to keep an eye on 'the kids' —the kids being Ginny, Harry, Ron and Hermione— while she and Arthur were off to visit Andromeda, and at Lee's because Angelina was away and they were going to have a boys' weekend; in summary, he managed to avoid stepping into the flat while I was in there for an entire week.

I would be lying if I said the idea of moving out hadn't crossed my mind, but I knew I was being dramatic— we were being dramatic; we were adults, even if we forgot about it more often than not, and adults talk things out, so I decided to confront him at the only place I would manage to corner him; the shop.

When I descended from the office on the second floor, I spotted the ginger turning the 'CLOSED' to face the glass door. "Oi!" His head snapped to me as I climbed downstairs and he instantly walked to the shelves on the opposite side. "Can I have a word?" I requested, following him, only for George to move on to another shelf.

"Right now I'm quite busy." He replied, seemingly absent-minded as he pretended to check the products in front of him.

"This is important." I insisted, moving to stand besides him.

Not fast enough, though, because he was off to yet another part of the shop as soon as I got close. "I'm sure it can wait."

"You know it can't," I assured intently, stalking after him, only for him to speed up his own pace, moving from product to product without stopping too long in front of him. "George I'm- Oi, stop! We need to talk about this!"

"Well maybe I don't wanna talk about this!" He exclaimed, taking big steps under one of the stairs in order to shamelessly dodge the hand with which I had reached out to stop him.

"George Weasley don't run away from me!"

"I'm not running away from you!"

"You're literally RUNNING AWAY!"

He stopped circling the counter and stood across from me, slamming his palms over the till. "ALRIGHT, LOVE!" for the first time, I didn't like the way the name dripped off his tongue. "Let's talk about how we accidentally FUCKED! That's what you want so badly, isn't it?!" Flush crept up his neck and ears, and I couldn't tell if it was from anger or from timidness. "Go on, darling, lead the bloody way!"

I felt my own cheeks going red, partly because of his straightforward statement but also because I genuinely had never heard George raise his voice like he had just done.

"Cat's got your tongue now?!" My stuttering seemed to fuel his anger more. "C'mon, Y/n, talk! You wanted to talk!"

"SHUT THE HELL UP, GEORGE!" He clenched his jaw as his freckles drowned in a sea of pinkish red. "Yeah I want to talk! 'Cause that's what grown-ups do! We don't know how to act around each other so we just don't spend time together anymore— Fuck, I've barely seen you! AND WE. LIVE. TOGETHER!" I emphasised each word with stomps. "We can either pretend it didn't happen or talk it out to make sure we're on the same page, you choose but for Merlin's sake, don't avoid me!"

"OKAY!" His eyes widened, surprised at his own tone, and then he repeated in a softer, self-conscious one, "Okay." He breathed deeply and then added. "We're on the same page, right?" His eyebrows raised as he looked into my eyes. "It was... A mistake."

I should have noticed the uncertainty and hope in his voice, but I panicked and was too quick to respond, "Yeah! A massive mistake." My words stung my heart and, to my dismay, his own just as much. "Can we go back to being friends? Because I'm going crazy without you." I blamed our watery eyes to the argument we had had, and not to the fact that it had been a mistake.

He circled the counter and walked to me, hesitating before pulling me into a hug. "Can I...?" I tugged him closer, wrapping my arms around his middle. It took a moment for him to ease into my embrace, and I could tell we had fucked up our friendship for good. "It's alright, we'll make it right again." His words made me squeeze him tighter, as if he was about to vanish from my side.

And from then, we tried to make it right, we tried so hard, because it seemed so easy to make it wrong again.

Everytime we stood too close, everytime he leaned on to whisper something, everytime I helped him with his tie, our eyes would fall on each other's lips; I would sometimes drift off the conversation, staring too much at his mouth and hands, wandering if they would feel just as amazing as they had done while we were drunk.

"Y/n are you listening?"

"Uh yeah- I mean, no- sorry, what?"

I was so focused on trying to hide it that I didn't notice George was in the exact same situation, meaning that neither of us could give in, because we would go down together. In all honesty, it was doomed to happen at some point, we were just delaying the inevitable.

The moment came the last night of January, when George showed up in my room due to a really rough nightmare, and I, as always, invited him in so we could lay down together.

"Isn't this... Weird?" He murmured as we scooted closer. We had kept physical contact at bay for obvious reasons, and cuddling had been off the table since New Year.

"It doesn't have to be." I replied, my voice as quiet as his. "We've done this a thousand times."

"Right." He cleared his throat, averting his eyes from mines as we shifted in our places ever so slightly, trying to find a position where the situation turned less awkward.

And it happened, my mind got lost on the way his neck tensed, on the damp locks hanging over his forehead, sweaty due to the nightmare; on his plump lips, which he had just wetted with his tongue in the most subtle way. It was a nervous habit of him, something he would usually do, but that didn't make it any less hot.

"George..." I called his name without noticing, my heart hammering violently against my chest when his gaze landed on my eyes, quickly falling on my lips.

The next thing I knew was that he was holding my thigh over his hip, his other hand on the back of my neck while we shared a hungry kiss that, as soon as my hips involuntarily rocked against his, turned into something more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

The next morning we swore to each other that it was just another accident, that it would happen again.

And the next one too.

And the following.

The fifth time that happened, we agreed to call the situation a 'friends with benefits' kind of thing, well aware that it was an euphemism for the downfall of our friendship.

I had longed to be hers for so long, and it that moment, as I lay by her side in her bed, that wish seemed so close yet so far; I could reach out and my fingertips would touch her skin, yet I had never felt that distant towards her.

The moment my eyes were averted from her form, her gaze was laid on me. "You don't have to go."

"I know." I replied in a mumble, already sitting up and reaching for my pants. "But soon we'll have to get up, so I might as well do that and let you sleep." I didn't want to turn around, I didn't want to see her beautiful irises pleading for me to stay by her side, because I knew I would.

I saw on my peripheral vision her fingers attempting to carefully wrap around my wrist, and I was quick to stand up and walk to the door; sadly, I did not miss Y/n burying her face into the pillow, her hands fisting on the fabric ever so subtly.

She tried to hide her tears like that, and I agressively wiped mines as soon as I reached the corridor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Morning, lady!" I light-heartedly greeted Y/n without turning my back to the making of our breakfast when I heard the steps approaching the kitchen.

In the morning it was easier to pretend everything was back to normal; usually, the refreshing sunlight and the drowsiness provided by a night of sleep were enough to wash away the sad truth of our relationship.

"Good morning, sir." She responded with a yawn, rubbing her eyes as she walked to stand besides me, leaning against the counter with her arms folded. "Smells good." She commented, leaning on to take a peek at the scrambled eggs.

I was about to make a cocky, playful comment when it dawned on me what she was wearing; it was my jumper, one of the old ones that I exclusively used for pyjamas.

I knew she didn't do it intently; I had left it on the floor the previous night, and it was probably the first thing she grabbed, but it struck a nerve.

I had seen a similar scene way too many times before; a sleepy, dishevelled Y/n entering the kitchen with an ugly Weasley jumper as only clothing, ready to start the bickering with an almost identical version of me who would be making breakfast.

My head then travelled to the thought that lately crossed my mind more often than not and my heart clenched; In Y/n's eyes, I was, most likely, just a poor replacement for Fred.

"You alright?" That worried furrow appeared between her brows too often lately. We were both walking on eggshells, and it got me on my nerves.

"You don't have to ask if I'm alright every time I'm quiet." I hadn't meant it to come out harsh or curt, but it definitely did.

"You're not quiet, you're overthinking." She responded with a tinge of hostility.

"What's to overthink?" I fought the need to raise my voice.

"Dunno, you tell me." She squinted her eyes with a scrutinising gaze directed to me.

"Can we not do this?" I almost pleaded; heated arguments had become a usual thing between us —yet another sign of the unfixable problem we refused to address.

Y/n was about to reply something that would lead us into a fight when the doorbell rung. "Mister Weasley?" I took that as a cue to go open the door to Verity, already dressed on her uniform. "The Valentine's Day products arrived, should I unpack them or..." Her eyes flickered behind me and her cheeks heated up. "Y/n—" When I looked over my shoulder, I felt my own face flushing out of embarrassment. Y/n was still my employee and Fred's ex, so Verity catching a glimpse of her dressed in my jumper wasn't the best thing for any of us. "I— am I— sorry, am I interrupting?"

"You're not interrupting." I assured her with a reassuring smile. "Leave the boxes on the puking pastries section, we'll be down in ten."

"Alright, sir." Her curious gaze travelled to Y/n one last time, and with that, she was rushing back down to the shop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

READER'S P. O. V.

The ache that had appeared on my chest the day after New Year would end up killing me, or at least it felt like that.

I had a dreadful gut feeling of knowing what caused that pain, but my mind refused to believe it was that, and kept pushing the sensation back into my heart day by day.

George had gone to relocate the puking pastries in the upper level of the shop so I could prepare the section with the Valentine's Day products.

My eyes dawned on the small packages of Amortentia. I knew it was a terrible idea but I needed to know.

I took a look around, making sure Verity wasn't near and George was up still, and brought one of the Amortentias under my nose. It didn't take long for the scents to besot me, and I had to put all my will on not to fall under the potion's spell.

The first smell to reach my nostrils was gunpowder; my heart skipped a bit when the next scent was vanilla.

Then strawberry and chocolate; candy floss cupcakes and George's cologne.

The tiny, heart-shaped bottle fell from my hands, scattering all over the shop's floor. "Shit!" I rapidly kneeled to pick the shattered glass when I realized it had echoed in the empty establishment.

"Oi! What was that?" George descended from the second floor, using the ladder. "Oh shit—" his hands took a hold on my bicep and pulled me away from the pool of pinkish pearl liquid that seemed to be attracting me. "Don't!" He warned Verity, who had attempted to jog in the potion's direction too. "Verity, can you bring me my wand?" The girl complied running up to the office.

In Verity's absence, George took the chance and cupped my cheeks, tilting my head up to check my eyes. "You alright?" I managed to give him a slow nod, my mind buzzing with the newly acquired information. "Getting the Amortentias was a bad idea, wasn't it?" I nodded again, producing a frown between his eyebrows. "No 'told you so'? Are you sure you're alright?" He chuckled nervously, his hands falling to his sides right in time for Verity to rush back to us.

"Here, Mister Weasley!"

"Thank you, darling." He politely replied, taking the wand and restoring the potion bottle in a swift movement. His eyes peeked at me again; I could see the worry growing on him. "Y/n-"

"I'm gonna go wash my face." The words hastily left my mouth before I dashed off to the restroom.

I closed the door behind me and took a look at the mirror; my pupils were blown and my cheeks pink. I ran the tab and splashed the water on my face a few times until the potion's mild effect was gone and my mind clear.

It was in that moment that it dawned on me that I was in love with George Weasley.

[roseweasleyward]

What if Romione had met before Hogwarts

Click here for Hermione's POV

Click here for more headcacons!

Ron's POV

“And Hufflepuff intercepted Gryffindor’s quaffle! The Hufflepuff’s chasers are flying perfectly through the pitch leaving no room for Gryffindor to get the quaffle back. Not even the beaters can stop them! There's only one person that can save Gryffindor: Weasley, Gryffindor’s keeper!”, the crowd cheers loudly with the mention of the best keeper Hogwarts has ever seen. “They're getting closer and closer, there it goes the quaffle and… HE DID IT!! RON WEASLEY DID THE UNTHINKABLE!”

“RON! Are you ready to go?”, said Mr Weasley from the kitchen.

Ron suddenly woke up, remembering he had promised his father he would join him on his trip to the Muggle world. However, he didn't get up straight away, he couldn't stop thinking about his dream and wondered if he would ever be as an incredible quidditch player as his older brother Charlie.

After dressing up quickly and eating some breakfast, Ron and his father Arthur reached Diagon Alley and then the Leaky Cauldron, arriving at the Muggle world at last.

Ron never really understood his father's obsession with Muggles, in fact, he was quite sure no one did. Other pureblood families judge his family a lot, especially his father, due to their affectionate or lack of disgust towards Muggles, something Ron understood even less.

“Why should we hate them just because they aren't wizards? They're still humans after all.”, Ron usually said when this sort of conversation came up.

Mr. Weasley’s plans for today were clear: studying Muggle libraries, bookshops and other places that could sell books in order to acknowledge whether or not they had any magical information they shouldn't.

“It definitely sounds fun.”, Ron said while rolling his eyes clearly showing his boredom.

“I know! Imagine all the new things we will learn about them!”, Mr. Weasley answered with such enthusiasm that some people looked towards him questioning if he was alright.

“Glad we stopped by Honeydukes.”, Ron stated while putting a candy bean in his mouth from Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans his father had bought him. “Dad, can I stay in that bookshop reading The Tales of Beedle the Bard?”

“Read what? And what did I tell you about the beans? Ron, you were not supposed to bring that book! And I don't want you to eat those in front of Muggles, we can't take any- oh look! Is that the post office?!”, Mr. Weasley walked quickly towards it, bumping into several Muggles.

Knowing his father would be staring at the building for a while, Ron got in the bookshop looking for a chair, but finding a place to sit proved to be more difficult than expected. When he finally found a place to rest- that was clearly not meant to be used as a chair-, he realised that there was a girl about his age in the bookshop as well and even though he couldn't see her face - she had a big bushy brown hair -, he felt she wasn't feeling happy. He came closer and his feelings were confirmed: she was indeed sad.

“Why are you so sad?”, Ron asked, questioning himself why he was so concerned about this girl he had never met. “Well, it's not like the bookshop is the most interesting place in the world, especially this type of bookshop.”

The girl turned her face to look at him and he could then see her dull brown eyes. She also looked like she was about to reprimand him for something, but she gave up on that idea as she glanced at what Ron was holding. He remembered the beans and couldn't help offering one.

“Do you want one?”, Ron asked nicely.

“No, thank you.”, the girl replied excessively politely.

“It's your loss, really.”, said Ron while putting a bean on his mouth. “Argh, this one tastes like earwax. Well, I better go now. Have a nice day!”

“Wait! Which book is that?”, the girl asked him, making Ron understand she was not staring at the beans but at the book he had brought with him. He also realised the girl's eyes were not dull anymore, but shining, in fact they reminded him of the night skies he was used to looking at at the burrow.

“Oh, you don't know? It's The Tales of-...”, Ron stopped abruptly. “How could you know…”. The girl was a Muggle! How could he forget that? But telling her wouldn't be so bad, would it? No! “We can't take any risk!”, he recalled. “I really have to go now. Ah, nice to meet you.”, he said as he left running, afraid he would say something he shouldn't.

“There you are! I was looking for you. Oh, you visited a bookshop without me?! How dare you!”, Mr. Weasly said as soon as Ron left the bookshop pretending to me mad. “Well, tell me: did you see anything unusual? No? Splendid!”, for a moment, Ron thought his dad was going to start crying of happiness. “Let's go home now. Oh, and we shall stop at the Honeydukes again and I will let you buy all the candy you want!”. But Ron didn't want to go to Honeydukes, he didn't want more candy, he wanted to go back and ask the girl why she was sad in the first place and why she wasn't anymore.

These thoughts lived in his mind until they reached Honeydukes for the second time that day. It was only when they got in the shop and his father said once again he could choose whatever he wanted, Ron realised that maybe he did want more candy.

13 years later...

“I can't believe it! My old The Tales of Beedle the Bard! I thought mom had thrown it away when she found out I took it with me to that trip I did with dad to the Muggle world”

Holding the book, Ron walked down the stairs to tell Hermione his marvellous finding. As he reached the end of the stairs, he saw Hermione sadly staring at their bookshelf. And as if it was magic, he remembered more about that trip than the book he lost. He remembered dreaming about quidditch, his dad telling me to hurry up, all the candies he bought at Honeydukes, but, especially, the sad girl at the bookshop who was so interested in his book.

Ron turned to the kitchen and looked in every single cabinet for a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and when he finally found one, he grabbed it and walked to Hermione.

“Hermione, look what I found! My old edition of The Tales of Beedle the Bard!”, he said happily. “Oh and I have beans too, do you want one?”,

Hermione took a while to answer, but by the look in her eyes he could tell she remembered that day as well.

[darlingsdevil]

The Ballads of Rebirth (Arthur Morgan x Reader)

Chapter 12: To Your Thoughts I’ll Soon Be Listening

Masterlist

•••

A/N: Warnings: pretty angsty stuff, minor gore

Ps. I’m not a doctor, and only did minimal research on early 1900’s medicinal practices.

This is a Lee focused chapter, the next will be Arthur!

Oh man I cried while writing this, the first time that’s ever happened!

And also there’s a lot of foreshadowing that I was able to tie into this chapter. As some of you may know, I don’t plot shit so what I usually just start writing and let it lead wherever and say ok this is good and publish it lmao. A lot of earlier stuff wasn’t meant to be foreshadowing but I was able to weave it into this chapter.

•••

The first thing you thought of was candy. Peppermints, licorice, chocolate, kettle corn, butterscotch, brittle, saltwater taffy, gumdrops and wafers. The ice cream parlor on the pier, the fudge store with the owner who always remembered your name no matter how many years had passed since your last visit. What you thought was death, in reality quite sweet. The bliss of unknowing, weightlessness was comforting. Fog had been veiled over your eyes, you could nearly taste the candy now.

Just a bit closer, like floating on a cloud. It was welcoming, intoxicating, a stark contrast to the heartbreak of the mortal world.

But only candy was on your mind as you lay in the back of a wagon, blood covering your clothes, hay poking your sides, straw in your wild hair. Scratches littering your arms and a continuous stream of blood falling over your skin from the large puncture wound in your chest.

Candy.

The sugary taste that children screamed and cheered for, that brought smiles to the faces of the consumers. Candy. Only candy.

It could have been minutes or hours, but the sugary treat was only on your mind. You were knocking on death's door, but it seemed the Reaper wasn’t home. You were waiting for that final push into either side, living or death, waiting to be out of limbo.

The owner of the wagon you lay in had found you on the dirt road, right on the main path, in a pool of your own blood, barely breathing. He wondered who you were and what your story was.

So now you lay, unconscious, covered in hay, bloodied and battered, thinking of candy. What a strange thing, you thought.

•••

Lee received the news first from Officer Clark. It was around three in the morning when he woke to the rapid sound of knocking at the general store door. He could barely hear it, but he was up sick with worry and couldn’t sleep.

Lee opened up the door to a tired Officer Clark. Dread filled him, Clark looked worried.

“A woman was found in the woods. She fits your wife’s profile. She’s heavily wounded, she’s in the hospital now, outside of town. Please come with me, Mr. Rinascita, she’s in a very critical state.” Officer Clark told him urgently. Lee was snapped out of his groggy state and pulled on his coat that hung next to the door.

Lee was unsure of what to say, so he followed Officer Clark to his horse. It was cold out, colder than it had been recently, the streets were deserted, barely a light on. Lee was even more worried than he had been. Lee was terrified, you could have severe damage, robbed, raped, terrible things could have been done to you while you were gone. Lee was beyond scared, but he couldn’t wait to see you.

Arthur would have to wait, it was selfish of Lee to not tell Arthur but they had to act quickly and Lee had no time to seek out Arthur. Your life was on the line, he would never risk it.

Officer Clark helped Lee onto the back of his horse, they darted through the empty streets towards the hospital. Lee felt sick, emotions bubbling inside him didn’t help with the quick motions of the horse.

It felt like an eternity. The ride to the hospital was long as it was in the outskirts of the growing city. It didn’t help with his nerves. You had so much placed onto your chest, but you shouldn’t have acted so rashly, there would be time for that talk later, he was already dreading it.

When they finally arrived at the hospital, Lee hopped off the horse and ran in. Officer Clark was close behind him.

“I- I.. someone came in earlier, a woman. I’m her husband,” Lee told the man at the desk. Lee looked wild, disheveled hair, more so than it always was, wrinkled clothes after he couldn’t bring himself to change clothes for bed. There was a frantic look in his eyes.

The man looked at him with sympathetic eyes.

“I need you to fill out some forms for me before you can see her and proof of your relation to her.” The man said slowly, as if Lee would crack at any moment.

Lee shook his head with disbelief.

“I-I no, I can’t, there’s no time. My wife is in there and she’s dying, please sir, I have to see her.” Lee begged the man.

Officer Clark entered, the man instantly looked towards him.

“He’s with me, Flynn. You can let him through.” Officer Clark said from behind Lee. Lee sighed in relief.

Flynn nodded and pointed towards a door.

“She’s in there.”

Lee walked quickly through it. It was a large room with many beds. Some were encased in a curtain, others out in the open. He walked through the aisles of sick and wounded people. He felt his stomach twist at the sight of every person. Every step felt like he was walking towards hell.

Children looked at him with sunken eyes. Men and women coughing out their lungs, envying him for being healthy. Lee could barely take it. He wondered how you and Arthur would feel when you looked around the room, you had told him how badly the two of you reacted to Arthur’s diagnosis. It would be reliving it all again.

“She’s here, Mr. Rinascita.” Officer Clark told him. Lee had walked past your bed, so caught up with all the eyes watching him and the emotions he felt, he had missed your bed.

Lee turned around. His heart nearly shattered.

Your face was scratched, bandages littering your body.

“Is that your wife, sir?”

Lee’s ears were filled with cotton, he zoned in on your barely breathing body. It shook him to his core.

“Yes,” Lee said, choking back tears. He looked at the officer.

“That’s her.”

Officer Clark nodded.

“I’ll leave you two alone then. Please come by to the station to fill out the rest of the report when you’re ready.”

Lee was struggling to hold back his emotions, they were like a tsunami, a ferocious wave coming up abruptly and ripping down everything he had built up.

He plopped down in the chair next to your bed, rubbing his hands through his messy brown hair. It was his father’s diagnosis all over again. Sitting, waiting for the inevitable to reach him, fate tying it’s cold hands tightly around him.

Lee’s father would have less than a year, the doctor assumed. Only Lee had learned of this, Mr. Rinascita chose not to, rather than living everyday wasting away waiting for it to come, he would be fine with not knowing, because that’s how death was supposed to work, it would come suddenly, leaving all those affected reeling.

And now he wondered, if he would lose you too. What if he was witnessing your last breath? What if you died while he sat there, helpless.

He leaned forward, holding your hand gently in his. Lee brushed his thumb over your cold hands. They were too cold, but just warm enough to show him you were still alive. Lee kept telling himself he shouldn’t cry in a place that experienced so much suffering, but tears kept threatening to spill out of the corner of his eyes.

“Why would you leave me like that?” Lee mumbled, his voice cracking. Tears fell from his eyes like a flash flood. You had made an impulsive decision, one that left him sick with worry and now you were almost dead. Lee felt selfish for being angry, like he wasn’t supposed to, but he had every right to be. Perhaps it was his fault, he judged Arthur quickly and seemed like he had paid the price for it.

He thought your arrival back to him would bring him peace, it only created more turmoil in him, a brewing mess that would rain down soon enough.

Lee was a storm and he would let all that rain fall down soon.

•••

Minutes turned into hours while he held your hand, waiting for you to wake up. When the next shift of nurses came in, a younger nurse found him nearly instantly. She gave him your medical file after proving his relation to you.

“This is for you, sir. It’s your wife’s medical file, explaining everything the doctor had seen. He still needs to run more tests when she wakes up.” The nurse said sweetly to him, he opened up the file and read the doctor’s note.

Seems to have been attacked by a large animal, most likely a wolf. Blisters found on patients foot as well as bruising, possibly ran many miles to safety. Large wounds on upper right chest and left forearm as well as various punctures around the chest area. A tourniquet made out of fabric was placed on the forearm. Possible brain commotion. Patient is currently stabilized as of 3/18/00, 2h34.

Further testing is required. Patient may wake up any time now to 8h000.

Lee handed the file back to the nurse, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind but not a single word he could find.

“If she hadn’t placed the tourniquet on her arm, she would have likely died from blood loss. She made it just in enough time. You have a smart wife.” The nurse told him, attempting to comfort him.

Lee struggled to show a reaction.

The nurse continued to smile at him.

“Would you like something to eat?”

“No, I’m fine.” He said quickly, staring at your unconscious body.

“Alright, well, the doctor will be here to check up on her. In the meantime, is there anyone you would like to call to inform? We have a phone at the front desk.”

Lee nodded.

“It’s just through those doors.” The nurse said before waking to her many other patients. Lee got up, once again feeling the eyes of the sick on him.

As he pushed open the doors, it was like a breath of fresh air. But he had left you behind those doors, and instantly thought of turning around. There were other people who needed you, it wouldn’t be right to hog you all to himself as much as he wanted to.

Lee asked for the phone, when he got it he mindlessly found the number for the hotel Arthur was staying at. A woman answered and told him to call another number so he did.

It picked up on the second ring.

“Hello?” Arthur’s groggy voice spoke through the phone.

“It’s me, Lee. She’s here, at the hospital. Someone found her. I don’t know all the details yet but she’s really hurt. Please come soon.”

Arthur took in Lee’s words like a punch to the gut.

“I’ll be there soon. Keep her safe for me, Lee.” He said after a moment.

•••

[probskay]

Silence in the Air

The silence in the air is tangible. It is long past midnight. All 3 people in the room are staring each other down. There are two others, just outside the door, discussing things in private. 

This is going to end with someone dead on the floor.

Elizabeth, wearing a brisk evening gown and her hair up in a shoddy bun, is openly brandishing a knife. She twists it back and forth between her hands, eight inches of steel blinking continuously in the light. She’s convinced she’s going to be the reason someone dies tonight, and she wants it to be known to everyone else that this is her intention.

Mack desperately doesn’t want to be here, and yet here they are. Mack is just a butler. They’ve never seen more than a thousand dollars in their savings account at any given moment, but this gig was finally giving them the chance they needed to save up and transition. They aren’t out to Elizabeth about being nonbinary yet, and their bowtie is getting tighter and tighter around their neck with every passing minute.

Arthur is here because he tried stealing a single pendant from Elizabeth’s well guarded safe. He was nearly successful, but Mack fucked up keeping watch, and they both got caught in the safe. This whole gig took two fucking years to set up and put together, and it was ruined because some dipshit kid couldn’t keep their hands off the gold. Arthur told them, numerous times, We’re in here for one thing and that’s it. It will make us a fortune.

Outside, Officer Du Bois is talking to the person who caught Mack and Arthur; Elizabeth’s secret lover, Anna. Du Bois can clearly tell Anna is nervous. He has ideas about why- besides the presence of a police force he knows isn’t quite friendly to queer people- but holds his tongue. Right now his job is to listen. He’s trying to get all of the details, and he doesn’t have anyone nearby to help him.

Anna is fucking mortified. She’s dead and she knows it. Elizabeth has a knife and she plans on using it. This pig doesn’t even have a fucking gun, and she knows he isn’t going to put himself in front of a knife for some dyke he doesn’t even know. Elizabeth’s husband is going to find out about this, and Elizabeth doesn’t want Anna to have the chance to come clean about this. Oh, but the way Elizabeth’s hair gleamed in the gentle moonlight...

“Anna,” Du Bois snaps his fingers. “Anna, I know you’re going through a lot right now but I need you to stay with me.” She’s barely in her underwear and a night gown. She’s probably freezing. Du Bois watches her shiver. Offer her your coat.

“Oh. Of course, officer,” she says. “Where were we again?”

Du Bois slides off his coat. “Here,” he says, “Put this on. You’re freezing out here.” Good thing he’s got a jacket underneath as well.

She takes the coat and wraps it around herself. She’s surprised. She’s not sure if this cop is putting on an act to gain her trust or if he legitimately cares about her well being. “Thanks,” she mutters.

You can’t just dodge around the issue. She’s in danger. Du Bois knows this, but he doesn’t legitimately think asking her about her danger will help her in anyway. A different voice speaks up: You might not, but it could lead her to open up more. 

Anna stares into the pig’s eyes. There’s something going on behind that lid of his, and she wishes she had any idea what it was. She can watch the gears turning in his head, but she can’t see the hands of the clock turn.

Du Bois sighs. “There’s something more troubling you, isn’t there?”

Anna tenses up. She’s glad the large coat is hiding her body enough so that he can’t see the motion. “I don’t know what you mean, officer. I was just cold.”

He does see her tense up, however subtle that might be. He’s had that coat for five years, he recognises when every single wrinkle in that battered old thing shifts. There it is. Strike the heart. “Don’t worry, once this is over you and Elizabeth will be able to rest in peace.”

Anna shuffles in place, trying to keep from wincing. Barely a moment has passed, but she can tell there’s so much going on in the officer’s head. His eyes, almost imperceptibly, are scanning every inch of her.  “You think Elizabeth is going to kill you, don’t you?” he says.

Her eyes widen. Nail on the head, chief. “She’s got a knife, and she hasn’t stabbed anyone else in that room yet. If she wanted the thieves out of the picture, she would’ve done it. You think she’s waiting for you, because you were the one who ran and left to get a police officer. This encounter is the only thing extending your life, because once I cuff those two and walk away, you’ll be alone with Elizabeth, and that’s the last thing you want right now.”

If Anna wasn’t scared of this cop before, she sure is scared of him now. How the hell did he figure all of that out so quickly? She’s barely told him anything. She was going to try and run away- no, sneak away- when the chance arose, but there was no chance. This cop is never going to let her go now.

The first voice speaks again. You were completely correct. Now she’s even more scared, though. You shouldn’t have pressed further. If you leave her here alone, her blood will be on your hands. Her death will be your fault, whether or not you arrest Elizabeth afterward. Du Bois thought about this. 

“You’re right!” Anna suddenly cries. “Elizabeth is going to kill me. She’s been cheating on her husband with me for seven months, and she’s going to end my life. He can’t find out about me, do you understand? She can’t let him find out about me. I’m just supposed to be some eye-candy maid for him, and just dust the corners. I know I should’ve left so long ago, but the money was decent, hormones are expensive, and- and-”

Harry nods. He doesn’t say anything. She’s already opened up. Like a shaken up can of pop, she’s finally burst.

“I love her!” She proclaims. “I loved her so fucking much, even though I knew how much of a risk it was. I knew that I wasn’t going to make it out of this relationship safely. I held out hope that one day Elizabeth would sweep me off of my feet, take me out to her boat, and we’d sale off into the pale ocean and onto other land. We’d be safe, and it’d just be her and I. We’d be alive and okay and her husband wouldn’t seek us out.”

Anna is crying at this point. Du Bois wants to cry, too, but he knows he can’t. He can’t just break down in front of a witness. He can’t just let her die, either. He has to make a tough choice, though: keep her here while he sorts out everything between everyone here tonight or let her run away and find new safety right now.

Anna is sobbing and she can’t stop. This is the last night she will ever see the sun, and it wasn’t even between the legs of an older woman. An older, graceful, beautfi- no no no! Those thoughts won’t do at all. She can’t rely on Elizabeth anymore. Elizabeth isn’t her love anymore. She’s alone in this world- again.

Du Bois takes her hand. He knows this is the greatest risk he’s ever going to take on his job, even greater than the time he was shot twice- though both shots only tore some skin off of his side- leaping from the cover that was about to collapse on top of him and the cover that was barely holding itself up during a firefight nearly eight years ago, but it was one he was willing to take. He slips her a business card. “Get out of here, Anna. Call me in 6 hours. We’ll figure this out.”

Anna takes the card, and she runs. She isn’t coming back. She doubts she will call this cop, either. One mercy doesn’t mean a fucking thing.

Du Bois turned back inside. There were still three more people he needed to deal with. He was sure he knew the whole story at this point, no one had lied to him about anything so far, but he still needs to figure out what to do about this whole situation.

“Officer Du Bois, you’re finally back,” Elizabeth chides. “I’m certain Anna treated you well.” Elizabeth digs the knife into her table and drags it down, leaving a sizable mark in it. This was the fifth one she had made so far. Mack winced every time they saw it, and Elizabeth relishes their fear.

Mack, despite every muscle in their black ass telling them otherwise, stares in the cop’s eyes. They need to show they aren’t afraid. This cop couldn’t do anything to them. Mack would get out of here just fine. They knew it. Whatever prison this cop would put them into couldn’t be worse than what they knew Elizabeth desperately wanted to do tonight.

Arthur rolls his eyes at Elizabeth’s statement. “Yeah, alright your highness, you’re rich and your servants,” he put a lot of venom into that, “are well behaved. Are you going to let us go or what?”

Elizabeth huffs, indignant. “You think you get to just leave? After breaking into my home? Attempting to steal my family heirlooms?” She scoffs and shakes her head, looking at Officer Du Bois. “Can you believe this officer?”

Du Bois nods. “I can. Although, according to this lad, the pendant isn’t actually yours. It was stolen from another family who wants it back. He was hired to get it back.” This was what Arthur had told him earlier, and it checked out later when Elizabeth let him examine the amulet. It didn’t actually bear her family crest, but the DuFrasne crest. “It’s a surprise to me that they only requested the pendant be stolen back and not anything else as revenge.”

Mack looks over at Arthur in shock. Why hadn’t Arthur told them this? Arthur shuffles in his seat. “Yeah, so really I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I was basically a subtle repo-man. That’s allowed, right?” It’s a cheap excuse, he knows, but it’s better than nothing.

“No, it’s not,” Du Bois says. “The DuFrasne’s should’ve contacted the police about the theft, and had us perform a proper search and investigation. Taking the law into your own hands is also a crime, and they will be investigated as well.”

Arthur shifts in his chair. He really wasn’t in the mood to deal with the pigs for however long that would take. This was supposed to be an easy job, in and out, and then he was going to take a long trip out to some nice little island and lay low for a few years. Now he’s stuck playing footsies with “the law.” He had a plan B, cold against his leg, but he really didn’t want to have to use it.

Elizabeth scoffed again. “You have absolutely no proof I stole that pendant in the first place.” She couldn’t believe she was being accused of such things. She was rich, no one was supposed to question her. This cop was just supposed to clean up after her, not do whatever he’s doing.

Mack noticed the tight grip Elizabeth had on the dagger. Her knuckles were white.

Du Bois crossed his arms. “Elizabeth, you’d best put that weapon away. You’re in the presence of a police officer, and that can easily be read as a threat.” Elizabeth laughed. “You don’t even have a gun,” she said. “How do you plan on enforcing any law if you have no weapons to do so?” 

Arthur did his best to avoid laughing, too. It was obvious the cop didn’t have a gun. His holster was empty. There’s not a cop within a hundred miles who conceal carries. If this one was the exception, he was probably breaking some rule himself.

Mack’s eyes shifted to the holster. They hadn’t even thought to see if the cop had a gun. You always presume they do, because if you look at their hip they’ll think you want to steal their gun and shoot them. They weren’t willing to take that risk, but they did just now anyway. Now they know this cop can’t do a thing to stop from leaving. They could stand up and walk away right now.

The knife digging into the table was more audible than any previous dig before. Elizabeth made sure it was deeper, too. “So what are you going to do tonight, officer?” She followed this up by tossing the pendant onto the table. The clatter of its chain was suddenly subdued when contrasted with the knife.

The pendant released some sort of black mist upon hitting the table. Mack saw it, and looked around to see if anyone else did. No one even looked at the thing. They were all too busy staring each other down. Mack returned their eyes to the pendant. They couldn’t see the mist anymore.

Du Bois straightened his shoulders. He knew what Elizabeth was trying to do, and he wasn’t going to let it happen. He’s avoided corruption and bribes for the last six years at least, and he wasn’t in the mood to break his streak as the cleanest cop in his precinct. “I’m going to put all three of you under arrest for further investigation. Come quietly and we won’t have any issues.”

Arthur’s eyebrows rose. The pig was going to arrest the wife of a rich man? That was a bold move, unheard of until today. He had no intention of being arrested, but he was tempted to stick around just to see what would happen. Of course, that would void his deal with the DuFrasne’s, and a bit of fun at the expense of Elizabeth was not worth giving up that money.

Elizabeth stood up, holding her knife at her side. “Fuck you!” she shouted. “I know my rights. You have no precedent to arrest me.” This cop was either stubborn or stupid, because no one arrested Elizabeth. She had every cop in a twenty mile radius under her thumb. What was this bastard doing?

Du Bois briskly reaches a hand into his jacket. He didn’t have his gun, but he thought this bluff might do something worthwhile.

Arthur sneaks his hand down the legs of his pants and reaches for the gun he took. A six barrel revolver, incredibly uncommon in these areas. More fire power than most of the handguns that people could get. Of course, the one cop hiding heat had to show up tonight.

Mack’s eyes scanned everything, as if in slow motion. Elizabeth was standing at the ready, waiting for the chance to strike. Arthur was reaching into his pants, and the bulge of a pistol was suddenly apparent. The cop was also reaching for something in his jacket- wasn’t he wearing a coat earlier?- but they doubted it was actually a gun. Du Bois was bluffing.

Mack lastly, glanced at the pendant again. It looked malevolent. Something wicked was surrounding it, and no one else was paying attention.

Du Bois felt the danger. He carefully eyed Elizabeth- he could probably take her if he had to- then glanced at Arthur and Mack. Mack was slowly scooting his chair sideways, away from everything. That was a reasonable response. Arthur had a hand down the leg of his pants. It was clear he had a gun. Du Bois began to calculate actions within his head.

Elizabeth’s gaze darted amongst everyone in the room, too. Du Bois remained focused on her. Arthur was staring immediately between the two of them, as if planning an escape. If Elizabeth attacked the cop, she knew Arthur and Mack would flee while they struggled. She couldn’t have that.

Elizabeth took a sharp step toward Arthur, and Arthur knew who he was going to point his gun at. He immediately stood up and pointed the gun at Elizabeth. “I don’t make a plan without accounting for all the risk, madame.”

Mack could see the amulet becoming more and more volatile with every passing moment. He carefully stood up, getting ready to run the moment it was convenient- or possible, honestly.

The room was standing still once more. Du Bois still simply had his hand in his jacket, and he knew at this point he didn’t have a bluff worth anything. He slowly pulled his hand out of his jacket and prepared to tackle whichever of those two made the first move.

That’s your gun! A voice spoke to Du Bois. Shit in a biscuit, it was indeed his gun. He recognised the barrel, with a small inscription on the side. It was illegible at this point, but it used to say “Lady Death.” The owner before him was a bit gruesome. He’d been missing this gun for a year and the precinct refused to issue him a replacement. He thinks he lost it during a chase, where he must not have closed up his holster properly. Someone must’ve snagged it during the in-between.

Arthur has 2 bullets in the gun. If he makes a shot, he needs to make it count. He stares down the barrel of the gun, straight at Elizabeth. He takes a second to glance at Du Bois, who he notices has not drawn a gun but has his hands out his coat. The pork chop bluffed.

Elizabeth is sitting in silence as well. So much for that idea. She’s fuming. She was going to fucking kill these god damn thieves and that god damn cop and the god damn girl. She’s done playing games. She’s done playing around with everyone. That amulet deserves to be with her. It’s her amulet. It was always meant to be her amulet. “Fuck it,” she says, before grabbing the necklace and running.

Arthur is surprised. “Wha-” is all he manages to say before realising he doesn’t know what he’s watching.

Mack sees the mist wrap its way up Elizabeth’s arm. It has a vice grip on her flesh. Her skin color is becoming paler, and her veins are darkening.

Du Bois rushes her. He charges directly at her. He can tell she’s running toward the window, and he has to stop her before she jumps. This is only a second story, but that fall would certainly break a bone, at least. 

Elizabeth is almost there. She’s nearly there. The window is right there.

Mack watches the mist take over more of her. Are those three not seeing this? Arthur suddenly notices what’s happening and takes the chance. He whispers to Mack “Let’s bounce.”

Du Bois grabs Elizabeth’s arm. She turns and stabs at him with the knife. Du Bois steps aside and uses her own momentum to throw her back into the main room.

Elizabeth somersaults back to her feet and leaps at Mack, who was following behind Arthur. She raises the knife with her hand in the air and shrieks. Arthur turns around at the sound of the shriek and sees this. He fires.

Mack’s ears are ringing.

Du Bois is running to grab Elizabeth again.

Elizabeth no longer has a knife curled between her fingers, but instead carries four fingers and a thumb. This means nothing.

Du Bois sees Elizabeth is preparing to jump off of Mack’s back. He tries to grab her ankle, but she’s already airborne. “Shit!” he cries.

Arthur sees her gliding toward him. There is no blood leaking from her palm. She’s looks sickly, like death. Her hand is wrapped around his throat, and her nails are digging into his skin. Nothing about this is right.

Du Bois shoves Mack out of the way and assesses the situation. Arthur dropped his gun. Elizabeth is tightening her grip around Arthur’s throat. He’s bleeding.

Mack fucking knew it. Mack fucking knew there was something wrong with that fucking pendant. She’s a fucking monster now. She’s being possessed by some kind of fucking demon. She’s covered in that mist now- there’s absolutely no way everyone else hasn’t seen it by this point- and she isn’t bleeding. She’s about to strangle Arthur to death, and she isn’t even human anymore. This is fucking bullshit.

Elizabeth grasps even tighter. Arthur gurgles. Her thumb touches her ring finger. She pulls, lifting her hand above her head. The smell… it’s delicious.

Du Bois already dove for the gun. He’s already crouched and aiming the revolver at the back of her head. She cackles and let’s go of Arthur’s windpipe.

Du Bois steadies his hand. He breathes out. He fires.

Elizabeth was right. She was the reason someone died tonight, technically. Consciousness returns to her for just long enough to witness Arthur’s corpse on the floor before she, too, fades from this existence.

Du Bois sighs. He checks the chambers of the revolver. It’s completely empty. He got lucky.

Mack sees the black mist swiftly retreat back into the pendant. That can’t be a fucking good sign.

Du Bois gets up and begins to assess the damage. The first thing he does is try to pull the pendant out of Elizabeth’s hand. It’s much easier to do before rigor mortis sets in.

Mack witnesses the fucking cop go for the amulet. They lean over and pick up the knife. “Don’t touch that fucking amulet,” Mack says.

Du Bois stops. He looks at Mack, and sees that they’re currently armed. “What do you know about the necklace?”

Mack curses. “Are you fucking dense? Did you not see the black mist that possessed Elizabeth? And how it disappeared the moment you killed her? Back into the amulet?”

Du Bois didn’t see any of this. Though, glancing at her hand, he does now see that she only just started bleeding. That is strange. “Hand me the knife, then,”

Du Bois instructs Mack.

“What? Mack asks. “What do you plan to do?” This cop is loose as hell. What would the knife do to the amulet?

Du Bois holsters his gun, only just realising he was still carrying it. The weight is simultaneously comfortable and burdensome on his hip. “I’m going to cut off her hand and place it into an evidence bag.”

Mack eyes Du Bois. They sigh. Du Bois still has the gun. There isn’t a damn thing this knife would do anyway. They hand the knife over, and Du Bois takes it. Du Bois saws her hand off. He then slides the entire thing into an evidence bag he took from his jacket.

He stands up. “Will you wait here, Mack, while I radio my precinct and let them know about this, or do I have to arrest you?” Du Bois is done. This is only the fifth person he’s killed during his 21 years of police work. He wants to go home and be fucking done with this case for the night.

Mack shakes his head. “I- um-” They don’t even know where they would go or what they would do. Their plan was to get paid by Arthur and then leave this place for a long time, probably forever. 

He gets into his buggy. He radios his precinct and tells them to get over here. He’s exhausted.

Mack sits in the hallway, alone. If they wanted to, they could probably go back into the safe and take some valuables and run away. They don’t think they should, however. Whatever was going on with that amulet only they could see. They don’t really want to be working with any cops, but they need to figure out why they could see it but no one else could.

Anna is cold. She stole Elizabeth’s purse from next to the door before leaving, and it had a lot of cash in it. She ran for a long while into the night. She paid for a hotel room at least two miles away, and she lies in bed, on top of the blankets, still wearing the officer’s coat. She would need to buy some clothing tomorrow. Or send someone else to do it, more likely.

She sighs. She isn’t sure where she is going to go from here. She at least has enough money for the next two weeks, if she’s careful. What will she do after that?

She reaches into one of the coat pockets and finds the business card the cop gave her. She pulls it out and looks at it. “OFFICER DU BOIS,” it says. It has a phone number, too. Phones are wildly expensive, even Elizabeth didn’t have one. If you wish to make a phone call, you usually have to wait in line at a payphone.

Anna thinks about the card long and hard. Maybe she’ll give him a call. She doesn’t know what else she can do.

[ladyboltontoyou]

Arthur Morgan x Reader: Open Doors

Ask: An Arthur x reader fic where the reader comes out of a relationship with Dutch and realises some time after they break up that Arthur has had feelings for the reader for years and the reader starts to look at Arthur differently? (Also who doesn’t want back ground jealous dutch) please and thank you !

Warning: Cursing, slight angst.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

A/n: Please let me know in the notes if there are any mistakes.

It’s a strange thing, falling out of love. You don’t remember when you first started losing feelings for Dutch but it definitely wasn’t quick. It was a slow process, getting more and more intense as Dutch changed. He simply wasn’t the man you fell in love with anymore. And surprisingly you were okay with that. You accepted the fact that there was no hope for your relationship anymore. It was for the best, anyways. If you stayed with him any longer you’d see a side of him you never wanted to see.

Maybe you first noticed that your relationship was strained when he stopped showing you he loved you. His kisses were shorter. He rarely touched you anymore, and when he did it was only because he was drunk.

The flowers tied with lace that would randomly appear in your tent stopped coming. You’d never find notes anymore, you’d never be surprised with a gift just so he could see you smile. That was the hardest part of it all. The fact that he didn’t try anymore.

When you told Dutch your feelings he acted like he didn’t even care. He shrugged it off and ended the relationship then and there, leaving you alone to come to terms by yourself. The Dutch you fell in love with would never treat you like that.

“This was never going to work.” You remember hearing him say that when you confronted him.

“Then why did you let it go on so long?” You had replied sadly.

He had cursed at you after that, insulting you for burdening him with that sort of topic when he had ‘much more important things to worry about.’.

What happened? What had changed?

***

Had Arthur always brought you coffee in the mornings?

For as long as you could remember, he had done so. But you’d only noticed it the morning after your relationship with Dutch had ended. Maybe you noticed that morning because it tasted sweeter than usual, since Arthur knew when you were sad you would get the biggest sweet tooth.

“Thank you so much, Arthur.” You said as you set the cup down.

“How you likin’ your new tent?” He asked and sat down on the ground beside you.

You rolled your eyes and looked around. “It’s better than sleeping on dirt.” Arthur nodded in agreement and sipped at his own coffee. “I definitely miss sleeping next to a warm body, though. It gets so cold without someone next to you.”

Your voice sounded so heartbroken when you said those last few words. It hurt Arthur to see you like that, especially since he knew exactly what you meant. He had to sleep that way every night.

“Been so long I don’t remember what that feels like.” He hadn’t meant for that to sound as sad as it did. Either way, his words struck a chord in you. You had never thought about the little details in Arthur’s life, so hearing something so minor yet depressing felt strange.

How were you supposed to respond to something like that? Every fiber of your being was telling you to comfort him and offer a solution, but you knew that was too much. He was Dutch’s right-hand man… for crying out loud… you could never…

“Better than sleeping next to someone you don’t even recognize anymore. Wow, sorry. That was depressing and stupid.” You tried to laugh off the awkwardness you were feeling but it didn’t work. And to make matters worse, you just kept talking. “I don’t know. It’s hard Arthur. There’s just so much going on, not only with the gang being hunted down by the Pinkertons but Dutch… he’s changing Arthur, I don’t know what to do-” By now your voice was starting to crack and your eyes were watering.

Arthur set his cup down and wrapped an arm around your shoulders just as you broke down. “It’s alright, I know what you mean.” His voice was soft and assuring, something you needed. Dutch used to talk to you like that when you’d get upset.

“Why don’t we go up to Rhodes, see that cat you like.” He asked as he rubbed soothing patterns in your shoulder with his fingers. “What was his name? Whiskers?”

“Yeah, Whiskers.” You sniffed, finally starting to calm down. “Okay. Yeah. I’m surprised you remember him.”

“Of course I remember him! The first time you saw that cat you spent nearly thirty minutes fawnin’ over him like a girl with baby fever.” He stood and took your hand in his with the most gentle movements. “Come on, let’s go pay him a visit and you can cry to him about all your problems. I’m sure he’s a great listener.”

You had to laugh at that. Who wouldn’t? He was so damn sweet and funny, was he always this way? Now that you thought about it, Arthur was always the one to pick you up and comfort you when Dutch didn’t. How come you never noticed before?

As the two of you left, Dutch called out after you. His voice shot your anxiety right back up, just as you had started to calm down.

“Where are you two off to?” He asked as he walked up to your horses, the whole time looking only at Arthur. You scowled.

“We’re goin’ to Rhodes. You need anything?” Arthur asked.

You tried to look everywhere but at Dutch, but goddamn, the urge was strong. When you finally broke and snuck a peak you caught him doing the exact same. You both looked away immediately.

“No. Don’t be long.”

You sighed in relief and nudged your horse forwards. As the two of you rode off you couldn’t help but be angry. Why did he care so much? He didn’t own you. You could do whatever you wanted. You could run off and leave the gang, you had no reason to stay anymore.

***

As silly as it seemed, you did end up spilling yourself out to the cat. You bought him some canned salmon and corn beef, he returned the favor by sitting in your lap and purring politely while you told him your woes.

Arthur busied himself with cleaning his guns a safe distance away so he couldn’t hear what you were saying. Not that you didn’t want him to hear, he just thought it was the right thing to do.

“You done giving that cat your life story?” Arthur teased as he approached you.

“I don’t know.” You looked up from your spot on the post office steps. “You got anything to say to him?”

Arthur sat down and made a dramatic grunting noise. “Let me think. Oh. Right.” He reached in your lap and scratched the cat’s head, causing him to purr even louder and close his eyes. “Uh, Whiskers. You make sure to take it easy, you hear? Don’t want you getting into too much trouble. Heard you got into some trouble with the law over stolen goods. Now you know the law around here is tough on cats.”

You looked at him with the most amused and confused expression. Where was he getting this from? Had he always been this adorable and hilarious?

“If you ever get into real trouble just tell ‘em you’re friends with Arthur Morgan.” He continued scratching the cat, moving under its chin.

Over in the distance, you heard what sounded like a young girl calling for the cat. It must have been his owner because he climbed off your lap and stretched, giving one last head butt against your knee before scampering off.

“Aw. There he goes.”

“I got you something from the store,” Arthur said before turning to dig through his satchel. “Oh, where is it…” He pretended to have trouble finding it and you looked over his shoulder curiously. “Ah, now here it is.” He pulled out a paper bag full of candy and handed it to you.

“Aw, Arthur! You didn’t have to!” You smiled widely. Where was this all coming from? It wasn’t as sudden as you thought. Arthur had always been like that. You just never noticed because you’d been in a relationship with Dutch.

“I know. But I wanted to. Don’t like seeing you upset. And I know you like your sweets.” He said. When he realized how soft he sounded he cleared his throat and stood up from the steps. “Alright, wanna head back now?”

“And take these back to camp? Where Karen will beg for my candies? No!” You took his extended hand and pulled yourself up. “Let’s go to the lake. I want trout for dinner anyways. Oh, and could we cook it at the lake, too? I don’t feel like going back to camp so soon.”

“I’m fine with it, as long as you don’t mind glares from Dutch the rest of the night.” He said as the two of you walked to your hitched horses.

It was impossible not to roll your eyes. “Dutch, Dutch, Dutch. I don’t care what he thinks. Do you?”

“Not when it comes to you.”

You glanced at him as you untied your horse, only to look away as soon as your eyes met. “Well…” You struggled to find words and you couldn’t stop your nervous laughter. “Well, that’s good. Let’s go then.”

Arthur smiled softly, looking down at the reins in his hands. If only he had the nerve.

[imagines-hoarder]

A Family Divided- Thomas Shelby

Request// Hey could i please request a tommy shelby imagine where it's at the end of season 3 where his wife also got arrested (when the rest of the shelby fam did in the last episode) and in custody she had a terrible time and she didn't know a thing bc tommy always shut her out so when she returns all hell breaks lose and tommys at a loss of what to do because he thought he was keeping her safe by not telling her i'm so sorry this is such a long request u can end it as u please

*Guess who’s slowly trying to work her way back into writing? This gal! So I’m gonna try to roll out some of these requests that I’ve let build up within the next week or two. Just please bare with me a little because in the long run, I’d rather have quality over quantity. xoxox*

Masterlist

You all gathered in Tommy’s office, and it was an understatement to say he looked the worse for wear. The last day and a half had been the most distressing for the family in years. Not to mention how the event of the previous day had added more trouble to your marriage to Thomas than you knew how to fix. You moved your usual seat found nearer to Tommy between Michael and Ada, not daring to meet his eye as you thought back to him accusing you of letting the existence of the Faberge Eggs slip.

But let’s be honest, everything had gone to shit quite long ago, hadn’t it? Tommy didn’t talk anymore, to you at least. He had become so secretive within the last year, only opening up about his dealing with the Russians when he had no other choice. You still had to keep yourself from question his dealings with that hussy Tatiana, but that was an argument for later. In front of Tommy sat pounds upon pounds, bundled up in neat packages.

“Before I begin, I need to let you know I made a mistake,” he slowly tried to stand, obviously straining himself. It hurt you to not move to help him, but you knew he’d just push you away. “I made a mistake, and I want to apologize to all of you.” He began to move down the line, passing out pounds as if they were candy, or better yet restitution along with his repentance. It was only when he reached to pass money to Michael that he showed his true anger.

“No, Tommy.” Polly stood up and reached to stop his hand.”

“What,” Tommy shouted angrily, his voice bellowing throughout the room. “Tell me, eh! This is who I am!” You had to hide this chills rolling off your body. It was as if he was speaking just to you. He waved the money in front of Polly, not breaking eye contact. “ And this is all I can give you for what you have given me. And I know you all want me to say that I’ll change. That this fucking business will change, but I’ve learned something in the past couple of days.” This wasn’t the Tommy you knew, the one you married. “Those bastards are worse than us! They’ll never admit us to their palaces no matter how legitimate we become.” From where you sat, you could see Polly’s face. It remained stern but you could see pity being painted over it as Tommy came undone in front of you lot.

It was only within the moments of silence that followed that someone found the will to speak. “Tommy, you’ve had a bad time. We understand.” You had always admired Pol. She was the mother you never had growing up. Sure, she scared the living shit out of you when you first starting hanging around the Blinders, but you had grown on one another ever since. “So at an alternative time, I would like to put before the family an alternative view of the future of the Shelby Company Limited. A more hopeful view.”

“Which I look forward to hearing, personally,” you muttered loud enough for the room to hear, looking towards Polly in order to avoid any other eyes.

“As would I,” Esme added in, Ada voicing her approval as well.

After that, Linda began to try and collect Arthur to head for America, and it seemed that the meeting had almost reached its close. You walked quickly over to the eldest Shelby, giving him a hug and knowing that this may be the last time you see him.

“You can go, but you won’t get far, Arthur.” It was only at Tommy’s words that the smiles peaking at several of your lips once again began to fade. You scolded at you husband, for not supporting his brother when he was the only one in the family who was trying to improve his life. No, the meaning behind his words were much darker. “I spoke to Moss last night. He said the Chief Constable of Birmingham has issued a warrant for your arrest. John, they’re coming for you as well.” The room began to move into a state of panic as he called of Michael and Polly’s name in tow. “The people that we betrayed last night, they want to bring us down. They control the police, the judges, the juries, the jail, but they do not control the elected government.” You felt a sob leave your throat, yet no tears could come. “So I have made a deal in return for giving evidence against them. It’s all taken care of. When the police come in, do not resist arrest. You go with them, you do not say anything.” None of you could make any fucking sense of what Tommy was talking about before the police barged into the room.

It was as everything had begun to move in slow motion, yet it happened so fast. Cries and Arthur’s curses has filled the hall as the police officers started beating on the men. You tried to push yourself toward Polly, who wore a betrayed yet knowing look on her face, but quickly found your face pushed against the wall as well.

“What the fuck is going on,” you screamed out as you heard the cuff tightened around your wrists. You looked over to the doorway only to find Tommy staring at the ground as family was being taken away.

It was then that you knew you had made the worse mistake of your life. Not taking part in Blinder business, but for ever falling for those bright blue eyes. The officer yanked you by your hair, and not so gently into the back of the car. You didn’t know what you were being charged with or if you’d ever see Tommy again. At this rate, you weren’t sure if you could stand to.

Thirteen days. Thirteen days for them to drop the charges. You finally saw sunlight again with a busted lip, purple cheek, and a callous relief that they weren’t taking you out to hang. Being a Shelby locked up was by far the worse thing to be in jail, even if you married into the family. By their morals, you were as guilty as the rest of them, but the only one you could find the energy to be angry at was Tommy. Night upon night without sleep, ready for another inmate to try and stab you at any moment, allowed you some time to linger on the situation your husband had put you in. He had betrayed you, betrayed you all. And for what? More money to pile up in that house that was too big for just the two of you?

By the time your eyes adjusted to the sunlight, you could see an automobile with the driver beside its open door, waiting for you to get in the back. You’d recognize Tommy’s driver anywhere, as he had most likely overheard the lows and highs of your marriage from the driver's seat. You were relieved when you didn’t meet Tommy inside, not knowing if you could stand being in the same car as him. Silence is what you needed most. You could get just a glimpse of silence within your cell walls, but it wouldn’t be long before you heard a guard barking and beating an inmate, whether they deserved it or not. You leaned your head against the window - careful to mind the bruising - as you watched the view take you home.

Tommy stood at the door waiting for you to arrive back home, pacing in the same spot where he watched his family get thrown into the back of police vehicles. He was relieved when he saw you still alive walking up the front step, but quickly his frown grew deeper as you passed him without a glance.

“Y/N.” Hearing his made you stop midway to the master bedroom. His voice sounded hollow, but more often than not it had always sounded like that nowadays. “So you don’t wanna talk about this?”

“You’ve never wanted to talk before. What’s the difference now?” You grunted out as you entered the room. Even though your voice remained contained, you knew he heard you, as he was hot on your trail.

“The differences is that I haven’t seen you in two weeks.” He caught you as you wandered over to your dresser. “And what have they done to your beautiful face?”

You surprised yourself at how numb you felt with his hand grazing you face. “Anything they wished they could be doing to yours.” You pushed his hand away bitterly and started piling handfuls of clothes within your arms. He remained quiet as you continued to rant. “I mean what else did you expect? The others are probably worse off, if they’re even still alive.”

“What are you d-”

“Do you know?” You looked back at him stilling your packing only for a moment. He saw your stiff upper lip but didn’t forget to make note of the pain behind you eyes. “Do you know if they’ve hung them? Because I haven’t seen any of them since we we left this God-forsaken house.”

“I didn’t know they were taking you. That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Well they fuckin’ did, alright!” You yelled through the still room. It was as if the statement alone stole all the energy you had left, as your voiced turned into a sharp whisper. “They didn’t really need a solid reason to take me in anyways. Just being involved with you is enough, but you gave them the keys to the bloody kingdom. All the information they needed. Murder, sedition, and conspiracy to cause explosion were all things that they couldn’t hold me for, but what about John, huh? What about Arthur?” The angry embers inside of you were being fueled again, your packing resuming.

“I was trying to protect you, Y/N. I may not have planned them taking you in but they will all be-”

“I hope I’m the only one you shut out of you plans recently. I felt like an idiot, sitting as a Shelby in a cell with no idea if I’ll ever be getting out. Two whole weeks.”

“You didn’t marry an idiot. I’ve got everything worked out, just collecting the cards before playing my hand.” You could hear him getting worked up, not being able to control the situation even with his own wife. “And would you stop fucking packing?” He grabbed your hands roughly afteryou could close your bag.

“Sometimes, I wonder who I married.” It was within those words that you could see just a little bit of Thomas Shelby breaking. “I can’t stay if this house, Thomas. Not with you. Not right now.”

“Please, Y/N. I promise I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you ev-”

“No, don’t you lie to me!” Tears began to rise at the corners of your eyes, your emotions no longer satisfied with just spilling from the mouth. “Do you think I’m still that foolish girl, to believe such promises? You said it yourself before you sent us off and betrayed us. This is who you are, but no more.” You reached for your bag and looked at your husband one last time. “I won’t do this, I can’t. Not when there’s a baby involved.”

You could see then that Tommy hadn’t accounted for even the possibility of another player in his game. His eyes clouded moments before him being was struck with the notion that you were carrying his firstborn child. His hand swiftly came to your stomach. “They didn’t know, did they? They didn’t hurt them?”

“No. I had a guess, but not even I was sure until last week.” With that blunt remark, you again left Tommy hanging with a foggy mind and no answers. Regaining himself, he was following you once more.

You were so close to the front door when he finally caught up to you. “I’m not letting you take my child from me,” he scowlded. He gripped your arm tight, and you were unsure what emotion had finally overcome him. Anger or fear of truly losing everything.

“Then fix this, Tommy,” you spit back at him. You still loved him, no matter how stupid that made you, but you couldn’t just put up with his lies and isolation any longer. There was another life that you had to protect now, even if that meant from their own father at times. “No more lies. No more tricks. I’m keeping this baby no matter if you’re there or not. When you restore this family, I’ll be back, but not until.” He could see how serious you were and knew that if anything worse than a beating was given to Pol, Michael, John, or Arthur, there was a chance he would never see you or this baby again.

This time, it was Tommy who let go. You left through the front, the driver waiting for you just as you had asked. Once again, the moment had happened so fast yet so slow. You hoped this wasn’t the end for you and Tommy, but your loyalties lied with the family unlike his it now seemed. He stood at the door watching as the driver took your bag, and before the car began to move, you could have sworn you saw something in his eyes. A tear? You tried not to think about it. A family together is always stronger than a family divided, but it didn’t matter if it had already crumbled at the hands of Thomas Shelby, did it?

“Where to, Mrs.Shelby?” The driver commented with his eyes on the long driveway.

Anywhere but here.

[bvstiens-blog]

(trigger warnings for mentions of violence, death, weed, murder, and if i need to mention anything else lemme know)

BASICS

Full name: Sebastien Park (Park being the name he was given as a form of ‘Doe’; his mother left him in Central Park a day after he was born and the officer who found him thought it was funny and everyone just continued to use it)

Any nicknames?: Bastien (his preferred and what he’d normally introduce himself as), Bash. (never call him Seb, ever. seriously. just don’t. it’s bad news bears for everyone involved.)

Age: 28

Birthday/Zodiac sign: March 25th, 1989 / Aries (with a Scorpio moon)

Height: Exactly 5'3" and 1.24 centimeters (and he’s kicked people in the face for making fun of that in the past; there’s a reason why he’s one of the Titans best after all)

Any tattoos, piercings?: Bastien does have a few tattoos, and as an idiot kid he did get his tongue pierced, and just recently got it re-pierced. The first tattoo he got was right after he got out of his last foster home, and it rests over his heart. It states very simply, “Rise up.” On his upper back (to the right) he has a small group of fireflies that, at first glance seem scattered but upon closer inspection form the constellation of Orion. Near this is a tiny alien, because Bastien believes. This tiny alien is holding up a peace sign and on his opposite shoulder he has an equally tiny spaceship with the words “I believe.” below it. On the inside of his left arm he has a chord progression tattooed (the beginnings of Landslide by Fleetwood Mac). His newest tattoo is on his right arm, and it’s entirely because of the second installment of the Last of Us series. xxx.

FAVORITES

Sound: For having lived in New York for almost his entire life, Bastien is so used to noise that quiet seems startling, strange. But his favorite noise was actually found in Germany, in the middle of a field with the sky spreading out for miles and miles. There was a road nearby, and it was the drag of tires on asphalt and tall grasses blowing in the wind, it was crickets chirping and somewhere a bird cooing as it settled down for the night. But, the sounds of New York City in the early morning are an especially close second, with his head leaning out his apartment window and people starting to wake up below.

Color: Bastien would normally say the bright green of the sour skittles package or that beautifully obnoxious fluorescent lighting of the bodega down the street from his apartment building, but in truth his favorite color is gold. Not yellow, but the warm gold of sunrises and sunsets and certain flowers.

Person: Do his cats count? He certainly loves them more than he loves a lot of people he encounters, and they’re far more entertaining. In all honesty, Bastien couldn’t say Denise; she’s become hazy in some places and his memories of her just don’t seem as clear anymore. Mikey has been traveling, so despite how much Bastien loves his foster brother, he barely knows him now as the person he’s grown up into. But if you got him drunk enough, Bastien could rant and rave about one person in particular until the sun rose and set again. He’ll sing his praises even if he’s not drunk, but it takes a little bit more to get to the depth and the breadth of how much Richard Johnson means to Bastien. It can be summed up in as simple a phrase as “He gave me Germany.” and it can go on for hours if Bastien is given the opportunity and trusts whoever he’s talking to enough. There’s a letter tucked away in his most precious and protected possessions, addressed to Richard that tells him these things out right. Bastien will likely never give it to him.

Memory: It’s late at night, cars are still honking and passing by like the world will end if they don’t get where they’re going. He is 19, and he has been on his own for almost a year now. There is a guitar strapped to his back and his feet are carrying him back towards his apartment from the bakery where he works. Like every other night he passes by, a coffee shop is open late, and there is live music playing inside. Sometimes it is good, and sometimes it is bad. Bastien finally decides to take a step inside, and maybe that’s why he brought his guitar with him. There’s a song playing over his headphones and that is what he sings when he finally goes up, and it feels like a dedication to Denise, the woman who got him started and reminded him that he was worth something before anyone else did. When everyone claps and cheers when he is done, Bastien smiles, and breathes in the scent of coffee and scones and feels solid in his skin, feels at peace. The next day is when he starts his first job running information.

Place: A hole in the wall dive bar called Down Under, up on East 5th Street. It has the best food he’s ever found, and even if his boss is a dick sometimes, Bastien finds genuine joy in going to work the few days out of the week he can manage it, and this is especially so if it’s on a Friday night and open mic night is running. It is a dive bar, the floors are sticky and it’s not high class, and the people are loud and sometimes the air is thick with the scent of sweat and cigarette smoke but it is so solidly safe in Bastien’s mind and the regulars there are just as comforting to him as the Titans.

Vice: Bastien so rarely drinks, and it’s even rarer that he smokes as that only happens when he’s had a few. He keeps a pack of cigarettes on him at all times despite this, but it’s a comfort and a reminder as opposed to an addiction. Some of his first memories are of cigarette smoke, and the scent of it has peppered his entire life. It reminds him of where he comes from, and so sometimes he’ll light one just to breathe it in even if it’ll never touch his lips. He does over-indulge in recklessness, in doing before thinking. The thrill, the adrenaline, the feeling of being alive with his heart pounding in his ears; Bastien is a bit of a thrill seeker when it comes down to it. This also isn’t counting how often he smokes weed (and uses it to bake with), because that is the good shit and almost as much fun as driving too fast too late at night. (And because I think it’s such a cool idea, and hopefully you won’t mind Madi!! I’m gonna do my favorite vice of his.) Bastien’s tendency towards stubbornness and hedonism is so much fun for me because once the man’s made up his mind about something, nobody will be able to change it but him. He’s almost stupid in his stubbornness; he doesn’t want anyone to make his choices for him and so even if sometimes it seems like a better idea, he’ll stick to his plan until he can make it seem like it wasn’t someone else’s idea in his head. As for his hedonism, Bastien didn’t have a lot growing up. Now that he’s older and he can, he’s seeking out things that feel good and make him happy. Sex, candy, good food, the most comfortable beds and sheets and blankets, anything that’ll make his life even the slightest bit more comfortable. As a kid who grew up with nothing, you get a little stingy and a little greedy when you’re older while still maintaining that penny pinching attitude, and it’s just such an interesting contrast for me.

HAVE THEY EVER…

Been in love?: Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. (Yes. Absolutely, without a doubt. There was a man he met at Down Under, one who tumbled into bed with him too fast and crept into his heart even faster. Bastien left for Germany and was forced to cut ties with him, and when he came back, Arthur was dead, a car crash not too long after Bastien had even left. Bastien still visits his grave, leaves flowers and wonders what could’ve caused Arthur, who was only in Down Under because he’d been dragged there by some buddies from work, to drink and drive. He tries not to think it’s because of him. Being apart for four years killed the romance, not to mention Arthur being dead, but Bastien questions whether he could’ve ever truly opened up to Arthur, who was so soft and so good.)

Done drugs?: Only weed, and it’s at least a twice a week occurrence. He refused to do any harder drugs after two of his foster siblings ended up dead from them; JaimeandJames were with him in his last home and they were two of his favorites, but they were always a little too close to the edge.

Killed someone?: It’s his job, after all, making people disappear, snuffing out the light of their life. He’d done a lot of terrible things, a neutral party that drifted to whoever needed a job done, until he heard word of Cronus’ son being in town and decided to make something of himself. If he was a murderer, shouldn’t he be a murderer with someone at his back?

Betrayed someone’s trust?: Bastien is unswervingly faithful. When it comes down to it, if you put your trust in him you can almost guarantee that he’s gonna uphold his end of the bargain until it’s finished. He’s stubborn in that way as well; if someone trusts him he doesn’t want to break that trust in any way.

Had their heart broken?: Every birthday, every time a family walked away with one of his foster siblings instead of him. Another year older, another year spent in the system, another year that he just wasn’t wanted. Bastien likes to put on the act of someone without a heart, the kind of person who just doesn’t give a fuck, and maybe sometimes that’s true, but Bastien’s heart is so big. Bastien loves so fiercely without even realizing it, and he could even be in love with someone without knowing it’s happening… hm. 👀👀👀

Lost someone?: Bastien lost so many of his siblings, whether they ended up as another statistic or simply vanished or decided that they didn’t want him in their lives anymore. The loss that rocked him to his core was the loss of his first foster mother, Denise. Even 18 years later he still remembers dancing to Fleetwood Mac in her kitchen with Mikey and her, remembers her laugh. He was with her long enough for it to form enough of his personality to stick, but it was ripped away from him and he was tossed into homes that didn’t care about him at all.

DO THEY…

Have any pets?: Bastien has three cats. He has an incredibly lazy tabby named Winston who wandered in through his window one day and decided that she was his, before he even left for Germany. For a while it was just the two of them, until about two years ago he saw a cat get hit on the street and ended up rescuing Nemo, a fluffy white cat who lost her leg in the accident. His most recent rescue is a tiny black kitten who he very aptly named Garbage, after finding her in a dumpster not too far from his apartment in New York.

Have a family they still talk to?: Mikey is the only foster sibling he’s still in contact with, but even that is sporadic, because the last thing he wants is to let Mikey get involved in the world he’s in now. Bastien has considered trying to use their resources to find his birth mother, but he’s never been drunk enough to bring it up in front of Richard. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Rich; he quite obviously does, but his issue lies in the mentality of a twelve year old boy being told he hadn’t been wanted by his drunken foster father, and Bastien still worries that he’s not wanted, deep down.

Have a best friend?: Aside from his cats? It’d have to be his boss at Down Under; Murdoch is an absolute fuck and the two butt heads almost as much as they laugh together but Bastien was able to walk back into Down Under after just vanishing one day and get his job back and I think that speaks volumes to how their friendship works.

Want to get married and/or have kids?: There are thousands of kids out there with dead eyes and no hope, thinking no one is ever going to want them. More than anything, Sebastien wants the chance to give them a home someday, to adopt children and foster them for as long as he can, to help save every child who was ever in his position. Marriage is…up for debate, until he confronts his own feelings, but it likely still wouldn’t even be on the table.

Want to leave?: New York is his home. New York is all he has ever known, except for those years in Germany. The only place he would want to go is Germany, but even then the city pounds the beat of Bastien’s heart and sings in his blood, and he could never truly leave it behind. As for this life? Bastien won’t ever turn his back on his people. The only thing that could make him leave the Titans or this life is a bullet to the brain.

THIS OR THAT?

Phone call or text? [insert that one Road to El Dorado gif here] Bastien has a group chat for the Titans very simply titled Big Dick and the Rockin Dick Band, and he’s the reason why everyone has their notifications for that particular chat turned off. (He sends so many memes y'all.) But there’s nothing as good to him as a phone call if he can’t be face to face, and sometimes he likes to call people just to chat; just to let their voice wash over him.

Wealth or loyalty? Bastien comes from nothing and he knows that wealth won’t do anything for him when this life finally kills him. He was born with nothing and he’ll die with nothing, physical at least. But loyalty will last him long after death, and when you make a friend in Bastien you have someone that would do anything for you, and he expects the same.

Love or lust? (Love love loveloveloveloveloveloveLOVE, please love this dude he’s so sad) Bastien would, in all honesty, just laugh if he was ever asked this question, maybe toss out lust just to say something but Bastien craves love and acceptance in the worst way but it’s never been really given to him? He doesn’t know how to have it, how to deal with it.

5 Friends or 100 Acquaintances? 5 friends can burn down the world if they try hard enough, and 100 acquaintances can wish you happy birthday on Facebook but never speak a word to you. So yeah, he’ll take true friends any day.

Summer or winter? They both have their beauty to Bastien, the tip of his nose red and cold in winter but the world seemingly stuck in a snow globe. With snow blanketing the ground, the world seems heavier and quieter, suspended in time. But with summer comes fireflies and music pouring out of open windows and maybe it’s hot so people are grumpy but Bastien feels the most himself during summer. (Bastien has a touch of seasonal affective disorder).

OTHERS:

Wanted plots/connections: xxx.