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eqt-95 · 3 years ago

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One Night in Gotham

Summary | On the eve of taking over as the CEO of L-Corp, Lena Luthor makes a trip across the bay to Gotham to see an old friend.

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"Now what is a delicate flower like you doing all alone at the bar?"

Lena stifled a sigh of annoyance at the brazenness of strangers. This kind of thing wouldn't happen in Metropolis.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

Lena silently lifted her glass, indicating none was required.

Her eyes flitted up toward the bartender distracted by another patron, and she wondered for a moment how this man had been allowed into the private hotel bar. This was interrupted by the sound of the high-back chair next to her scraping against the marble flooring followed by the creak of the stranger posting up next to her. He reeked of booze and sounded winded by the exertion of the simple gesture.

"Well then perhaps I'll just buy myself a drink and enjoy the view," he smiled, exposing yellow-stained teeth behind the grizzly shag that covered his cheeks and chin.

No, this kind of thing would never happen in Metropolis.

"I'd rather you didn't."

"Free country, honey," he chuckled into a cough that echoed with the wetness of two packs a day.

Lena was used to all kinds of people. Although few and far between some were genuinely kind. Some were naive fools who could be talked out of house and home. Others were snake-oil salesmen, hiding behind earnestness. And then there were those who lacked any sort of self-awareness, boldly trying to claim what wasn't theirs in the process. These were the kind of people she'd spent the last few weeks battling, and she was exhausted from it.

She opened her mouth to articulate how unwelcome his presence was when a warm hand landed on her shoulder.

"Hey babe," came a voice behind her, and Lena smirked.

"Darling, you made it," Lena replied, turning in her seat toward the tall figure clad in leather with a helmet dangling from one hand.

"Sorry I'm late," came an apology.

Before Lena could play it off, she was caught by the feel of lips were pressed against her own. She peripherally heard the clatter of the helmet land on the bar before two warm hands slid up, cupping her face and turning the quick kiss into something more entirely. Initial surprise faded into confusion which then faded into the warm, flush lips on hers and the tongue greedily fighting for something more. She gave in on instinct, and was rewarded with the slight nip against her bottom lip and the unfamiliar taste of Kate Kane.

Whether time had suspended or continued to tick away, Lena wasn't certain, but when Kate finally pulled back and their eyes met she felt an unexpected warmth at the mischief glowing back at her.

"Can I help you?" Kate asked, finally breaking from Lena and turning to the stranger.

His face had frozen, stuck in a contorted look of envy and disgust. "N-no."

"No? Great," Kate continued smoothly. "Do you mind though? Because you're in my seat."

Lena glanced back at her half-empty drink trying to contain the smile that threatened to break at the man's discomfort. A few begrudging seconds passed before the figure folded and heaved himself out of the chair, sauntering off toward the far, empty end of the bar.

The long fingers that had just sent Lena's cheeks flush slid around her glass, lifting it to her nose before smirking and tossing the rest back.

"You have good taste," Kate remarked, setting the empty glass back down and waving over the bartender.

"Do you normally use that much tongue?"

"I was trying to make a point."

"I think a hug would have sufficed plenty."

"This is Gotham. We're more animalistic here; nothing like your fancy Metropolis folk," Kate smirked, ordering another pair of Scotches. "You can't mince words otherwise you leave them with deranged hope."

"That's not my problem."

"It isn't until you're leaving at the end of the night and get yanked into a dark alley because he's been lingering for hours taking that last remaining thread of hope and weaving it into some deep-seeded, confounding belief that you were meant for him."

"Speaking from experience?"

Kate shrugged.

"So instead you go for a full make-out session in the middle of a very public hotel bar."

"You're a quick study, Luthor."

Lena hummed impatiently.

"Besides, now I've got something to strike off my bucket list."

"What's that?"

"Lena Kieran Luthor kissed me."

"I'd hardly say that. I believe you instigated, and I was struck in a moment of surprise."

"I think the word you're looking for is 'wooed'. I wooed you."

A stoic look with a hint of skepticism stared back at Kate.

"How long have we known each other?"

"I think that depends on what you mean by 'known'."

"And in all those years," Kate continued, ignoring Lena's analytical response, "how many times have you been floored by my charm?"

"Never once. Not even in the slightest," Lena deadpanned.

Kate scoffed in exaggerated disbelief. "You have, you're just too uptight to have any fun. What about that time I punched Lex?"

"I was eight."

"Your point?"

"Mostly I was mortified."

"I bet that's even the word you used to describe it. Did you walk out of the womb a genius?"

"You joke, but Mother was outraged. To this day she practically spits whenever she hears the Kane name."

"Is she still alive?" Kate smirked into her glass. "It's not my fault she raised such an egotistical snob. Beth told him 'no' a dozen times. If he couldn't hear words, I figured he could hear a fist crushing his nose."

"That's not how he tells it."

"Because he can point to so much precedent for honesty," Kate replied dryly. Lena felt herself flinch, and Kate's demeanor softened. "Sorry."

"He wasn't always an ass."

"Sometimes people just… spiral."

"Speaking of, are you back for good?"

Kate shook her head. "Just passing through."

"Special occasion?"

"A wedding," she answered, quickly draining the rest of her drink.

"Was it nice?"

"Don't know." The empty glass was lifted toward the bartender. "Just leave the bottle."

This was the part of Kate that Lena loved and hated. They were both raised in over-sized homes with curated lifestyles and a litany of archaic topics they could talk endlessly about, but the concept of speaking about their personal lives was a loss to both of them. It was a familiar feeling that echoed deep into Lena's core, and she took no offense to Kate's aloofness - she was cut from the same cloth.

"Where to next?"

"France," she answered.

"Sounds romantic."

"Sure," Kate chuckled at some unspoken joke.

"Does anyone else actually know you're in town?"

Kate shook her head again.

"You've been away for a while."

"Miss me?" Kate smirked, and Lena saw the telltale signs of deflection through humor. Yes, they were practically carbon copies of each other. Different around the edges, but traces of the same upbringing formed matching foundations.

"Haven't had the time."

It was honesty that would seem cryptic to anyone else, but Kate nodded in understanding.

They sat in silence for a moment, Kate shuffling the glass across the smooth, lacquered finish of the bar.

"When do you-"

"Next week," Lena interrupted with a practiced tone.

"Nervous?"

"I am excited about the potential of-" Lena began before catching Kate's unamused expression. It was enough to silence the curated response she'd spouted for weeks to reporters, board members, and potential funders. "Yes."

It was a single word, but it was an admission she'd kept contained in a tiny box under the mountain of to-dos that guided her days and late nights. She glanced down at the dwindling drink in front of her, suddenly appreciative Kate had the foresight to keep the bottle.

"Good," Kate replied, now swirling the glass between her fingers.

"Good?"

"I'd be worried if you weren't."

"That's not how some would see it."

"Lillian doesn't really get a say."

"Mother isn't the only resistance. God knows I've stopped trying to prove anything to her, but it's more than just her now. It's board members. It's the public. It's the very people employed by the company. I am… I am not ready for this."

Lena didn't know where the admission was coming from, but now it felt like a spigot had been pulled open, and every reservation she had about becoming the youngest CEO of a Fortune 500 company.

"I'm 22," she said, and it felt like a confession - like no one had uncovered this hidden truth about Lena, and she was one big headline away from the rug being pulled from under her.

"You know what I was doing when I was 22?" Kate asked, preemptively refilling Lena's drink. "I was getting kicked out of school and spending my nights bouncing from one dive bar to another."

"I'm not sure what your point is, but I think it serves my argument better than yours," Lena scowled. "22 year-olds shouldn't be in charge of anything."

"My point is, you're not normal," Kate clarified. "If I was asked to run a company at 22, I'd be an idiot not to run in the opposite direction. But that's because I was a normal 22 year-old. One hundred percent of the world was a normal 22 year-old."

"Again, I'm not sure your argument is-"

"The reason it's one hundred percent is because I'm rounding. I'd need to rattle off, like, a hundred nines to make my point. You're the one in seven billion meant to do this."

"Seven."

"What?"

"Seven nines. After the decimal."

Kate stared dumbly for a moment before breaking in laughter. "You really are a freak. And you've just made my point for me."

"Mental math isn't a reason."

"No, but your persistence is."

"Haven't you heard? I'm a Luthor; can't be trusted."

Kate sighed, and Lena watched her mentally struggle to find the words to say. It was different than other times Lena had met Kate. Granted, they weren't close. After Lex's nose was bloodied and Lillian's disdain made known, the Kanes and Luthors rarely interacted. From that point on, the majority of their interactions were limited to formal galas and parties of similarly rich families, bouncing from one side of the bay to the other in their efforts to impress the extents of their wealth onto others. Kate always had a knack for slipping out and getting into some sort of trouble while Lena was petrified at the thought of disappointing Lillian.

When Kate's sister and mother died, Lena 'had the audacity' to ask if they would attend the funerals. Lillian refused, but Lex persuaded her otherwise, suggesting that it would be politically good to show sympathy for the Kane family. It was perverse but worked, and Lena was eternally grateful. It was that dark day that struck up an uncanny relationship between the Kane and the Luthor.

It had been nearly three years since their paths had crossed - the longest stretch of time since Kate was thirteen and Lena ten. Lena knew Kate's absence was due to world-traveling, but the details were sparse. Whispers at the latest galas spoke of general disappointment for the Kane daughter. Like Lena, Kate was the black sheep. Unlike Lena, Kate didn't seem to care.

"You're a Luthor, yes," Kate began. "You're honestly from a pretty shitty family. I have first-hand experience, and even without that the headlines have done a damn good job at making the average person aware of it. The company is in shatters, Lex is going to prison, and Lillian isn't human. I mean, she's really truly terrible. Like… is she human? Because when we were kids, I half wondered."

"That's not really-"

"Hang on, I'm getting off topic," Kate waved away. "Yes, you're a Luthor. Yes, the world is against you. Yes, it'll be hard; I won't even pretend to know how you'll do it, but you will. I also know I'm not saying anything you can't deduce on your own. I won't waste our time with talk of your talent, your genius, your raw determination, or the sacrifices you're making to turn Lex's sins into something good. Those reassurances mean nothing to you because you aren't ready to see it yet, and I'm not the person who can help you hear it."

"That's not even remotely close to advice, not to mention helpful advice."

"I didn't say it would be advice or helpful. If it was, I'd charge you for it."

"Are you offering?"

"Are you paying?"

"Depends on the advice."

"Clever. We'll make a decent CEO out of you yet."

Conversation flowed more easily from there. The edges were softened and the curated exteriors peeled back as the bottle slowly dwindled into nothing. The void of years spent apart was slowly filled in with stories of failures, happy accidents, lovers, and reminiscing.

There was an easy comfort with Kate that always took hold; she wasn't trying to pretend to be anything special and there were never any expectations. It made for a breath of fresh air when Lena's world revolved around accuracy, planning ahead, and keeping face. Kate lived life like a game of casual checkers. Lena lived her's for the chess match it was. But for one night, on the eve of her formally stepping into her new life, she played checkers.

Lena should have known better than to assume the interaction would end after a single drink, and she was only slightly surprised when the bartender came by with the bill. She looked around realizing the bar had emptied; for how long it had been just the two of them she didn't know. She also didn't care.

They paid the tab but lingered a while longer, fighting off the real world for a few precious moments until finally, the staff politely advised that, while they didn't have to go home, they couldn't stay here.

"You aren't driving, right?" Lena asked, gesturing at the helmet left forgotten on the bar.

"No, 'here' is home tonight," Kate replied lightly, albeit with a slight slur.

"I'm sure your dad would like to see you."

"Jacob would like a lot of things."

Lena nodded, recognizing the window had closed.

"Any chance I can woo you again, Ms. Luthor?" Kate asked with a cheesy smirk. "I've got a fancy suite with a bed and stuff."

Yes, the light-heartedness was still there but it fell into their respective roles.

"That's your pick-up line? I expected more from you."

Kate pondered for a moment. "Ok, how about this: I wasn't sure if you were a beautiful angel or a sexy devil, but now that I'm close, I see heaven in your eyes."

"Does that actually work?"

"Fifty-fifty? A guy used it on me once."

"And?"

"Well, obviously it didn't work with him, but I tried it a few nights later… and, yea," Kate smirked, "it worked."

"Years at Military school, and you didn't lose an ounce of confidence," Lena sighed, tossing back the rest of her own drink and grabbing her jacket.

The entrance came far too quickly, and the door swung open to reveal the murkiness of the city night beyond.

"Huh, it's raining," Kate said, gesturing for Lena to exit ahead of her.

"It's pouring."

"It's Gotham."

"It never rains this much in Metropolis." Lena mumbled it in frustration, trying to excuse her lack of preparedness to the foreignness of her surroundings.

The sound of a soft click and thwoop came, followed by an invisible shield deflecting the incoming rain drops. Lena glanced up and saw the city was blocked out by a stretch of black fabric.

"How are you getting back?" Kate asked, holding the handle of the umbrella suspended over them.

"My driver should be here in a minute."

Kate whistled softly, muted by the avalanche of raining falling around them. "Fancy CEO privileges."

Lena forced a smile, feeling the familiar pull of stress and weight of worry return to her shoulders. She glanced back at the hotel lobby; the warm light, the soft chairs, the comforting sting of alcohol, and the laughter. For a moment she had forgotten, and in this moment she wanted to forget again.

"You'll be great. And I hope one day you'll find someone who can get you to see who you are Lena. You're a Luthor, yes, but you're so much more than a name."

Lena's eyes were pulled back to the voice next to her, and she found herself staring into Kate's piercing green eyes. Even through the haze of alcohol they were focused and confident. Focused was something Lena was very familiar with; confidence though? Hardly. Years of Lillian's cutting words had stripped her of that. But in depriving her of it, she'd acquired something better: persistence.

Kate's gaze didn't waver. Instead something else appeared, and it took all of Lena's brain to comprehend what it was: it was admiration. It was unfamiliar, and if it weren't for years of being trained as a Luthor, she'd have averted her eyes to the nearest distraction.

"If you're ever in National City, give me a ring."

"And if you're ever back in Gotham-"

"Unlikely."

"-immediately turn around and leave," Kate finished, and Lena felt her lips fight against her facade to curl into a smile at the deprecating humor. "Besides, I won't be around so who is there to see?"

"I'm sure any one of the millions of Gothamites would be a suitable substitute for Kate Kane."

"At least you didn't include the entire world."

"Only because you didn't offer," Lena shot back, and for a moment the masks fell back off, and they let laughter be swallowed into the city around them.

It settled when a black car slowed to a stop in front of them, and Lena felt the tug of life return.

"As usual, you've gotten me tipsier than I'd planned, Kate Kane."

"It was my pleasure Lena Luthor," Kate smiled, reaching for the car door and swinging it open.

Lena hesitated, feeling the wash of new car smell and air conditioning waft from the car and mix with the city and humidity. Her fingers gripped the edge of the door, feeling the drips of water mix with the dirt that had accumulated.

She didn't know the words to say to express her appreciation. Kindness wasn't something she'd been exposed to and so never quite knew how to articulate the swirling, changing web of emotions that fought to be seen. A life of compartmentalizing had cast these feelings off into the tiniest of boxes in the shadow of her mind, and she knew that a week from now the warmth and friendship she felt tonight would be a distant memory. It wasn't enough to change her, but it was enough to remind her that she could.

"Thank you," she said before stretching up on her toes to close the gap between her lips and Kate's cheek, leaving a soft kiss and silencing Kate before she could cast back a signature sarcastic response. "Now you can strike it off your bucket list."

- eqt_95 on ao3

#Batwoman #supergirl #kate kane #lena luthor #kate & lena #fanfic #oneshot #crossover

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castleshadows · 3 years ago

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Bow Before Your New Queen

The first Chapter of TCOGB from Casteel's POV.

Written January 14, 2021

“Lower your swords.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mother sink down onto one knee. I couldn’t help but be a little surprised at this. She was so angry about my marriage to Poppy, and now here she was, giving up her crown and bowing to the new Queen. As far as I’d known my mother had never bowed to anything in her life. Of course, there had never been a descendant of Nyktos in Atlantia in her lifetime either. Well, there was a first time for everything wasn’t there.

I looked back to Poppy, who was currently staring at my parents like she wanted nothing more than to run very far away and never look back. I didn’t blame her. Her gaze shifted to me, her expression changing. I gave her just a hint of a grin, fangs showing. She visibly relaxed. Gods, I loved her so much.

My friend.

My love.

My partner.

My wife.

My heartmate.

My Queen.

My everything.

She was the only person in the room. Or at least the only one I cared about.

“My Queen.” I breathed, lip curling up of its own accord. Her eyes snagged on something at the corner of my mouth. Probably my dimples. The funny thing was, I hadn’t really ever noticed them until Poppy had brought them up, and now that she had, I couldn’t stop noticing them. It was really rather obnoxious, though I was glad she liked them.

Poppy gave almost a full body shudder, relaxing.

Something came over her then, and her eyes filled with pain. The adrenaline from whatever had happened here was probably coming down. She swayed, knees getting ready to buckle—

I moved, standing up and taking a step closer to Poppy. Her eyes widened. It was so cute the way she was always surprised by how fast most of us were. I wanted to run to her so badly, to take her into my arms and rip out the throats of anyone who came near. It seemed the wolven had the same idea.

A menacing growl came from behind me. Jasper. His size in his wolven form still surprised me to this day. I wondered if Kieran would ever get that big.

Another growl, familiar to me as my own voice.

Kieran himself was looking at me with a hatred in his eyes that was unusual for him. Emotions weren’t usually something he showed. But now, his ears were pinned back, his eyes blue, but not blue. There was something wrong with his eyes…

“No.”

Poppy’s voice was a quiet rasp, and I know she knew what was about to happen. Kieran sank onto his haunches, getting ready to pounce. I didn’t want to hurt him, but if it meant getting to Poppy I would take him down. I would take them all down one by one.

His eyes were so strange though they… they glowed. My eyes widened. They knew.

“You all knew,” I couldn’t believe it. That’s why all the wolven had been running towards the temple before the rain started.

“You all knew something was happening to her, that’s why…” I trailed off. I was mad. Mad they hadn’t told me anything, mad they were keeping me from helping my wife.

Even without Poppy’s empath gifts, I could feel the confusion radiating off of her.

Me too, Princess. Me too.

Several of my parents' personal guards moved to surround them, and I suddenly remembered I was also surrounded. By a bunch of half feral wolven, waiting to rip me into pieces. Shit.

A howl went up into the air from Delano, and several yips and calls answered him from a distance. They grew louder each second.

“Godsdamn,” Emil was reaching for his swords, “Their summoning the whole damn city.”

Yes, Emil, thank you for that astute observation, I thought. I knew he was only saying what needed to be said, but I still couldn’t help but want to stake him on the wall for looking like that at Poppy. She didn’t believe me, but I knew what I saw.

“It’s her,” Alastir stated, coming forward. I could see the distrust in him clearly. Godsdammit would they hurry up. Not everyone here needed to state the complete obvious. All I saw was Poppy, head bleeding, struggling to stand. I needed to get to her. I needed to take care of her. I needed—

“It’s not her,” I shot back at Alastir. This was taking too long.

“But it is,” My father stared at Poppy. I wanted to gouge his eyes out. “They’re responding to her. That’s why the ones on the road with us shifted without warning. She called them to her.”

“I… I didn’t call anyone.” Poppy’s voice broke, and my heart cracked a little with it.

She didn’t know what was going on. Hell, I barely knew what was going on. I could tell she didn’t mean for any of this to happen. If I could just get to her, wrap her in my arms, and tell her it’s going to be okay, then maybe it wouldn’t be a complete lie.

“I know,” I looked at her, hoping my eyes portrayed what my voice could not at this moment. I hoped she was using her gift, so she’d know that at least I, out of all the people in this room (who weren’t wolven of course) didn’t blame her for any of this mess.

“But she did,” my mother insisted. Okay, now I wanted to gouge out her eyes too. “You might not realize it, but you did summon them.”

Poppy looked at my mother for several heartbeats. I could practically hear the gears of her brain turning. My Poppy, my wonderful, beautiful Queen. Then she flinched. She flinched. I hardened.

“If the idiots behind me actually laid down their swords instead of lifting them against my wife , we wouldn’t have an entire colony of wolven about to descend on us.” Staying pleasant at this point, was just a lost cause, “They are only reacting to the threat.”

“You’re right,” My father helped my mother to her feet. Her gown was soaked with blood. “But ask yourself why your bonded wolven is guarding someone other than you.”

I didn’t give a fuck what Kieran was doing.

“I really couldn’t care less at the moment.” The wolven were getting closer. I could hear their paws pounding the ground.

“You need to care,” My mother replied softly. No I didn’t. What I needed was Poppy. “The bonds have broken.”

“She’s right,” Alastir commented, “I can… I can feel it— the Primal notam. Her mark. Good gods. They’ve all broken.”

I didn’t entirely understand, or care about, what he was saying.

Poppy.

My wife.

Hurt.

She’s hurt.

“Look at their eyes,” my mother ordered softly. “I know you don’t understand. There are things you never needed to learn, Hawke.” Her voice cracked then. “But what you need to know now is that they no longer serve the Elemental bloodline. You are not safe. Please,” she begged. “Please. Listen to me, Hawke.”

No.

My wife, my love.

“How?” she asked, “How could the bond break.”

She always asked questions at the most inconvenient times.

“That doesn’t matter right now,” I practically growled, “You’re bleeding.”

She ignored me.

“How?”

“It’s what you are,” My mother lifted her skirts. They were soaked with blood. “You have the blood of a god in you—"

“I’m mortal,” Poppy insisted. “Yes, you are mortal, but you are descended from a deity—the children of the gods. All it takes is a drop of god’s blood—” Eloana swallowed thickly. “You may have more than just a drop, but what is in your blood, what is in you, supersedes any oath the wolven have taken.”

Poppy looked like she was about to pass out.

“You go near her? Right now?” my mother continued “They will see you as a threat to her. They will rip you apart.”

Let them. They may take me down, but I would take many of them down with me.

“Casteel—”

“It’s okay.” My eyes stayed locked with Poppy’s. “No one is going to harm Poppy. I will not allow that.” I took a deep breath. “And you know that right.”

She nodded, eyes frantic.

“Everything’s alright. They’re just protecting you” I smiled for Poppy then, as much as I could manage. But, even I could tell it wasn’t reassuring whatsoever, tense and tight. All my worries showed right on my face.

“I don’t know everything that is going on right now, but you—all of you—want to keep her safe. And I’m all about that. You know I would never hurt her. I would tear out my own heart before I did that. She’s injured. I need to make sure she’s okay, and nothing is going to stop me from doing that.” I didn’t blink as I held Kieran’s stare. The other wolven had reached the temple steps. I could hear the rolling thunder of their paws. “Not even you. Any of you. I will destroy every single one of you who stands between her and me.”

And I would. I would kill Kieran, my best friend, my brother. I would kill him if that was what it took.

My lips peeled back, showing my fangs, and Kieran’s growl turned deeper, primal. I prepared myself to fight—

“Stop,” Poppy ordered, “Kieran! Stop! You will not hurt Casteel.” Her voice echoed throughout the chamber. “All of you will stop. Now! None of you will attack.”

A switch flipped off. All of the wolves lowered their head, laying down on the temple floor.

“That… that was timely. Thank you for that.” Emil, looked at her in that way of his that made me want to rip his lips from his face.

Yeah he was going to die soon. No question about it.

My eyes were fixed on Poppy. She was glowing silver, bright like moonlight. She’d spoken like a true Queen. It was incredibly arousing. Uncomfortably arousing actually. I shifted on my feet.

“He will not hurt me, you know that.” She directed it towards Kieran and Jasper. “You told me he was the only person in both kingdom’s I was safe with. That hasn’t changed.”

Kieran nudged her with his nose. I could tell what he was trying to say. “You’re safe with me too.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, eyes closing.

“Just so you know,” I murmured, “What you just did? Said? Has me feeling all kinds of wildly inappropriate things at the moment.”

She laughed shakily, “There is something so wrong with you.”

Maybe there was something wrong with me. But, that didn’t change anything.

“I know.” My lips curved upward, “But you love that about me.”

She didn’t confirm it, but I could tell she agreed.

“You were glowing silver again. When you ordered the wolven to stop,” I told her. “Not a lot, not like before, but you looked like spun moonlight.”

She looked down at her hands, and her brow furrowed.

“I didn’t want any of this,” she whispered.

“I know,” I replied voice rough. I placed a palm over her cheek, the one that wasn’t swollen. I needed to take care of her. I needed— "I know Princess."

Her hair was tangled beneath my hand, her face bloody and streaked with dirt. And yet, she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. “It’s okay. It’ll all be okay. I can promise you that.”

I couldn’t promise it to her. But I could sure as hell, protect her in any way I knew how. Any way that was possible.

I kissed her brow and then turned towards Emil. “Emil? Can you retrieve clothing from Delano’s and Kieran’s horses so they can shift and not scar anyone?”

“I’d be more than happy to do that,” he replied, leaving the temple. I watched him go, glad he was leaving. I couldn’t pay attention to Poppy when he was in the room. When he was right there just waiting for me to murder him.

“I think their nakedness will be the least scarring thing to happen today.” Poppy pointed out.

I said nothing, touching her cheek, and taking note of all her injuries. I wanted to kill them. I would’ve ripped them limb by limb had Poppy not already done that for me.

My Poppy, my beautiful Queen.

“They tried to stone you.”

There was a soft gasp from my mother, but I ignored it. I was still pretty mad at her.

“They accused me of working with the Ascended, and they called me a Soul Eater. I told them I wasn’t. I tried to talk to them.” Her hands lifted, presumably to touch me, but stopped midway. I couldn’t help but be disappointed.“I tried to reason with them, but they started throwing stones. I told them to stop. I said it was enough, and…I don’t know what I did—” She started to look over my shoulder, but I stopped her, not wanting her to look at the bodies. I knew from experience it would only make things a hell of a lot worse. “I didn’t mean to kill them.”

“You were defending yourself,” I reminded her. I wanted her to know it wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t her fault at all. “You did what you had to do. You were defending yourself.”

“But I didn’t touch them, Casteel,” Poppy whispered. “It was like in Spessa’s End, during the battle. Remember the soldiers who surrounded us? When they fell, I felt something in me. I felt that again here. It was like something inside me knew what to do. I took their anger and I—I did exactly what a Soul Eater would do. I took it from them and then gave it back.”

From somewhere behind me my mother said, “You are not a soul eater.” I didn’t want to gouge out her eyes as much anymore. “The moment the eather in your blood became visible, those who attacked you should’ve known exactly what you were. What you are.”

“Eather?” Poppy asked, gaze shifting back to me. I couldn’t help but be relieved. If she was asking questions she was okay… right?

“It’s what some would call magic,” I answered, and shifted my stance, so my mother couldn’t see Poppy. She didn’t need to be assaulted with questions by the former Queen. “You’ve seen it.” I reminded her.

“The mist?”

I nodded. “It’s the essence of the gods, what’s in their blood, what gives them their abilities and the power to create all that they have. No one really calls it that anymore, not since the gods went to sleep, and the deities died off.” My eyes searched hers, trying to figure out what she was feeling. It was times like these empath powers would have been useful. “I should have known. Gods, I should’ve seen it…”

“You can say that now,” my mother spoke. “But why would you have even thought that this would be a possibility? No one would’ve expected this.”

No. I hadn’t. But she had.

“Except for you.”

“I can explain,” she protested. She could explain, my ass.

Emil appeared carrying two saddlebags. Thankfully he had enough sense to give us all a wide berth, probably sensing the tension in the room.

“Apparently a lot needs to be explained,” I said, icily. “But it will have to wait.” I looked at Poppy’s left cheek, at her temple, at the blood. I needed her to be okay. “I need to get you somewhere safe where I can… Where I can take care of you.”

“You can take her to your old rooms at my place.” Jasper said, having shifted. Poppy looked over, and then blushed, probably realizing Jasper was naked. I tried not to laugh.

He handed a pair of breeches to me for Kieran. “That will do. Thank you.”

“Will it be safe for you there?”

I grinned. It was adorable how concerned she was for my safety. Though I kind of wished she would pay more attention to herself, seeing as she was bleeding.

“He’ll be safe there,” Kieran answered for me.

Poppy looked at him, and I was surprised to see she didn’t seem at all embarrassed that he was wearing no clothes. It made me kind of jealous. I handed him the pants.

“You were going to attack Casteel,” she accused.

Kieran nodded and took the pants.

“He most definitely was,” I confirmed.

“And you threatened to destroy him.” That one was—rightfully—directed at me.

I smiled just a bit, “I did.”

It was kind of funny in hindsight.

“Why are you smiling? That isn’t something that should make you smile.” She stared at me, and I immediately felt bad for smiling. I could tell she was holding back tears. “That can never happen again. Do you hear me?” She twisted to Kieran, who arched a brow as he pulled on the breeches. “Do you both hear me? I won’t allow it. I won’t—”

“Shh,” I touched her cheek, calming her. I felt awful. “It won’t happen again, Poppy,” I swept my thumb across a tear that had already fallen. We were close enough now that our chests touched. It was very distracting. “Right?” I asked Kieran.

“Right.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t…” He went quiet. I had no idea what he was going to say.

Jasper however, spoke up. “As long as the Prince doesn’t give us any reason to behave differently, we will protect him as fiercely as we will protect you.” I wouldn’t give them any reason to attack me if I had anything to say about it.

I felt something hit my chest and looked down to see Poppy with her face buried into my shirt. She took a long inhale. She did that sometimes when I was near, probably smelling me. I didn’t fault her for it though. The gods know how many times I’d done the exact same thing to reassure myself.

I folded my arm over her back, careful not to hurt her, breathing in the scent of honeydew. I shuddered.

“Wait,” Kieran said. “Where is Beckett? He was with you when you walked off.”

Beckett.

I drew back ever so slightly, “That’s right. He offered to show you the temple.” I narrowed my eyes, everything forgotten except Beckett. Beckett who had just moved to first place on my murder list. Okay maybe Emil was just a little bit ahead of him… but still. “He led you here.”

“He disappeared when the others showed up,” Poppy said reluctantly, “I don’t know where he went."

Yep, that settled it. Beckett was dead.

I turned to Delano, still in his wolven form. “Find Beckett,” I ordered, “Naill? Emil? Go with him. Make sure Beckett is brought to me alive.”

Poppy stiffened. I could tell she didn’t like this.

“He’s just a kid,” she said, “He was scared. And now that I think about it—”

“Poppy,” I interrupted, placing my hand just below the cut on her temple. I kissed it. “I have two things to say. If Beckett had anything to do with this, I don’t care what or who he is, and I sure as fuck don’t care about what he was feeling.” My voice rose, until everyone in the temple could hear me. This needed to be heard.

“A move against my wife is a proclamation of war against me . Their fate is already sealed. And, secondly?” I leaned down further towards her, brushing my lips against hers. Her scent heightened almost imperceptibly. I knew exactly what we were doing tonight.

I turned my head to the side and pointed to the only wolven who remained, now standing on two legs, “ You .”

#the crown of gilded bones #tcogb #tcogb spoilers #from blood and ash #a kingdom of flesh and fire #jennifer l armentrout #jla #fantasy #fandom #fanfic #poppy balfour #casteel da'neer #king of blood and ash #queen of flesh and fire #kieran contou #jasper contou #poppy x casteel

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mileycyprus-hill · 4 years ago

Text

A Simple Kindness

Kieran x Reader

Had this on the back burner for a while and realized I haven’t written a Kieran x reader fic. So here’s a bit of fluff.

Summary: You begin to sympathize with the new O’Driscoll prisoner, and decide to give him a little help.

Warnings: none.

You weren’t exactly sure why this O’Driscoll was in your camp, but you didn’t bother to question it. You were taught to despise any member of Colm’s gang and you thought to do the same to this poor man.

That poor man.

He didn’t seem up to par to the common O’Driscoll, sniveling and begging for mercy while tied to that tree. He never cursed at any passerby. Never threatened death upon anyone once he would be free.

He only begged for mercy.

You never met a man that soft.

Was this man really an O’Driscoll? A member of a ruthless, bloodthirsty, thieving, murdering gang?

Hardly.

It had been a week since Arthur had brought him back to that cold barn in Colter. He was tied up in the back of a wagon during the trip to Horseshoe Overlook like some prisoner.

Well, he is a prisoner.

Left to blister in the sun on this high bluff with no food and what little water he could swallow from the passing rain. That poor man sat there, his arms tied behind him on that birch tree. The papery bark scratched against his tender forearms while the thick hemp of his binds cut into his wrists. Blood red cuts and rash marks painted his pale arms that lay exposed beyond his rolled up sleeves.

The past few days, you watched him struggle to stand against the tree, his head dropped to his chest in exhaustion and self-pity. Sitting from the table across the way, you’d watch his legs tremble and buckle beneath him as he’d struggle to hold his own weight. He’d squiggle and squirm and whimper to get just a little more comfortable.

You had half a mind to shout at him, tell him to ‘man up’ and be strong. But watching him pull against his binds was like watching a stray dog pull against a short leash.

Frightened. Alone. Starving. The only attention came from the daily beatings and tongue-lashings.

A scrap of bread would be tossed at his feet. Barely enough to satisfy a hungry dog. It’d lay there, taunting him as he’d struggle to kick it closer to himself. Even if he could, how could he grasp it with his arms bound behind him?

You’d watch him struggle for it anyway, his will driven by hunger. Day by day, that piece of bread would lay there. What was left behind by the pecking chickens would turn to mold and only the flys would claim it.

How much longer would Dutch allow this to continue? Until the man dies? Or when he gives information that he deems satisfactory?

From what you’ve heard while eavesdropping, this young man wouldn’t know anything reliable, being Colm O’Driscoll’s abused stable boy.

You began to fear for him. Truly.

What would he know, being a newly initiated member of Colm’s circle? For all you knew, he was excluded. Cast onto the edge of the social circle of the gang, left to chat only with the horses and other members of the lowest caste.

Day by day, you struggled. What was it your mother always taught you?

“If you watch an evil being done unto someone and don’t stop it, you will be judged for the same crime by doing nothing.” She would say.

Could you stand there and do nothing? What kind of a person were you? The men around would say you’re a survivor. But is this surviving—torturing a man for information in a petty rivalry?

When you reach those golden gates and are asked, ‘Why have you done nothing?’, what would you say?

Because it wasn’t your place to interfere? Because you didn’t want to get in trouble?

...........

You awake just as a the sun rises and decide this is enough. Only a select few gang members are awake as they stayed up too late and too drunk the previous night. Those who’re up are tending to their own business or had already left.

Walking towards the back of the provisions wagon, you notice he’s alone. Looks like no one’s started the torturing ritual yet. Bill’s talking to Arthur about some stagecoach job over by the horses and Dutch remains shut in his tent with Molly.

You step briskly as you saw your chance, walking towards the small cooking fire and grabbing a tin cup that rests on the ground next to the warm percolator.

Looks like Pearson just finished making the coffee. You peek over to his work station and find him deeply focused on preparing today’s stew.

“Psst!” You hear from your right.

You dare not to look towards the source to avoid suspicion. Discreetly, you turn your head only slightly, pretending to check the hem of your skirt and peek from the corners of your eyes.

From your downward gaze, you catch Kieran staring at you. You watch him desperately try to get your attention without alerting anyone else.

Pretending not to hear him, you walk past him with your cup full of coffee and ignore his whispering pleas for water. You stop at the back of the food wagon, hiding yourself behind its large wooden panels. A bucket of rain water sits by a steel dish tub on the table, waiting to be dumped into the tub and used as dishwater.

You hear Kieran drop his head in defeat behind you. An aching, heavy weight pulls downward in your chest.

Taking a sip of your coffee, you fake a look of disgust. You take another sip and repeat your act before dumping the contents from your cup.

Quickly, you dip your cup into the water bucket to rinse the taste from your mouth.

The cool water touches your lips but you don’t sip, keeping your lips tight against the rim of the cup.

The coast seems to be clear. No one’s watching or noticing. Checking around you, you dart over to Kieran. He hears your quick steps against the grass and almost yelps in fear. He looks up and sees your face close to his, causing him to drop his eyes and cringe in submission like a beaten dog. He pants pathetically and waits for you to strike him.

Avoiding eye contact, you grasp his chin and gently prop his head up. He lets out a tiny whimper until you bring the cup to his lips. His eyes grow wide at this merciful gift. The cold metal clanks against his teeth and the cool water rushes through his chapped lips. He feels his throat expand as the water flows like a spring flood rushing through a dry desert canyon, washing away the dirt and dust.

You continue watching around you for anyone who may come walking and hear him slurp from your hand.

No one seems to notice, so you move your eyes over to watch him. He sips greedily from your cup, making you tilt it towards him so he can gain every last drop. His Adam’s apple protrudes from his throat in a sharp angle and bobs with every gulp.

With a final gulp, he exhales in relief and attempts to breathe a ‘thank you’, to which you quickly silence with a finger to his moistened lips.

“Nothing happened.” You stare at him with such intensity, it’s almost threatening.

You step away with your dry cup and hear him speak to you in the softest whisper. He mumbles a sweet “thank you” under his breath, nearly undetectable. You smile softly on your way back to your tent until you see a pair of eyes watching you.

Shit.

Mary Beth.

She stands by the rounded table, her hands paused from opening the domino box and watching you curiously. You freeze in place and plead her with wide eyes and upturned brows.

Please don’t tell. You beg with a silent, sorrowful look. You don’t know what would happen if the others found out, but you’re sure it won’t be pleasant for you.

A tight-lipped smile grows on her face and she gestures with an open palm towards the dominos. Her invitation is met with hesitation. Can you trust Mary Beth? You haven’t known her for that long and have kept your secrets to yourself. But the look in her eyes show comforting sympathy, not judgement.

Stepping with bated breath, you bring yourself to the chair across from her.

Neither of you speak while she shuffles the dominos on the table. The gentle clicking of the ivory rectangles seem so deafeningly loud compared to the unspoken words you pass to each other.

Mary Beth gives an understanding nod and looks into your eyes with a sweet smile. No doubt she’s gushing at how romantic and noble your simple gesture was to the prisoner.

You didn’t realize how long you had been holding your breath until you let out a relieved sigh through your nose. You sincerely hope Mary Beth can keep a secret. Sitting here with her, you begin to believe she’s more trusting compared to the others.

However, you still worry she may not be the only witness to your act of kindness.

.........

Another day passes by and you hear a startled cry followed by angry shouts. The eruption startles you and the grooming brush drops from your hands. Your horse beside you immediately senses your alarm and reacts with a twitch of her muscles and a jerk of her head. She promptly resumes to grazing while you bend to pick the brush off the ground. Holding the brush against your chest, your fingers run against its thick bristles. Your heart rate quickens and you step over to look towards the dead birch tree. A sickening unease washes over you as you watch Arthur, Bill and Dutch surround the Duffy boy.

You stop in your tracks as you watch Bill hold a pair of iron tongs with a sadistic look on his face. The edges of the tongs are glowing red and sparks fly with every metallic snap Bill makes. Arthur’s broad frame blocks your view of Kieran, but you can barely see his trousers that pool around his ankles.

Your feet remain frozen in place. You hear Dutch’s voice but your mind doesn’t process his words as you’re too focused on what torturous act is about to happen.

Tongue fat and lips glued shut, you stand there in the open, unable to prevent Kieran’s frightened pleas from entering your ears.

Just talk, boy. C’mon. Your thoughts scream. An internal conflict burns within you: desperate to intervene but the paranoia warns you’ll be ostracized and labeled a traitor for defending an O’Driscoll boy.

“All right, I’ll talk!” He cries.

It’s as if Kieran heard your thoughts. He spills everything. Colm...Six Point Cabin.

But you don’t feel relief just yet, eyeing a disappointed Bill who still holds the hot tongs close to Kieran’s naked bottom half.

It isn’t until you see Arthur cut his bonds that you finally loosen the tight fists at your sides. Your fingernails leave marks against the skin of your palms.

Pulling his trousers up to hide his shame, Kieran’s eyes catch you across the way. He sees the fear wash from your face as he follows the men to their horses. He still looks deeply terrified, unsure of whether this ride with John, Arthur and Bill will lead to his execution.

“Be safe, boys!’ You call to them.

The four of them, including Kieran who sits behind a disgruntled John, turn to you in their saddles. They look at you as if hearing a babe say its first word. The slight surprise mutes them for a moment until Arthur finally speaks.

“We’ll be fine, (Y/N)” he says, “Don’tchu worry.”

You watch them ride off down the hill to Six Point Cabin, the location Kieran mentioned. You may not read people as well as others in this gang, but his words seemed true and genuine. You can only hope your instinct is true until the men return, and then you wonder if Kieran will be turned loose...or killed after the job is done.

You sincerely hope it’s the former.

...........

It’s late afternoon and supper is just ready. The men have been gone for several hours now and your thoughts are no longer kept at bay by busy chores. You don’t hear the subtle hoof beats entering camp, nor the teasing remarks passed between the riders.

Until a shrill voice startles you from behind, causing you to early spill your dinner.

“Get this man a bowl!” Bill’s voice yells behind you, “We ain’t found Colm, but this lucky bastard here saved Arthur from gettin’ a bullet in the head!”

Mumbled voices around the fire exclaim in shock and relief for Arthur’s sake, but little ‘thank-you’s are expressed to Kieran. He steps behind you as you turn to smile at him and Bill, grateful for their safe return.

You watch him happily grab a bowl of stew and sit on a log next to Uncle, who makes a grimaced look of disgust and moves to a different spot—preferably upwind.

“Thank you Kieran,” you gently call over, “For saving Arthur.”

He looks to you with those big doe eyes and smiles awkwardly at your statement of gratitude.

Standing and rubbing your sore hip with one hand, you walk over and extend your bowl to him. He scarfed his food so quickly that his bowl looks almost sparkling clean.

“Here,” you offer the rest of your dinner, “You sure look like you could eat.”

Kieran stammers, “Oh, no ma’am. I couldn’t do that.”

“Please. I��m not that hungry anyway...Hate for it to go to waste. And Pearson never makes enough for everyone.” You give a gentle smirk.

“Thank you miss,” Kieran blinks. “That’s very kind of you.”

He holds his bowl steady with his eyes darting nervously across your face as you transfer your leftovers. You nod and start to walk away until he stops you.

“Oh, and miss?” He whispers.

You turn to him, an eyebrow slightly arched at his politeness.

“Thank you for...yesterday.”

“Don’t mention it,” you smile. “It’s the least I could do.”

Little do you know when you leave, Kieran feels eternally blessed by your act of kindness. It may not seem like much to you, but to him that showed your true soul. This world is brutal and unforgiving, but your empathy and tenderness is what gives him hope and comfort. Something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

#just a lil something #kieran needs attention #kieran duffy #kieran duffy x reader #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #fan fiction #fluff

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julieandthefandoms · 4 years ago

Text

Best Day Of Our Lives

A Jemma wedding fic featuring a Kitty reunion, married with children Kierartina, and Haline being cute together. It can also be found here on AO3 :)

Also, a thank you to Kaitlin, @ineedadrinkorsleep, for allowing me to use her list of Kierartina baby names, you’re amazing!

Tagging @katie33333 @tessagraycarstairs @zafirafox4636 @fairchild-squad @lily-chen-deserves-better @ineedadrinkorsleep @older-brother-kit because I have a tag list now!

Julian straightened the collar of the suit. It was bright in shade, a thing of fire and gold. It was the kind of fire so bright it almost seemed to hold no color at all, leaving the shimmering runes custom to shadowhunter weddings to almost compete with the brightness of it. It was blinding, and Julian could admire the craftsmanship of the suit, tailored to near perfection. Julian could care less about the flashiness of the suit though. It wouldn’t matter whether he were wearing jeans, or even were covered in paint splatters. What mattered was that he was getting married to his best friend, Emma Carstairs.

For the longest time, he was sure he wouldn’t have this opportunity. He had thought he had sealed his fate on that day in Idris. The day after the Dark War, when he had asked the person he loved to be his parabatai. He was prepared to live a life of unrequited love, but by some stroke of luck, he was getting married to her. The bond had been broken, and they could be together. He could be happy.

A pang went through him as he thought back to those days, back when Livvy was still with them. She would've been wild with excitement to be there, to have planned it to perfection. Julian was almost surprised that the pain hadn’t dwindled over time, but there was still an ache as he thought of her. The feeling of loss never truly fades. He had enough space in his heart to love Emma, while still hurting from the loss of his sister.

Julian tugged at the bottom of the jacket once more.

“You look lovely, Jules.” He turned to spot his sister, Helen Penhallow Blackthorn, his suggenes, leaning against the doorframe, a bright smile on her face. She herself was dressed in a flowing gown barely brushing against the top of the floor. “We should probably get going though, you wouldn’t want to be late to your own wedding.”

~^*^~

Kit Herondale should have known better. It was bound to happen really, he was definitely pushing his luck after about the second or third wedding he’d been to, but he hadn’t expected it to be so sudden. It had all started earlier that year, when virtually every friend of Jem and Tessa’s had collectively decided to destroy Kit’s life, a simple one of sneaking Mina extra cookies and avoiding his problems, by forcing him to face all his problems at their weddings. And currently, he was faced with the person he was avoiding most.

Kit had somehow managed to skate by during most of the weddings though. Simon and Isabelle’s was first, Kit having managed to stay as close to the crowd as possible, and silently slipping away after the main portion of the ceremony to reduce his chances of getting involved in a rather awkward discussion. Only a few months had passed before Clary and Jace got married as well, Kit glimpsing a head of dark hair before bolting as soon as he could, claiming that he had to take care of Mina. In fact, what was doing was hiding in the library, pouring his heart out to his little sister.

“You’d think after 3 years my heart would stop beating so rapidly that I became concerned about my own health, but no,” Kit glanced at Mina, who was currently laughing at him, eyes half shut from joy.

She let out another giggle.

“How dare you find joy in my pain?” he said, dramatically laying a hand on his head and leaning back against the bookshelf, though the smile illuminating his face revealed his true intentions. “How can I go on now, betrayed by my own sister?”

Kit smiled at the thought.

Kieran, Mark, and Cristina’s wedding had been somewhat more challenging, him having been caught behind a huge oak tree by none other than Livvy Blackthorn, but he had somehow managed to convince her to tell no one, i.e. her twin brother, a.k.a. the person Kit was trying so desperately to avoid.

“Please, Livvy, don’t tell him I’m here,” Kit was pleading now, already on his knees, gazing up at the ghost above him.

Livvy rolled her eyes. “Fine, but only because I want you to do this on your terms. Remember though, my ship must be canon!”

“Your what?!-”

And that finally brought them up to this wedding, Emma and Julian’s to be more specific. Having been related to, however distant that relation may be, the bride had seemingly got the Herondale/Gray/Carstairs family (or as Kit liked to call it, the Herongraystairs family) a one way ticket to the wedding, and consequently, Kit facing the person he was dreading to meet again.

It had been going relatively well, he’d thought, the ceremony about to begin, and Kit quietly tucked into a corner. That was until Mina dragged him towards the table piled high with drinks, having spotted Max Lightwood-Bane, Rafael Lightwood-Bane, Tavvy Blackthorn, Gianna Blackthorn-Rosales, and Nico Blackthorn-Rosales (Cristina, Mark, and Kieran had Gianna and Nico a year before being married, and Mina instantly fell for them, claiming that they were her “best fwends”) playing near there, and Kit had thought maybe a drink or two wouldn’t hurt. He was severely wrong of course as Kit had failed to notice one head of dark hair standing not far from that very table.

Kit blamed Mina’s doe eyes, and his ability to fall for them instantly.

After his first drink, a voice had made Kit turn, causing him to end up where he was currently, nearly on the floor.

“Hello. I’d like to talk to you.”

~*^*~

Julian was bubbling with joy, a smile brightening his face as he was led to a platform, Helen by his side. He stopped at the top of the steps, turning to give Helen an appreciative nod and a smile. Julian took a sharp inhale as Emma walked around the corner, Cristina lending her off to the stage. All thoughts left him. She was breathtaking, wrapped in a gold silk gown that hugged her waist before flaring down to the ground. A sheer overlay on the silk skirt caught the brightness of the witchlight, complimenting the gold in her hair.

But it wasn’t only gold, was it? It was a beautiful mix of cadmium yellows, naples yellows, golds, yellow ochres.

She was beautiful, and Julian couldn’t help but think that he was the luckiest person in the world. As Emma reached the platform, she leaned in, a grin plastered on her face.

“I know, I look stunning.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder in a playful manner.

Julian shot back a nod. “It is your wedding, I’d expect no less.”

And with that, the ceremony began, Brother Enoch reciting a few words, before steles appeared in their hand. It passed by in a blur, and before Julian knew it, they were kissing. Time seemed to still, Julian thought he heard a crash somewhere in the crowd, a flash of blond hair blurring by the table, but he paid no attention to it. The room melted away, it was as though they, Emma and Julian, were the only two people in the room. It was perfect.

~*^*~

“HOLY-” Kit choked on his drink. He had forgotten how graceful shadowhunters were, how easily they could move without alerting anyone surrounding them. Unfortunately, that shadowhunter grace had apparently skipped a generation because Kit found himself clutching at the table for support, having nearly fallen from shock.

“Are you alright?” It was none other than Tiberius Nero Blackthorn, his arm outstretched. He was looking at him, and at that moment, all rational thought left him. He said something roughly equivalent to an audible keysmash before clearing his throat.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” Kit brushed himself off, standing up as though nothing had happened. If you pretend to be confident, it won’t be long until you begin to feel confident as well. For the first time since the wedding fiasco began, he actually looked at Ty. He was taller now, Kit was surprised to see, though he supposed he shouldn’t have. Three years did a lot to change someone, he supposed, but those eyes were the same. A beautiful yet deadly storm churning above a sea. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

Kit leaned against the table once more, this time a bit more suave and cool, and less panicky than the first.

“Why are you avoiding me?” It was a simple question, clear as day. Kit choked up a bit. “And why did you leave?”

All of a sudden, he was fifteen again, doing anything he could for Ty, the beautiful shadowhunter that had held a knife to his throat. The nephilim he would have done anything for. Years of suppressing his emotions didn’t prepare Kit for this moment, he doubted anything could have. Ty looked calm enough, but his hands were frantically twisting and unknotting a ball of pipe cleaners. He was nervous, Kit knew it, and so Kit blurted it out. He never could have told Ty a lie, even if he wanted to. Even after three years.

“Because I was hurt, and I was running away from what had happened,” Kit took a deep breath, as Ty nodded, understanding it. Kit, suspecting he was going to turn away, proceeded to continue talking, hoping to get a laugh, a smile, anything out of Ty. “Tessa thinks it was the Herondale dramatics though.”

Kit didn’t add the second part of what she said, “Running away from the person you love ‘for their own good’ is alarmingly common among Herondales,” but Ty let out a laugh, bright and brilliant, so it was a win in Kit’s book.

It was an amazing laugh, low and lovely, beautiful to hear.

“Tessa knows Herondales well.”

“She does.”

The silence stretched on for a moment, though it was a comfortable one. A silence in which both parties simply enjoyed the presence of the other.

The soft piano finally registered in Kit’s mind. A crazy idea formed in his head, one his fifteen year old self would banish to the darkest corners of his brain.

“May I have this dance?”

Turned out he wasn’t the only one to have that idea, Kit thought as he accepted Ty’s hand. An impish grin spread across Kit’s face.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

~*^*~

Soft music began playing from the piano in the corner, Jace Herondale shooting a wink at Helen as she rolled her eyes at his antics. A smile rested upon her face, as Helen looked at her brother and Emma, both beaming joy, foreheads together as they swayed to the music. It was so genuine, and beautiful, she couldn’t stop grinning even if she wanted to. She’d already missed so much of her family’s life, exiled on Wrangel Island, that she was glad to be here, sharing this moment with them.

And how lovely it was, gold decorations pinned to the walls, tables lined with dishes and drinks. Kieran, Mark, and Cristina were on the sides, cooing at their third child, Emelia, an adorable baby girl born only a few months ago. Helen spotted Ty dancing with Kit by the drink table, both blissfully unaware of the children bouncing about close to them. Dru was at the center of the ballroom with Jaime Rosales, gown flaring as she was spun.

Aline leaned into her, resting her head upon Helen’s shoulder. She was stunning, in a wine red gown with glittering gold accents, dark hair brushing against her back. Helen couldn’t stop but think about how lucky she was, to have someone so beautiful, so wonderful.

“Young love, it’s beautiful isn’t it?”

Her wife was most certainly correct, and Helen agreed wholeheartedly.

“It really is.”

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norafike · 4 years ago

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Despite all this, I still love you 10

*Contains spoilers for Chapter 3 mission; A short walk in a pretty town.

Depictions of violence, please read at your own risk as the material can be unsettling for viewers.

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

It took a day or more's journey to travel as far as Rhodes from the business she underwent back at Valentine. Even longer due to Maggie's distraction.

The female hitched her horse near the Gunsmith, noticing the unsettling silence that haunted the town. Nobody could be seen for miles and the store's looked empty whenever she peered through the windows inside. She wondered why Arthur sent the letter, requesting for her help, given that there was not a soul around.

“Hello?” She called out for nothing, expecting something to call back to her. Silence was met and so she decided to walk deeper, seeing where the men she was meant to meet lurked. “Arthur?.. Sean?”

She saw them eventually, hiding near a building all talking amongst themselves. She smiled at Sean and took a stand near him before whistling for her horse to trot on over to where they waited. She tethered him to the correct post, standing near. “How are you feelin' gentlemen?”

Micah snorted the minute she opened her mouth, gripping his gun belt and kicking his leg up onto a crate near to trap her between him and her animal. “Jus' fine, yourself?”

She tried not to visibly cringe once he spoke up, but could not help but scrunch up her nose in disgust. She used the tip of her finger to push him away. “I was doin' so much better before you started talkin', Mr. Bell.”

“I feel like we've gotten close enough, call me Micah.” He grinned and she had to bite her tongue to not snap back at him. “Of course, I'd like to know you.. a little better.”

“A shame I'm gettin' to know Kieran a little better first.” And Sean let out a roar of a laugh at her subtle way of dismissing his offer, this displeasing Micah enough that he left her alone.

"I am only kidding of course." She made it known so none of them would go ahead and tease the poor boy when they returned to camp, after all he was not considered highly amongst the group and the last thing he needed was someone taking her words the wrong way.

Micah snorted again before walking away from the female, ignoring her subtle giggles from behind and taking the lead with Sean on their walk into town. It had been far too quiet for Nora's liking before but now, while they were exposed like how they were.. well she felt more uneasy than ever.

“None of it feels right.” She mumbled under her breathe, going unnoticed by the others. They talked before Arthur raised his voice over them, finally addressing the situation and repeating what Nora had said earlier. Sean turned around. “Now none of it feels right?” His accent was thicker here but before anyone had time to process what they were saying and shot rang out, setting them into ‘fighter’ mode. Nobody had noticed Sean, yet.

She covered her ears as she followed the men behind cover, finally taking a moment to compose herself and assess the situation. Here, she counted visible faces and let out a choked sob when she counted one short; Sean not being present. Nora faced Arthur, fear reflecting in his eyes and through a shaky voice managed to ask him the dreaded question. “Where's Sean?” He frowned; not asking and instead taking her deeper into the alley they hid in once the bullets to close to be comfortable.

“We'll worry about Sean later.. are you okay to fight? I feel we got half the family after us.” She slowly nodded to answer. “Good.”

He ran out of the alley, both revolvers in hand and began to fire blindly down the road. She watched until he disappeared around the corner, taking a shaky breath she soon followed, her revolver in hand.

“Sean.” Her voice was small once she noticed the boy lying in the dirt, an unmistakable pool of blood around him and only growing. With the little strength she had left she managed to force herself into hiding behind a few crates, her vision growing more blurry from the tears that kept falling. She wasn't even trying to hit anything, only shooting behind her to make it seem as though she was helping but in reality she was only trying to not blackout as she always does. Her voice was called by an invisible creature, sounding similar to Lem but not quite her friend but it was familiar enough to feel safe.. she focused on it, it repeating one phrase over and over. ‘Come back to me, Nora.’ The very thing Lemuel had said that night with the flammable-moonshine explosion. It kept her distracted and it kept her awake..

“Stay low, girl.” Arthur seemingly appeared from nowhere, crouching by her side and shooting in any direction he heard bullets. He knew of what happened to Nora in situations like this, seeing it many times before and when the reality of Sean's fate kicked in the thought of preventing Nora's emerged. “I'm stayin' low. Make way to the General Store and sneak around the back through there, bastards are hidin' away where we can't see 'em.”

“And risk endin' up like Sean?”

“You can stay here, but I'm going. Prevent you lot endin' up like the kid.” With that she made haste over to the shop, ignoring Arthur's cries for her to run back. It was silent inside but that didn't mean she wasn't careful creeping through, her gun entering or leaving a room before she did at all times. She presumed that Micah and Bill dealt with a lot of the Gray's as the numbers were thinner now, but that didn't mean she didn't take out any herself.. feeling no guilt in doing so either.

“Bastards.” She cursed under her breath as she searched for the remaining bunch.. slowly finding one cowering behind a few barrels. He begged for his life, raising his hands in the air. She staggered for a moment, moving to holster her weapon and the man began to thank her for her “generousity” yet Sean had so much stripped away from him and she remembered it quickly. She put the gun away, opting for a more *satisfying kill and using her knife, she placed the steel against the man's neck and cut as deep as allowed. His blood ran down her hands, onto her lap and he fell lifeless.

She didn't notice the blood, didn't care for it.

…

“Where's Williamson?” She asked; met with silence from the two men who provided no answer.

“Well..?”

“We don't know, lady. Why, you gonna kill him too?” Micah spat and without thinking she lunged towards, gripping the lapels of his jacket and pushing him back. He made contact with the side of the wall, gasping with the wind knocked out of him and not expecting such a small woman to have this much strength, she was almost as feisty as Mrs. Adler and he admired her for it. “No, but I'll kill you asshole.” She shouted and finally Arthur stepped in, wrapping his arm around Nora and pulling her off of the antagonistic individual.

“You're fucking crazy, woman.” Micah hadn't learned his lesson.

“Enough!” Arthur yelled; scowling at the pair of them. “Let's find Bill and get out of here.”

“Whatever.” Nora grunted, walking past the men and back down towards the gunsmith. Arthur watched after her, maintaining a distance as he soon followed behind. She wasn't in any place to be alone right now and he knew it.

“Stop right there!” Sherrif Gray in his bitter tone called out, revolver pointed straight for Nora. She froze in her tracks and raised her hands, looking at the group with a fake smile. In some man's arms she noticed Bill and subtly pointed at him so Arthur could see.

The two finally joined her, Micah on her right and Arthur on her left so she stood perfectly in front of Leigh Gray. How she could spit at his name, a disgusting roach of a man she never had any liking for.. the killing of her only friend which he allowed being the final straw and so god help her she was going to make sure he got what he owed. “You gonna let our friend go, Leigh?”

“I plan on takin' you all in.. or killin' ya if need be.” He replied; his threat meeting deaf ears. She didn't care, couldn't find it within her. “That a threat..? Or a promise?” And Micah looked over astonished as she continued teasing him.

“I ain't playin' games girl-.” Leigh began, but Nora raised her hands to dismiss him. “Never said this was no game, jus' let my friend go.”

“Ain't gonna happen.”

“Very Well.” She was quick, just as skilled as Arthur and unexpecting. A few shots were fired and the Gray's fell, some falling off of the porch of the gunsmith and onto the roads.

Bill clambered forward, completely astonished but holding thanks he needed to pass on. He placed a sweaty palm on her shoulder, reluctantly muttering a quiet ‘thanks’ and walking away.

“Sean.” She cried before running over to the body. The thrill died down and reality kicked her in the face with a steel toe cap boot. Her friend really had been killed, his face disfigured and unrecognisable and her chest tightened when she saw him lying there, on the ground. Her brave face shriveled and she let out sobs, earning an eye roll from Micah but a gentle pat regardless. “Bill, take the boy an' get him buried. I'm gonna ride with Nora back to camp, I don't think she should be alone.”

She chuckled at Arthur's instruction, despite there being no humour behind it. “I'm twenty-four. I can look after myself.”

“Trust me, I know that. I've seen it.” He replied with a light smile. “Jus' need an excuse for me not to be seen alone cryin'.” She laughed as he tried to lighten the situation, there was no time for mourning.

“Come on, let's get you out of here.”

She managed to wipe away a small tear, following him over to Casper and climbing into the saddle without fail despite an ache in her muscles slowly kicking in. Everything coming down and having an effect. “Thank you.” She managed to whisper, following Arthur out of the town.

“It ain't nothin'.”

#rdr2 #rdo #red dead online #red dead 2 #lem fike #lemuel fike #rdr2 lem #rdo lem fike #maggie fike #arthur morgan #micah bell #sean macguire #bill williamson #lem fike x original character

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porkchop-ao3 · 5 years ago

Text

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 56)

Brandywine Drop

Arthur and reader have some much needed respite away from the crumbling gang. We also meet a familiar face! Warning for some animal death/hunting-ish.

Tagging @emily-strange ❤

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

We set up a campsite with Arthur's tent at Brandywine Drop, a short distance away from the huge waterfall and as far from the train tracks and trail as possible. We were set up under the cover of a patch of trees with a clearing big enough for us to set up a little fire. It was evening time once we were settled, with Rayna chewing on some wild carrots I'd pulled up for her, and Arthur heating up some cans by the fire for us. It was a little late to find something to hunt for meat so it'd be a light and bland supper, but it didn't matter. I played with Rayna's mane while she ate, listening to the peaceful sounds around me; it was a wonderful place. The constant shhh of the waterfall put me at ease, coupled with the familiar crackling licks of the fire and the sound of birds singing a final song before they found a place to roost for the night, it made the tension in my shoulders fall away as I stood there by my horse and my love. This is how life is meant to be, I thought.

I suddenly remembered the letter in my pocket from that morning, and looked over my shoulder at Arthur. He was prodding at the contents of a can with a fork, trying to stir the congealed substance to heat it evenly. I reached inside my pocket and retrieved the letter, looking down at it for a moment before walking over to him. I held it out to him silently, and he glanced at it before meeting my eyes.

"This came for you this morning," I told him. He took the letter from me and looked at the writing on the front. I could tell by the slight shift in his eyes that he knew who it was from. "It feels like there's something inside," I added.

Arthur tore open the letter and knocked it against his palm. I was correct in my guess that it was a ring, it fell into his hand and he stared at it for a while before unfolding the letter. He tilted it towards the fire to get some better light to read it with and I wandered away, back to Rayna, to give him some privacy. He didn't need me standing over him as he processed whatever she'd written.

I scratched Rayna under her chin and kissed her nose, whispering to her soft words of affection. She'd been neglected a little bit by myself over the past week or so, and she needed some love. I didn't want her thinking that Kieran was her new papa or something, considering the time he put in making sure that she and the other animals were happy.

Barely a minute passed and I heard the sound of folding paper. I looked over my shoulder and Arthur was staring at the ring again, a mild frown on his face. He must've been hurting but I didn't know how to comfort him. How does one comfort a lover who is hurting over a previous one? It was an odd situation.

"I don't really know the right customs when it comes to these things… but I feel like it'd be in bad taste to–" he began, then stopped and met my eyes. "She's giving me this back because she thinks it'll help her forget about me, I think," he clarified, holding the ring up to me.

My heart did something funny when I saw him like he was; happening to be on one knee as he crouched by the fire, now showing me a ring. The mental leap I made made me ache with some kind of longing. I pushed it away, for the time being.

"She put in her letter that maybe I should give it to someone else. Maybe even you," he continued. "I feel that's a little… odd. Considering I bought it for her all those years back. But I guess… do you want it?" He asked, a slight shrug coming with his words. I couldn't help but laugh.

"No," I breathed, shaking my head but grinning. I walked back over to him, bending over and cupping his face, tilting it so I could kiss him. "I don't want Mary's old ring. But thank you."

"I thought as much," he murmured, tucking the ring away in his satchel, "I thought I'd ask in case you thought it was pretty, or something, but it wouldn't be special," he shrugged.

"Special?" I repeated, a little unsure of what he meant.

"It was her… you know I asked her to marry me," he said very quietly, looking away from me. I nodded even though he wouldn't see it. He took a breath and met my eyes again, "I plan on buying you a ring of your own when that happens," he said, his tone light and casual, yet making my entire body burst with tingles and adrenaline.

"When that happens?" I repeated, choking the words out. Arthur's face seemed to pale as he realised what he'd said.

"If, when, I don't– you know what I– shit, I didn't mean anything by that. That was just a slip of the tongue. I just meant I… I wouldn't propose to someone with the same ring I did with someone else, it was just a general statement, I wasn't–" oh, he was panicking. I snickered and pressed my fingers to his mouth.

"It's okay. I understand," I nodded.

"I guess I… I love you and I can't imagine not loving you, that just slipped out like it was a normal thing to say," he justified, his eyes comically wide. I shook my head in amusement and carefully lowered myself down to sit next to him on the ground. I wondered how I'd get up again but that was a problem for later.

"It's alright. I'm not gonna take that too seriously," I sighed, leaning into his side. "This is an odd situation and you were just trying to say the right thing."

"Perhaps I'll… I'll sell it," he shrugged his shoulders.

"Maybe you could give it to John?" I suggested. "Perhaps one day he and Abigail could have a use for it, you know?"

"You think?"

"Abigail loves him. They're working things out, it seems. Aren't they?"

"Yeah, they are," he nodded, sitting down properly on his backside and wrapping his arm around my shoulders. "Maybe you're right. If he's got any sense he'll marry that woman. He ain't ever gonna find someone else who'll put up with him," he snorted.

"I think that would be sweet, if you gave it to him. That way, someone gets to use the ring and it ain't odd… plus I get my own ring, when the time comes," I smirked mischievously. "I like sapphires, by the way."

"Sapphires," he chuckled breathily, "noted. You know, that bracelet Penelope gave to me was sapphires."

"It was?"

"I still got it, you want it?" He asked. I chuckled and shook my head.

"The money's more important," I said.

"Well, she said it would be worth some," he nodded.

"My mama had a beautiful necklace with a sapphire in it, had to sell it, though. I always begged her to wear it," I told him, fondly recalling it. "Was only allowed to once, I remember," I lifted one finger.

"When was that?"

"My tenth birthday, we went to the park in Saint Denis, I was dressed up in my best frock. Mama said now that I was in double figures she needed to see if I was grown up enough to wear such a special necklace. I was so scared of losing it all day that I never asked to wear it again," I laughed, and Arthur chuckled too. "Couple years later we sold it, keeping a roof over our heads was more important, you know?" I added, and Arthur nodded.

"I suppose, lookin' for silver linings and all, at least we ain't gotta worry about losing no roof, living how we do," he sighed.

I nodded slowly. "And I think I prefer having no fixed abode. Don't know for sure why, but I like this," I gestured around us. "Always have. Much more now I ain't alone."

Arthur scrubbed his hand up and down my arm and then shifted forwards to retrieve the cans from the fire. He used a pair of sticks as pincers to lift them out carefully, placing them on the ground in front of us. He sighed down at our dinner.

"How we splitting this, you want beans or peas, or shall we have half and half each?" He asked.

"Half and half?" I shrugged.

"Alright, here you go," he handed me a spoon from his satchel and I started on my half of the peas while he went at the beans. It was certainly no banquet but it was something warm to fill our bellies.

"So, Colm's dead, I tried to throttle Micah… what a day this has been. Sadie told me that you and Dutch had a disagreement at the saloon earlier," I delicately broached the subject.

"That why you went and spoke to him?" He asked. Aw, shit.

"Yeah, I guess," I shrugged. I sensed him looking at me. "I just didn't want him treating you like crap because of me, so I went and told him that it's just me who wants us to leave."

"That ain't true," he protested.

"Yeah, I know. But it's simpler if Dutch thinks that."

"He ain't gonna be good to you, he thinks you're against him like that," he warned, and I shrugged carelessly. And I really didn't care. Dutch could fuck himself, to be frank.

"Whatever, just let me take the load off of you. You don't need him doubting you, you've got enough to worry about," I muttered, shaking my head and shovelling some more peas into my mouth. "I'm more interested in how you're feeling. He must've upset you."

"Just felt like he was throwing the past twenty years back in my face. I figure I've spent so long earning his trust and proving myself to him, and all it takes is me wanting the best for the woman I love for him to tell me that I ain't loyal. Maybe I ain't loyal to him no more, I don't know," he shrugged his shoulders, "if I'm not, that's only because he's been acting crazy."

"If he wants everyone to blindly trust him, no matter what, he's gotta do better," I shrugged. "I don't trust him to have everyone's best interests at heart. If it was me running this gang, I'd've given John a bunch of money and told him to get lost with Abigail and Jack by now. The poor kid got kidnapped and he's been shot at in his own home at least twice," I used the term 'home' very lightly, but it was true nonetheless.

"We could probably afford to do it, too. John's brought in plenty of work, ain't like he hasn't earned his cut," Arthur mused under his breath, a bean falling off of his fork down his shirt when he paused before putting it in his mouth. He sighed and scrubbed a hand over the mark it left.

I looked down into my can. "I do understand why you can't leave, when I think about these things," I told him quietly. "I don't think I could live with myself either, if we ran off and left everyone else in this mess."

Arthur met eyes when I looked up at him. He didn't say anything but I saw him relax a bit, read relief in his eyes. I could tell it put him at ease to learn that I was on a similar page to him. We ate for a while longer and then swapped cans, and finished off the last of the peas and beans between us.

"How's your leg?" He asked, leaning back on one elbow, head tilting towards the sky where the stars were out.

"Getting there. You saw me walking without my cane today. That weren't on purpose, I forgot it, but maybe I don't need it no more," I replied, leaning back on my hands and looking down at my outstretched legs before joining him in looking at the sky.

"Just be careful, princess," he whispered. There was a stretch of silence before he spoke again, "I'm still hungry after that. Maybe I'll go out in the morning and get us some proper food," he said, and I chuckled.

"You ain't got no more food?"

"I got some biscuits, not many though. Prob'ly not enough for two," he told me. I reached over and patted his belly.

"I won't ask for none," I assured him with a grin.

"You sure? I'd feel bad eating them in front of you," he said.

"I had some chocolate earlier, and I never shared it with you. Go for it."

"Where'd you get chocolate?" He asked, sitting up and retrieving the snack from his satchel.

"Pearson gave it to me, bless him."

"Pearson never gives me chocolate," he muttered to himself and I snorted, shaking my head.

It was quiet save for the crunching of Arthur's biscuits, and I leaned back, lying on the ground so I could watch the stars again. I felt sleepy and at peace. It was so good to be alone with Arthur, just quietly enjoying his company, completely alone for the first time in weeks. I wore an easy smile and released a content sigh, prompting Arthur to look at me.

"That's more like it. It's real good seeing you smile," he commented, brushing the biscuit crumbs from his short beard.

"It's just nice here. So peaceful," I noted, and he looked around and nodded.

"I keep thinking I can hear Karen yelling, drunk, or Micah winding somebody up. Mind's playing tricks on me, it's just the waterfall," he said, shaking his head.

"You sure? They ain't found us, have they?" I joked, making a show of looking around. Arthur laughed and laid down next to me, rolling over to half lean over me. He held himself up with his hand beside me, leaning down to kiss my forehead, then the tip of my nose.

"You look so pretty when you're happy. Not that you ain't pretty all the time, but when you're like this… makes me wanna wrap you up in my arms and keep you there," he said in a low, rumbling tone. I cupped his face and connected our mouths for a slow, open-mouthed kiss.

It went on for some time, we lost ourselves in it indulgently, always letting the background of our surroundings slip away when we kissed like that. I could do it for hours. It might've been one of my favourite things to do with him. Arthur shifted so his elbow held him up and his free hand could go to my waist, his thumb rubbing the spot back and forth, his fingers squeezing in my shirt. I was hazy with adoration in moments, bringing one hand to his torso where I wrapped it around his suspender.

When we broke away for air, Arthur's voice was gravelly and deep, almost a mere vibration in my ears.

"This is making me want you too much. Since the other day my thoughts ain't been anything close to pure–" he began, hearing himself and chuckling. "Sorry. I can't stop thinking about it. I wanna take you, out here, so I can watch your face while I make you feel good."

"I'm still– my monthly ain't finished," I whispered, though I was immediately turned on.

"I ain't squeamish," he said without missing a beat and I gasped and barked out a shocked laugh, smacking him lightly on the arm. He parted from me a bit so he could see my face properly.

"Arthur! That's so…" I laughed, shaking my head, not knowing what to say. "Dirty! In more than one sense."

"I'm sorry, I'm getting carried away again. You do that to me," he said, his cheeks reddening.

"It's okay. I just think– what a mess," I snickered, feeling my own face heat up with embarrassment. Arthur breathed a laugh too and laid down on his back next to me.

"You're probably right," he sighed. "It was worth a shot."

"Dirty boy," I muttered in faux-reprimand.

"Only since I met you," he retorted accusingly.

"I was a virgin when I met you, remember that?"

"What're you insinuating, that I'm the one who's turnin' you dirty?" He smirked at me and I chuckled.

"I don't know. Either way I'm not complaining."

"Mm, me neither."

His hand brushed against mine and he linked our pinky fingers. We were quiet for some time, and I was the one to tentatively break the silence.

"Mm, you know, if we were to go inside that tent…" I began, trailing off quietly.

"Yes?" His voice rose in pitch playfully.

"I might not be able to offer you the full fun and games, but I've got a perfectly serviceable pair of hands," I squeaked. He hummed a sultry laugh.

"Miss Jemima," he breathed, shaking his head in false disapproval.

"Is that a refusal?" I questioned. Arthur laughed breathily and rolled over onto his front enough to push himself to his knees. I watched him from my spot on the ground with a wide smile on my face.

"Sweetheart, I'm in no fit state to refuse anything from you. Come on," he jerked his head playfully towards the tent and I snickered, sitting up and shuffling along with him inside.

I awoke to an empty bedroll beside me. I noticed the little piece of paper laying atop it quick enough not to panic over Arthur's absence, and plucked it up to read it.

Gone hunting for some breakfast, back soon. Won't go far.

Love, Arthur

I folded the note and slipped it away in my satchel, its sentimental value manifesting itself in an instant despite being something so simple. It had the memories of such a beautiful place and a peaceful night attached to it, of course.

I scooted out of the tent; the fire was going strong, Arthur had obviously tended to it before he left so I'd wake up to some warmth. It wasn't the warmest climate this far north. I warmed myself there for a few moments before tackling the act of getting to my feet. It was trickier than it looked without the ability to bend my leg as far as I needed to, but I got there in the end and headed away from our campsite into the woods to take care of some morning business. Then I headed towards the water to clean up a bit and splash some water on my face. The place looked different in the daylight, with the vivid violet snowdrops dotting the foliage and the sun glinting off the churned up surface of the water by the waterfall.

I looked out across the river to the other side, taking in the trees that surrounded me. Movement caught my eye between them, all the way across the other side of the water. I stepped a little way to the left so I could see better, and spotted two figures in the trees. A gunshot made me jump, but it sounded like a varmint rifle so I wasn't too alarmed. I'd used one enough over the years to recognise its particular sound; less full-bodied than most rifles and almost a little hollow sounding.

I squinted and leaned forwards, trying to make out the figures. I was certain one of them was Arthur, recognising his blue shirt, but he was with someone else. A woman. From all the way across the river she looked a bit like Abigail, but there was no reason why she would be out here.

I decided to investigate. I glanced back at our campsite and ensured that nothing valuable was left unattended, and whistled for Rayna who immediately closed the space between us. I used my good leg in her stirrup to lift myself onto her, side-saddle, and clicked at her to get moving. I crossed the water at the shallowest point, Rayna's big hooves thu-dunking and splashing through noisily. I followed the path around into the part shrouded by trees, hearing their voices as I got closer.

"Get ahold of its legs, have a firm grip, give it a hard pull. Straight down," Arthur was explaining. I didn't want to creep up on them but I also felt strange shouting out, so I waited until I was close enough for them to notice.

Arthur turned, his face brightening with a smile once he saw me. The woman hadn't noticed, focusing on skinning the rabbit in her hands. She tore the skin off in one clean pull, a technique I'd never had much success with myself, but she seemed to do okay.

"Darlin', you're up," Arthur greeted.

"I saw you from across the water," I said, suddenly feeling a little odd about having sought him out. I hoped he didn't think I didn't trust him.

"Oh, hello there," the woman said when she noticed my arrival. I smiled at her as Arthur approached and helped me down off of Rayna, his hands on my waist as I slid off ensuring that I wouldn't land too hard on my feet and hurt myself.

"Hi," I replied, taking in her appearance. She looked slim and tired, her skin a little sallow and dirtied with mud. Her smile was weak behind her politeness, but she was pretty.

"This is Mrs. Balfour, she lives in a house just up there," Arthur introduced her, pointing up the path. "I came across her when I was looking for game."

"Charlotte," she nodded, reaching her hand out towards me, then spotting the rabbit blood on it and thinking better of it, "you must be Mr. Morgan's partner. My sincerest apologies, it's my fault you're having to wait for your breakfast," she chuckled weakly.

"Oh, not at all," I shook my head.

"He was helping me find some food, he taught me how to skin this rabbit," she said, holding up the animal. "My… my husband passed, and I've been struggling ever since. Well, we were struggling before he died but that's a different story," she shook her head, looking off in the direction of her home.

"I'm so sorry," I frowned. She gave me a small, grateful smile.

"I haven't eaten in days, but this will keep me going. Thank you so much," she turned to Arthur.

"Don't mention it," he said, gesturing with his hand for her to start heading back. "Let us walk you back."

I tagged along with them, sounding for Rayna to follow and taking hold of her reins.

"Did your husband do all the hunting?" I gently asked, concerned about her lack of knowledge when living so far out of civilisation.

"Tried to. Neither of us were any good, as I said to Arthur, we were City folk," she sighed, "just looking for some new escape. I don't know the first thing about hunting, can't even fire a gun properly."

Arthur and I glanced at each other, sharing the same look of worry.

"You should probably learn… no use me teaching you how to skin an animal if you can't catch any," Arthur suggested and she nodded her head, looking down at her feet.

Rayna suddenly dug her feet in, pulling on the slack of the reins, whinnying in distress. A moment later there was a gasp from Charlotte and then a choir of wailing howls from above. My blood ran cold, I'd never heard that sound so close and I swivelled to see three wolves up on the slope, looking right at us. I froze in place, my legs going numb as Rayna tore the reins from my slack hand and understandably bolted in the other direction, a second before the wolves pounced forwards.

Instinct sent my hand to my holster, pulling free my revolver and fumbling to pull back the hammer. This was why sidearms stayed loaded. A series of gunshots sounded before I fired, I watched one wolf slam into the ground and slide down, a second wounded. I aimed at the third and shot, missing a couple of times before finally landing a shot in the animal's chest, sending it down before unloading the remainder of my shots into it for good measure while Arthur finished off the others.

There were a few moments of still silence once the wolves were finished. Adrenaline made my hands throb and my head pound; I turned to look at Charlotte and Arthur with wide eyes.

"I would be dead now, if it weren't for you two," she breathed, shaking her head and shoving her hand into her hair, "I'm completely hopeless."

I shook my head, "you just need to practice shooting. I had to learn on my own years ago, I just kept trying. It gets easier, becomes second nature almost, aiming right," I told her in a tone I hoped would reassure her.

"Okay," she sighed and nodded, and we carried on towards her home.

I fell back a little to walk with Arthur, and spoke to him quietly. "Perhaps we could help her. Teach her how to shoot properly," I suggested.

"I was thinking the same thing," he nodded. "She just needs to eat right now but we could come back in a few days."

I nodded in agreement, then we reached the house. It was a pretty spot, right near the waterfall, neatly tucked away between trees and cliffs. Quiet and picturesque. I would've envied her if she wasn't so alone and struggling.

"I would invite you in, but I'm dead on my feet," she told us, breathing a little laugh. "But please, if you two are ever out this way again, do come and visit."

"Of course," I said, and Arthur nodded too.

"It was nice meeting you both."

"You too, you take care ma'am," Arthur tipped his hat at her and I dipped my head politely.

"Thank you, for this," she looked at Arthur sincerely and Arthur awkwardly shifted on his feet.

"Ain't no trouble," he shook his head.

"It's the kindest thing anyone's done for us since we… I appreciate it, a lot," she told him. "Enjoy the rest of your trip."

"Thank you," Arthur nodded, then Charlotte closed the door.

Arthur and I looked at each other then headed away.

"That was good of you," I told him, hooking my hand over the arm he offered. "You're a sweet man."

"I just did what anyone would've done. She was starving," he shook his head dismissively but I didn't let him get away with it. I reached up to kiss his cheek.

"It was a kind thing, I'm proud of you," I said, smiling up at him, "this is why I love you."

He met my eyes, his own softening and warming.

We reached the wolves and paused. "I guess this can be breakfast," I said.

"I suppose. And lunch, and dinner…" he chuckled, "better than letting it go to waste."

And so we set to work skinning and butchering the wolves. The pelts weren't in great shape, torn up by bullet holes evident of a panic, but they'd still come in useful around camp for extra warmth when the temperature dropped, as it occasionally did at the new camp. I stocked Rayna's back with the three pelts while Arthur finished cutting the usable meat from the animals, wrapping them up and distributing them between our satchels and the saddlebags. When we were done we took a moment to wash our hands in the river, cleaning away the blood and grease before mounting up together and heading back towards our campsite.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #fanfiction #arthur morgan x reader #atink #arthur morgan x female reader #reader insert #rdr2 fanfic

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deliciousdetectivestranger · 5 years ago

Text

This is from extra scenes on the Shadowhunters Wiki.

From the top of Mynydd Mawr, you could see the Irish Sea. Somewhere across that ocean, Mark thought, was the country he’d grown up in, and far on its west coast was Los Angeles, where his brothers and sisters lived.

The summit of the mountain was covered with low green grass, and the peak fell away to long slopes of scree reaching down to views of more green — a patchwork of verdigris dotted with the gray lines of farmers’ stone walls. Kieran’s horse Windspear was cropping grass at the mountain’s edge, while Mark’s mount had wandered off in search of excitement, which Mark doubted she would find in this quiet corner of Wales.

Clouds scudded across the sky, low and gray, promising a downpour. Mark looked over at Kieran, who was working at putting up a shelter for them. He had draped two cloaks — Wild Hunt cloaks were made of tough fibrous material, impervious to rain —over the top of a half-collapsed cairn of stones.

Mark watched him as he spread another cloak out inside the cairn, over the grass and packed earth. His gestures were faerie gestures: economic and graceful. In the silvery rain-light, his skin looked sheered with silver, etching the fine bones of his face, his hands. When he blinked, his blue-black lashes scattered light.

Like Mark, his clothes were worn and battered; there were holes in his linen shirt, through which Mark could catch tantalizing glimpses of skin. He felt a blush rise on his cheeks. He didn’t know why he’d thought that, or why he was looking at Kieran that way: Kieran was his friend, that was all. And an odd, unpredictable sort of friend at that. He was often reminded that Kieran’s status as a gentry prince made both their lives in the Hunt easier — if he’d been alone, he wouldn’t have been allowed to break off from the main group and make camp on this hill tonight. He would have been required to attend the revel the rest of the Hunt were at with the local goblins, piskies and whatnots. But Kieran’s desire for privacy was respected, as much as the Hunt respected anything.

Kieran was moody, though, his temper changing as often as the color of his hair. He was like the water his nixie mother had lived in — sweet and giving sometimes, rough and stormy at others. Not that Mark blamed him for being unhappy in the Hunt, though Kieran had not left beloved family behind as Mark had.

“Come here.” Kieran stretched out a hand. “Or do you plan to soak yourself in rainwater?”

“I wouldn’t mind the shower.” Mark’s skin had just begun to prickle with the first drops of rain.

“You’re clean enough,” Kieran said: Mark supposed it was true; they’d both bathed in the Cwellyn lake earlier. Mark loved watching Kieran swim; you could see the water faerie in his blood as he moved under the surface, fast and sleek as an otter, or rose to shake silver drops from his hair.

The sky opened up then, and Mark dashed to fling himself into the cairn, under the roof of cloaks. It was a bigger space than he had expected, and Kieran had lit a small fire at the far end of the shallow rectangle. The smoke wound up through a gap in the rocks. Mark could feel the dampness of the earth even through the blanket, but the cloaks kept the rain off.

“I think this was a barrow-place once,” said Kieran, glancing around. “Where they buried the dead.”

Mark mock-shuddered. Kieran gave him a curious look. Faeries found death odd, because it happened only when faeries were hundreds of years old. Death in battle was different: respected and not bothersome. They didn’t really have a conception of “morbid.”

Mark lay back on the blanket and laced his hands over his stomach. He could feel his pulsebeat at the top of his stomach, just below his ribs. It was a feeling he associated with hunger, the gnawing of appetite, but he and Kieran had eaten earlier that day, and there was even bread in Windspear’s saddlebag.

“Are you all right?” In the shadows, Kieran’s eyes were both silver, the light reflecting off them like mirrors. His hair was tangled, jaw-length; he’d cut it himself using a lake as a mirror, not long ago. Mark longed to touch it, to see if it was as thick and soft as it looked.

He need to stop having thoughts like this about Kieran. He’d seen Kieran kiss both boys and girls at revels, and sometimes do more. But that wasn’t the issue. Kieran was a gentry prince and Mark was a half-blooded Shadowhunter. Even a prince in the Wild Hunt would look down on someone with human blood. He wondered sometimes if Kieran looked at him like a mascot or a lucky charm, someone it was handy and amusing to have around: he laughed often at Mark’s human idioms and puzzlement — even after all this time — at faerie customs.

Kieran lay down beside Mark. For a moment, they breathed in companionable silence. But it was hard for Mark to rest next to Kieran; he was too conscious of the other boy, of his body heat, his presence, the slight tickle of his hair against Mark’s shoulder when he turned his head. He stirred uncomfortably, warmth rising low in his belly.

“You will not be able to see the stars tonight,” Kieran said. “The clouds will blot them out.”

Kieran knew Mark’s odd custom. Each night as he fell asleep, he would find the six stars that shone the brightest in the sky and give them the names of his brothers and sisters: Helen, Julian, Tiberius, Livia, Drusilla, Octavian. Different stars shone brightly in different places and different weather; he didn’t think he’d ever picked the same six twice.

I am here, alive in the world just as you are, my family, he would think, tracing invisible lines between the stars. How was time passing for them, he would wonder sometimes: could Tavvy tie his shoelaces now, had Julian’s voice broken, had Livvy mastered the sabre, did Dru still love bright colors? Were Helen and Aline happy? He remembered when they had met, in Italy, during all that odd business; how delirious with love Helen had been when she had first come home.

But there were others things that blurred in his mind sometimes, memories whose edges had lost their sharpness. The music Ty liked — it was classical, but what was his favorite Bach fugue? Mark had known once. And perhaps it had changed. Was it Dru who loved movies, or Livvy? Was it oils Jules painted in, or watercolors?

“My Mark,” said Kieran. He had propped himself on his elbow and was looking down at Mark at an odd angle. “Tell me what troubles you.”

Mark shivered. He always did when Kieran called him that. It felt like an endearment though he suspected it was merely faerie speech: Kieran was identifying Mark as his friend rather than someone else with the same name. Faeries were very odd about names, anyway, since they had the names everyone called them by and also their true names, which held power over them. Knowing the true name of a faerie was an intimate and powerful piece of business.

Mark put his arm behind his head. The rain had intensified: he could hear the drops falling on the material of the cloaks above them. “Memories trouble me,” he said, “and wondering if my family will forget me.”

Kieran traced a fingertip across Mark’s chest, stopping over his heart. Mark nearly stopped breathing. It didn’t mean anything, he reminded himself. Faeries had no sense of personal space.

“No one would forget you,” Kieran said, quietly. “You do not forget those that love you. I remember my mother’s face still. And there is no more loving heart than yours.”

“And yet sometimes I think it would be better if I did forget,” Mark said, in a low voice. Such thoughts did not come without guilt. “For them, for me. I will never return.”

“No one can know the future,” said Kieran, sitting up with a surprising fierceness. “Your exile may end. Clemency comes in many forms — a more generous and kinder King would have brought you to his court long ago. If I had the power a Prince should have —“

Mark rose to a sitting position, but Kieran had already stopped speaking. His hand was a fist in his lap, his head bent. It was unusual for him ever to speak of the fact that he was a Prince in the world of the courts, since as an exile his power had not followed him into the Hunt.

“Kieran —“ Mark began, but it was clear that Kieran was distressed, and that was unusual enough to hold Mark back. He had rarely seen Kieran show anger or sadness, especially after his first days in the Hunt; he remained controlled, showing nothing to the other Hunters.

“We should sleep,” Kieran said, after a long pause. “We must rise with the dawn tomorrow if we wish to meet the others.”

Mark lay back down, and Kieran lay beside him, his back to Mark. Mark curled as close to Kieran as he could get — they had slept together like this on countless nights, sharing the heat of their bodies. But Mark was rattled by Kieran’s distress, and didn’t want to add to it by pressing attention on him that he might not want. He settled for moving as close to Kieran as he could without touching him, one of his arms under his head, his other hand stretched out to rest only a millimeter from Kieran’s hair. He didn’t want to admit that he hoped that perhaps, during the night, when the wind stirred the space inside the cairn, the strands might brush Mark’s fingers in something like a caress.

But he did.

Mark’s hands were bound, and he was screaming. The Endarkened were before him, Sebastian Morgenstern at their head: a sea of scarlet, covering the world in blood. His family was lined up before Sebastian, on their knees — Helen and Julian, Ty and Livvy, Dru and Tavvy. Sebastian swung the Mortal Sword, slicing open Julian’s chest. As his brother slipped to the ground, Mark saw his agonized expression, the plea in his eyes — Help me, Mark, help me —

“Mark. Mark!” Mark was sitting bolt upright in the darkness, and there were hands on his shoulders. “Mark, it is was a dream, a glamour of the mind, no more.”

Mark gasped in air, scented like rain and dirt. There was no blood, no Endarkened, no Sebastian. He was in the cairn with Kieran, and there was rain all about them. “My — family —“

Kieran brushed back Mark’s hair with a care that would have stunned the Hunt. Mark leaned into the caress without thinking: he was aware only of Kieran’s hands, gentle against his skin. Like all faeries, Kieran had no calluses; the brush of his fingertips was like moth wings. Mark leaned into the touch, even as Kieran moved gently to stroke his shoulders, fingers gliding over the rips in his shirt.

“Your scars have healed well,” Kieran said; some months before, Mark had been whipped by members of the Hunt angry at the Shadowhunter government.

Mark drew back slightly. “But they are still ugly —“

“Nothing about you is ugly,” Kieran said, and because he could not lie, Mark knew he meant it. His heart seemed to contract, sending a rush of blood and heat through his body.

In all his time in the Hunt, there had been only Kieran to lift his despair, to transmute his sorrow, to heal his heart. He leaned in toward Kieran, not knowing quite what he meant to do — it was not at all the swift and elegant move he would have wanted it to be; their lips bumped warmly together, and his hands rose to stroke through Kieran’s hair, which was as soft as he had always imagined.

Kieran’s hands tightened hard on Mark’s shoulders — surprise, annoyance, Mark couldn’t guess; he was too horrified at himself. He pulled away from Kieran quickly.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

Kieran reached a hand up to touch his mouth, fingertips against his lips. “But Mark —”

He didn’t finish. Mark, burning with humiliation, had pushed past him. Kicking aside the stones at the mouth of the cairn, he plunged out into the storm.

The rain was needle-like and driving, blown sideways by the harsh wind. Mark staggered a little, slipping on the wet grass outside the cairn.

He felt immediately foolish. The sky was a gray mist and he could see little all around him: dirt, green grass, the shadow of Windspear in the distance. The wind chilled him. And how was he ever going to face Kieran again? He was a Shadowhunter, he ought to know perfectly well that running away never solved anything.

Also, where was he going to sleep?

He was about to brave the cairn again, humiliation or no humiliation, when he heard a distant whinny. His blood ran cold. His horse. It was steep up here, unstable with shale and scree, slippery now with rain. His horse could have tumbled and be lying on the cliffside with a broken leg.

Forgetting his own personal woe for a moment, Mark splashed through the downpour to the edge of the mountaintop and looked down. Rain and shadows. Thunder cracked through the air and he thought he heard another whinny; dropping to hands and knees, he edged down a narrow path he imagined was usually trod only by goats.

Still nothing. He paused to catch his breath. Perhaps if he fell off the mountain he would be saved from the embarrassment of explaining to Kieran why he’d kissed him.

He stood up, pressing himself back against the cliff. He was standing on a wide ledge, with the mist and green of the Lleyn Peninsula spread out below him. In the far distance he could see the water of the Afon Menai, churning and gray. The sight of seawater always made him ache, reminding him of the view from the Los Angeles Institute.

Missing his family came back to bite at Mark savagely, along with a new pain: what if he had driven Kieran away? He had long ago determined it was worth it to keep Kieran as a friend even if Mark could have no deeper feeling from him. Other than Gwyn, Kieran had been the only one to show him kindness in the Hunt, and Gwyn could show only so much kindness lest the other Hunters think he had an unfair partiality. But Kieran — Kieran had held Mark after whippings or when wounded. Had given him water and folded blankets around his shoulders. Had saved aside portions of food for him. And more than any of those gestures, Kieran had spoken with Mark and listened to him; one did not realize how much one lost when no one spoke to you as if you were a person with worthwhile things to say until enough time had passed that the desperation was so intense you would begin to talk to rocks and trees. Kieran had given Mark back his humanity through the grace of ordinary affection and now Mark did not know how he would live without it.

He would go now, he decided, and apologize to Kieran. That was the right thing to do, the only thing to do, the only way to salvage things.

He clambered up the path and slipped on the wet earth; he tumbled and slid several feet, fetching up hard against a rock. Standing, he brushed at the mud on his clothes and realized two things: one, that he could see his idiot horse, cropping grass several feet away, looking unfazed by the weather. The second was that Kieran was standing on a few feet from him: somehow he’d returned to the cairn, though he didn’t know how.

“Mark!” Kieran said. His voice sounded hoarse, probably because of the wind. He looked wild-eyed, his newly short dark hair the deep black color it turned when he was upset. “Mark, where were you?”

“I went to look for my horse,” Mark said. “I mean, ah, not initially. I left because — “ He sighed, letting his hands fall to his sides. “I am sorry, Kieran. I didn’t mean to do what I did.”

Kieran’s eyes had narrowed. “You didn’t mean to do what?”

Mark wiped drizzle out of his eyes. “I’d rather not say.”

“Humans,” said Kieran, with surprising vehemence, “thinking that if they do not speak the words, they can unmake the past. Tell me, Mark. Tell me what you regret.”

“Kissing you,” Mark said. “If it was something you didn’t want, then I regret it.”

Kieran stood still as a statue, looking at him. He was already drenched, his clothes sticking to him. “And if it was something I did want?”

Mark raised his head. The words were like individual flames, lighting incredulous sparks along his nerve endings. “Then I don’t regret it,” he said in a steady voice. “Then it’s the best thing that happened to me since I joined the Hunt and the first few bloody seconds in I don’t know how many years that I’ve been happy.”

The words seemed to electrify Kieran. He almost stumbled getting to Mark across the rough ground. When he reached him, he pulled Mark into his arms, his fingers raking through Mark’s soaking wet hair. “By all the Gods, Mark,” he said in a shaking voice. “How could you not know?”

Mark said nothing; he was too surprised. Kieran was running his hands over Mark’s hair, his face, as if Mark were a treasure that had been lost and then, when all hope was gone, returned, and Kieran was examining it to see if it was still whole. “You are all right,” he said, finally, a catch in his voice. “You are uninjured.”

“Of course,” Mark said, as reassuringly as he could.

Kieran’s black and silver eyes gleamed. “When you ran out into the storm, I thought only of how dangerous Mynydd Mawr is, how many have fallen to their deaths here, and how if anything were to happen to you, Mark, how I myself would die. You are unbearably precious to me.”

“As a friend?” Mark said, completely dazed — Kieran was holding him, and touching him, half frantic and half adoring. It shouldn’t be possible. Kieran couldn’t feel like that about him.

“Mark.” Kieran’s voice flared. “I beg you, stop being obtuse, or I may jump off the mountain myself.”

“But —” Mark protested, and with a groan, Kieran kissed him.

This time Mark let himself fall headlong into the kiss, as if he really were falling off the mountain, into the sea. Kieran’s lips on his were firm and sweet and he tasted like smoke and rainwater. He gave a soft cry as Mark parted his own lips and the heat where their mouths were fused together seemed to double.

Mark had never kissed anyone before tonight, not really — there had been quick furtive touches at revels during dances, but in some part of his mind he had, he thought, been saving his first kiss. And he was glad he had, now, for he was dizzy with the heart-aching pleasure of it, the almost-pain of a desperate hunger that was finally being fed.

It was Kieran who pulled away first, though only to enough of a distance to cup Mark’s face in his hands and say wonderingly, “My Mark. The heart of my regard. How did you not know?”

“You’re a prince,” Mark said. “I’m — nothing. Not gentry, or court, or anything at all. Even now I cannot possibly believe you could truly care for me — though,” he added, hastily, “if desire alone is what you have to offer, I will take it.”

“I do desire you,” Kieran said, and there was a darkness in his eyes that made Mark shiver. “But it is not all I feel. If it were, I would have acted on it long ago.”

“Why didn’t you?” Mark said. “You could have had me for the asking — at any time or moment. I am the one overreaching, not you.”

Kieran shook his head. “Mark, you are a prisoner of Faerie,” he said, and there was despair in his voice. “We keep you chained to the Hunt! You would have had reason to hate me and all others like me. I could not imagine you could feel for me the shadow of what I feel for you.”

“You are not the one who has chained me,” Mark said. “It is the Clave, my own people, who left me here. I know who betrayed me, Kieran; I know those who I do not trust, and they have never worn your face.”

“Many would not be able to make that judgement,” Kieran said.

Mark brushed the back of his knuckles along Kieran’s cheek. The prince shivered. “Many would look at me and see only a Shadowhunter and enforcer of the Cold Peace.”

“I look at you and see the steadfast companion of my days and nights.” Kieran spoke in a whisper; his wet blue-black hair was pasted to his cheeks and neck. “I would love you even if you did not love me: I have loved you since I met you. I have loved you all this time, believing that you never could love me back. I have loved you without hope or expectation.”

Mark dropped his hand to grip the front of Kieran’s shirt. “Love me, then,” he said, in a rough voice. “Show me.”

Dark fire flared in Kieran’s eyes; he cupped his hands around the back of Mark’s head and held him in place while he bent to explore his mouth thoroughly, making Mark gasp: he sucked Mark’s bottom lip, teased at the corners of his mouth, ravished Mark’s mouth with long strokes of his tongue that left Mark pressing his body helplessly against Kieran’s, wanting more. He was wet to the skin with rain and shivering hard, but he didn’t care. He felt nothing but Kieran and the heat of his body and the torturing sensuality of his mouth.

It was Kieran who disentangled them, finally, Kieran who took Mark by the wrist and pulled him back toward the cairn. They crawled under its shelter, where the fire had burned down to glimmering coals. They knelt in the dirt and kissed frantically, tearing at each other’s clothes. Wet fabric ripped and was discarded, and when they were both unclothed they fell back among the tangle of cloaks and fabric and kissed until Mark was drunk with it: long slow dark kisses like the black waters of faerie streams that made humans forget. They did not speak, except once:

“Have you?” Kieran asked, half in shadow.

“No,” Mark said. “Not with anyone.”

Kieran paused, his hand splayed over Mark’s bare chest. He was gorgeous like this, in the firelight, pale skin and dark hair like a Michelangelo sketch in pen and ink. “In the Hunt, our bodies bring us only pain,” he said. “The agony of hunger and the pain of weariness and whips. Let me show you now what a miracle a body can be.”

Mark nodded and Kieran went to work with his hands and his mouth. He was unhurried in his intensity; Mark had not realized anything could be so rough and so gentle at the same time. Kieran touched him with such care that he imagined that where Kieran’s hands went, a stele passed bearing healing runes, smoothing his scars, erasing remembered pain.

He drew the pleasure from deep within Mark’s body, unspooling it slowly, like a banner unfurling. Mark’s breath came fast, and then faster. He reached to touch Kieran, wanting to give back some of what he was receiving, and was almost undone by Kieran’s sharp gasp of pleasure. By the feel of Kieran’s body under his hands: his skin smooth and fine-grained as silk, the angularity of his bones, his intense sensitivity, responsive to Mark’s lightest touch. He was shivering already as Mark stroked down his body, licked and sucked at his skin: finally he cried out and drew Mark beneath him, propping himself over Mark on his elbows.

His eyes were glazed, unfocused: Mark felt a sense of intense pride, that he could make a Prince of Faerie look that way. The pride only lasted a moment: Kieran grinned wickedly and rocked his hips in a way that shot fire through Mark’s veins, and everything else vanished. Mark clutched at Kieran: they were pressed together chest to chest and thigh to thigh and when the prince slid his hand between their bodies and began to stroke them both together, it was the purest physical pleasure Mark had known since he had joined the Hunt. Everything else was driven out if his mind, all complications and all loss gone with the wondrous realization his body was more than an instrument that brought pain or endured privation. It was capable also of wonders.

Kieran’s hands and fingers were like fire, fire that wrought unutterable joy. Mark closed his eyes, his body arching helplessly toward the prince’s. Kieran was gasping too, his body shuddering, and every shudder brought more friction and more pleasure until Mark thought he might die of it. He reached up to capture Kieran’s face between his hands and kissed him, deep and hard, and the kiss seemed to smash the last of the prince’s resolve: Kieran came apart just as Mark did, both of them trembling and crying out in each other’s arms.

In later times, Mark would not remember what he himself had cried or whispered in that moment, but he would not forget Kieran’s words, tumbling from the prince’s lips as he sank down into Mark’s embrace, for it would not be the last time Mark ever heard them.

“You will never be nothing to me, Mark Blackthorn,” Kieran said. “For you are all on this earth and under this sky that I do love.”

Afterward they lay in each other’s arms, Mark with his head on Kieran’s shoulder, and Mark told Kieran that he was right, that the stars could not be seen, even through the gaps in the cloaks above them.

“Count the coals in the fire,” Kieran said, his fingers in Mark’s hair. “Give them the names you treasure.”

And Mark did, though by the end, his voice was slurred with sleep; he drifted off, and for the first time in many years of wandering it was without a last thought of sorrow or of pain, but only of love, and how it outshone the stars.

#cassandra clare #tsc #tda #the shadowhunter chronicles #the dark artifices #nephilm #shadowhunters #downworlders #fair folk #wild hunt #mark blackthorn #kieran kingson #helen blackthorn #julian blackthorn #livvy blackthorn #ty blackthorn #dru blackthorn #tavvy blackthorn

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splat-dragon · 5 years ago

Link

Prompt by @Cybermentalitysublime

Prompt: John's still sorting out his complicated feeling about Dutch after Micah's death when he drunkenly asks Charles how he thinks Arthur died (Charles having been the one who buried him, of course).

Fueled either by liquid courage or just no longer able to contain himself, he blurted out “How do you think Arthur died?”

John hadn’t stopped staring at him, and he knew there was no way he’d be walking away without giving an answer. The thing was, though, he didn’t know. It had taken him a day to get to Beaver Hollow, and Arthur had been long dead by then. He hadn’t been there to see him bleed, or collapse, or breathe his last, only to collect his body with Miss Grimshaw’s and bury it.

Something was eating at John, anyone could see it.

Even Charles, light-headed with the pain medicine Abigail had forced down his throat, could tell. He wasn’t one to pry, though, so he sat at the campfire with the man, staring into the flames and waiting for him to speak.

That was the thing about him. People seemed to feel as though they could bare their souls to him; perhaps it was because he didn’t talk much. Or that he just listened, let them talk without feeling the need to give advice in turn unless they asked for it. He’d dare say that half the people in the gang had used him as a sounding board at least once, and even more than that had told the air their problems without realizing that he was there.

Sadie, Tilly, Mary-Beth, even Arthur, all of them had talked to him, sitting by the fire or leaning against a tree or rock, sprawling by the lake in Clemens Point or, when it came to Arthur, riding with him as they went to help Eagle Flies.

And Arthur had hurt. He had known that he was sick, how the others had missed it he would never know. His gaunt face, the way his clothes hung off him where once they clung to him as though a second skin, the rattling coughs that sometimes kept him up at night. But having it confirmed (“I didn’t tell you before but, I saw a doctor. It’s pretty bad, and it’s gonna get worse.” ) had burned, knowing that there was nothing he could do, that even if he had been able to get Arthur out, he would have been made to watch him waste away. He had known he was sick, but to know he was dying in front of him had hit him harder than he’d expected.

John never had, though, so he supposed it was his turn.

Of all the members of the gang, he’d never been able to figure John out.

Not for lack of trying, though. It was no secret that he and Arthur had butted heads more often than not, but he’d been able to tell they’d grown closer towards the end. He could see John splitting away, and had expected him to be one of the ones who would cut and run when they’d started to, join Trelawney and Uncle and the women when they up and left, but he hadn’t. He’d left with the Wapiti before things had truly gone wrong, before Dutch had left him to die, but John had caught him up on the happenings while they worked on the Hope.

He still didn’t understand John, not completely, but they’d become, he’d dare to say, friends over the last few months, so he sat, and passed a bottle of rum between himself and John, sipping at it where John gulped it down. His head already felt stuffed with cotton from whatever Abigail had given him, and with Sadie down recuperating, and John already well on his way to drunk, they needed someone sober enough to fire a gun with some sort of accuracy.

If he was to guess, though, he’d say it had to do with Dutch.

Sadie had told him, before Abigail had shoved the needle in her arm (and Sadie had fought like a cornered wolf, she had not wanted anything to do with a painkiller or sedative but as bullheaded as Sadie was Abigail was even more so), that they’d met Dutch up there on the mountain, walking out of Micah’s cabin. He’d said that he’d been there to kill Micah, too (“Same as you, I suppose,” he’d said according to her, though why he’d been in Micah’s cabin if that was why Charles couldn’t say, and Sadie had also said that Micah’d said that Dutch and he were “teaming up once more,” which made a hell of a lot more sense to him), and though he didn’t know everything he knew that Dutch used to mean a lot to John. That before he’d joined the gang, a long, long time ago, Dutch had been like John’s father, that he’d raised him, had raised Arthur, too, and though in the end Dutch had betrayed him, betrayed all of them, left John to die, gotten Hosea (who’d also raised them, he’d been told, and he could see it a lot easier than he could see Dutch playing father) and Sean and Kieran and Arthur and all the others killed. His mother had been taken when he was young, and his father had fallen to the drink, but he couldn’t imagine how John felt, having your father fall so far and then running into him again years later.

He took another swig of the bottle, some Guarma Rum that John had found in Uncle’s stash and brought out to the campfire, before passing it over to John. The man tilted his head back, gulping down what remained, more of it pouring out the corners of his mouth to soak his shirt than going down his throat.

And then, fueled either by liquid courage or just no longer able to contain himself, he blurted out “How do you think Arthur died?”

Charles would have to admit it took him somewhat by surprise, and he turned to look at John, taking a moment to compose himself. Even now, years later, though the pain had dulled, Arthur’s loss was still a wound in his chest—he’d never been one to get close to others, but Arthur was one of the few good men he had known, although he’d have denied it to his dying day, and having his death brought up so abruptly tugged painfully at that wound, made scar-tissue that he’d thought long-healed throb and remind him of its existence.

“You, you buried him.” John slurred, eyes somehow focused yet glassy all the same, and Charles felt like he was being stared through, as though John was staring at him so fierce he’d be able to see Arthur’s death through him. “You told me so. So… you saw him, after he, after he passed.” and he had, of course he had. A day or so later, when he’d seen the news of ‘the end of the Van Der Linde gang’ in the newspaper, all the way up in South Dakota, not yet having reached Canada, and he was glad for it as he’d never have known if they had. He’d ridden Taima hard to come back, he’d had to see with his own eyes if it were true—some part of him knew that it was, the photo in the article was of Arthur’s wagon burning, but he’d needed to see it with his own two eyes, know who was dead and who had survived.

He hadn’t been surprised, per say, to see the news. Even Arthur, staunch supporter of Dutch he had been, had admitted that the Gang was just about done. Had even tried to come with him, to leave everything behind to help escort the Wapiti to safety. But he hadn’t expected that it would be the Pinkertons that would end them. He had been certain that it would be Dutch himself, in his ego-driven insanity, that would destroy them. Would put a bullet between their eyes, or get them caught and be the cause of the nooses that snapped taut around their necks.

“I’m not sure,” he finally settled on, and he could see John puff up like an angry kitten, in a way that might have been scary if he wasn’t two sheets to the wind.

“How do you think, then? I… I need to…” his voice faltered, and he shook his head, looking very confused when he tried to sup from the rum only to find it empty, “I just… want to know.”

John had told him, once, and only once, looking sad and pitiful and half drunk then, too, about the last time he’d seen Arthur. His brother, gaunt and dying, face void of any color, eyes bloodshot and looking so, so tired. He’d told him to run, that he’d “hold them off” and to “get the hell out of here and be a goddamn man” and then, Charles had known, then, that he was only talking because he was drunk, and John wouldn’t look him in the eye for a week after, John had admitted that he’d told him “You’re my brother,” and Arthur had said “I know.”

And looking at John, now, it didn’t escape him that John looked horribly guilty. Arthur had gone up on that mountain to draw Pinkerton's attention away from him, and never came back down. It wasn't John’s fault, and Arthur had insisted on it, would never have gotten off that mountain either way from the sound of it, (John had told him that Arthur had said so, that he’d apparently thought that “We ain’t both gonna make it,” )

He remembered riding into Beaver Hollow, the smell of smoke still cloying in the air. The corpses of the Pinkertons had been gathered, though he could see where they had lain, the dirt disturbed and dark with their blood, and their blood stained his footprints as he dismounted and walked into the center of the clearing, hand on the grip of his gun just in case.

It was hard to reconcile this with his camp. The one where he’d sat to the side, relaxing as the others sang along to whatever Javier was playing on the guitar. Keeping an eye on Jack as he ran around, chasing Cain or trying to catch some bug or the other, watching them dance around, tripping over their feet as Dutch hurried to grab Molly after putting on that ridiculous gramophone of his.

The one where they’d slowly separated, Micah’s group staying off to their side, while ‘Arthur’s’ (though at the time they hadn’t thought of themselves as that) kept to themselves. Sitting awkwardly together when Dutch explained his ‘plan’, Micah standing behind him and grinning. The camp where he’d watched Arthur wither away, where he’d watched them mourn, had mourned in turn, where he’d tried to keep them together before giving up, keeping them fed and little else as he turned his attentions elsewhere.

The wagons and tents had been left to burn and fall apart, crumpling in on themselves. Tarps, little more than shreds of leather, clung desperately to their frames, shattered, burnt wood standing tall like so many ghastly grave-markers. Glass had crunched beneath his boots as he walked, and he’d looked to see a photograph beneath his boot, picking it up carefully. The glass was coated so thickly with dirt and ash and he hadn’t known what else, and he’d been grateful for his gloves as he wiped it clean, staring at the photograph.

It was one of Dutch, Hosea and Arthur, when they were all young. Before everything went wrong, when it was just the three of them, before John, before Susan even, and it was strange to look back into their past when he was walking into the corpse of their fall.

He’d broken the glass, the imprint of his boot clear in the shattering of it. They’d been sat Hosea, Dutch, then Arthur, with Dutch standing between them, and his boot had landed just so, the glass splitting to put a vaguely V-shaped crack that ran between Dutch and the other two, separating Dutch from them. Ice had settled low in his stomach, at the sight, and he’d shoved the picture into his satchel, not sure what he’d do with it later, but not wanting to leave it behind.

(He’d lost it, some street rat stealing that satchel while he was brawling as the White Wolf in Saint Denis, and had never forgiven himself for it)

Charles’ eyes had been drawn, somehow, to a particular tent, collapsed in an odd way, he thought it was Pearsons’ but the camp had been scattered, thrown about and it was hard to tell whose from whose, but it was about in the spot where the mess wagon had been. The tarp had been bulging up in an odd way, too long and unnatural to be just an odd way of settling, and for a moment he had hoped thought that, maybe, it had been a horse. One of the smaller ones, the spares kept around camp in case they had to hurry, or bring one of the girls along or one of the horses needed to rest. But the shape wasn’t right, and it was too small for even the smallest of their horses, for even the Count, and so he had hoped thought that, maybe, it had been a fallen Pinkerton, one that had been missed in the mess.

But some part of him had known, even as he approached, reaching out with his gun to carefully move the tarp aside. The body had begun to rot, smelled of it, but was still whole, hadn’t turned colors or fallen apart, yet. He’d known from the moment he’d seen the dress, too elegant for a gang such as theirs, black turned brown with long dried blood, a tired face relaxed in death, graying hair loosed from its pompadour, shotgun not far from her hands.

He hadn’t expected the grief that had struck him as he’d looked upon the body of Susan Grimshaw; they’d never been close, but he’d never been particularly close with any of the Van der Linde gang, bar a few. But she’d been one of the good ones, as good as any of them had been, cared deeply about all of the gang members even if she’d been harsh in her way of showing it, and he was sorry for her death.

So when he picked her up, he was careful, as gentle as he could be, cradling her as he carried her over to Taima, settling her gently on her rump. She deserved better than to be slung over his horse like some bounty, but he hadn’t brought a wagon or any other way to carry a corpse, so all he could do was tie her down and hope he’d find somewhere close by to bury her.

And then, as a passing thought, he’d grabbed her shotgun and tied it to Taima’s saddle as well to bury her with.

Why he’d kept looking, he couldn’t say. Maybe it was because he could see that there had been so many Pinkertons, there was no way that, with how few the gang had been reduced to, they’d only lose one. And the tracks were obvious, leading deeper and deeper into the cave, splattered here in there with familiar amounts of blood that had set dread deep into his stomach, and he’d known where that ladder let out, grabbed Taima and ridden her up to it, found the tracks easily as they switched from boot- to hoof-prints, walking Taima slowly as he followed them.

It hadn’t taken him to find Arthur’s horse and Old Boy.

Arthur had loved that horse, and there it had been, splayed out on the grass, half eaten away by scavengers. If it weren’t for that saddle, he might not have recognized it, its fur dulled in death, white bones gleaming where skin and hide had been eaten away. Old Boy had been more recognizable, his brown hide only barely darker, lighter mane splayed out on the grass, side torn into, and he’d wanted to bury them but they were both larger and heavier than Taima, and the ground around there was barely suitable for burying a human, was far too rocky to build a grave for a horse, so he’d been made to leave them behind to be picked clean by scavengers, and he’d thought that, maybe, he could return some day and retrieve their skulls.

He never had.

The ground had gotten rockier and rockier not long after, an incline that Taima, sure-footed as she was, had begun to struggle with, skidding and stumbling. So he’d left her behind, wrapped her reins around her saddle-horn, trusting her to come when he called, not wanting to tie her down—they were in cougar country, and with a corpse on her back she’d be nothing more than a delicious meal if he did.

The tracks had been harder to follow as the ground grew rockier and rockier, but he’d been able to follow them in the dust, disturbed as it was by their boots, darkened with small sprays of blood. There came a point where it had split, and it had taken him a time to follow it—he wouldn’t have known if the tracks that kept going hadn’t clearly belonged to one man, and there was no sign of the other falling. Finally, though, he had been able to find the tracks of the other, climbing up a sharp incline, and had followed that—the other’s tracks would be easier to pick up, and the one climbing up was splattered with blood, and something had bid him to follow.

He’d lost the tracks at the edge of a cliff or, at least, what he’d thought was a cliff. It had ended abruptly, where it had looked like the man had knelt for a moment, before up and vanishing. Charles had walked around, quickly finding another pair of tracks, these ones running, and from the looks of it they should have intersected with the others’. And then he’d looked over the cliff, and realized it was more ledge then cliff, and that there was another beneath it.

So, as carefully as he could, he’d dropped down onto the lower ledge, looking around. The ground had been a mess, dust and dirt thrown up in a clear struggle, covered in splatters of blood—bigger than the ones he’d seen before and, looking up, there was disturbed dirt on the underside of the ledge, too, and blood as well. Something had dragged on the ground, he realized, stepping back and looking down beneath his feet, the ground streaked through, and he followed the path with his eyes, an odd sort of trepidation settling deep in his chest.

He’d missed the body, at first.

It had been growing late, growing dark, and the body was out on the very ledge of a precipice, so he hadn’t immediately noticed it. But the drag marks led right to it, and then he wondered how he’d missed it. His heart had been in his throat as he approached it, the body little more than a indecipherable blob at first, but as he grew near his heart had stuttered, then dropped into his stomach as he began to see it more in detail—

that tan jacket, the blue shirt becoming more clear as he grew nearer. that strange blond-brown hair that changed colors with the sun and then, when he was standing beside him

green-blue eyes, glazed and stony as a river-rock in death, but undeniable.

“Oh, Arthur,”

John was still staring at him, and though he had never been one for fidgeting, beneath John’s fierce stare, (drunk as he was, John’s gaze was stabbing through him harsher than any blade), he wished he had something in his hands to occupy them; his harmonica, lost years ago, to polish, or his gun to do the same, the rum bottle to roll between them or something to whittle.

He thought back, to turning Arthur over. He thought that, maybe, Arthur had been leaning over, looking at the rising sun (perhaps it was a romanticized notion, but from the way he’d been positioned it was what came to mind), but in the days that had passed he’d slumped, stiffening with rigor mortis before going limp again, hunched over in a way that could only ever be accidental, in a way that made his own neck and back ache in sympathy; when he’d turned him over, everything in his head had screamed wrongwrongwrong, in that way anyone’s did when dealing with a corpse. A human is wired to want to stay far away, for fear that whatever killed that person is still nearby, that it might kill them, too, whether it be sickness or predator, or merely infection from touching a corpse.

But this was his friend, and so despite the skin that slipped beneath his fingers, shifting unnaturally, he’d knelt beside him, a deep frown twisting his face. His face had blanched, blood settling at the bottom of his legs, in his rear, from how he’d been sitting, but still his face was grayed, marbled in death, and horribly bruised, both his eyes blackened, lips split and cheekbones visibly broken, caved in, shattered bones protruding, pressing against translucent skin. Brown, dried blood surrounded his mouth, his chin, darkened the collar of his beloved shirt.

Looking at John, the man’s eyes pleading despite his fierce gaze, he hesitated. He didn’t know what had killed Arthur. The man didn’t look like he’d been in pain when he’d died—his face had been smooth, devoid of those lines of stress that had been etched so deep, but that could be contributed to the slippage, too. His face had been… well, it had been destroyed. It had looked like he’d been beaten, pinned down and had his face smashed in, and from the state of the place where he’d found him it wouldn’t surprise him (although it had looked like Arthur had put up a hell of a fight, too) if he had, but the way he’d been slumped against the rock… well, that didn’t make sense either. It hadn’t looked like he’d been thrown down, left to rot, but as though he’d dragged himself there.

“I’m not sure,” he finally admitted, and though John didn’t move, didn’t say a word, in his eyes he looked as though he’d been struck, the distress there obvious. “He… he was in pretty bad shape. Looked like he’d been in a hell of a fight but,” he searched for his words, “he didn’t look like he was suffering at the end. I think…” and he did, nodding as he turned from John’s gaze to look into the flames, “I think it was the tuberculosis that took him, in the end.”

There was silence, for a long moment, tension that throbbed in the air like a thing alive. Finally, John gave a sigh that said more than a thousand words could, and stood, stumbling away towards the house, bottle of rum still clutched in his hand.

He’d asked Charles in hopes of settling his mind, of easing something that ate at him every day, that kept him up at night, and found himself with more questions than before.

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animalsprite · 5 years ago

Text

hewwo MKFMDS idk how to make an entrance w / o just saying my name, so i’m lia, currently twenty .. soon to be twenty - one, thank god .. nd i use she / her pronouns ! genuinely. this is the cutest group i’ve seen in years so kith kith to the admins 😚 i do not play soft characters usually so bear w me on this one, but all of kieran’s info can be found under the cut or at least most of it ! hit the lil heart if u’d like to plot nd i’ll make my way over to u unless u wanna make that leap first 💞 u can also reach me on discord @ fightersforyuna#7712 !

°✧。× : ( hwang hyunjin + cis male + he/him ) ─── oh, look, i’m pretty sure that’s KIERAN SHIN ! you know, the NINETEEN year old harvest sprite ? they’re an ANIMAL SPRITE, by the look of them, but i hear they’re actually half - human, too. i wasn’t sure the harvest goddess allowed that either, but i guess she must ! allowed or not, i’m pretty sure i heard that one say they might work part - time as an ANIMAL SHELTER EMPLOYEE, but i could have heard wrong. what i know for certain is that they DO believe in the harvest goddess and ARE loyal to her, which explains why they’re so SOLICITOUS and IDEALISTIC, but can also be a bit MALADROIT and RESERVED. i guess that’s what happens when you’re torn between two different worlds, huh ? anyways, if anyone asks about them, i’m pretty sure you can find them at ENDLESS PAWSABILITIES most often ! drowning in soft oversized sweaters, the feeling of a warm blanket after it’s come out of the dryer, & being surrounded by loads of animals at any given moment !

background .

has fully grown up on the island obviously .. but only with his mother

father was never in the picture. he was the human that made the halfie. his father actually fuckin bolted when he found out the whole sprite shit since his mother was able to hide it well enough

like of course it was real love, but men change their minds like the seasons and they also are just trash

after he left, his mother was tasked with raising him on her own. that would prove to be no easy feat as kieran was born with human ears .. a clear indicator he was half human

no one had known his father was a human, she would’ve been disowned by her family and the community around her. so, without knowing whether kieran would show signs of sprite nature .. she did what she had to do

that meant when he was a child, she’d brought him to someone and got his ears cut into a point .. ain’t that lovely ..

anyways ! he grew up thinking he was 100% sprite and he knows he’s not now, but we’ll get to that in a second. he doesn’t know what happened to his father, his mother doesn’t ever talk about it and he’s too scared to ask her

growing up he definitely felt like he was missing something or like there was something up w him .. he always just kind of blamed himself for his father leaving ? which is the truth , he just doesn’t know for sure, even to this day

kieran had never felt like he’s belonged, like he didn’t feel quite right with other sprites. they could do a lot of stuff he couldn’t plus he never heard of a half-human, half-sprite before .. his mother definitely sheltered him from a lot of things, so he wouldn’t ask questions

in her defense, she did it to protect him. she only wanted what was best for her baby as kieran was her whole world and still is

grew up without many friends. honestly didn’t have more than two probably .. he was the subject of bullying growing up and it’s definitely taken it’s toll on him to this day

wouldn’t really understand why despite always feeling like he was different

however, despite all that he was still a pretty lively kid. like he was always down to chat with new people and get to know them, he was just selective about who he let close to him

he was lively until he found out from accidentally overhearing his mother talk to someone that he was only half-sprite

mind u this was when he was in high school, so he spent the whole of his life being lied to and despite loving his mother a lot, he felt betrayed

that info only solidified how he had felt like he doesn’t belong anywhere

he pulled back a bit from his mother, they’re still close and what not but not as close .. pulled back from a lot of people actually nd his whole demeanor sort of changed and put a wall between him and the rest of the world

UH idk what else to write. he’s just a kind of angsty and lonely little guy who doesn’t feel like he belongs anywhere !

PERSONALITY:

very reserved .. he’s not super fond of being around other sprites, definitely is not fond of being around humans .. they scare him a lot

he’s got the kindest heart. he wants to take care of and provide for other beings so bad .. especially animals

extremely selfless, boy will not do anything for himself nd will drop what he’s doing to help. also sort of makes him a lil gullible .. easy to use

kieran is easily flustered, he’s probably blushing and smiling and giggling about 70% of the time .. so do w that what u will

clumsy .. so clumsy like he has two left feet

despite being super reserved, he’s still very smiley and bubbly. does want to get to know other people but sort of doesn’t know how to as he one. doesn’t think he’s interesting enough and two. he’s shy ..

has a lot of trust issues and abandonment issues

he does not want u to get to know him in fear that u will leave him like his father or think he doesn’t belong anywhere because he’s only half of both

he’s so touch starved please cuddle him

is an easy crier .. just soft hearted and wears it on his sleeve

extras .

he’s a 5′10″ big .. baby .. a big ole puppy

him and his mother own an animal shelter in town called endless pawsabilities ! the establishment and the animals themselves are his babies ..

he feels super comfortable around animals, a lot of it has to do with his animal sprite nature. they tend to be his best friends .. which has branded him as the weirdo because he talks to his pets

he’s a big romantic and idealist, loves the idea of love and everything in between. honestly daydreams about it, but thinks it’s absolutely unrealistic because who would like him when he’s him

he loves coffee and tea, will drink coffee in the morning and tea before settling in for the night

loves big sweaters and being warm and toasty ... loves a good cuddle 😔

there’s still feeling in his ears .. they’re just very sensitive and he will NOT show his ears to anyone .. he’s very ashamed of them and thinks they’re ugly so his hair is covering them 100% of the time

oh uh he don’t really pay much attention to the sprite world .. he’s so like secluded ever since he found out so ..

wanted plots .

he’s not experienced much but perhaps an ex or an almost something could be kind of fun to play with ..

a best friend ! give him someone he trusts wholeheartedly and like the only person he does

owo maybe a bad influence on him like he’s not one to break the rules or get out of his own bubble, but someone who kinda pushes him too

he doesn’t get annoyed often but perhaps annoy the shit out of him or like have him annoy the shit outta ur muse because he’s just. like that u feel

be a regular at the animal shelter .. like a volunteer or sumn nd be his friend nd let him get excited to see u excited abt the animals

oh someone be his bully KMDKSMK or just be fuckin mean to him

i got NOTHIN else .. my brain is empty so will 100% vibe w whatever and work that shit to death individually

#wisteria.intro #˚ ♡ 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 ‚ ooc .#this is trash i genuinely do not have a brain i'm so sorry ....

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rcris123 · 5 years ago

Text

“How’re you feelin’?” Arthur asks Kieran that evening after things settled down a lil’.

“Dizzy.” The boy was still nursing his injured arm, looking rather pitiful. Grimshaw bandaged it “But I guess it’ll heal.”

“Unless you catch the fever.” Sean mocked.

It felt isolated the way all of ‘em that went away were the ones around this fire. That and Charles. Isaac fell asleep in Arthur’s arms; must have exhausted him being in an actual gunfight.

“Shut up!” Kieran mused up the courage.

Sean laughs: “Keep tryin’.”

And the kid scowls, and changes the subject: “Sadie, I ain’t got the time to thank you. I-I know you ain’t- I mean-”

“I don’t hate you.” She says drily. “But don’t you think we’re friends either.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t even think of it.” A pause. “I’m still sorry for what happened to Jack.”

“That’s done now.” Arthur says, brushes a few strands of hair from Isaac’s forehead. “We keep goin’.”

“An’ what ‘bout Dutch?” Sean interrupts.

Arthur just lets out a long sigh.

“Ain’t seen him that... what you call it?” Sean continued.

“Unhinged?” Charles chimes in.

“... Well... Without morals I mean. You went back for me, you did. And that pile of cowdungs that’s Micah.”

Arthur coughs a laugh at that; hearing Sean insult Micah in increasingly creative ways ain’t ever gonna get old.

“Guess I’m still an O’Driscoll to them- to Dutch at least. I mean it ain’t makin’ sense goin’ to rescue me-”

“The fewer O’Driscolls the better.” Sadie’s stone cold. “Just want them all gone. Every. Single. Last one o’em bastard.”

“I’m so sorry, Sadie...” Kieran truly sounds heartbroken and it seems he ain’t ever heard the story of what happened to her. “Truly I am-”

“I don’t want your pity, kid.” She spits.

Sebastian puts a hand on Kieran’s back before the boy gets to speak again.

“I think we all need to rest now-” Arthur tried.

Sean won’t have it: “Can’t rest now thinkin’ Dutch might just lemme rot if I were to get lost even just a lil’ bit, or worse put a bullet in me head ‘cause I said somethin’ he ain’t liked. It gave me the chills hearin’ him talk like that- how long’s it been for you Arthur? In the gang I mean?”

“20 years.”

“20 years and ye think that’ll gain a man some respect...”

“Ye’r thinkin’ too much lately, Sean.” Arthur chuckles.

“Ain’t you always said to use me noggin?!”

“Well it’s better that you don’t right now.”

“That ain’t fair, Arthur.”

A hand comes to rest on Arthur’s shoulders and everyone looks up: Hosea.

“Managed to calm the ol’ man down.” He says, taking a seat by Arthur and Isaac. And Hosea brushes the boy’s head with the same care as his actual father. “You really upset him this time ‘round, Arthur.”

A sigh: “I know...”

“It’s better if you apologize-”

“Yeah.” Arthur didn’t let him finish. “I ain’t meant it to end the way it did... I just-”

“No, I understand.” Hosea continues. “Things are... let’s say complicated.” It’s Sebastian that looks at the old man, knowingly. “And it’s the same for our good ol’ Dutch there. He cares for you, Arthur.”

“I know...” voice drops penitently.

“He fears he’s gonna lose a dear old friend-”

“But I can’t just sit an’ do nothin’!” Arthur sighs.

“Raising the boy made you real caring, ain’t it?”

“I guess...” A scratch of the beard, a purse of lips: “But you know how it was.”

“No, I ain’t blaming you.” Hosea lifted his hands defensively. “I’ve just been thinking that things feel like slipping. Ever since Blackwater.” Charles and Sean nodded. “And with you being gone more often I feel somehow older.” Old man gave a bitter laugh, followed by a dry cough. “I feel-” a drawn-out exhale. “I feel like I don’t have the strength to hold all together anymore.”

Arthur’s silent and if he wouldn’t be holding Isaac he’d try to comfort Hosea with a touch.

“It’s too much to ask this of you, Arthur... But here I am.”

“Hosea-”

“English’s tryin’.” Sean butts in, sounding somewhat more quiet than usual, and still that was some courage from him for all the trouble Hosea gave him for laziness. “I mean I ain’t knowin’ why the hell’ll save this soggy ol’ bread.” He gestured to Kieran and the kid scowled.

“It was certainly lucky.” Hosea replies. “It’s true that if the O’Driscolls found Kieran in the camp they knew where we were and could of come with even more men. But the undead- I mean there were legends among Creoles about something called zonbi. I guess the people around here should know something if there's a plague and if we're in any danger of getting it.”

Arthur nods: "I'm comin' with you."

"Well if you got the disposition.. I think bringing this to Dutch soon will appease him somewhat and make it all seem like less of an act of defiance."

"O'course."

Arthur goes to stand up, almost forgets Isaac in his arms. And he's also reminded of that letter…

"And I guess I'll go see Mary."

"Her?" Sean's surprised. "Ain't you got done with that long ago?... I mean no offense but I heard the stories..."

John couldn't keep his mouth shut, that and Uncle.

"I was, but she popped up again." A sigh. "But I ain't deserving her and she ain't deserving me. So I gotta end things. Proper this time…"

"You want me to come with you?..." Sebastian spoke quietly until voice died down completely and he pursed his lips as if he said something wrong.

"I…" Arthur tried to find words. "I would-"

"Rather do that alone. Yes…" He cuts him. "I get that…"

The world ain't kind to lovers like them.

"I'm sorry, Sebastian…"

But Sebastian gave a smile:

“You and Hosea take care out there.” Arthur nods. “I’ll get Isaac upstairs.” And now, trying his best to not wake the boy up he lifts him up, but Isaac’s eyes flutter awake.

Sebastian holds him up and Isaac mutters a half asleep: “Pa?”

“Go get some rest kid, you earned it” Father smiles to his son and one could see the pride that flushes on the boy’s cheeks as he’s lulled away with care.

And Christ, he'd love to kiss Sebastian right now, to give him the courage to see Mary, 'cause he's feeling like he'll go soft and weak again. A touch of the necklace; he’s still there. A deep breath in.

“Well… guess we should get goin’...” Arthur gets up from the log he was standing on: “Rest up, Kieran. Take blankets from upstairs if you need to.”

“T-thank you, Arthur.”

The road to Saint Denis he could do in his sleep by now, and with the sun setting like it was he almost did. Hosea didn’t talk, only coughed from time to time. Then:

“Arthur… I… Maybe there’s no good place to ask or say this, but- Do you remember how me and Dutch met? Back in ‘72?”

“ ‘Course I do.” Heart started to shrink in his chest; he knew what came after this.

“And is there anything that you want to tell me about you and...”

“There ain’t much to it...” a sigh; it ain’t even been that long ago. “Man saved my sorry ass just ‘cause Isaac happened to be with me and he happened to have been a childless father-” Another sigh, or maybe it was a defeated groan: “What you want from me, Hosea? ‘cause I ain’t knowin’ how I got here, just know that I goddamn did...”

Hosea remained quiet for a while; there was Saint Denis with all its electrical glory, there to illuminate fossils and human scum, then: “He strikes me as a good man. Sebastian I mean...”

“Ain’t I keepin’ a record of courting people much better than myself...” a bitter laugh. He’s going to see that Mary again; what a sad, deluded fool he was... “Guess we should be splittin’ up about here.”

“I’ll meet you back around here.”

Where were they even? Well that looked like the Police Station, by the way lawmen buzzed around the entrance. She’s at the Grand Hotel just a street further. Sun’s almost done setting by the time he reaches the structure, head’s bowed low and he ain’t even truly looking for her. There’s a pit in his stomach, gnawing at him. And then she hears her from above him:

“Arthur! Arthur you came!”

He dismounts, looks up for a brief moment: “Yeah, I came...”

“Wait there! I’m coming straight down” She had a bright smile on her face as she rushes downstairs.

Arthur takes a deep breath in: there were people staring and he throws them a glance. It ain’t none of their business, and he fears it’s hardly his own. Oh what a fool he’ll make of himself once more; seems to be a trend when it came to Arthur Morgan and love...

Dumb love... Is he going to let this one slip away as well. A scratch of the beard then hand goes down to rub the necklace. Christ!

She’s downstairs already: “Arthur...” She sounds as in love as she ever was, and to think back to how her face drained of color upon seeing Isaac...

“Hello, Mary.” He can’t match her enthusiasm.

“You came...” Arthur just nods. “How’s the boy? Isaac was his name?”

At last he gains the courage to look her in the eyes, it almost sounded like she cared and it’s tearing at him. If only she could of been a mother. If only he could have been anything but an outlaw. But things ain’t changed; she told him they never would. But maybe he just hasn’t been looking in the right places all this time. Sebastian ain’t no woman, but there ain’t no question that man loved Arthur, with all his biggest flaws and the son to boot – or maybe the son was the only reason Arthur was deserving of love in the first place. And with that tightness in his chest thinking of him now when Mary was right before him, Arthur surely seemed to love just as much in return...

He hasn’t replied in a while: “Arthur?... What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.” He purses his lips, shifts weight from one leg to the other. “The boy’s fine. Been a long day...” But she needed his help with something: “But what you called me for?”

She tucks her hands into each other: “Well... Daddy-”

“Your father!?” He’s offended but not surprised: “Should of known...” He takes steps away.

“Arthur! I’m sure you’d understand, being a father yourself and all...” she follows him, voice pitched.

Arthur spins on his heels: “Well at least I’m aware I’m a no good father, unlike your own.”

She purses her lips: “I know Daddy wasn’t kind to you... but... but can you hate a man for the sin of loving his daughter?...”

“What ‘bout his son? Jaime?” Arthur takes a stride forward. “Look where all that love got him! Running with a bunch of lunatics! And you! Is that where this pure life has gotten you!? Begging me for help?! ‘cause he no doubt went drinking and whoring and gambling?!”

Mary turns away almost putting her hands in her head: “Be kind to me!... Arthur...”

But Arthur spins away once more, his voice low once again:

“Were you kind to me, Mary? Were you kind calling my son a degenerate, tellin’ me I haven’t even tried, when I did. I did, Mary. It’s why I came, but I see now I’ve come all this way for nothin’...”

“Arthur!... Oh Arthur, I’m- I’m sorry...” He lets her draw close. “I... I missed you.”

And he looks at her, how she stretches her hands out for him to hold them. He does, only to fold them in on themselves, back towards the woman’s chest:

“I missed you for a long time, Mary. But it’s done now. I may be the best man you know at frightening decent people, but for my son, I cannot.”

He withdraws his hands:

“Okay... Arthur...” She’s heartbroken and when she wants to tear her gaze away it falls down on his neckline, the medallion. A moment’s ponder; Arthur already drew away: “Can I at least know if... Is there someone else?”

“Yes.” And he hoped that was enough.

“... Can I know who?”

He climbs back in the saddle with a deep inhale: “You read the name on the medallion...” Her eyebrows knit together before a hand hides her mouth from hanging loose “Be well, Mary...”

She says not a word more and Arthur finds himself sitting on the sidewalk back at the police station, head in hands, rubbing his face until it’s no doubt red. To love a man, what a goddamn fool he is. A moron even. Dug himself into a hole there ain’t no escaping from; all he once had felt torn away bit by bit and all his attempts at stitching it back together with reasons that worked before no longer did. He betrayed Dutch horribly with one simple act. Ain’t it of been better if he was purely ruthless and not wanting to do something that ain’t his domain: kindness? He ain’t a do-gooder, he murders people, animals; he maims whatever he can get his hands on, even hope for the goddamn future. And somehow this broken mess that he was became a father and had to raise the kid ‘cause his Momma was killed – and he thought that’s been in no small part thanks to himself, the way the boy was fathered.

He’s afraid he’s gonna lose the boy too somewhere, sometime... And the thought hurts more than he can bear. He sits up to try to shake the feeling, gets inside, maybe he can make something of use.

And there was a man there putting up a poster.

“That a bounty poster, mister?” Arthur asks with a sniff and a faked cough; he’s keeping the tears away.

“Indeed.” The man had an almost pristine white coat, and what looked like some burn scar on his face. “Are you a bounty hunter, mister?”

“Happen to be, yes.”

“And are you efficient?”

“Took down the Captain of the Lemoyne Raiders so I guess I ain’t too bad neither.”

“Good.” Man stops pinning the poster and hands it over to Arthur, and soon after a card too: “Here’s my address. Bring the bounty to my house please.”

“Not the police station?” That was odd.

“Oh, no. I have a permit for taking care of psychically unstable people. You see, I’m a psychiatrist.”

“And what you needin’ a bounty for?”

“Ah, well, I also happen to be a scientist. And my newest invention is in need of a subject.”

“Yeah, but why a bounty-”

“It’s a device made to administer an effective, painless death, mister.”

Arthur grunts: “ ‘kay. But I’m afraid I ain’t caught your name.”

“Victoriano.”

Another Italian?... Although he sounded British. But that ain’t no business of his; Arthur’ll just return to sitting outside, waiting for Hosea.

He must have fallen asleep ‘cause the man shook him awake:

“Let’s go Arthur. I’ll tell you on the way.”

He snorts and grunts getting back up on Ghost, how late was it even?

“So, what you found out, Hosea?”

“Well, not much, but you definitely ain’t been wrong-”

“I know what I saw, Hosea. People call’em Night Folk.”

“Yes, yes. People are afraid to go out in the Bayou ‘cause of them, especially at night. Some said they were spirits of slaves that died, others claim they’re people turned mad by something in the water.”

That caught his attention. “So the water in the swamp ain’t safe?”

“I fear so too, yes.”

“So what we gonna do about that? Boil all water? ‘cause we’re still in the Bayou.”

“It’s worth the try.”

“That also means that Lakay spot me and the boys found ain’t safe.”

“Yes...” Hosea was terribly distraught.

“What about what Bill and Micah found?”

“Well they said it was full of degenerates, a gang called Murfree’s Brood, I think. Said they acted like animals, that they had a mutilated corpse propped up at the entrance like some kind of trophy.”

“Christ!” No more places to hide for them... “We’re running out of time, Hosea...”

“It’s the last push, this one. We’ll be gone soon. Dutch found a boat, wants us to leave the country.”

A bitter laugh: “And you believe that?”

“Well I can’t have been running a fool’s errand all these years. And if I was I guess I just convinced myself it ain’t true just so I have one last thing to cling to.” Hosea sighs after that. “But I’m old, Arthur. For me it doesn’t matter that much where it ends, how it ends. I lived my life, but Isaac, Jack-”

“I ain’t letting no harm come to that boy, I swear.”

“I know. I raised you two both. Isaac’s the closest thing to a grandson I’ll ever have. Bessie loved him...”

“I remember. She’d smother him all up.” A chuckle. “And the kid loved it to bits, having no mother and all...”

“Don’t blame yourself for that, you did all that you could have done.”

“And still I ain’t been a good father. I ain’t been meant to be a father-”

“Think of it as it could have been a lot worse, Arthur.” Hosea doesn’t stand his self-doubt. Never did.

And still, to think Hosea believed him and the boy should somehow get out of this life came as a surprise but comfort too, and courage.

People were asleep back at Shady Belle. It was crickets, the crackling of fire and the occasional snore that broke the silence. They hitched the horses beyond the bridge before passing over and that’s when he saw Sebastian slumped next to the campfire he left from. Heart sinks to the bottom of his guts.

“Goodnight, Arthur.” Hosea salutes before splitting their ways.

“ ’night.”

Sebastian wasn’t asleep when he reached him; just looked up at him, a bottle of whiskey in hand and a smoking cigarette in the other:

“Everything a’right?” he asked trying on some sobriety.

“Her father’s a no-good bastard an’ she calls me for help with that after degrading the way I raised my son.” A deep inhale and Arthur sits down beside him.

“Oouch.” Sebastian slurred, leaned closer then stopped. “Wanna go stroll a lil’? ‘Round the back of Shady Belle.”

“Sure-” Arthur helps the man up not a moment later.

It’s pitch black for a moment, as the light of the campfires still flickered behind them, but once ‘round the corner, a dim blue light illuminated the side of the manor, the trees and their faces. But Sebastian slips behind his back, wrapping his arms around his chest, face nestled in the crook of his neck, breathing slow. A pleasant shiver runs down his spine and Arthur dares keep that inhale in as he closes his eyes. There’s things he wanna say, things he wanna hear Sebastian speak about, but he just keeps quiet, ‘cause words cram in his mouth and nothing’s right. And there’s that feelin’ croppin’ up again, and those thoughts that he mulled over at the police station come racing back. Arthur’s clinging to him now. Mary ain’t ever touched him like this. But they were different people.

There’s still a whiskey bottle in the man’s hands. Arthur takes it and draws a bit away:

“Bet you I can drink this whole bottle in one sip?”

“Arthur-”

Too late, the bottle’s neck is to his lips and the liquor drains into his mouth and with big gulps down his throat. Higher and higher. It burns, his chest caught flames. Then it’s done and he throws the bottle away. He gives a laugh:

“Told you I can-” then his knees buckle underneath him and he falls to the ground.

Sebastian’s quick enough to catch him, but not quick enough so that they don’t end up on the muddy ground.

What a pitiful man he was; eyes become watery:

“It’s caught up to me... This mess...”

Sebastian rests his head on his shoulder: “You and me both...”

Arthur cups the man’s face as soon as his says that.

“You’re gonna get out-” It’s his only promise, when sober and when drunk alike: “You have to, you and the kid-”

“Shut up-” It’s lips on lips, rough, Sebastian’s hands pinning him down.

And he don’t understand what that’s supposed to mean, just huffs into the kiss.

“Shut up, you fool, you-” It’s sloppy, words panted when mouths ain’t on each other. “I can’t go on alone.” Sebastian stops, bows his head and buries it back in the crook of Arthur’s neck.

“You love me?...” A question, voice is breaking apart.

A kiss on his neck to make Arthur gasp out: “ ‘course I do-”

“For me? I ain’t worth it- Agh!” Sebastian bit into his neck at that remark.

“Who the fuck else...”

“Isaac...”

“You both.” His nose rubs against the itching spot that was left behind. Then man shifts up, cups Arthur’s face, coaxing the head back, exposing the neck. “Arthur...” Another kiss trailing up from his collarbone. “Arthur-” The way that name slips out of his lips makes his pants wanna set up a tent. “I’m starting to make sense of things. With you.” A kiss on his jaw. “With you...”

Arthur strings him up by the thighs, stretching them apart until he’s straddled under Sebastian. And the man pants with the touch:

“You buckstuborn idiot- I thought of you.” Arthur muses, lifting his chin just slightly up, brushing his lips against the other’s where they ghosted above him. “She was right there, in front of me, and I thought of you... I loved her. I missed her...”

And now I miss you.

That he ain’t dare say it’s too much even for a drunken sap like he was.

Sebastian lunges in to devour his mouth once more, body grinds against Arthur’s; there’s whiskey on his breath, on his tongue. Cheap cigarettes, cheap liquor and cheap life choices ‘cause they’re both poor and got nowhere else to go. He’s gotten drunk so he ain’t gotta be afraid, of thoughts, of actions, of whatever the hell. He’s gotten drunk so he can be numb to the meaning of all these feelings. But not to touch.

And no one touched him like Sebastian did. Why is all he could ask. Why’s he deserving, why now, why Sebastian – why this moron that he was- And all this fighting raging on in his mind makes him grind the man against himself. It’s tights now and there’s a bulge bucking against his abdomen. Pants escape him. Wasn’t religion that talked about how the body desires without the mind consenting to it, ‘cause that’s what he wanted now.

“Sebastian-”

“Mhm-” the man purrs into the next kiss, coaxing him up. The grinding don’t stop.

“I-”there’s too much to say, mostly alcohol induced. “Shit-” There’s mud in his hair, on his clothes. It’s dirty work. They’re in camp-

He stops suddenly.

“You okay?” Sebastian runs a hand through sticky hair.

A single huff as he leans against the man’s chest, arms wrapping around his back.

“Isaac’s upstairs- Dutch, Everyone-” A sigh. “Not here...”

Sebastian presses a kiss on the top of his head, then a chuckle when he’s done laying his face on top of his own:

“We could always keep quiet.”

“Not with this mud.”

“And you don’t fancy bathing in the bayou?”

“At the risk of alligator death? No.” Somehow man’s got him chuckling again. He’s feeling warm now and not in the aroused way; he’s still hard thou.

“Guess I just have to fuck you when no one’s watchin’-”

“Good luck with that.”

Arthur laughs, but before he has time to finish, Sebastian’s hand groped his half hard cock. Lips purse and he bucks his hips up; success came in the form of a barely abstained moan from the other. It’s then followed by a soft kiss on the neck from Arthur’s part. And now Sebastian’s laughing, a throaty, drunken laugher and he leans back in his arms. Arthur sways with him.

“Por favor, dame un beso.” Sebastian coos with a faint smile on his face.

“What?” He doesn’t understand; that ain’t English, was it.

“Un beso-” A kiss on Arthur’s lips. “Just a lil’ one-”

“What you tryina’ pull here?” Arthur’s still quite amused.

“Trying to teach you some Spanish.”

“Why?”

“So you’d know when I tell you besame.”

“What’s that mean-”

“Kiss me-”

And Arthur does, sucking the breath out of Sebastian, that an’ a moan. Why all the doubting from before when he’s pretty goddamn certain that he’s in love... It’s been so long- And he ain’t a good man, no matter how he felt-

“Christ...” he exhales when the kiss is broken. “Sebastian-”

“Arthur...”

He rubs the man’s cheeks with his thumbs, smiling like the fool he really was.

“Te amo.” Sebastian whispers with such grace.

He wakes up with a headache; it takes a groan to set himself in motion- A blanket?

A hurried look to the side only to find Isaac curled next to them under a thin mat. A drawn out sigh as a hand goes to rest on the boy’s shoulder, offering gentle rubs now. Sebastian’s hardly awake himself, looking through half lidded eyes at the kid with one arm draped over Arthur’s chest. They slept in like that leaned on one of the porch’s posts, drunk again and with some wood to show what they’ve been thinkin’ last night, or it was probably the drink...

He’s been sighing a lot lately, so with the latest one he leans his head onto Sebastian’s.

“The boy really loves you.” Man says, voice gruff, glazed over by sleep and whiskey. “You’ve been a father many’d wish they had.”

A snort: “That ain’t true-”

“You love your son. More than anything.” Sebastian draws a finger across his chest. “I ain’t known any man to fight for their son like you do.”

“I’m coddling him...” Arthur scolds himself.

“Life ain’t of been kind to him if you weren’t.”

There goes one more deep exhale; finally admitting defeat: “Guess that much’s true. Wanted that for him. So he ain’t turning out like me.”

“He ain’t.” And he dips up for a kiss on the jaw before standing up and stretching his bones with a groan. Then a look at Arthur who ain’t yet got the courage to sit up: “And you need a bath.”

That and Sebastian’s gaze checks out the lil’ tent his pants put up with a smirk and for a moment he feared the man’ll put his boot on it. But Sebastian’s got at least that much decency. Instead he helps Arthur up.

By the time Isaac got up, Arthur got him some new clothes and to Miss Grimshaw’s surprise Arthur washed on his own volition, with a change of garments to boot. Sebastian went and fetches them some breakfast:

“Seems Pearson found alligator eggs.”

“Get outta here-” Arthur chaffs then he’s presented with a plate of hard boiled alligator eggs and a yellow sauce that smells like mustard.

“Alligator eggs?” Isaac almost trips over his pants while pulling them up trying to peek at the exotic dish. “Ever had ‘em Pa?”

“No.” And that’s signal that he should dig in already.

“What’s it taste like?” Isaac wastes no time asking.

“Chewy.” He hasn’t swallowed yet. “Fishy. Kinda salty but I think that’s on Pearson’s part.” Isaac giggles. “Sauce is decent thou.”

And once he’s all dressed boy wastes no time chowing down on his own portion. While Arthur should go talk with Dutch. ‘course Isaac notices.

“Where you going?” kid takes a bite. “Talk with Dutch?”

He can’t lie... “Yes.”

“Can I sit by you? ...Promise I won’t talk.”

“Yes...”

Isaac perked up: “Really?”

“Don’t ask twice I might just change my mind. Now c’mon.”

Sebastian didn’t follow; there were flames on the pyre and Sebastian was smart enough not to walk into them. Thankfully Dutch looked to be in a pleasant mood - not the same could be said for Molly O’Shea. She looked miserable, slumped on a crate.

“Mornin’.”

“Good morning to you too, Arthur.”

Here it comes; he sits down and Isaac beside him: “I’m sorry for yesterday.”

“It was very reckless of you.” Dutch’s tone was a note away from scolding.. “But I can’t not forgive you, Arthur.”

Arthur looked at him, trying to find the right words:

“You’re like a son to me.” Dutch continues. “All of us are family.”

He bobs his head: “It’s why I did it, Dutch.”

“I know...” Man sounded like he was just as sorry. “I just got scared.”

“I told you- What could I have done, Dutch?” he’s getting mildly frustrated.

“Distrust me. My judgement.”

“You ain’t lookin like ye’r trusting me very well right now.” Arthur’s real hoping his son either don’t catch what Dutch was saying or don’t stand up. A glance at him and sure enough he had his eyebrows knit

“Can I count on that trust?”

“Always, Dutch.”

Then silence.

“You know Hosea talked with the locals about them undead.” Arthur broke it at last.

“Yeah. He told me.”

“There’s something in the water that’s making it that way.”

Dutch turns to him:

“Would you and Hosea see about that? What’s causing it?”

“Sure.”

“Want to know who’s behind it.” Man rubs his hands with seeming anxiety. “There’s people out to extermin us. As if we’re vermin for not conforming to their uptight rules. Us and everyone who’s poor and unfortunate- Did you talk with the Indians?”

“Yes, saw them a couple of days ago. The father asked me to see his son near Citadel Rock.”

“Good. It might have something to do with that.”

“At this point who knows.”

“You’re right.”

Arthur gets up, urges Isaac to do the same, with permission and all he could go-

“I-...” Dutch utters, coaxing Arthur to turn his head back to him. “I’m sorry, for earlier.”

“Don’t mention it-”

“Are you taking the boy with you?”

“Yes...” Arthur scratches his beard.

“Take care there, Isaac, okay?” Dutch sounded much younger then, almost like someone he used to know a long time ago.

“Sure.” kid replies.

But first he makes sure he checks up on that Kieran kid. And he find him with Mary-Beth carefully tending to his wound.

Arthur leans on the pole keeping up the tent with a smirk. Isaac peeks behind his shoulder and snorts and with that both youngsters grow apart and a deep shade of red almost instantly:

“Ain’t meant to interrupt!” Arthur lifts his arms up. “Just came here to see how dear ol’ Kieran here’s doin’.” A chuckle.

“ I’m fine actually, thank you!” Yet he’s still rubbing his arm.

“Does it hurt?” Isaac asks making one more step forward.

“Not all that bad now.” Kieran darts is head to the side; Mary-Beth was looking down hiding her face behind curled locks. “Thanks to Mary-Beth.” Kieran lights up like fireworks. “B-but I won’t be here without you or your Pappy.”

Isaac’s beaming and Arthur can’t help smiling himself. Then he remembers:

“Weren’t you the one who said you wanted to go fishin’ sometime? For.. uh… that big Bluegill, ain’t it?”

“Oh! Yes!”

“Remind me when I get back and that arm o’ yours is stronger.”

“Sure- but where’re you going? After more O’Driscolls?”

“No. Not yet. Why?”

“ ‘cause there’s some things I wanna say.”

“Can’t you say them now?” Isaac intervenes.

But it’s Mary-Beth that talks next: “I said it’s best if things settle down a little. Dutch ain’t- well Dutch is...”

“I know.” Arthur says.

“I’ll tell you on that fishin’ trip. Promise.”

“Don’t forget.”

“No sir-” Kieran says that out of habit without paying mind that it wasn’t Arthur who said it, but his son. The father laughs.

“Get your strengths back soon, ‘kay?”

“Uh-huh.”

They should probably get goin’ already. He tells Isaac to fetch Sebastian and maybe some warmer clothes, while Arthur’s off to saddle the horses. But there’s something off. There by Pearson’s wagon, Micah’s talking. He listens in:

“Quite the woman.” He catches. “Quite the woman...” Arthur stops brushing Ghost. “You could make a feller real happy... bet you know how.” That’s it Arthur’s off, bagging the brush and that poor mare stretches her neck looking for pats.

“I got work to do now.” Abigail was pissed and after what happened with Jack this was a poor move of the bastard’s part.

But Arthur ain’t thought too far; Micah backs off hands in the air

“Oh, you’re a sneaky one, Morgan...” That inhale through teeth Micah did, tipping his chin up. “But I didn’t know I was your type.”

“Just back off, would you-” Arthur’s still larger than him.

“Woah there-” Somehow that cackle is uglier than he was: “Don’t wanna see you biting the pillows, cowpoke.”

Micah steps away like he’s facing off a wild beast and rest assured that comment sure made him bare his teeth:

“You watch that goddamn mouth-” Micah’s arms rose higher and there was fear at last in those cold eyes. “Lest you want a fist in it.”

“Easy, tough guy.” Man still laughs like he’s got the upper hand and the moment Arthur tears his gaze from him he notices Dutch looking over.

His lips purse as Micah backs even further away before spinning on his heels.

He didn’t even notice John coming by:

“You okay there, Arthur?”

“Don’t you pay him no mind.” Abigail reassures. “He’s all talk and no bite.”

He came there to help not to be helped.

“Sure, but you tell me if he ever gives u trouble again, Abigail.”

“What about you, thou?” John intervenes.

“I got fists and bullets.” Arthur grunts.

“He ain’t worth the trouble, Arthur.” Abigail encourages, the passes on to John: “And where’ve you been?”

Arthur’s already drawing away, back to his horses and saddles ‘cause Isaac’s down with the warmer clothes when John replies: “Been with Jack, playing something.”

“John Marston...” the surprise in Abigail’s tone is bringing him joy too. So the bastard can change.

“Did anything happen?” Isaac, bless his heart, noticed.

“No.” He ain’t gonna expose the boy to that idiot’s cruelty.

“Okay...” A hand rubs the kid’s back with rigour.

“So... Isaac said I can borrow one of your coats.” Sebastian said, packing that coat he called ‘the Grizzly’ ‘cause he made it out of one.

He entirely forgot about Micah; there’s a smile on his face: “I’d love to see you in it.”

Sebastian chuckles; Arthur knew exactly what was on the man’s lips but he ain’t dare say it.

They should be reaching Citadel Rock by Nightfall if all went smoothly. And then the next morning, if all, again, went according to plan, they should be reaching the Grizzlies border near the Heartlands’ Overflow where their bounty was last seen.

Road sure is long enough, and most of it comes quiet. At one point a wild turkey cut their path and Isaac pulled out his bow and with one swift motion downed the bird from a gallop. He almost heard Sebastian gasp then. They hung the bird on Big Sir and went on. A storm caught up to them sometime in the afternoon near Dewberry Creek, good thing they packed the thicker coats ‘cause they sure as shit needed ‘em now. Isaac rode with his arms crossed and hunched over and Arthur got the rear to make sure Big Sir ain’t getting lazy all of a sudden.

The sunset barely shines through the breaking clouds and for the first time in weeks it smells of cold. Citadel Rock’s up ahead and they pass just by Cornwall Kerosene and Tar – rather unbelievable he’ll be robbing Cornwall of all people yet again. Here’s hopin’ this time it’s quiet.

And there’s Eagle Flies on the cliff with that gorgeous splash horse.

“You came.” Lad almost sounded surprised when the lot of ‘em pulled up.

“ ‘Course I came. Said I would.” Arthur dismounts already, Sebastian soon following suit.

And Eagle Flies wastes no time telling them what they gotta do: “There’s a foreman. His name is Danbury. He has the files in the office above the refinery room.” He hands Arthur the binoculars he was using: “It’s that window with the blind drawn up.”

“I see it.” He replies.

“If the files are as incriminating as we believe” Eagle Flies continues taking the binoculars back. “Cornwall’s men will destroy them if they know you’re coming.”

“There’s only one of us goin’ in so I don’t intend on lettin’ ‘em know I’m comin’, son.” Arthur spoke, then turned to Sebastian. “Can you get me outta trouble if it comes knockin’.”

“ ‘course...” man said.

“Isaac, you find a hidden spot and set up camp, far enough away but not too far.”

“Got it, Pa.”

Arthur returns to Eagle Flies who was looking at the boy galloping off already:

“What would the files say?”

“There’ll be a report from Leland Oil Development Company.”

A sigh: “Now any ideas about how I sneak into the place’ll be greatly appreciated.”

“You could crawl under the fence. Or hide in a wagon; they keep rolling in.”

“Wish me luck, Buck.” Arthur’s off without thinking too much about what he just said; there was a wagon ahead and he fully intended to sneak in that way.

He’s lucky enough that a train passes by and the wagon stops just in time for Arthur to crawl inside. It’s empty. And now here’s hopin’ they mistake him for cargo if one as much as looks in the back of it; he’s barely hiding. But he’s soon inside and with the night falling people get to yawning rather than watching out for shadows scurrying in the dark. He makes it pretty easily inside the building. And there people mill about absent-mindedly; it’s easy to sneak by, then upstairs. Maybe he’s got too much confidence opening the office door.

There was a man inside. A chair to the door, some intimidation tactics: raising fists and applying one for good measure to know he’s meaning business, and in the end he’s got the papers. But o’course someone heard it, came around asking what happened.

So Arthur snuck out the window. Where was that Sebastian he can’t tell but he saw him on that roof ‘cause the moment he’s out there’s a loud whistle and the bang of a pistol. Guards gather round and sure enough they give chase to what seemed to be one, no two outlaws drunk or stupid enough, or both, to rob oil coaches alone.

And ‘cause of that madman Arthur get to sneak out with no problems, but soon enough pulled round and shot off some of the pursuers that head out from the refinery.

No more of them and they seem safe enough away:

“Thought you wasn’t getting involved?!” Arthur’s probably sounding too much like a father and much less like a business partner.

“I decided to help.” Eagle Flies comments, eyebrows furrowed. “Because he refused the money.”

So Eagle Flies tried to pay their services to Sebastian. Goddamn reckless fools, both o’em, but at least he’s expecting the ol’ Buck to be that way.

“Thank you.” Arthur says. “You saved my life.” He takes out the papers and gives it to the lad; he looks them over as if it’s a loaf of bread when he hasn’t eaten in days: too little, but still better than nothing.

“I hope...” Eagle Flies spoke. “Well, I don’t know what I hope... but who knows, maybe these will be of some use.” Then he turns fully to face the two of ‘em. “Thank you, Sebastian, Arthur...” He got in the saddle. “I hope we can see each other again on friendlier terms...”

Off he went.

“What you charmed the kid with?” Arthur chaffs.

“Nothing. I’m not the talkative type.”

“Su~re.” Arthur draws the word out and Sebastian paints a smile, closing his eyes. “You’re about the second most talkative bastard I know.”

“Second to who?”

“Dutch o’course.” Arthur laughs, and Sebastian soon follows suit.

“Now I ain’t knowing if I should take that as a compliment or not.”

“Well, I like you, Sebastian.” He draws closer; there’s still commotion downhill at the refinery. “I like you terribly much.”

They should be heading away, finding Isaac, but Arthur dares brush a hand over Sebastian’s chest, just ‘cause he loved him and for a moment he had the man all to himself. And Sebastian blinked at the touch almost in surprise before an arm reached to bring him back again. There’s people wailing in the valley; horse hooves somewhere, and he ain’t caring in the least. Breath’s caught in chest and that urge that came over him when Sebastian’s looking at him like that sweeps him again; and in turn Arthur swoops the man in his arms for a kiss. And Sebastian eats his mouth out, hungry, fingers soon gripped in his hair, making it a mess.

Kiss breaks: “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”

Sebastian drags him behind himself not a moment later, deciding to throw Arthur in the nearest bushes. Branches scratch his cheeks but he ain’t caring, not when mouth’s on mouth again and that whole man above him. His hands are already working at Arthur’s vest, then shirt, then his head dips down and it had Arthur gasping. Sebastian’s lips trail kisses down from his collarbone to his nipple. Clothes are tugged to the side and one arm arches Arthur’s back, pushing him against Sebastian. His fists clench in the man’s clothes as his lips and tongue make a mess on his chest, lapping, sucking, with the occasional gentle bite. He’s going hard and hot and restless. Arthur’s hands work on undoing his suspenders and pants.

“Christ-”

It’s quick work from there: pants thrown off, Sebastian’s as well, erections spring free, then fingers in his mouth to be pushed wet inside Arthur. Lips purse and eyes squeeze shut. It’s unpleasant at first, but Sebastian’s all gentle. A wet kiss on his mouth, tongue slipping by inside, makes him forget to clench his ass. Fingers’re slick, in and out, scissoring from time to time, turning stings to itching and pressure’s building up inside his navel. Hands don’t sit still; Arthur runs them underneath the man’s shirt, popping buttons as they went, now rubbing thumbs on stiffening nipples. If their mouths ain’t been locked to each other the pants and gasps’ll just roll out. He ain’t letting them, keeps them for himself, frustrated and rushed as they were. They ain’t saints, and they’re gonna indulge this sin much further when Sebastian takes those fingers out, props his ass up on his knees and slowly slips inside him-

“Arthur~” That names slips from those lips again, so goddamn deliberate and so goddamn erotic; hips buck and he regrets it, but Sebastian moans biting his lip and maybe it’s all worth it.

One hand sneaks up Arthur’s navel, ruffling short body hair the other direction, and now once touching his erection. Arthur can’t but exhale through barely parted lips as all this builds heat inside him that he ain’t meant to withstand. Sebastian’s slow, pleasantly, agonizingly slow.

He wants to talk-

“U-agh--” In and out the thrusts pick up: “I hope you know the mess you makin’ o’me. Ahh-”

Sebastian drives that hand to his jaw, and then the other one too to cup his face; rhythm doesn’t slow down and Arthur ends up rolling his head inside the other’s palm.

“If only you knew what you o’me, Arthur-” Forehead’s pressed to forehead as they’re there bucking off. “Arthur--”

It builds and builds this strain between his legs, it twitches and throbs:

“Keep callin’ me that-” Arthur pants out.

“Arthur!”

“Augh-Jesus-” Hands grab at Sebastian’s ass, his hair, pull him close and up, inside. “Keep at it, Seba-astian- Christ!- Keep at it!” ‘cause that’s the spot that’s sweet, right there, right goddamn there.

Legs are wide and ass is high, pounded with some form of cruel mercy. Waves run up him hot, then cool. The night air prickles. And he’s kissing him; kissing Sebastian where he can reach: the neck, the ear, the jaw, the lips, sloppy and wet, leaving trails behind. And Sebastian’s moaning in his mouth, his ear. It’s him; it’s him, for him, with him. How’s he so goddamn enamored. Thrust by thrust he gets a lil louder a lil’ more shameless. There’s hooves nearby; they draw closer than away- Sebastian stops for barely a moment, covering Arthur’s mouth and his own. And that man’s cock inside him pulsating, struck right against the spot that’s sweet and he’s begging that be moved-

He’ll regret that in the morning. He finds his footing and with dexterity he ain’t thought he had, nestles Sebastian to him as he gets up, then laying the man down with a thud. It hurt moving like that, his teeth are clenched and there’s a groan, but that goddamn cock’s still too good and there Arthur moves: up and forward then back again. Slow at first then fast ‘cause he can’t take it. Both his hands rest on Sebastian’s chest now, snuck under the shirt’s fabric where fingers brush against the nipples, as thrusts pick up in speed. And it’s relentless.

Sebastian has to turn his head to the side to let those sweet moans out and what a sight that was; and always will be: to have him at his mercy and be at his instead, ‘cause it ain’t like he’s not there as lustful.

“Arthur—Agh-a-” Faster, harsher, so he says his name out loud like no one ever did. “AGh-Arh-”

That was one fine goddamn dandy. So fine. Arthur’s propped in just one hand, huffing, biting his own lip, so with the other he can run his fingers through that man’s sideburns. And he should be saying something, but he can’t speak now; he just keeps working himself until the knot’s unbearable.

Sebastian catches his thumb into his mouth, and the way the lips and tongue moved to draw him in’s suggestive enough to have him buckle forward under the pressure of the orgasm. He stands still, Sebastian doesn’t: catches his hips and keeps on going-

“AUGH- Ugh- Seba-a-Christ!”

It’s just a few more rough thrusts before he’s done. Sebastian vibrates under him, moans long, drawn out, in hiccups. There’s cum in his ass and he sits right up to get it out. The shirt’s goddamn ruined. He wipes the stains off with one hand.

“What a goddamn mess-” Arthur pants; there’s a smile there and Sebastian looks at him from where he was flat on the ground with leaves in his messy hair and returns the gesture:

“Uh-huh...”

Arthur stretches up: “Shit!” It hurt. Sebastian cackles beneath him: “What?”

“Think of me.” That goddamn grin on the man’s face.

He scoffs: “Always, buck.” Nonchalantly, like it’s always been there.

The faintest gasp; Sebastian props himself on his elbows, lost in thought.

Arthur’s at last tying up his suspenders: “We should get going-”

The man pulls at his legs, shoves Arthur on his knees and on top of him. It ain’t gentle:

“The hell-” Sebastian found his neck to kiss it, warm hand wrapping around his back to hold him there.

“Just a lil’ while longer, Arthur.” Obliged; Arthur lays his head down, finding a way to rest it on his chest, as Sebastian draws lines over his shoulders. “Significas mucho para mí... Arthur. Buck...” the last one sounds like he’s tasting the word.

“You gonna tell me what that means in English?”

“You mean so much to me.” Sebastian combs Arthur’s hair with such grace. “It’s been...”

“So long?... Yeah... Me too.” A kiss to his forehead. “But we gotta get back to Isaac. We left him alone-”

Up they go; Sebastian lifting both of them up before he can finish his sentence.

Dust and fluids get smudged off, clothes buttoned back together before they get back up and set out. Arthur’s whistling and when the whistle returns they know it’s Isaac.

It’s a small fire the boy’s built.

“I burned the turkey a bit.” Isaac says before looking up at them both, then his eyes squint: “You fucked?...” No answer, kid turns his head away, shifts on the spot, then looks back at a loss of words, lips puckered and eyes wide.

The silence is awkward as they sit down; Arthur takes a bit of cooked meat and chews it on. Isaac shortly clears his throats and reaches for the coffee mug:

“I found some berries. We didn’t have any more mushrooms or other herbs.”

“And this’s got mint on it.” Arthur notes.

“Yeah... You like it?” Isaac picks up a more joyous face.

“Quite delicious actually!” Boy smiles wide. “Here. Can you hand me some berries?”

Sebastian’s still frozen in the knowledge that the boy asked him if they bucked it off behind some bushes; Arthur bumps him with his shoulder:

“Eat up, please.”

As if snapped out of some trance, the man does.

But there ain’t no nice dinner and sweet rest that could’ave prepared them for finding that bounty in a camp that starts shooting right at ‘em. Sure they went after Wofford but this time there ain’t no place to hide.

Isaac’s a decent shot, even in the open like this, but he’s still fearing for the boy’s life. And bullets fly past their target ‘cause he keeps darting back to a panicked Big Sir, galloping with his son in the saddle trying to aim. Sebastian says nothing; he’s effective. Finally, somehow, shots start landing where they need to; it much resembles how he used to be shooting: a few scattered bullets to the chest area until the body don’t flinch no more.

But in that frenzy he almost forgot the bounty’s meant to be alive-

“Pa! He’s escaping!”

Ghost’s a fast horse; he spurs her round and to a gallop, picking up his lasso as he goes. She’s huffing under him but the bounty’s lil’ horse can’t keep up.

Feller falls from his mount with a shout. Arthur pulls the reins while lassoing the man in.

“A’right! You got me!” Arthur dismounts and hogties him good. “I’ll come with you, you son of’a bitch.”

Something snaps inside thinking that this person before him’s gonna end up some scientist’s Guinea pig, but the bastard’s not done talking:

“You’re your own jail keeper, mister. In a prison of your own making.”

“Shut up!” A hard punch to the man’s face and the body slumps. He ain’t dead, just knocked out, but Arthur ain’t in the mood for a philosophy lesson from some goddamn outlaw he’s taking in to be judged.

He damn well knows he ain’t righteous, no need for anyone else to tell him that.

He picks the man up and whistles for the others. Ghost, the sweet darlin’, comes as well and he stows the bounty on her back this time. Isaac comes in view just as he got back in the saddle:

“You okay, kid?”

“Yeah.” He’s huffing from effort. “Sir Lancelot’s a lot to handle when spooked.”

Arthur purses his lips and sighs: “I’m sorry.”

Boy scratches his neck, twists his lips: “Wha-? But you ain’t done nothin’.”

That was the point... He worried too much and got ineffective and-

“Ah, don’t mind me, I’m just an ol’ geezer.”

“You did well, Arthur.” Sebastian chimes in.

A bob of the head: “Then let’s get the bastard back before he wakes up an’ starts talkin’.”

The road ahead seems interminable. And indeed the bounty woke up, but they gagged him so he’d shut his mouth. The groaning and choking got annoying after a while. About midday they take a break, for the horses and themselves to eat something. A storm was to roll in again. It got cold, frighteningly cold real fast, the smell of rain almost overbearing. It’s electric.

But the downpour don’t come until they pass the Kamasa River and enter marshland. Arthur checks the address on the little card Victoriano gave him; asks Sebastian if he knows where it is. Sure enough, man leads them straight there.

They’re all wet to the bone and the poor feller up on Ghost’s hide stopped struggling, but fear was written all over his face. He writhes as he’s taken down, but only for a moment.

Sebastian knocks on the door and sure enough mister Victoriano opens, who looks at the man before him, then Arthur with the bounty:

“Ah, excellent! You brought him. And in such a short time. Very good.” The professor exists the house, trying up his white coat to shield from the rain and comes to point him where to ‘deposit’ the bounty: “Bring him here, please.”

“He was a pain to deal with-”Arthur heaves flinging the body on a chair in the shed he was shown by the side of the house.

Mister Victoriano then darts back inside the house: “Wait here. For payment.”

Arthur joins Sebastian by the doorframe not a moment later.

He sees the woman: ghostly pale skin, icy blue eyes and hair of such a shade of blond that it almost looked white as well. She stares at them and then gets closer; and Sebastian’s staring back:

“Myra...” man gasps out.

That was his former wife wasn��t she...

#rdr2 #red dead redemtion 2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan #isaac morgan #van der linde gang #sebastian castellanos #sebthur #ruben victoriano #tew ruvik #nsft

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saxonspud · 5 years ago

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Some scars are visible, others aren't. You carry a lot of scars. You also have a secret. If any of the O'Driscolls discover what it is, you're as good as dead. Living on a knife edge, everything changes when you're is captured in the Grizzlies by the Van Der Linde Gang. you expect the same treatment from Dutch Van Der Linde as you would get from Colm O'Driscoll once they discover who you are. But Dutch Van Der Linde isn't Colm O'Driscoll. It might just be possible that the Van Der Linde gang can help heal those scars.

Chapter one - Not an O’Driscoll

You hated this damn mountain. It was freezing. You hated being cold with a passion, but the cold up here was different, biting. It seemed to seep into the very marrow of your bone.

You sighed, and headed towards your horse.

"Hey...Boy!"

You snapped your head round, to see Colm O'Driscolls eyes, boring into you.

You walked over to where he was sitting on his horse. He always seemed to have it in for you. If anything went wrong it seemed to be your fault. You had the bruises to prove it.

Many a time you'd thought about leaving, but you knew it was pointless. Once you were in, you were in. You'd seen what had happened to others, who'd decided they wanted out. It hadn't been pretty. Seems the only way to get out was when you were six feet under. Either by Colm's hand or by the law, or one of his other enemies.

He glared at you, "Kieran, why are you still here?" He hissed.

"W...Well one of the boys asked..." You began.

Colm grabbed you by coat, "How old are you boy?" He growled.

"S...Seventeen," you stuttered.

"Well, If you wanna see eighteen, I suggest you do what the fuck I tell you!"

He hit you sharply across the face twice. The cold making it hurt twice as much.

Then he shoved you backwards. Thankfully you managed to keep your footing, and ran quickly to your horse.

"Now fuck off and check the fucking trail!" He hissed.

You quickly mounted, and headed off out of camp. You guessed that he wanted to be off this mountain, just as much as you did. The storm had made most of the tracks and trails impassable. Each day he would send someone out to check. Being the newest, and the lowest in the pecking order, you mostly got the shit jobs. Anything that no one else wanted to do. You should have told the other fella to check his own horse. Rather than keep Colm waiting. Sometimes it was easier to tell some one yes, than put up with the consequences of telling 'em no.

You were pretty certain that checking the trail was still a futile effort. You could see by the dark colour of the sky and the depth of the snow that the track was still gonna be pretty impassable.

You also knew, when you came back with that news, everyone was gonna be pissed. No one liked being stuck in the mountain, especially not Colm. The longer you lingered here, the more grumpy and short tempered everyone became. Not good for you, as you seemed to be everyone else's punching bag.

As you rode along, you heard hoof beats behind you. You glanced around, hoping it wasn't Colm.

You were relieved when it wasn't, but not so relieved, when it wasn't one of his boys. The fact that the rider seemed to be chasing you, scared you more than a little. You kicked your horse on, urging it to go faster. As you glanced behind you again, you realised that the rider was chasing you.

You yelled back at him, "Leave me alone, what the hells wrong with you."

The next thing, you heard the sound of a lasso. Then it pulled tight around your arms pulling you of the back of your horse.

"Shit!" you grunted, as you hit the snow.

You managed to pull the lasso off of you, as you tried to scramble away. There wasn't a great deal of point, as your horse had spooked and it had galloped off.

You felt a hand on your back as the man pushed you down harshly. Your face in the snow. You panicked as you felt your hands being yanked behind your back, and a rope being tied around your wrists. Then another piece of rope binding your ankles.

"Pl..please don't hurt me," you whimpered.

The man didn't seem to care about your pleas.

He chucked you over his shoulder, then chucked you on his horse.

"Pl...please don't..." you begged, nervously.

"We're gonna go for a little ride!" He smirked.

He climbed onto his horse, and kicked it on.

"What's your name boy?"

"K...Kieran," you mumbled.

The man hummed, "Kieran what?"

"Duffy," you responded, "Kieran Duffy."

He chuckled, "Well I ain't gonna lie, this is a real bad day for you."

You grunted. He wasn't wrong. First you got on Colm's bad side, now you were being kidnapped. You knew you were gonna have a bruise on your face, from Colm's hand. You just hoped this trip was over soon, or you were gonna have some severely bruised ribs.

It took about half an hour before you arrived at your destination. By the time you came to a stop, your ribs were aching, and you felt like puking.

Your captor chucked you over his shoulder, and headed towards a cabin. As he approached, the door opened, and he tossed you to the ground. Rolling you over, he cut the ropes around your ankles and stood you up.

"You found the little shit, did ya!"

You looked up at the man who had just walked out of the cabin. You recognised his face immediately. You realised within seconds, how much deep shit you were in. Dutch Van Der Linde. Colm's arch nemesis.

You figured, that the man who'd caught you, was probably Arthur Morgan, known to be Dutch's right hand man. The same man, now hauled you to your feet.

"You want me to make him talk," he hissed.

"Oh no, now all we'll get is lies!" Dutch scoffed.

You watched as two more men came out of the cabin. You closed your eyes, trying to stop yourself from trembling. If they noticed, you hoped it was just because they thought you were cold.

Dutch turned to look at the two men who had emerged from the cabin.

"Uncle, Mr Williamson, tie this maggot up some place safe. We get him hungry first!"

The two men roughly grabbed hold of you.

"I got a saying my friend," Dutch began.

From the look on his face, you were anything but his friend.

"We shoot fellers as need shootin', save fellers as need savin' and feed fellers as need feedin'" he hesitated, "we're gonna find out what you need!"

You watched as he turned away, he held your life in his hands.

"I can't believe it, an O'Driscoll in my camp!" Dutch laughed.

You turned your head around, "I ain't an O'Driscoll!" You yelled.

Dutch rolled his eyes, "Whatever you say son!"

The two men manhandled you into a barn of sorts. They shoved you to the ground, next to a wooden upright, and tied you to the post.

You closed your eyes and sighed, shivering slightly. Not with fear as much now but with cold. You knew your days were numbered. If you didn't freeze to death, or if you weren't starved to death they would certainly kill you at some point. You just prayed they didn't find out who you really were. Colm and his boys hadn't which was probably why you were still alive. You were pretty sure, the way they were man handling you, it wouldn't take long for them to realise, unless you died first.

You pulled at the ropes around your wrist, but they were tied tight. The only thing you managed to do was chafe your wrists slightly. You decided that you would try and get some sleep, which wouldn't be easy, not being so cold, and uncomfortable.

After two days, despite being cold, tired, hungry and thirsty, you were still alive and in one piece.

You knew full well, if you had been Colm's prisoner, you would have been tortured within an inch of your life by now. The Van Der Linde gang, pretty much left you a lone, tied to a post. If it hadn't been for the gradual thaw, you may well have expired due to lack of water. It was so cold in the barn, there were Icicles on the inside. When it started to thaw, you were able to catch the drops of water melting on you tongue. Not a lot, but enough to keep you alive. You were weak though. You had never been as strong as the men in Colm's gang, and a few days without food had left you as week as a kitten.

When the two men, who had dragged you into the barn, and tied you up came in, you were certain that this was it. Instead, they dragged you out of the barn, and tossed you in the back of a wagon. It was a lot warmer and brighter, than when you had been put in the barn. You didn't say anything, but you guessed from the idle chit chat, that you were finally gonna get off this god-forsaken mountain.

How long you'd last, you didn't know, but you were grateful that you wouldn't freeze to death.

Being grateful, didn't last long. When you arrived at your next destination, you were bundled out the back of the wagon and tied to a tree.

At least in the mountain, you had been inside. Despite it being warm, you were still open to the elements. Well for now anyway.

You were surprised by the number of women in the camp. Colm had no women, except for the ones he used for his and his men's pleasure. They were usually kidnapped, used then killed, when they got bored of 'em.

Everyone just seemed to glare at you as they walked past. With the exception of two people. Both of those were women. One of them glared, and a couple of times, when she walked past had actually spat at you, and called you a murdering bastard. The other, didn't glare. She smiled once or twice. On one occasion, when no one was looking, she gave you a drink of water. If it hadn't been for her, then you would have had no water at all.

It didn't really stop the pains in your stomach, due to lack of food. You wondered how much more painful it would get, if you starved to death.

The approach of Arthur Morgan, made you think perhaps you wouldn't starve to death. The look in his eye said he was more likely gonna beat you to death.

He'd hardly said anything, when you saw Dutch Van Der Linde, striding over, with another man. You recognised him as one of the men who had tied you up in the barn.

"Seems like the cat has got our friends tongue, I thought perhaps Mr Williamson could have a word."

You glanced between the three men, trying to swallow. The lack of saliva in your now dry mouth, making it hard."

"You ready to talk boy?" Williamson growled.

You didn't say anything, you just shook your head.

Dutch looked at you angrily, then looked at Mr Williamson.

"Hurt him!"

You watched as Mr Williamson balled his hand into a fist, you screwed your eyes closed, waiting for the hit. Colm had hit you before, you guessed this wouldn't be much worse.

"Wait!" Dutch yelled, "lets just have a little fun...geld him!"

You closed your eyes, this was it, you felt the bile rise in your throat.

You felt hands grab your trousers and yank them down around your ankles. You screwed your eyes tight, cringing.

All three men let out a gasp.

"What the fuck!" Dutch exclaimed

"What sort of freak is he!" Williamson yelled.

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Its not a he, Bill! Its a she!"

"And none of you noticed!" Dutch chuckled.

"Please," you whimpered, "just get on with it."

A tear trickled down your cheek, no point putting up a brave front now.

You'd seen the women in Colm's camp, you knew what was coming next.

#rdr2 fanfic #a03 #wattpad

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spiltscribbles · 6 years ago

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All The Lights Are Sparkling For You | Part I

~*~

“So a sixteen ounce almond latte with a pump of lavender and honey?” The barista chortles, flipping her pretty ginger hair and batting her lashes.

“Precisely gorgeous,” Kit says with a smile that makes her flush.

“Cool, that’ll be right up.”

“Brilliant!” Kit gives two quick wraps of his knuckles against the countertop before pivoting around and sliding into the seat across from Ty, pretending as if his chest doesn’t seize at the sight of his insanely intense sea glass eyes and the pedal soft curve of his cheek.

“She likes you,” he says in that stripped down way of his before taking a bite of his sub, a bit of mayo getting on his cupids bow, and thanking Kit when he passes over a napkin.

“You flatter me Tiberius,” Kit snorts before snatching the other half and eating it himself, only partially curious of how much it might look like a date from the outside, and entirely ignoring how much he wouldn’t mind if it was.

“Everyone likes you,” Ty shrugs, blasé.

“They tell me it’s the smile.”

That makes it so Ty lets out a breathy, little laugh, and Kit can’t help but liken it to the most beautiful instrument. He’s always so proud whenever he can make it so Ty’s eyes go incandescent and there’s the slightest dimple right on the apple of his cheek, when Ty looks effortlessly beautiful and happy to be here.

Kit knows that this sleepy Oregon town on the coast is as far away from LA— where Ty was brought up— as anything could be. He knows that Ty choosing to go here for University was a way for him to strike out on his own, apart from the huge Blackthorn clan that Kit’s only ever seen pictures of, but has been exceedingly jealous of ever since. Kit knows that Ty has never really fit into his own skin here, that if it wasn’t for Kit’s constant insistence that they spend days on days together at the start of their freshman year that Ty would’ve been perfectly content keeping to hisself for the four years he’s here until he could go back home. But still, Kit also knows that they were meant to be in each others lives, in some major capacity.

He thinks back to his mother— her pale gold hair and the twinkle in her eyes— She use to always croon that the stars were set out for us, that kismet and providence would lead us to the people we’re meant to be. Kit was a little boy then, one who was to busy making a ruckus wherever he went to spare any of his time to understanding what she meant with those sort of proclamations. Even now, so many years divorced from her death, Kit doesn’t think any of his decisions were chosen before he ever knew the options, but a small part of him does like the idea that some peoples stars were lined up in the exact right breath that they were destined to cross paths and to create an entirely knew one for just the pair of them. One that was glowing and glimmering and perfect.

Kit’s sure that Ty’s one of those people— maybe the only person save for Tessa and Jem— And if he could make Ty even slightly happier than he was, then Kit considers it a job well done.

“Order up,” the barista from before chimes as she slides across the coffee and a slice of the lemon loaf. “On the house handsome,” she winks before strutting back to her post.

“I’ll take that,” Ty says before plucking the dessert from Kit’s non suspecting hand.

“Rude.”

“Life can be like that,” Ty just reasons before picking up his chirping phone, face grimacing at the sight of the text.

“Everything’s okay?” Kit asks, tentative.

“’s just Livvy.”

Kit can feel his face scrunch up in confusion. Every time Ty even alludes to his twin sister— a pixie sized, beautiful brunette with eyes that are a mirror of Ty’s own— he’s only ever beaming with light and glee and it’s probably the only times Kit looks at Ty and he seems totally whole.

“Is she alright?”

“Wonderful.” Ty intones, tossing the device to the side and sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, delicate hands beginning to tap and flutter around the table in a nervous sort of tension.

Kit’s becoming even more nervous than before.

“Don’t leave me in suspense Tiberius, what’s going on?”

“Nothing… Erm ah, nothing really.” Kit levels him with his patented are you shitting me grimace. “It’s just, my older brother…”

“Mark or Julian?”

“Julian, he’s getting married.” The locomotive sized weight on Kit’s chest suddenly dissipated and he swats Ty on the forearm.

“Hey! What’s with the frown you ass! That’s great news! It’s with that pretty blonde right? Emma?”

Ty nods, still impossibly glum looking.

“Ok Tiberius, I’m really confused to the whole woe with me thing you’ve got going on right now.”

“Livvy’s designated herself the head wedding planner.”

“Alright… and the problem?”

“I just know that Dru’s bringing her boyfriend Jamie, and Helen’s bringing her wife Aline, and of course Mark’s got his Kieran and Christina-“

“Okay man, i’m seriously not following any of this but we’re going back to the bit where Mark’s got two partners apparently? Which I personally find unfair and a bit elitist.”

Ty ignores him and just continues rattling off these names that Kit only slightly recognizes.

“Magnus and Alec are gonna be there and like just stand around being better than everyone! And Jace and Clary! Definitely Isabell and Simon too!”

“Am I having a stroke? Ty as my best friend you’re obligated to tell me if I’m having a stroke.”

“You know this’s all just a big ploy by Livvy, right?” Ty charges, mouth curled.

“This wedding… The one between your brother Julian and his long time girlfriend Emma, is a ploy? A ploy by Livvy?”

“She’s worried about me! She’s always worried about me! She thinks that I’m sequestering myself here, was mad when I came home over the summer and told her I hadn’t gone out with anyone all year.”

Kit spreads out his hands, very narrowly misses toppling over his drink. “Sisters am I right?… Actually am I right, I was an only child growing up and Nian has only just begun learning her shapes so I doubt she’d be much of a comparison.”

Ty’s expression goes very, very flat.

“You’re so ridiculous.”

“And you’re so serious.”

“Look, I know Livvy, okay. This’s just part of her grand plan to finally pair me up with someone!”

“A grand plan… Kit repeats, slow and confused.

“She’s worried about me, she thinks that everyone needs like a boyfriend or girlfriend or whatever to be happy.”

“I see.”

“She’s gonna try and pair me up with like somebody I don’t even know for the entire wedding! Like some way worse version of a blind date. Just you watch!”

“Aren’t weddings like only a few hours?”

“Not in Blackthorn standards,” Ty bristles, begins to spin his phone with the pop socket Kit had gotten him a couple weeks ago because it had his initials and it was a cheap version of getting something actually monogrammed, which in all his dorkitude Ty actually loves to have, has got all his pencils imprinted with his first and last names, and middle initial. It’d all be infuriating if it wasn’t so cute.

“Yo man I’m sorry, but Livvy’s got your best interest at heart, you know that.”

“I know,” Ty sighs, runs a hand through his dark hair . “I just wish she didn’t feel like responsible for me all the time.”

Kit purses his lip in discomfort, suddenly feels an intense kinship with Ty’s twin whom he’s never met. He’d like to tell Ty that it’s not a feeling of responsibility but a gesture of love. She wants to make sure he’s taken care of because her heart wouldn’t feel complete if she wasn’t doing that. Kit wants to tell him it’s not because he’s a weight on her shoulders but because he’s the first person to look at him and make Kit feel like he’s being seen. The first person to touch him softly instead of automatically assuming he’s been cut from metal and steel and brimstone. The first person to have caught and effortlessly kept Kit’s attention, the only one who’s ever made it so Kit’s skin feels like it’s been lit on fire with every surreptitious glance.

Oh, erm— Ah, but that’s all completely from livvi’s hypothetic perspective, not from Kit’s. Not at all, not even slightly.

“Mmm,” Kit clears his throat, trying to clear his head of all those sorts of thoughts, less he risk the best friendship he’s ever known. “Well Livvy obviously just wants to make sure you’re happy, I bet if you just told her that you’ve already found a date for the wedding she won’t bother to try and play matchmaker.”

Kit’s taken aback when he sees an all too familiar gleam in Ty’s gorgeous eyes and his head popping up in sudden, acute excitement.

“Yes! Brilliant! Totally! Watson you’re a genius!”

Kit can’t help but preen, feels a warmth coiling deep inside him at the sparks Ty’s quite literally radiating.

“I’m glad you’ve finally came to the light Tiberius.”

“You’ll come then?”

“Oh, ah, what?”

“To the wedding! You’ll pretend to be my date, in a romantic sense I mean.”

“Ahh,” Kit feels like he’s been succor punched, is especially confused to this parody of what he’s been privately wishing to hear for over a year now. “Run that by me again?”

“you’re a genius!” Ty crows, fists clenched and smile bright. “It’s not even that large of a leap! You’re the only person I tell them about and I bet if I tell her now that we’ve begun dating she wouldn’t even prod when I bring you to the wedding in January!”

Kit still feels very much so out of the loop.

“THey’d probably want you to spend Christmas with us too, would that be alright with you? You guys don’t really celebrate right? Jem’s a Buddhist and you said Tessa is atheist right?”

“Ah… yeah?”

“Oh awesome! I’ll call her and tell her now!” Ty leaps out of his chair, gathers Kit in for a tight hug before scurrying off to a quieter corner of the union to chat with Livvy.

“Wait, what just happened?” is all Kit can manage out, blinking owlish in Ty’s wake.

#Kit and Ty #Ty and Kit #Tiberius Blackthorn #Kit Rook #Kit Herondale #Spilled Ink #The Shadowhunter Chronicles #Will never figure out their ship name lol #spilt ink

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chicagonews-parabellum-archive · 5 years ago

Photo

Event: Paisley Sinclair and Luca Costello’s Wedding Date: 09/07/19

A wedding that was supposed to unify two families ended up causing further division. After a mysterious figure shot and killed Paisley Sinclair, both families are struggling to cope. People have already started pointing fingers - it’s only a matter of time before someone else ends up dead.

Citizens of Chicago, prepare for war.

Attached below is the Chatzy from 09/07.

Cici followed a waiter around eagerly, stealing tiny sandwiches off his platter and stuffing them in her purse.

Paityn couldn’t fucking believe it; after she was the one consistently getting reamed out by mommy and daddy for figuratively sleeping with the enemy not one, but two of her siblings showed up to Paisley’s wedding with Costellos as their dates. Priya with Ezra and Bash with Mia. Fucking hypocrites. Of course, when it’s the good kids no one bat an eye. She couldn’t deal. Not sober. The joints in her bag was meant for the reception, but she couldn’t wait. Paityn walked through the wedding hall and found the men’s bathroom. This will have to do. She locked herself alone in a stall and lit up, inhaling the smoke, hoping her heart rate would slow.

Ezra: walked into the venue, along side Priya, only just now starting to get a tad nervous - was it too much to bring one of the brides sister's as your date especially when the bride just happens to be marrying your brother? Well fuck it if it was, Ezra was beyond caring at this point. He grabbed a drink from the try, taking a sip of the champagne.

Sofia: Sofia emerged from her brother's room, now wearing her barely-there dress. It was too late for anyone to tell her to change. The Sinclairs were going to see, the media was going to see, and goddammit, if she couldn't stop this wedding, she could at least make everyone who'd organized it regret the experience. Strutting into a sunbeam, so that you could see through the blush fabric (close to white, but not quite close enough for her mother to actually murder her), she went looking for a bar. Time to find something appropriately sugary to throw in Leon's face when he finally showed up.

Violet arrived from the back rooms, popping into the main hall long enough to snatch up a glass of champagne as the waiter passed. The guests were trickling in and Violet spotted some familiar faces. Most of the Costello men were gathered in the back with Luca, except, probably Leon, of course, given recent circumstances.

Mia scanned the room, eying everything from the servers, to the food and the stunning decorations. Twisting on the bracelet around her wrist, she turned her gaze back to her date. Were they supposed to sit? Find a place to stand? The sight of Ezra and Priya entering was the best excuse to strike up a conversation though. "We all had the same idea, huh?" she half jokingly offered to the stunning redhead and her older brother. When had all of this happened?

Kai was in Luca's room, helping the groom get himself together, and possibly preventing him from jumping out the nearest window. "You need anything? A drink? A puke bag?"

Chanel fixed her hair in the bathroom mirror, making sure her makeup was perfect just like everything else for this event was going to be. Finally approving of the overall look, she walked out and looked around at everyone who was already in attendance. If she had anything to do with it, this day was going to go perfectly

Ezra: laughed, "you know what they say Mia, great minds." Seriously when did these two become a thing? Ezra's feels completely out of the loop. "How long's this been a thing" he asked, eyes travelling from his sister to Sebastian.

Chanel went to eat some cocktail weenies

Priya was glad to be walking into this with Ezra. It was going to be a long night by the looks of it. She smiled when she saw her brother with Mia. She had known the two would be coming together since the engagement party. "We did," she laughs.

Abel Costello surveyed the room, tugging at his collar even though he already skipped wearing a tie, he then spotted Kai from across the room and gave him a nod before making his way towards his cousin who looked handsome in blue (ily chris lol).

Luca was trying not to freak himself out. He'd tuned everyone out. The wedding was minutes away now, and the nerves he felt didn't seem to be letting up - regardless of the joint he'd smoked. He finally looked up at Kai. "We should take shots."

Sofia: Sugary drink acquired, Sofia snagged Abel as he was going past. "C'mon, Kai and Luca are in his room. Let's go do shots with them or something."

Kai flashed his cousin a smile, reaching into his jacket pocket for the flask he brought with. You know, just in case. "Bottoms up," he said, taking a drink for himself before offering it to Luca. "Don't worry. I'll steal more from the bartenders if need be."

Kieran was in no particular mood for a wedding. He couldn't even imagine the amount of drama that was bound to happen tonight. Kieran had already told himself that he was doing this shit sober, so he sipped on a glass of water, eyes scanning the room for a familiar face.

Mia smiled, finding that while both pairs might be unexpected, she was glad to see her brother smile, joke and laugh. Some of that had to be in part of Priya. "Great minds indeed." Glancing over at Sebastian she did not exactly know how to answer her brothers question. A thing. Was it? Were he and Priya a thing? "Not long. I asked Sebastian if he wanted to go with me." she lifted her shoulders in a small shrug. "How about the two of you?"

Cici stood in the back of the room, sipping a class of champagne and staring at a vase holding flowers. She couldn't tell if they were plastic or not and reached out to touch it, looking around to make sure no one saw her.

Paityn continued to smoke her joint in the men's room; her heels resting on the toilet seat in case anyone entered. Paityn wanted to hide.

Jack: Jack was looking for Paityn, who was MIA, and Shiloh, who was AWOL. Corralling them all was like herding cats. He saw Cici and waved, moving towards her, before stopping when he saw Kieran. Well, boo fucking hoo. He continued over and smiled, kissing her on the cheek. "You clean up nice."

Abel Costello was intercepted by Sofia, and promptly dragged away from the main room to meet up with the rest of the family. Inside, Luca looked like he was about to be beheaded and Kai was, well, calm as always. Abel glanced at Sofia and pressed his lips together, knowing full well that Cassandra was going to have a fit when she sees her. "Everything alright?" he asked.

Violet spotted Mia and Ezra with their dates? Whatever. She headed in their direction, lifting her dress so her hem didn't drag. "Interesting choice in companions for the night. You all look gorgeous, as usual." She offered them all a smooth smile, giving a nod to Priya and Sebastian.

Priya reached for Ezra's hand at Mia's question. How long had it been? A day since the kiss but them interacting? She wasn't sure. There was no concept of time when she was with him. "I am not actually sure." She turns to Ezra and smiles at him.

Luca wasn't about to pass up on a drink. He grabbed Kai's flask and downed a swig. "You cannot let me do this shit sober. You hear me? If I start acting sober, put some more liquor in me." He glanced over at Abel and Sofia. "Family reunion. Perfect time for a family reunion."

Juliet grabbed a glass of champagne and sipped at it as her eyes scanned the room.

Leon was late, which was both unlike him but also because he really didn't feel like being anywhere near the rest of his family. He'd had enough for the year, let along the entire week. Sunglasses still on to try and hide his black eye, stood by one of the walls, hands in his pocket as he watched the crowd.

Ezra squeezed Priya's hand tightly, giving her a warm smile. "We're taking things slow, we're not going to rush into anything. I think we've had enough shotgun relationships to last a lifetime." He turned to Violet then, "well you know, I'm always keen to liven things up, you look beautiful," he said complimenting his ex-sister in law.

Cici smiled as Jack approached her and she laughed slightly as he kissed her cheek. "Well, there's a friendly face. I thought for a minute there, this was almost an exclusive Costello event." Taking a sip from her drink, she looked him over. "Not as nice as you, Jack. I'll let you in on a little secret...my dress is from Target. Don't tell anyone."

Kai twirled his wrist in a gesture toward Abel, "C'mon. You know you want a drink," he smirked.

Kai added, drawing an X across his heart, "I promise not to let you do this shit sober. I also promise not to let you fall on your ass."

Sofia: Sofia snagged the flask from Abel and downed a hefty amount. "I'll get more. You're all a bunch of pussies anyway. I can drink you all under the table." She hugged Luca. "Be right back, promise."

Penelope stood at one of the tables, drink in hand as she watched everyone interacting. It was a matter of time before someone ended up fighting.

Abel Costello shrugged at Kai, realizing that he'll have no chance to even do security when Sofia was going to be a handful. He then turned to Luca and tilted his head. "It's a wedding, not your beheading." Not the best pep talk, but totally on-brand. "We're here for you, Lu."

Chanel looks for a flute of champagne to sip on and wonders who she should go socialize with. She spotted the mother of the bride at a table by herself and walked over to her, picking up a glass to drink on her way. Stopping at the table she offered a smiled and looked out at all the people. "It looks beautiful so far. I'm sure the ceremony will be stunning."

Kai sighed wistfully as he watched Sofia run out of the room, "She truly lights up a room, doesn't she?"

Jack: "Well, Target looks better on you than Louis Vuitton does on half the people here, so who the fuck cares anyway." Jack glanced back at Kieran. "You want me to tell him to check the perimeter or something? Go oil a gun?" He wanted Cici to have a good time, and if that involved shooing Kieran away like one of his cats, he was happy to do so.

Mia couldn't entirely believe what she was seeing. Oh yeah, Ezra and Priya were definitely a thing. Trying to hide just how surprised she was, Mia found Violet to come over at just the right moment. Thank god. "Thats great. And probably wise." She noted with a nod. Smiling at Vi she playfully nudged her with her hip. "You look absolutely stunning." She agreed.

Penelope smiled back at the blonde. Chanel was probably the most competent of the Costello’s. “Yes, everything has turned out beautifully.” She raised a glass to the blonde. “You deserve a drink with the way the last two weeks have gone.”

Ezra watched Leon walk in from the corner of his eye, "anyone ever tell our brother wearing sunglasses inside was terribly ruined?" He smirked, knowing exactly why his brother had made that fashion choice.

Elijah walks into the cocktail hour with his flask in hand. There may have already been drinks being served but none better than the moonshine he'd managed to concoct in his free time. Taking a deep swig he looked for Shiloh but couldn't see him right away. Instead he saw Jackson and walked over to him, giving him a pat on the back. "What's up motherfuckers." Seeing Cici, he cleared his throat and nodded at her very gentelmany. "And lady."

Violet gave Ezra and Mia a genuine smile, her features soft and relaxed as they usually were, especially in spite of the circumstances. "Thank you. I scored a super hot date, you know. Sofia. Whom I haven't been able to find for a bit now but... I'm sure she's got her halo on tight."

Violet followed Ezra's line of sight to spot Leon and his... sunglasses. "It's probably worse today," she replied absently.

Priya gave Violet a polite smile when she approached the four of them. "Mia," managed to look away from Ezra and to his sister, "I still cannot believe you managed to get my brother to have a date to this. Please let me know you did it. I have been trying to get him out with someone for years."

Luca nodded. "I know. I'm just fucking nervous." Luca anxiously stared at his phone, checking the time. He watched as Sofia wandered off. Luca stood from his chair, stretched out a little awkwardly. "Thank you guys for not fuckin' killing my buzz."

Chanel laughed and raised the drink she had just retrieved for herself. "I'm sure we all deserve a drink for the last two weeks. But the day is finally here, can you believe it?"

Cici followed Jack's eyes to Kieran, and she frowned a little. "Eh, he looks uncomfortable enough standing alone. Who knows, maybe you being here makes him jealous." Laughing, Cici threw her drink back and finished it. She hadn't meant what she said, but she suddenly found herself actually wondering it it was true. Glancing over at Kieran again, she hadn't noticed him look over. "So, where's the lucky girl who arrived as your date?"

Kai gave Luca a pat on the shoulder and a smile, "Of course not. That's Paisley's job now."

Sofia: Sofia saw a boy over with a couple of what she assumed were Sinclairs. They could've been relatives for all she knew. The important thing was, it was a boy, and he looked appropriately heteroflexible at least. Swinging near him, she bumped into him, giggled, and took his flask fast as lightning. "See ya, cutie." She tripped away, flask in one hand, sugary cocktail in the other. Just as she spotted Violet and was headed over to say hi, she saw what Violet was looking at, and made a beeline for Leon. "Your outfit needs ... something." She threw the drink in his face. "There we go!"

Penelope laughed, placing her own glass back on the table. “ That’s very true. Just a few more hours and we can put this whole thing behind us.”

Abel Costello couldn't help but smirk, not really wanting to voice out his agreement. "I'm still your date, but I think we should split up to look after the twins." He glanced at Luca then at Kai. "Guess I'm taking the hellspawn." (he says that lovingly okay?)

Mia narrowed her eyes a little as she saw her little sister fly across the room, clearly on the search for something. "Oh she's here alright." she noted to Violet. At Ezra's mention of Leon, she raised an eyebrow to her brother, silently asking 'Where?' to figure out which corner to scan in order to find Leon and these infamous sunglasses. Of course it was no darn surprise he'd opted for them. Anything to hide that well deserved shiner. Right then Priya said her name though, and for the time being her search of Leon would have to wait. "Really? Ahm.. not sure there's much to tell? We just had a nice conversation and I was lucky enough to get him to agree to go with me. Years huh?" Her question was directed more at Sebastian than Priya, curiosity dancing in her eyes.

Cici surprised at Elijah's sudden appearance, although not really, she rolled her eyes. "You actually are wearing a suit, Elijah. I'm shocked."

Violet 's eyes widened as she watched Sofia throw a drink in Leon's face, unable to curb the laugh that leaped from her lips. "Oh my god."

Chanel smiled and nodded, taking small sips from her glass. They could put this all behind them. Hopefully. Looking around the room some more, she wondered if either of the lucky couple had made an appearance yet. Was that bad luck? She couldn't really remember. "Have Luca or Paisley been out at all?"

Leon "What the fuck Sofia?" Leon yelled, knowing this was probably the last place that he should be yelling. "You know if you have an issue with everything or with me do it on your own fucking time," he stated, his voice getting quieter as he glared at his sister, taking off his sunglasses, "because if you really want to start a fight today, I'm sure that Dad's going to love that."

Jack: Jack glanced down at Cici, amused at the idea that he was making Kieran jealous, when he was mildly jealous of Kieran to begin with. That was the way things went, he supposed. Before he could say anything else, Elijah approached and Jack smacked him upside the head just from reflex, but then patted him for the nice save with Cici. Luca's twin came over but Jack was already paying more attention to Cici again. "I came stag. Don't think anyone wanted to put up with my grumbling."

Ezra laughed, "really Mi? You guys just talked?" Colour him not entirely convinced. He turned then, just in time to see drama play out between Sophie and Leon. "Jesus Leon's really mister popular right now with the twins uh?"

Penny let her eyes run the room again before settling on the blonde. "Not that I've seen but for Paisley that doesn't surprise me. Flair for the dramatic practically runs in the family."

Benjamin wasn't technically working, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to try to stop shit from going down. He stood near the door, watching as Sofia tossed a drink in Leon's face. He tried not to laugh, considering Leon would technically be his boss someday. Instead, Ben clenched his jaw and stared at something else.

Elijah reacted to the slap on the back of his head but recovered smoothly. He adjusted his suit and smiled wickedly at Cici. "Of course I am. I clean up very nicely when the occasion calls for it." And then suddenly his flask was out of hand and some girl, the Costello Twin? Was gone with it, throwing drinks around like they were toys. "Hey now, I'm going to need that back!"

Salma was fashionably late, but she walked into the event without a care. She made her way over towards the bar, grabbing a flute of champagne, she turned to scan the room, looking for a familiar face.

Priya "Years." Priya gave a smile to her brother before continuing, "I have been a thorn in his side over it." Out of the corner of her eye she caught the final moments of the interaction between Leon and his sister. It looks like the other Costello twin was competing for who could ruin the night first.

Luca finally decided it was time to go out and socialize with people. The wedding was only minutes away. He buried down whatever nerves that he'd felt. Luca headed out towards the main area, where everyone was socializing, and decided to make an entrance. He swiped a bottle of open champagne and downed quite a bit of it before making his presence known. "Welcome to my wedding, fu-" Luca cut himself off whenever he saw Penny. Maybe he shouldn't address the guests as fuckers.

Sofia: Sofia felt elated, too excited to regret anything, and squared up for a shouting match. She was going to offend every goddamn person in the church if possible. "An issue? I don't have an issue, Lee. I have a problem, which is YOU. Of all the times to fuck with your own brother, you pick right before he gets sold off like a cow at an auction? Why don't you just kick him in the balls and steal his fucking wallet too?" The shiner surprised her momentarily, but she was pettily glad someone had gotten there first. "You couldn't just fuck your own goddamn wife or something, you had to fuck that social-climbing sociopath with the fetish for royal purple? Fuck, I'd be ashamed to have been your wife if that's how bad your taste in women is these days."

Mia raised both her brows at her brother this time. She was tempted to call him out, but it wouldn't be prudent with everyone else around. "Really." she said with a note of finality in her tone. This time she did manage to pick Leon out, his angry face saying it all.. wow, Sofia was not holding back tonight. Trying to ignore the sibling drama she had no intention of getting in the middle of, for once, Mia smiled at Priya and Sebastian. "Well then I am glad I could help break the cycle."

Cici laughing at Elijah's shenanigans, Cici shook her head as he went looking for his flask. Grabbing another glass of champagne from a waiter passing by, she took a sip. "Grumbles? Jack, you need to stop thinking so poorly about yourself-" Cut off by Luca Costello yelling as he entered the room, Cici sighed. "Do we really have to combine the families? There's still time to back out. That little fuck is already on my nerves."

Chanel "Sounds about right. The bride should be able to make the biggest entrance anyway. I'm sure the gown is absolutely stunning." She looked around some more and then spotted Luca making his appearance. And of course, a champagne bottle was clutched in his hands.

Violet noticed the siblings seemed off in their own world with the Sinclair's, talking about their new... partnerships? She gave them another polite smile, "I'm sure I'll see you guys later on." She made it over to Sofia and Leon just as Sofia finished her speech, leaving Violet, well, speechless. "Ah, fuck." A forced smile spread across her features as she nodded at Leon and Sofia, then promptly made a B-line for the front door. Someone had to have a smoke or something, right?

Abel Costello Abel arrived just in time to catch Sofia all the way across the room throwing a drink at Leon. He rubbed his face in exasperation before deciding to go the other way. He's going to let the siblings duke it out a little, let Sofia get it out of her system before dragging her away. Maybe lock her in a closet for good measure. No. No. This was his darling <s>hellspawn</s> cousin we're talking about. Someone should really stop them. Someone not him.

Penny "She looks flawless, as any bride should on their wedding day." She paused at the loud entrance of the groom himself, mouth pursing. "And there he is. Loud as always. How do you keep a handle on that boy?"

Leon "Shut the fuck up Sofia, you really don't know what you're talking about," Leon glared at her, especially when it came to the wedding. He'd given Luca a chance to get out, he was sure all the siblings had, and it was Luca's choice. Whether or not Sofia believe it or not. "And I'm really not interested in being in all of your fucked up dramatics because you're not getting your way. So act your fucking age and not like the two-year-old you've decided to present yourself as," he said, starting to walk off towards the bathroom so that he could as least try to wash off the stickiness.

Jack: Jack winced when he saw Luca. This was just ... such a problem. "Do you think I should go over there and do something? I could, I dunno, hit him with the bottle, maybe it'll fix his personality." He finally processed that Cici had been complimenting him before and brightened visibly. "You think I'm worth a damn? Golly gosh gee, Miss Jansen, you're gonna make me blush."

Kai burst out in laughter at Sofia's antics, but quickly righted himself, running his hands down the front of his jacket before striding over to Sofia. "Heya dollface. Keepin' shit as interesting as ever, huh?"

A Wedding Guy cleared his throat, terrified to even raise his voice in this specific crowd of people. "Excuse me..." He tried, gaining no traction and zero attention. "EXCUSE ME." He tried again, this time hearing his own voice echo back at him really loudly and he felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. "WE ASK THAT THE GUESTS MAKE THEIR WAY TO THEIR SEATS PLEASE, THE CEREMONY IS ABOUT TO BEGIN."

Ezra sighed, turning to Priya for a moment "excuse me for one moment," he said walking over his brother - literally the last thing he felt like doing but someone had to, and it seemed everyone else had taken the night off. He entered the bathroom, standing by the door, "you okay?"

Elijah huffed as he realized Sofia wasn't coming back any time soon with his flask and decided to do damage control himself. He walked over there only to catch some type of fight with what he assumed was the eldest Costello. He laughed at the insults and reassessed the girl, amused by her fire. But while she was distracted he figured it would be a good enough time to steal what was his. "I'm just going to take this little thing and prevent it from adding to the fire. Go about your business."

Violet eventually makes her way back inside since the ceremony, taking her seat with the family.

Chanel "Usually in small doses, honestly." She laughed and raised her glass before drinking some more of it. "And also a lot of this."

Juliet inserted herself into the crowd making their way to the ceremony, praying for the first time in her life that the Costellos did not see her.

Penny sighed and squared her shoulders before finishing off her drink. "Well, time to do this." She nodded to Chanel before making her way to the seats reserved for family of the bride.

Jack: Sofia bristled at Leon talking to her like a child and opened her mouth to inform him of what exactly he was, which was going to involve terms that would probably get her excommunicated, or at least thrown out of church, when Kai came up to her. "Yeah, well, you know me. Fucking hell, I have to go be the goddamn best man." Storming up the aisle, she practically left holes she stomped so hard as she stood at the front. "Last chance to bail, people. We can still make happy hour!"

Mia looked from Priya to Sebastian. "Guess we should find somewhere to sit then. You guys wanna sit together?" She mildly suggested.

Luca heard the announcement and froze. He chugged a few gulps of the champagne in his hand. He clenched his fist in order to steady himself. Luca made his way to the altar through the back, hiding behind the scenes until it was time.

Chanel realized what the wedding guy had said and gives a nod to Penny and then made her way over to her own section, on the grooms side of the aisle.

Leon was honestly surprised that Ezra was the one that decided to check up on him. Rinsing off his face he was glad taht he'd chosen to only wear black because at least he wasn't going to have too ridiculous of a stain the rest of the day. "Been better," he honestly answered, sounding as exhausted as he actually felt, "I honestly think that I ran the sibling gauntlet and managed to get all of you to not talk to me at once."

Priya looked over at Mia after Ezra left. "Yes. I think safety in numbers is the way to go tonight. Which side though?" She asked Mia.

Cici laughing at Jack's response to her compliment, Cici couldn't contain her giggle and covered her mouth with her free hand. An employee's voice echoing to the crowd to move to the pews caught her attention and cut off their conversation. Snaking her arm through Jack's she smiled. "Care to escort me in, Mr. Sinclair?"

Elijah happily sipped on the flask he had successfully stolen back as he made his way to the brides side of the wedding. Would it be inappropriate to laugh during the actual nuptials? Probably, but he also had a feeling that was what was about to happen. "Cheers to the good couple."

Jack: Jack took her arm and beamed at her. "I'd like nothing better. Wanna take bets on which one of the Costellos fucks things up the most? I got my money on the groom, but the little spitfire might beat me to it."

Ezra smiled sadly, "dude even on your worst day, you'll never screw up as badly as I have." He sighed, "look I'm sorry about before, I was blaming the wrong person, and so is Sophie, she'll realise that soon enough I promise." He threw his brother a wink. "Come on, why don't you sit with me and Priya, fair warning I think we're sitting on the Sinclair's side, but to be honest, right now I think that's the safest place to be."

Abel Costello decided to follow after Leon and Ezra, mostly just to make sure that there won't be a second altercation. He then walked in on the two having a tender moment so he cleared his throat. "Ceremony's about to start. Luca needs us."

Leon "I'm sorry too, I know I lost it on you too and you really didn't deserve that," Leon admitted before nodding over to his cousin. "But agreed, I'd rather say away from Sofia, I wouldn't be surprised if she decides to make a scene in the middle and I don't want any part of that."

Mia debated for a moment. The way her family were behaving, sitting with the brides family did not seem like a bad idea. At all. "We'll sit with you." she offered.

Ezra turned to face Abel. He sighed, "I guess it's show time then, shall we boys?"

Luca 's heart felt like it was going to leap out of his fucking chest. There was no backing out. Luca walked up to the altar, stood at the end as he waited for Paisley. As scary as this shit was, Luca was fully committed to spending the rest of his life with Paisley.

Cici walked in with Jack and searched for an open pew. "I think Luca's gonna barf." Sitting down she laughed, watching him walk up, pale as a ghost. "Or pass out. Paisley's gonna be pissed."

Leon "Guess so," Leon said as he started walking towards the ceremony.

Sofia: Sofia found Luca, who'd been sneaking around the back, and grabbed his hand, squeezing it. "Say the word, I shove the priest at Paisley and we run down the altar like in Wedding Crashers or something."

Priya extended her hand to Mia, "Come on then," she smiled at her brother before saying, "I am going to borrow your date since mine is dealing with his brother."

Ezra Ezra walked inside the hall along side Leon and Abel just in time to see Luca walking in. He took his seat beside Priya.

Violet sits with the family? Yeah.

Leon Leon sits next to ezra

Chanel realized she still held her champagne glass in her hand and decided to finish it before putting it on the floor. She'd probably remember to pick it up later.

Elijah huffed as he sat in his chair, bummed that he didn't get a seat with Shiloh. "Alright let's rock this bitch. Bring out the ginger!"

Sofia: Sofia waved at Violet and pointed at the spot she normally would be occupying. She wanted it to be as awkward as possible for Leon. She even gave Violet a big thumbs up from the altar.

Priya once seat she takes a hold of Ezra's hand.

Penny watched as her children joined her on the bride's side with their dates. She chose not to comment on their choice of dates though.

Ezra squeezed Priya's hand tightly, shaking his head at Sophie's actions, "well we know which one of my siblings is trying to make this as painful as possible" he muttered to Priya.

Leon glances over and sees Ezra and Priya's hands, but decides that it's better not to say anything (at the moment)

Kai is sitting next to Abel and probably Violet, being a good Costello boy and keeping his mouth shut.

Abel Costello made his way to the ceremony with his cousins and on his way to the pew he caught Mia standing beside Sebastian and Ezra making his way beside Priya. This shouldn't be unusual, given that everyone had been ordered to play nice, but knowing how Mia had been vocal about her disdain for this entire event, his cousin seemed to be all smiles besides the Sinclair heir. He decided to ignore it for now and stand beside Kai.

Priya leaned over to Ezra and whispered, "Better yours than mine."

Ezra sighed, "why is it always mine?" he grumbled.

Priya joked, "Genetics."

Ezra laughed, "ounch, who knew you could be so cold," he joked.

Mia noticed Abel sitting down at the other side of the aisle, but not before eying her. Yeah, he had to think she were insane where she sat not only on the Sinclair side, but with the Sinclair heir as well. She felt bad about not giving him a heads up, just like she could not help but stare at her little brother up there in the aisle looking like he was going to topple over and wishing she could stand next to him and just.. hold his hand. Which might be mighty embarrassing for him in front of such a crowd though but at least he would feel the support she was trying to convey with her eyes. She hadn't even gotten a moment to speak with him beforehand. Too wrapped up in small talk.. Shitty sister.

Luca was still waiting on Paisley's slow ass.

Sofia: Sofia was waiting on Sofia's slow ass and made an obscene gesture at the boy whose flask she'd stolen.

Nadine hadn't meant to show up late, in fact the thought of entering the chapel at such an hour made her stomach twist into knots and her mouth go dry that she almost decided to turn around and get right back into the cab that had just dropped her off. But she had flown across the Atlantic to see Penny's daughter get married and by God if she turned around now it would be rather pathetic. So, after smoothing her hands down the front of her dress and fixing her hair, Nadine straightened her shoulders, took a deep breath, and entered the church. To her horror the entirety of the room was standing, seemingly waiting for the bride, and with a face flushed red as a rose, Nadine hurried to the closest open seat among the pews.

Paisley let out a shaky sigh as she heard all of the voices echoing through the doorway. She suddenly felt incredibly nervous and began to shred the tissue she had balled into her hands. Was this the right thing to be doing? Her heart continued to race as her father walked up behind her and put an encouraging hand on her shoulder. Not saying a word, although not needing to, Paisley smiled at him. Thankful for his support. "Ready?" Morgan asked and Paisley nodded, taking his arm he held out to her. Taking one more deep breath, she held it in as the doors swung open and the music began to play.

Chanel stands in her seat as the music starts playing, turning to watch Paisley and Morgan come down the aisle.

Elijah stands and sees a hot blond across the way, winks at her and then also looks at the two coming down the aisle

Luca held his breath. The doors opened, and there was Paisley being escorted in by her father. Luca felt his heart racing. It was going to be okay. Paisley looked gorgeous and he knew, despite the circumstances, that they would make this marriage work. For the first time that evening, Luca didn't feel unsure about the future. This was good. For both sides. He smiled at Paisley, knowing that this marriage would work. It had to.

Paisley couldn't contain the smile on her face as she made eye contact with Luca and continued down the aisle, all eyes on her. It suddenly all felt...perfect. They reached the alter and Morgan whispered in her ear, kissing her cheek, and leaving her side. She held her hands out to Luca, ready for him to take them-

Unknown sat patiently, perched on the upper level loft that only housed the ancient church organ the family decided to veto out of the wedding, steadying the sniper rifle on the beam in front of him. None of the guests had even looked in his direction and he almost had to hold back a laugh. So much for top security. The cue to wait for was the girl reaching the end of the aisle, the right moment between her father being out of the way and before the boy could grab her hands. The music began to fade away as Morgan kissed his daughter's cheek and turned away. Holding his breath, he steadied his weapon, and squeezed the trigger.

Paisley falls forward.

Unknown pushed the button on the remote in his pocket, setting off the small explosions at the alter, causing the wall to immediately go up in flames. With his job done, he stood up and fled the scene.

Chanel screams, looking at all that had just happened, not knowing what to do or where to go. Something had to happen, someone had to do something

Cici jumped at the sound of the bullet and watched Paisley fall, all as explosions began to go off. Immediately she turned and searched for Kieran.

Penny stood in shock, not moving except to raise a hand do her chest. Her daughter falling. An explosion. Her body went numb.

Sofia: Sofia screams and can't move, she needs to get to Luca and shield him. Nothing else matters anymore, but she can't make her feet move.

Elijah jumps as he hears a pop and the suddenly Paisley is on the ground. He's confused, not quite connecting what had just happened. Did she trip? Did a balloon pop? How much alcohol was in this moonshine.

Juliet reached over to take Camila's hand, shock freezing the rest of her body in place.

Ezra: grabbed hold of priya's hand again, leaning forward to check that Mia and Leon were also alright, still in shock from what just happened.

Kai grabs Chanel's hand when she screams, tugging her toward him and Abel. "Hey, it's okay. We got ya."

Chanel decided to duck down, holding her hands over her head. She wasn't supposed to be a part of this part of the business. This was not her expertise.

Luca suddenly heard the sound of a gunshot. Paisley fell forward, into his arms, blood splattering his suit. She went limp and, not long after, a small explosion went off. With Paisley still in his arms, Luca fell to the ground. He held onto her tightly, shaking her stubbornly. "Pais- Paisley, wake up." He looked out in to the crowd, just as panic had begun to ensue. "Someone fucking help her!" Luca's voice broke.

Mia felt like an electro shock was going trough her, startling in her seat where she sat and unconsciously grabbing for both Priya's and Sebastian's hand, staring open mouthed as the aisle seemed to go up in a sea of flames and smoke.

Camila blinks, dazedly, brain struggling to connect the sound to the action. She grips Juliet's hand back, starts in her seat.

Chanel realizes Kai is tugging her and follows him, hoping they know what to do

Leon it took Leon a couple of second to realize what had happened, and a couple more to look around and try and figure out who the shooter even was. It was instinct to try and figure it out biut with the explosion he knew they needed to get out. Fast. "Okay we need to go. Now." he told the other people in his row.

Sebastian was frozen in place, he had no idea what had just happened. He felt his entire being go numb, he couldn't comprehend what was going on.

Priya is in shock. Her brain was screaming at her but her body was not responding. Her sister. Her little sister. Priya looks back and forth between Mia and Ezra. If the two weren't holding onto her hands her legs would have give out.

Sofia: Jack is out of his seat immediately, yelling at his crew to get outside and make sure there's not an ambush waiting before everyone streams out. He practically bodily pulls Cici with him and shoves her into a corner next to the door. "Stay here, I'll be back for you right away, I just need to make sure there's not more guys outside." He pulled several guns out of his jacket and hollered for Kieran to get people out safely.

Ezra tried to make out Luca's form through the smoke, hoping by some grace of god his brother was alright.

Kieran immediately looked for Cici at the sound of a gunshot. With a fire breaking out, he lunged across the church. He wasn't leaving here without her. Once he reached Cici, Kieran grabbed her by the arm, shielded her out of fear that there was still a threat. "Gotta go. Now."

Ezra "what about Luca?" he asked in response to Leon's command.

Abel Costello saw Paisley fall and he turned his head to try anf find the shooter. But the explosives were set off and people started panicking, leaving the rest of the security details scrambling. Someone needed to secure the family and he began pushing past the crowd to get to Luca.

Mia felt panic course trough her veins. Leon was yelling something about having to go, but Mia doesn't give it a second thought, getting to her feet and shooting down the aisle like a bat out of hell. "LUCA!" Was he hit too? Was Paisly dead? No, this could not be happening.

Sofia: Sofia grabbed Luca's shoulders, trying to get him away, but her twin wouldn't move. "Lu-lu, we've gotta go!" Since he wasn't moving, she kicked her shoes off and grabbed Paisley by the shoulders. "Carry her damn legs then!"

Nadine had tears in her eyes as she watched Morgan walk his daughter to the alter. She was reminded of her own wedding day and for a moment the woman was lost in memory before the sound of a bullet ripping through the air jolted her back to the present. Insticually she fell to the ground and covered her head, waiting for the sound of more bullets. But when an explosion rocked the foundation of the church instead, she began to pray, not having done so in years. She should have stayed in France.

Benjamin immediately looked for the Costellos. Those were his responsibility. He pulled out his weapon and immediately began looking for a way to get people out.

Penny the building was on fire and while she was worried about her daughter she needed to get the others out to safety. She looked to where her children sat with their dates. "We need to get out. Get moving. NOW."

Leon "I'll get Luca, you get everyone else," he said to his brother as he started going towards the font of the church.

Violet immediately leapt from her seat as soon as the commotion began, following Kai and Abel as they rushed to the altar. "Sof! Are you okay? Luca!"

Elijah finally registered what was happening and also started panicking like everyone else around him. He didn't know where the shot had come from or if there were others still out there. Immediately he started looking for the other Sinclair's hoping they were okay and if there was anything he could do to.

Cici did as Jack told her and then immediately was grabbed by Kieran. Feeling slightly relieved at his appearance, she clinged to him, completely shell shocked. "What do we do...the fire..."

Priya turns to her brother, worry and dread on her face. "Paisley-" she manages to get out before Ezra's and her mother's voice pull her out. "I'm-" she stutters, "i'm fine." her grip tightens on ezra's hand as she begins to make her way out the pew.

Kai rushed over to where Mia and the others were, "Who's missing? Anyone?"

Salma froze at the sound of the gunshot. For a moment, she was reminded of the day of her father's death, but was immediately brought back to the present by the smell of smoke as she sat there, dazed.

Leon quickly makes his way to the front of the church, and sees Sofia. Now wasn't the time to be petty about it. "Sof, get out of here, I'll get Luca and Paisley?"

Chanel watched as nobody knew what to do, looking to Kai as he moved to another place. She tried to follow behind him, wanting to throw up but holding back. "We- we need to get out of here. We need to hide."

Mia threw herself down on the ground beside her little brother, ignoring the blood that seemed to be oozing out on the floor. "Luca! Are you hurt? We need to leave."

Sebastian steeled his emotions and stood, he needed to do something. How was he supposed to be a second-in-command when it felt like his heart was ripped out of his chest. He moved up towards the alter not caring about the smoke or flames.

Ezra steadied his voice, "she'll be fine, but we can't do anything to help them if we end up trapped in here too," he said pulling her towards the exist.

Benjamin spotted Juliet and Camila near the back of the church. He immediately sprinted towards them. The fire was getting out of hand now - they needed to get out. Quickly. Adrenaline pumping, Ben didn't even think before he grabbed Juliet and Camila by the arm. "We need to get out of here."

Kai spots Benjamin near the back, handling some of the other girls, "C'mon," he spoke softly to Chanel, "We're gonna get to Ben and get you out."

Juliet didn't fight Ben as he pulled her up and out of his seat. "Shit, shit shit."

Sofia: Sofia wiped her face, not realizing Sofia's blood was on her hands. "I'm not leaving unless we ALL go. Now help me get her out of here or Luca's never gonna leave!"

Abel Costello found Sofia trying to drag Luca while Leon was telling her to leave. "I'll get Paisley," he offered to Leon, "you take care of Luca."

Violet wrapped an arm around Sofia, "C'mon. They got it. Come with me. We won't leave Luca."

Ezra shouted to Leon, "we need to get the girls out," refereeing the fact that Mia and Sophie were still inside.

Priya let Ezra pull her towards and exit. Her eyes kept searching for her family. For her siblings. For Paisley. "Please let her not be dead," she says softly to herself

Paisley felt her body beginning to get cold and she could no longer move her legs or arms. Explosions went off and her ears could only hear a high pitch ring. Vision blurry, she still was able to make out Luca's face. Attempting to make words, a choking sound came from her throat instead. She felt tears falling down her cheeks and she did all she could, offering Luca the biggest smile she could muster, she mouthed to him. "It's okay." She kept her eyes on him for as long as she could, unable to truly understand what as going on around her. Eventually her eye lids just got too heavy and she couldn't fight it anymore, so they closed.

Leon nodded at Abel, not surprised to see him there. "Good," he nodded at his cousin before turning to both of his sisters, "Now both of you get out and I will get Luca," he said before kneeling next to his brother. "We don't need all of us here."

Chanel nodded to Kai, looking to see Ben with some of the other girls. She began making her way to it, jumping when she heard little pops from the fire as it expanded. She'd left her purse at her chair, it had her phone in it. She had to go back. Pushing through the chaos of the other guests she tried to find where she had been sitting, crawling on her hands and knees until she finally found it.

Violet glanced at Leon momentarily as they all crowded around to help Luca, then looked at Mia, "C'mon, let's get Sof and get out of here."

Sofia: Sofia clutched Violet but still instinctively reached out for Luca. "Luca, please! Please don't leave me!"

Kai lead Chanel through the madness to Benjamin, "Can you get her out? I wanna make sure everything is good here." He gave Chanel's shoulder a comforting squeeze, keeping his arm around her.

Ezra swallowed hard, "hey don't don't think like that," he said to Priya, waiting until they were outside to pull her into his arms, "its going to be okay."

Mia couldn't breathe. Had Paisley's eyes just closed? How could this be happening? Staring blankly at her brothers that kept swimming in and out of vision. Violet was in front of her speaking, but Mia couldn't hear her, standing as if glued to the ground.

Luca could hear the chaos all around him. He was shaking now, trying to smile back at Paisley. His eyes were blurred with tears and it wasn't long before Luca was in hysterics all together. The woman that he was supposed to marry was cold, limp in his arms. She wasn't supposed to be a victim. This wedding was supposed to prevent shit like this happening. Luca rocked Paisley in his arms, shaking his head, repeating the words 'no' over and over again. "Pais. Paisley. Paisley. Please don't- fuck."

Violet wraps her other arm around Sofia, "Abel and Leon got him. Promise. C'mon," she spoke softly, eyes narrowing a bit when she noticed Mia didn't respond, "Mia? Mia? We have to go!"

Elijah decided that most people were being taken care of by others. He'd only be making things worse if he stuck around and got in the way. He quickly made his way to an exit and ran until he was sure there was nobody running after him.

Priya collapses against Ezra her entire body shaking. She holds onto him as if her life depending on it, which it did. "This wasn't suppose to happen" her voice is muffled against his chest. For once in her life Priya did not know what to do.

Abel Costello picked up the unconscious bride, not bothering to check if she was truly dead or alive; the whole church was on fire and people were running towards the door, and if the Sinclair child was dead then so be it. The family will deal with the consequence afterward. For now, they all had to make it out alive.

Mia blinked at the sight of Violet's face, lips opening and closing. "What?" she mumbles.

Leon knew that Luca wasn't going to be okay, not by a long shot. Not with everything happening this way. "Luca," Leon said, "We have to get out of here so are you walking or am I carrying you?"

Ezra hushed her, keeping his grip tight, "breath, I've got you."

Sebastian couldn't handle what was going on. He had just seen his little sisters eyes close. What the fuck was happening? Whoever did this was going to pay and they were going to pay with blood. He stood near Luca and Paisley and he couldn't figure out what to do.

Jack: Jack had cleared the entranceway and was shoving people into cars, getting them away from the conflagration and a potential ambush as quickly as possible, not even really focusing on what had happened yet. He headed back in for his family, scooping Paisley's body into his arms. It didn't even register at first that she was heavier than she should be.

Nadine got to her feet before being shoved to the side by a guest that was desperate to get outside. Chaos ensued and though nearly every bone in her body screamed at the woman to escape, she instead made her way towards the alter where Paisley's beautiful white dress could be seen on the floor, marred by crimson. She needed find Penny. She needed to find Piper. She needed help in any way she could. "I'm a doctor, move out of the way, move!"

Jack: Jack heard Nadine calling and headed for her. "She got hit, she's hurt. I can't - you can help her, right?"

Violet untangled one arm from Sofia to take Mia by the hand, "We're leaving." With that, she led the two women from the building.

Sebastian stood next to his uncle and his mother's cousin. His sister was hurt. How did this happen? He had not uttered a word since it had happened, he couldn't believe it.

Chanel had found her purse and then was ushered by Kai back to Benjamin. She didn't know what else to do as she watched the chaos erupt around her. Who would do this?

Nadine "I'll do what I can, but I need to get to her." She said, pulling up the skirt of her dress, and covering her mouth as smoke began to fill the chapel. "Where is she?"

Kieran glanced up at the roof. The fire was getting more and more out of control. He heard the roof start to crack. He grabbed Cici's hand and tugged her rather roughly out of the danger zone. He sprinted towards the door, not letting go of Cici's hand no matter what.

Leon sighed when it became clear that Luca was too far in shock - which was fair. Sighing he picked up his brother and dragged him out of the building until they were in a safe spot away from everything. He wasn't going to move away from him, instead he kneeled in front of his brother and just said, "I'm not going anywhere, okay? Don't need to talk, I'm just here."

Priya let out a shaky breath at Ezra's words. Her what ifs became a reality she could not deal with. The abyss was here.

Jack: Jack realized Nadine couldn't see more than half a foot in front of her and came closer, cradling Paisley's body. "Here, here ... she's ... fuck, she's not moving. I don't know what to do."

Mia felt Vi's hand close around hers before she was pulled forward. Stumbling along with her sister and sister-in-law she could hardly think, this ringing noise still filling her ears. The cold air hit her like a ton of bricks, and suddenly the sounds came rushing back. "Who has Luca?" she asked Violet, ice filling her veins.

Paityn walks in and is like "wtf"

Ezra looked around while still holding onto Priya, sighing in relief when he saw that all his siblings had made it out. He knew something like would happen, why didn't his father listen to him?

Salma gathered her thoughts together and finally rushed out of the church.

Chanel screamed again as more fire began popping around her. She searched for an exit and started following the people that seemed to be making their way somewhere.

Luca struggled against Leon, not wanting to leave Paisley behind. He was still crying, frustrated tears streaming down his face. Before he knew it, they were outside and safe. The fresh air didn't help any - it still felt like he couldn't breathe.

Camila follows after Juliet and Benjamin, eyes blinking in irritation at the building. Her voice is flat, rising slightly with disbelief as they navigate the chaos to the outside of the church. "Was she dead. Like. Was she fucking dead?""

Mia eyes scanned the crowd, her heart slowing a little as one by one she could count heads of her siblings, cousins and friends as well as Priya. But where was her date? Biting down on her bottom lip Mia debated going back in. "Do you see Sebastian anywhere Vi? He got out right?"

Paityn is stoned in the bathroom and knows nothing. Waiting for Uncle Jack to find her.

Violet let go of Sofia and Mia once they were outside, exhaling deeply as she took a moment to slow her nerves. In her line of work, it took a lot to shake her, but explosions erupting around her family sure as hell was enough to do it. "Leon's got him. Or had him. He has him somewhere." She began scanning the area, finally spotting Leon and Luca across the way, "Over there."

Jack: Jack held back as sob and just led Nadine out of the church, still holding Paisley. He took them both to his car. "Just - just take care of her, okay? I have to go back for the others. Please." Before he could second-guess abandoning his niece, he took off running back to the church.

Juliet shrugged, her breathing coming in short bursts. "I don't know. I-I don't know."

Violet blinked when Mia brought up Sebastian, her brow furrowing as she shrugged, "I... wasn't paying attention to the Sinclairs, honestly. I was just worried about you guys."

Camila studies the way Juliet's eyes seem to be roaming the exterior of the church, clearly searching. "Are you looking for—"

Leon wasn't going to try and make his brother talk, all that mattered at the moment was that he was alright. Looking up and scanning, he looked for the rest of his siblings, hoping that they all got out as he noticed Mia and Violet across the way.

Juliet nodded slowly. "Yeah I am. Sue me."

Priya manages to gain back some self control. "Where are they?" She pulls her body away from his but her hands still firmly holding onto him. "Where is Seb, Paityn, Shiloh, Pais-" her sister's name catches in her throat. "Shit. Where is everyone? Where the hell are they?!"

Chanel finally makes it out and then finally takes her phone out, dialing 911. Who knows if someone else had already done it, but if they had they definitely weren't here yet. And they needed them ASAP

Ezra hushed Priya, "stay here" he told her firmly I'm going to go see what's going on. He walked over to Mia, "hey where's Sebastian?"

Penny finds herself standing near the door of the church, watching everything happen but unable to function much more than breathing at this point.

Camila 's mouth twists in understanding. "I'm sure he's getting the rest of his family out. I'm sure he's alright."

Jack kicked in doors, screaming and coughing from the smoke. His head swam and he had to crouch low. He swore he'd seen everyone out except Paityn and Sebastian. Checking the mens room in case Sebastian was getting water to try and stop the blaze, he found Paityn in a stall. "Jesus fucking Christ!" Scooping her up he threw her over his shoulder and booked it, trying not to pass out from the smoke."

Juliet took Camila's hand and gave it a squeeze. "I know. I'll just feel better when I see him."

Mia chewed harder on her bottom lip. "Fuck.. he might still be in there.." Noticing Ezra coming over, Mia's guilt intensifies. "I.. I think he's still in there.." she scrambles with a certain anguish on her face.

Miles got the calls as they began to come rolling in from the public. Guests. The church. All of it. He had never rushed to a scene faster. Running up, Miles immediately froze seeing the scene unfolding in front of him. His eyes immediately fell on Penelope and he ran up to her, as other police officers began to run around. "Pen...what happened...?"

Chanel started explaining the situation to the emergency operator and then steps far away from the burning building, trying to make sure she wasn't too close, but also that whoever killed Paisley wasn't still around. And then the sirens started wailing.

Ezra eyes widened, "fuck, who else is still in there?" he asked, looking around to identify all the faces around them.

Violet took Mia by the arm again, doing her best to offer the most reassuring smile she could muster, "I'm sure his family made sure he got out alright. Look, let's go see Leon and Luca, okay? I'm sure Luca wants to know you're okay too."

Paityn was shocked getting carried by her uncle, but before she could question anything she was by her sister's side. "What the hell is going on?" she asked, completely confused.

Mia doesn't have to think it over, not really. Go back in for Sebastian or get over to Luca? Honestly, the choice was easy, branded into her very soul the day the twins had been born. "Come on." she murmurs to Violet and Sofia, holding onto Violet the best she could as they weave their way trough the crowd over to Luca and Leon.

Priya grabs hold of her sister and envelops her in a hug. "Thank god you are alright," she is holding on tight to her sister. "I-I" her voice is breaking, "Paisley has been shot. I think she's dead."

Chanel saw the police show up and ran to one of the available cop cars that started parking outside and decided she'd felt safest if she was by them.

Penny blinked at the man, barely registering who he was. "Someone- they shot her. My baby." Forget the explosions and fire. Her baby was laying in the back of someone's car unmoving.

Camila gives a ready squeeze back, eyes still smarting from the smoke. "We should— shit. Maybe move back. I still have no clue what's fucking going on." She shakes her head frantically, teeth clicking together in stress. "Maybe if we're away from the crowd you'll be able to see him come out easier."

Violet hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath while Mia decided what to do, and Violet waiting to see if she'd have to drag her away from the building. When Mia agreed to go to the boys, Violet let out her breath, leading the two over to Luca and Leon. Her eyes met Leon's when they reached each other, "He okay?"

Ezra excused himself, seeing that Priya was having a moment with her sister, he walked over to where his family had conjugated, "we're all good on our side right? Family, employees, friends the lot?" he asked Leon.

Paityn couldn't believe her ears. "What?" she asked. "Dead?" Paityn was too stoned for this. "I--" She didn't have any words. She the collapsed into Priya, unable to hold her own weight anymore. "What happened? How did it happen? Oh...my God...it was supposed to be--"

Juliet tugged at Camila's hand as she backed up slowly, eyes still scanning the crowd

Sofia was crumpled on the pavement when she saw the asian guy who was a sinclair or something at the door, looking dazed. "Fucking FUCK! This is ALL YOUR FAULT!" She wasn't sure why she was screaming at him, but she ran over, her feet burning as they touched the hot floor of the church, and pulled him out of the building back to her family. Violet looked at her and Sofia just sank back down next to Luca, now clutching the asian guy. "He's Mia's guy, okay? I had to go back for him."

Leon "He's in shock," Leon answered Violet, which was fair, glad to see everyone seemed to be there, "And I think we're good," he answered Ezra, "But my first priority was Luca."

Chanel starts flirting with one of the police officers

Violet gave Leon a nod, sinking down beside Luca to place a gentle hand on his shoulder, "Hey dude. You feeling okay? Breathing alright?"

Priya cradles her sister in her arms. Her hand is smoothing down her sister's hair, trying to offer her comfort. "Shhh. Pay, shhh." In this moment she forgot all about how she was feeling and focused entirely on her baby sister...her only sister. Priya wouldn't lie to her, she needed to know. They all needed to know what happened"There was a shot," she manages to steady her voice. "It hit her, Pay. It hit Paisley and then an explosion went off."

Nadine followed Jack out of the building, lungs screaming for fresh air. Her eyes watered from the smoke, running her make-up down her cheeks, and when they reached outside, Nadine sucked in the oxygen. Jack led them to his car before taking off back towards the church, and Nadine concentrated on the unconscious body of her cousin's daughter. There was blood, so much blood that it was clear to the woman that if she wasn't already dead, she would be in minutes. But when she placed her hand on the girl's neck, and there was no jump of a pulse, Nadine sighed. Paisley Sinclair was dead.

Luca felt a hand on his shoulder. Tears streaming down his face, he looked over at Violet. He winced a little. "She's fucking- she's fucking dead."

Miles 's face dropped as Penny mumbled out someone was dead. He turned quickly and scanned the chaotic crowd. Could he make out any of the girls? Finally he caught a glimpse of red hair, Priya. Paityn. He didn't see Paisley. Turning his attention back to Penny, he wrapped one of his arms around and shoulders and began to escort her away from the building, towards where her daughters were. "Penny, you gotta get away from the building in case debris starts flying...come stay by your girls. I'll find Morgan."

Kai found his way over to Leon, Ezra, Mia, and the lot of them, clamping a hand down on Leon and Ezra's shoulders when he reached them, "Holyyyy fuck, right?"

Sebastian looked around for his sisters, he had been yelled at by Sofia and managed to get out of the building. He couldn't handle himself but he needed to make sure the rest of his family was safe.

Benjamin looked over Camila and Juliet. "Are you both okay?" He glanced around, ensuring that no one else had fallen behind.

Mia drew close to Luca the second they came over, holding on tightly to her hand. In the meantime she hadn't noticed Sofia taking off, until she was back with Sebastian in tow. Its probably selfish, but she can't find it in her to give him more than a glance before her eyes returns to her little brother. "Just breathe." she murmurs, not sure if its helpful at all.

Violet nodded somberly, her expression twisting into one wrought with empathy. She gave him a small smile, shifting her weight to sit down next to him and pulling him into her side, "I know, sweetie." She planted a light kiss on his temple, running a hand through his hair.

Juliet shook her head. "No, not really."

Paityn was crying now; the tears didn't stop. All she could do was sob into her sister's shoulder. There wasn't anything else she could do.

Ezra Ezra stood there watching the chaos around him, he turned to Kai. "This was a hit, so who did." He said, clenching his fists.

Chanel decides to go home and walks the whole way because she is very confused and needs the air to clear her head.

Abel Costello looked at the bloodstan on his dress shirt, looking just a little annoyed that it had been ruined by the Sinclair girl's blood-- that prick Jasckson should've gotten there faster if he wanted to play hero to his dead niece. The consigliere looked around as he walked past the panicked guests and attendees, doing a headcount of the people that really mattered-- his family. The rest of Morgan's brood could burn for all he cared.

Leon "That's one way of putting it," he sighed as he turned toward Ezra and Kai, "And I really wish I knew. I know none of us liked this wedding, I don't know of anyone who was planning on doing this."

Jack lay on the pavement near Priya and Paityn. His skin screamed and his lungs burned and all he wanted to do was fall asleep, but he kept trying to get up. He had to find Piper. Finally an EMT put a mask on him and made a note that he needed to get to a hospital. "Possible lung damage. Idiot ran back into the building instead of waiting for the fire crew."

Ezra "i think it's safe to say, peace isn't coming to Chicago anytime soon," he said turning to face his brother.

Priya just held Paityn and soothed her. There wasn't else to be said. Nothing else she could say to bring her sister comfort except be her support. Even with her world crumbling around her she would hold it together for her sister. Paityn needed her. Her own collapse could wait.

Kai glances over at Luca, but sees the others have it handled, and gives them space for now. "Yeah, and it doesn't seem like they wanted anyone other than Paisley dead. The explosions weren't set up to kill. They were to distract... or... lead? Fuck if I know. They were just placed really shitty if they were going for death."

Penny let the man, who she was now aware of being Miles, lead her away from the building. There was a disconnect between her thoughts and her feet. Was this all just an awful dream? "Morgan. Find him. I can't lose him too." She looked up to see her remaining daughters holding each other up, ashamed that she wouldn't be able to help them.

Mia crouched down by Luca's side, holding onto him tightly. There is no words that can make up for what he's just gone trough, the shocking loss none of them can really comprehend.

Leon "And it sounds like they wanted the war," Leon added, "Which if that's what they want, then they can have it, I just want to know who the fuck did it."

Juliet felt her body relax as she finally caught sight of Leon with his siblings.

Sebastian managed to get over by Paityn and Priya. He was so far gone but he still wrapped an arm around both of his sisters.

Sofia: Everyone crouched around Luca but Sofia felt weirdly numb. She could hear Leon and Kai talking as if from miles away, but turned around. "Don't you dare start some bullshit war. Don't you - don't you -" she broke down sobbing and hugged Leon. "No one else can die, okay? Nobody."

Ezra "yeah that's the problem isn't? Both sides wanted this wedding called off. Both sides were unhappy with us cosing up to each other. It could have been anyone...unless we're seriously considering a third party getting involved."

Paityn was numb; she could feel her brother's presence next to her, but she didn't acknowledge it. She just opened her clutch and took out a cigarette. She couldn't light it, though. Her hands were too shaky. "Fuck," she whispered under her breath.

Priya Priya removed one of her arms from around Paityn and wrapped it around Sebastian's waist. She had them here. Seb and Paityn were okay, she could breathe but she couldn't. Her family was no longer whole.

Kai raised an eyebrow at Leon, "If anything, they wanted a war with the Sinclairs. Or to make them think we had a hand in it, so we're at war with each other."

Mia can hear the boys talking, already mentioning words like 'war' and 'third party'. Lifting her eyes to Ezra her brows are furrowed. "What do you mean 'third party?"

Kieran looked around, heart racing. With Cici safe outside, the severity of it all was starting to set in. The fucking Costellos had done this. He looked around, heart racing. "They fucking did this," he mumbled, voice low at first, laced with venom. He raised his voice this time. "They fucking did this! The Costellos fucking had her murdered." It was an emotional time and there was no stopping Kieran. He wanted to go after the first Costello that he saw.

Ezra "I mean someone's trying really hard to make it look like one of us did this. I mean we're all suspects right? We all wanted this NOT to happen. If someone was going to try and take the city from under us, now would be the perfect time while we're all too busy tearing each other apart."

Leon hugged Sofia, wishing that he was able to comfort her a little more as he held her tight, "My guess is someone's trying to frame us for this. Someone who hates the Sinclairs as much as we do or maybe just hates Paisley. But my guess is they want us to take the blame, because I don't think it was any of us."

Kai laid a hand gently on Sofia's back, "Hey, no one is gonna just rush into war for a Sinclair getting killed. Not unless we have to, right?" He turned his gaze toward Leon, then Ezra.

Abel Costello found Kieran O'Connell screaming his lungs out, putting the blame on the Costellos, without saying anything, he marched over and punched the man square in the face to shut him up.

Luca leaned in to Violet. It felt like he was a fucking little kid again. Weak, scared, helpless. Both families were divided - again. The damage done was beyond repair. A life had been taken. He was having a hard time focusing on anyone or anything. He was in fucking shot. He heard Kieran screaming. Luca sniffled, stood up from the ground. He heard Kieran yelling and the anger built in his chest. "We didn't fucking do this!" Luca yelled, practically hysterical.

Ezra turned to Leon, "it's already starting, we need to find who did this and fast before we have a blood bath on our hands."

Cici grabbed Kieran's arm, trying to shush him. "Kieran, stop. You don't...you don't know that..." Suddenly feeling like he was right, she felt an uncomfortable turn in her stomach. Suddenly Abel appeared and punched Kieran and Cici glared, shoving Abel with all her strength. "FUCK OFF!"

Kai became distracted by the shouting lunatic on the Sinclair side, turning just in time to see Abel running over and punching him in the face. "Well, shit." He rushed over to them, making sure one of the Sinclairs didn't try to sneak up and sucker punch his cousin.

Priya while holding onto both of her siblings she searched the crowd for any sign of the rest of her family. She caught sight of Jack on the ground, an oxygen mask over his face. He was alive, that is 3 out 9 accounted for.

Leon "I know. So find out who's not here, who didn't show, who's been more vocal against this, so we can rule our people out. And then we'll have to go from there. Got it?"

Violet was about to address Ezra when Luca stood up, yelling in the direction of the screaming Sinclair. She leapt to her feet, frowning at the scene, "Luca..." She turned her gaze to Leon and Ezra, "We need to get him out of here. We need to make sure this doesn't turn into more bloodshed. And now."

Camila clenches her jaw a little tighter, her free hand smoothing anxiously at the fabric of her dress. Juliet's eyes seem to track something— Leon. Safe. As much as any of them are. She knocks her shoulder gently into the other girl's. "See?" At Benjamin's question, she can only shake her head in a show of built-up tension. "I have no fucking idea." A beat, the sound of shouting, bedlam. "Is anyone else ... dead?"

Ezra nodded, "noted, I'll start putting out feelers among our inner circle, we'll smoke out who did this."

Sofia: Sofia heard Luca shouting and was immediately back at his side. Her feet were raw by now, but she couldn't even feel it. Her dress was ripped and torn, though there really wasn't much that was showing now that hadn't been before. She put his arm around her shoulders and her arm around his waist, so they looked like the world's oddest siamese twins, and prepared to hit anyone who tried to turn this around and come for her twin.

Priya Priya realized in that moment that Paisley was accounted for. She would be counted amongst the dead.

Abel Costello Abel raised his fist instinctively, ready to hit whoever had shoved him but when he saw that it was Cecila, he stopped. He lowered his hand and glared. "He needs to shut up."

Paityn finally got her cigarette lit. Seemed out of place, given the smoke and the flames. She stood and stepped away to smoke, ignoring all the yelling and fighting. All she wanted was to forget. Mute the world and forget that her sister was shot standing in her place.

Mia tightened her grip on Luca's hand, getting to her feet and cursing under her breath. "We all know we didn't do shit. Besides, we were all there in the pews.." She argued, with no one in particular. Looking from Violet, to Luca, to her brothers and back. "Do you have your car Vi?"

Nadine With nothing more she could do, Nadine draped the skirt of Paisley's wedding dress over her face and closed the car door. She needed to find Penny. The woman wandered through the crowd of attendees and first responders looking for that familiar shock of red hair, and when she finally found the mother of the bride, Nadine made her way towards her, stealing herself as she had so many times before, when she had to tell a parent their child was dead. "Penny," she called softly as she drew near, and though she hadn't seen her cousin in years, Nadine opened her arms and wrapped the woman in a hug.

Cici glared at Abel, lowering her voice. "We're the ones with one dead, not you. That's Sinclair blood on everyone's hands. You need to shut up and fuck off."

Kieran barely had any time to register what Cici was saying before he felt a fist against his face. Kieran stumbled backward just as he saw Cici shove Abel back. "There's no trusting you fucking people," Kieran spat, lunging towards Abel. "This was supposed to be a good thing - I'm going to fucking kill every last one of you!" Kieran didn't do things without orders, but he was sure that the Costellos played a part in this. Kieran shoved Abel with great force before Kieran's own fist met the side of Abel's jaw.

Leon nodded back at Ezra before he started looking around at the crowd, "Good. I'm going to check and make sure the rest of our people are okay, and see if there's anything else that I can do."

Violet nodded at Mia, "Yeah. You wanna get your brother? And Sof?" Violet approached Ezra and Leon, instinctively taking Leon by the arm to turn him toward her, "You. You okay?" She shut her eyes, shaking her head as the realization that he might snap on her came to mind, "Humor me? There was bullets and explosions and your one eye kinda looks like shit."

Penny blinked back tears as her cousin suddenly appeared, pulling her into her embrace. "Who would- That is my baby. Why would someone do this?" Her brain was racing, unable to focus on any one thing at a time. "She can't be gone. This can't happen again."

Ezra turned to Mia, "you going to be okay if I go check on Priya and meet you guys at your place?" he asked his sister.

Abel Costello shoved Cecilia aside, not wasting his breath on the girl, but it was while she had been admonishing him that Kieran decided to hit him back. He stumbled backward, fist colliding with the side of his face and Abel steadied his footing before lunging at the Kieran and sending them both falling to the ground. He began to pummel the Sinclair scum.

Priya was no longer holding onto both of her siblings anymore. Her head turned at the sound of shouts not that far off. She let go of her brother, heading straight towards the commotion. Everyone was fighting. FIGHTING. "Stop it!" She yelled at everyone who was in attendance. She was sure none of them had ever heard or seen her temper flare. "MY SISTER IS DEAD!" She bellowed. "WILL ALL OF YOU STOP ACTING LIKE CHILDREN AND PULL YOURSELVES TOGETHER."

Paityn hated seeing her mother break down and Priya explode. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temple. She texted Julius. I want to leave. Now. Paityn just hoped her driver would be quick.

Nadine Nadine didn't say anything, there was nothing to say. She didn't have answers, and she didn't think anything she would say would be more than just noise to Penny. So she held her instead, smoothing a hand over her hair as hot tears stung her eyes before falling down her cheeks.

Violet 's head shook in mild shock as Leon brushed her off and headed toward... of course. The escort girl. The escort girl who was embracing him, right in front of her, and everyone else. Violet's clamped her teeth together, jaw throbbing in anger. She almost didn't notice Mia back at her side, and with Sofia, "Where the fuck is Luca?" She snapped, squeezing her eyes shut again as she forced forward a smile, "Sorry."

Miles heard the commotion going on between Cici, Kieran, and Abel and he sighed, running a hand over his face. "I'm too fucking old for this..." He mumbled as he marched over to the three.

Priya looked over at Ezra, her hands balled into fists over the sight of Kieran and Abel beating the shit out of each other. "I need them to stop fighting," Priya says to him before turnign her attention back to the boys, "Kieran," she snapped at him with more bite than she had thought possible. "Stop this now. Or so help me I will get in there myself and ALL of you can explain why another Sinclair daughter got hurt."

Leon wrapped his arms tightly around Juliet, relieved that she seemed to be alright. Instinctively he kissed the top of her head, before looking her over, slowly leading her towards where Benjamin and Camila were both standing. "Are you all alright?" he asked the three of them.

Ezra sighed, "for god sake Abel, we have bigger fish to fry get a hold of your fucking self," he shouted, holding Priya closed to him.

Mia reached out to sqqueze Violets arm. "Luca is right here. Sof has him." she cautioned, contributing Violets burts of anger to the fact that Juliet had just made an appearance. "You okay Sof? Do you need help?" she asked her sister. "We're going to mine and Leon's apartment, okay? Luca, can you hear me? We have to go now."

Paityn rolled her eyes at her phone. Julius responded. Stuck in traffic, Pait. Might be a bit. Paityn put out her cigarette and walked up to Priya and Ezra. Tears were still falling down her cheeks, but her voice was monotone as she spoke. "Julius is stuck in traffic. I want to go home."

Juliet held on to Leon, blinking back tears as her body started to shake. This was supposed to fix things, not make them worse. Why couldn't the scandal of their relationship have continued to be the biggest problem they had to face?

Kieran was on the floor with Abel before he knew it. The blows that he delivered didn't hurt - mainly because of all the adrenaline pumping through his body. He knew that, as soon as the fight ended, he would be hurting miserably. All of the hatred that Kieran had felt for the Costellos had resurfaced the minute that he saw Paisley's body fall in to Luca's arms. They had done this and, Kieran being so enraged - felt like it was only appropriate to take one of their own. He managed to squirm his way out of Abel's grip and, within seconds, had his weapon upholstered. He aimed it at Abel's head.

Priya shouted at Kieran, "Kieran! Don't do it! Put that away. NOW."

Violet took Luca by the hand, ignoring Mia's squeeze and the whole Leon and Juliet scene. "Luca. Sweetie," she cooed, trying to get his attention without aggravating him further, "We need to leave. Get you checked out, okay?"

Sofia just held onto Luca. Everything would be okay as long as she and Luca were together. She was shivering uncontrollably, her hair was covered in soot, and her dress and face had her brother's dead wife's blood all over it. She didn't let go of her brother, and didn't even notice that people were talking to her. She said nothing to him. There weren't really words anyway. He was there, her fingers pressed into his side in a death grip that would probably leave bruises. "I lost my shoes." Looking at her now cut-up feet, she giggled and shoved a hand in her mouth. Following Vi without saying anything else.

Priya turned towards her sister and wrapped her arms around her. As quickly as her voice took on rage it softened when she held her sister close. "I'll get you home, Paityn."

Camila watches as the two embrace, exchange assurances. There's more yelling. Screaming. She can't be sure what, exactly, is fucking happening. But something is escalated. "Oh. We're fine." She glances up at Benjamin, who seems, at least, to be alright. "But I have like, no fucking clue what's going on over there. It sounds like someone else is gonna get it."

Abel Costello had done his share of waiting but he was no saint and to have Kieran O'Connell in his reach made him short-sighted. That first punch was a result, the consigliere losing his cool as the two began to fight amidst the death of a Sinclair child and a burning church. His father would be ashamed of him, letting some piece of shit errand boy get to him like that. And then Kieran managed to wrestle free, hand reached inside his coat pocket; Abel then staggered backwards and reached for his own gun and pointed it at the other man. Fuck patience. He was going to kill Kieran O'Connell right now.

Leon "I'm not going to let anything happen to you, I promise," Leon said to Juliet, nodding at Camila, "My cousins should have it under control, but you should probably get out of here, I can't promise that it's going to be safe."

Paityn 's eyes were dead, looking between Abel and Kieran. She turned to Priya, "I guess we should make sure no one else get's shot before we go."

Juliet sniffled and wiped at her eyes before looking up at Leon. "Can I crash at your place tonight? I really don'r want to be alone right now."

Priya looked to Ezra her hand reaching out to take his'. Now she understood while her mother got migraines.

Leon "Yeah of course," he nodded at her, "it's going to be okay," he said, wishing that he could promise that his words were true.

Benjamin followed Camila's gaze, watching as Kieran and Abel had their guns drawn on each other. He had a sick feeling in his stomach. He didn't understand why people were still around. "It's probably best if we all get out of here," Ben said to Camila. He eyed Juliet, who seemed to be safe with the Costello family. "I don't have a good feeling about any of this."

Ezra "you going to take your sister home?" he asked, still reeling from the events that had just happened.

Penny stood holding her cousin who was able to cry but all she could do was sob. Who could have done something like this? Penny knew one thing. Whoever did this was going to pay in blood.

Miles cringed as both men pulled their guns out. "You two idiots aren't even LISTENING!" Losing his temper, Miles let out a whistle as another officer ran over. "You two should fucking know better than this, now, c'mon." Grabbing Kieran's arm that was holding the gun, he grabbed the gun out of his hand and tossed it away from them. Pulling out the cuffs on his belt, he started to place them on his wrists. "We'll get ya bailed out in the morning, kid." Miles mumbled to Kieran. As the other officer followed the same protocol with Abel, Miles looked around at everyone staring waiting for something to happen. "A girl is dead!" He yelled, his voice cracking slightly. "Go the fuck home, no one else needs to die today."

Paityn flinched when Miles said a girl is dead. That girl was her sister. Her sister was dead. It's my fault. It should've been me.

Priya "Yes," Priya replies to him. Her sister needed to be as far away from here as possible. Where the fuck was Sebastian. Where was her dad? Where was anyone who could stop what was about to happen because she surely could not. "I need to get her out of here. I came with you-" No, she would not be letting that pain sink in. Not now. "Can you get us out of here?" she ask Ezra

Ezra nodded, "get your sister, and brother and let's get the fuck out of here before we're caught in the middle of this toxic masculinity bullshit."

Camila taps a nail idly against her leg, trying to expel her nervous energy somehow. Juliet would be leaving with Leon, it would seem. Well. At least that would be safe. She shrugs. "Yeah. Me fucking neither." She glances down at her phone, taps busily at the screen. "You think uber picks up here?"

Kai goes to bail out Abel and take care of his bro bro.

Violet leaves with Luca, Sofia, and Mia, drops them off at home, and goes to do some other shit.

Ezra could tell things were about to get bad with the cops. He went, got his car, and pulled up out front where he'd agreed to meet Priya with presumably her siblings.

Priya grabbed Paityn by the hand and made their way over to Sebastian. "Seb, we need to get out of here. Now." she shakes his shoulder with her free hand before grabbing hold of his hand. One way or another she was dragging them all out of her.

Benjamin wasn't about to let anyone Uber home after the shit storm that had happened. "I'll get you home, Cam." He sighed, glancing around. Ben knew that he wouldn't be able to rest that night until he knew that everyone was safe.

#event: the wedding #parabellumevent #recap #09/07

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write-havoc · 5 years ago

Text

Of Sons and Daughters Ch 13

Summary: Arthur is tasked by Dutch to watch over a young woman who had just lost the last member of her family she had left. That young woman just so happens to be the daughter that Dutch told no one else about.

This is a non canon AU with no major spoilers

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character

Status: Ongoing

Contains: swearing, PG 13 smut

Intended for readers 18+ of age only

Masterlist in my bio

It’s been a while since I’ve actually sat down to write, I guess. Things have been real quiet after all that mess we cooked up in Saint Denis at Colm’s execution. But quiet don’t mean I ain’t been busy. Especially since things have been a little harder since we still been laying low.

Me and Charles have been hunting quite a lot. Even convinced Marston to join us a few times. Don’t think that boy’s properly hunted in a long time, but he picked it back up real quick. There’s a bunch of wild hogs living around Shady Belle, so the eating’s pretty good. The pelts are plenty useful (and valuable), too. Plus, Emmeline and Hosea have been fishing, since we’re right by the water. They both got a knack for it, so everyone’s bellies have been kept fairly full even without us buying food from the store.

Those of us who’s more recognizable have had to stay out of the city, so the girls have stepped up to make us some cash to buy other things like ammo and medicine. All of them are mighty good at pickpocketing. And Karen and Mary Beth have some con devised to relieve gullible men of their money. Something about being poor widows looking for work, I guess. It’s working out, anyway, and they insist it’s all safe. Lenny and Kieran usually back them up just in case something would go wrong. It don’t bring in as much money as we’re used to, but we’re making do.

Emmeline tells me that when I’m not here, she’s been spending a lot time with Dutch. She’s happy to get to know him and he seems happy to make up for lost time with her. I guess he’s been telling all kinds of stories, trying to educate her on the evils of society like he has with all the rest of us. That’s what she tells me anyway. I haven’t really talked to him much actually. When I see him with everyone else, he seems like the old Dutch, like how he was before Micah came. Before Blackwater. But he still seems a little different with me. He don’t talk to me the same way, not exactly. I can’t really describe it, but he just seems a little off. And I ain’t so sure I like him talking to Emmeline so much.

Just the other day, I came back into camp and found Dutch and Emma sitting on the back porch overlooking the swamp. Neither of them knew I was there listening in, which I guess ain’t such a nice thing on my part. Still, I didn’t say I was there and just listened. He was telling her a story about something that happened years ago. I had run across this church that raised a ton of money from its parishioners to build this orphanage in the next town over. Something about it just didn’t seem right, so I dug into it. And I was right. It turned out, there was no plans for any such orphanage at all. The preacher was just raising money for himself so he could gamble it away or spend it on whores. So me and Hosea came up with a plan to steal all that money and dropped it off at the nearest actual orphanage. Strung that bastard up in his own church, too, so his followers could see him for the scoundrel he was. Now that’s what actually happened. But that’s not what Dutch told Emma. He told her he was the one that found the church. He thought there was something going on. He came up with the plan all by himself and he did it all. He didn’t even mention me or Hosea.

Emma, she thought the story was amazing, completely enthralled with Dutch’s knack for the dramatic. And the way she looked at him, like he was some kind of folk hero... I froze. I couldn’t jump out and tell her he was lying, as much as I wanted to know why he did it. I couldn’t break her heart like that, knowing that her father was lying to her right to her face.

But the thing is, Dutch has plenty of stories like that he could tell about himself. That’s practically all he and Hosea did when they was starting out. They was known as “gentleman scoundrels” for years because of it. They’d rob banks and trains, but never took from those who looked like they was poor. They even gave a bunch of the money they took away. It wasn’t until we started picking up more people that things really changed. Money got tight having to feed more of us, so we stopped giving it away. But I’m just wondering, why’d he take my story? Out of everything, why’d he choose to leave me out of my own story that he decided to tell Emma? I can’t quite figure out what he’s thinking. And that’s making me even more anxious for the day that I’ll have to tell Dutch Emmeline’s with child. I guess because I ain’t quite sure how he’s going to act. And it won’t be too much longer before we’re going to have to tell him and everyone else.

Emma’s belly has started to swell. You can’t tell much when she’s clothed, but when we’re in bed alone together, I can see it. Sometimes if she falls asleep before me, I just look at her and see how much the baby’s grown already. It’s amazing and beautiful and terrifying all at the same time. I know this baby is coming and when it does, I’m going to have to be a father. I don’t rightly know what I’m doing in that regard.

What if I’m like my own father? I don’t want that. Not at all. He weren’t a good father. Will I be like Dutch? Or Hosea? Or even John? I’m not sure if I want any of that, either. I guess John’s doing better now, but he ran away scared at first. And I suppose Dutch and Hosea taught me a lot and they didn’t raise their hands to me or nothing, so that ain’t too bad. But I don’t want to raise a child on the run. I don’t want to teach my son how to beat people or my daughter how to pickpocket. Or sell herself, god forbid. I don’t want my children worrying that if they don’t lie well enough to con some poor sap out of their money that we won’t have the means to eat. I don’t want them to think some lawman is going to come and take their daddy away and hang him in the town square.

I don’t want none of that.

“Arthur?” Emmeline’s voice draws him out of his thoughts.

He closes his journal swiftly and looks up to her. “Everything alright?” he asks as she approaches him.

Before she says anything, she takes a seat next to him on the ground. Though the air is hot and muggy, Arthur’s spot is nicely shaded from the large trees standing tall above them. He had seen the little clearing while hunting in the woods just outside of Shady Belle and thought it would be a nice place to get away from camp life without actually traveling too far.

“Everything’s fine,” she answers his question after situating herself.

“What are you doin’ out here? You shouldn’t wander too far from everyone.”

Emmeline laughs at Arthur’s overprotective nature. “It’s not that far from camp. I could practically see you the whole way over here.” She stretches her legs out in front of her and leans back on the fallen tree behind her to get more comfortable. “Are you alright out here?”

He looks over to her. “Course I am.” He puts his arm around her shoulder and pulls her into him. He isn’t usually so forward, but since they are away from prying eyes, he indulges in the contact. “Just wanted a little peace and quiet.”

“Oh. If you want me to go, I can-“

“Nah. I like havin’ you wit’ me. When I came back from hunting, I went to find you. I saw you readin’ with Abigail and thought that I didn’t want to interrupt while you was busy.”

“Oh, yeah. She’s doing really well with it. When she went off to get Jack something to eat, I went looking for you, actually.” She giggles at their shared behavior. “Sean told me you walked off this way after you came in, so I followed. I knew you didn’t go too far since you left Sparrow behind.”

“Hadn’t written in my journal in a while. I thought it’d be nice and relaxing to do it out here.”

“Were you drawing something?”

“Didn’t get that far, honestly. But since you’re here, mind bein’ my model?” he asks with a mischievous smile.

She laughs. “I’d be honored.” She fluffs up the hair around her shoulders to try to make it a little more presentable in its half up do, then changes positions so she’s resting her right arm on the log with her legs bent underneath her.

Arthur moves as well, finding a spot across from Emmeline to draw her in profile. Before he starts drawing, he leans back over toward her to smooth her skirt out around her legs, making it look better. “Now stay still.” He puts the pencil to the page, starting to roughly sketch the pose as she sits before him.

She’s never officially posed for anything before, but from pictures and illustrations that she’s seen, she figures a somber expression is what she should be portraying. After a few minutes of posing, though, she finds that the more serious she tries to look, the harder it is to suppress her giggles.

“You ain’t holding still that well,” Arthur comments as he flicks his eyes between the page and Emmeline, continuing to sketch. Though he’s acting all business on the outside, he’s trying hard to keep his composure as well.

“I can’t help it!” she says between giggles, her whole body shaking with the motion. “Nothing’s even funny, but I can’t stop laughing!”

It seems to be contagious as Arthur breaks out in a smile, though he’s still busy sketching. “It’s alright. I’m almost finished anyway.” It takes a few more minutes for him to put the finishing touches on his masterpiece. Once he deems it finished, he stands up and goes back over to her.

“Let me see it,” she requests impatiently, making grabby hands at him before he even gets to her.

He sits down beside her then finally hands the book over. “Whatcha think?”

She laughs at first as soon as she looks at the page. The picture isn’t anything like what she thought it would be. Instead of the careful pose that she had thought would look best (and failed to do), Arthur had chosen to capture the way she looked trying not to laugh. Her shoulders are hunched slightly, one hand trying to cover her smiling mouth and the other is laying across her stomach. “Is that really what I looked like?”

“As best as I could get it,” he replies gently. “I like the way you look when you laugh.”

She smiles up at him. “Really?”

He tucks a lock of her hair that had fallen out of its pin behind her ear. “Yeah.”

She leans forward to kiss him, though the smile never leaves her lips. When she pulls back, she looks down at the journal still in her hands. “How many pictures of me do you got in this thing?” she asks teasingly as she hold the leather bound book up.

Arthur’s cheeks redden before he can answer. “A few.”

“Can I see them? I remember asking once before and you told me you would at some point. But you never have,” she remarks, continuing her teasing tone.

He clears his throat nervously. “Uh. Sure.” Taking the book from her, he flips through a few pages to find one of his better drawings. “Here’s one.”

Instead of taking the book from him, she leans over him, practically laying her head on his shoulder. The drawing depicts her sitting at the small desk in their room as she writes in her own book. She’s only in her nightgown, so she figures Arthur must have drawn it early one morning.

“I like it,” she comments cheerily. “Though you could’ve asked me to brush my hair first,” she jokes, referring to her rather bushy looking tresses.

He flips through more pages quickly, trying to find another good one. In the process, he skips over one that he’s a little embarrassed about, hoping that Emmeline wouldn’t notice it. Despite his speed, she catches a glimpse of it and sets her hand over his, stopping his motion.

“What was that one?”

“Weren’t nothin’.” He tries to flip though more pages, but Emmeline’s hand doesn’t budge.

“Arthur.” She looks over to him and he relents, allowing her to flip back a few pages to see what caught her eye.

Emmeline can tell the picture is definitely of her, seeing as she can see a lot of herself. She’s laying down on her side in their shared bed in Shady Belle, a thin blanket draped over her hips, only partly covering her lower half. Her torso is completely bare, with both her hands tucked underneath her cheek. Her hair is loose and unkempt, though there is an ethereal quality to it. The prominent shadows on her body indicate that Arthur had more than likely drawn the picture by lantern light late at night and it was probably quite recently.

She looks over to him, but he’s looking away, obviously embarrassed that he was caught with the risqué drawing.

“Arthur,” she repeats, trying to get him to look at her.

“I’m sorry, Emmeline,” he responds, still not looking up. “You just looked so- I don’t usually draw things like this,” he stutters out, obviously flustered.

She takes his chin in her hands and pulls his face up to finally look at her. When he sees her softly smiling face, he’s a little confused.

He blinks a few times before saying anything. “You ain’t mad at me? For drawin’ ya like that?”

“No, Arthur. I like the way you draw me. And I like the way you see me. It makes me feel wanted. Loved.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Besides, if I didn’t want you to see me disrobed, I wouldn’t do it in front of you.”

He smiles bashfully as his cheeks redden more. “I suppose that’s good to know.”

“However...” she takes the journal out of his hands, “I think it’s only fair that I get to draw you, too.” She opens it to a blank page and pulls the pencil from the binding, ready to start drawing.

Arthur shakes his head. “You don’t wanna put my ugly face on the page.”

“You ain’t ugly, Mr. Morgan ,” she asserts with a smile. “How any times do I have to tell you that?”

“I don’t know.” He looks at her with a sheepish smile. “A few more times wouldn’t hurt.”

As they continue to look at each other, she finds it hard to think anyone would ever call him ugly, let alone himself. To her, he’s the most handsome man she’s ever seen and she can’t fathom there’s a better looking one out there.

She leans forward to give him a sweet kiss. “If there was a set of them cigarette cards for handsome men, you’d be number one.”

He throws his head back and laughs heartily, thinking the sentiment funny. When he looks back down, he’s ready to refute her claim, but she’s quick to shut him up with another kiss. This time, it doesn’t stay a sweet peck on this lips. The privacy of where they are spurs them both on to deepen the kiss, but both of them are unaware that someone is approaching.

“Ahem,” the unmistakable voice of Dutch Van Der Linde calls out from behind them.

Both Emmeline and Arthur back away from each other quickly and turn their heads to the older man.

“Hello, Dutch,” Emmeline calls out, hoping to get past the awkwardness of the situation. “Do you need something?”

“Arthur,” Dutch answers with a wave of his hand. “Come with me. I think we got a job.”

Arthur stands without a moment’s hesitation, then helps Emmeline to her feet. “Sure. What is it?”

Dutch quirks his head in the direction of the house. “We’ll discuss it back at camp.”

As the three of them walk back, Arthur can’t help but be excited. Even though he’s been more than happy to settle down a bit and get away from the outlaw jobs, there’s that part of him perking up that Dutch is asking him for help again. He’s actually more excited about the prospect of Dutch counting on him than doing whatever job he has lined up. Despite everything that’s happened over the last few months, Arthur can’t change the fact that there’s still a deep seeded need to have Dutch’s approval. That hasn’t changed since he was in his teen years. It’s what has made him such a good gunslinger, brawler, and rider. All those years wanting to hear “Good job, son” from Dutch have shaped the man he is today.

As the men continue on to the house, they part ways with Emmeline as she heads to the tents to help Tilly with the laundry. Once the men turn into what was the dining room, Arthur sees Lenny sitting at the old wooden table, apparently waiting for them to arrive.

Dutch holds his arm out to Lenny. “Our boy here has come to us with what has the potential to be a big score,” he explains enthusiastically. “It’ll be enough to finally get us out of here,” he adds wistfully.

Arthur doesn’t take a seat, but rather leans his shoulder on the nearby archway, facing Lenny. “So what’s this job?”

Lenny clears his throat and leans forward on the table before starting. “I was in Saint Denis waiting for the girls when I overheard some of the cops talking. One of them said he was being moved to patrol near the bank because they just moved a bunch of money from all over the state and stored it in the vault. He said they’re trying to keep it quiet so far, since they‘re waiting to get some military men in to guard it. Right now, there’s just a few extra policemen walking the street.”

Arthur listens to the young man eagerly at first, but the more he says, the more suspicious Arthur gets.

“See?” Dutch jumps in once Lenny has finished. “It’s an easy job. A bunch of money laid out for the taking,” he says gleefully. “It’s the perfect score .”

Arthur finally pushes himself off the wall and walks closer to the table. “I don’t know, Dutch. It seems real risky.”

“There’s no risk if we hit it soon, before they call in reinforcements,” Dutch explains pointedly. He had hoped that Arthur would fall in line on this without question like he used to.

Arthur shakes his head, looking away from the leader. “Don’t it seem too easy? Too perfect?” He shakes his head. “And I remember more ‘n once Hosea tellin’ me the perfect score don’t exist.”

Dutch can’t hold back the look of disdain in his face. “That was when you was young and dumb, coming to us with jobs you’d need twenty men to pull off!” He lets out a huff, then wipes his hand down his face to calm himself. “This ain’t like that. We’ve caught the law unawares before. They can make mistakes.”

“I know they can, but this just seems too convenient, Dutch,” Arthur asserts. “Not too long ago, Sean and Bill overheard a rumor about them taking all the money out of the Saint Denis bank in a train. They wanted to hit it, but I said no. It seemed like a setup to me. Like the Pinkertons was layin’ a trap just for us. Now we overhear that all kinds of money is just sitting in the bank with no one guarding it?” He lets out a huff. “Don’t that seem like an awful big coincidence? Like, we didn’t take the bait the first time so they’re tryin’ again?”

Dutch glares at Arthur for a moment before he turns to Lenny. “Will you give us a moment?”

Lenny looks between the two men before standing from his chair. “Sure, Dutch,” he replies, a little confused before heading to the door.

Once he leaves, Dutch turns back to Arthur. “When exactly did this happen?”

“What?” Arthur asks, not sure why that’s really important.

“When did Sean and Bill come to you with that job?” Dutch almost growls out.

“When you was...” he trails off, not knowing what to really say.

“When I was what ?” Dutch presses.

“It was right after we got here. You wasn’t yourself, Dutch.” He can see the rage start to build behind the older man’s eyes. “I didn’t wanna bother you with it so I told them to back off from it.” When Dutch’s face seems to drop more, Arthur adds, “Look, that ain’t important. What’s important is us not fallin’ for this trap.”

“You think you know better than me, Arthur? What’s wrong with you?”

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with me.”

“Then where’s your faith in me?”

“I got faith in ya, Dutch. I just don’t wanna get killed.”

Dutch lets out a huff, but he tries to steady himself. “We’ll be fine . We always are,” he tries to convince the younger man.

Arthur shakes his head. “There just too much to risk.”

“What are you talking about?! We ain’t got nothing ! Food in our bellies, but that’s it . And that won’t last! Especially if we have to winter here.” He goes over to Arthur and lays both hands on his shoulders. “We should have more . We could have more with this score.”

Arthur shakes his head again. “I can’t...”

“Why not? You’ve never had a problem before. You were always the one I could count on,” he tries to persuade, thinking he has Arthur on the hook.

“It ain’t...” He lets out a heavy breath, his mind conflicted.

Dutch thinks he has him, though. Arthur never was too hard to convince. Sure, there were maybe a few times that the younger man had some doubts, but Dutch always knew what to say to get him on board with whatever he wanted. He figures he only has to say a few more words before Arthur jumps on board. “Come on, son.” He pats him on the cheek. “Once we got the money to get out of this godforsaken place, it’ll be like old times again. But in Tahiti . We’ll make a new life there. A better one. But we need this money for that to happen. It’s the only way, Arthur.”

Arthur stares at the man for a moment, thinking it all over. He could easily say yes, like he’s done a thousand times before. Dutch was always much smarter than him. He always led the gang straight before. Without Micah around, that is. And Micah isn’t here, so maybe Dutch really does know better. But Arthur can’t seem to ignore the feeling of dread in his chest.

Dutch sees the wheels turn behind Arthur’s eyes. Just as he’s is sure that Arthur is going to relent, the younger man says, “I’m gonna be a father, Dutch.”

Dutch instantly takes his hands off of him and takes a step back.

Arthur continues despite Dutch’s reaction. “Emmeline... We’re gonna have a baby. And I don’t wanna get myself killed. I never cared much about it before; I never mattered. But I can’t leave her alone with a baby on the way. I can’t Dutch. I can’t take that risk. This job... it could lead to the rope. Easily.”

Dutch takes another step back but doesn’t say anything.

Arthur still continues. “I ain’t really sure what we should do for money, but I know robbin’ the bank in Saint Denis ain’t how we should do it. Even if it ain’t a trap, they gonna know it was us after and the Pinkertons will be right on our tail. We’d hafta move again. And I don’t know where-“

Dutch suddenly lurches forward and swings at Arthur with all his might, punching him hard in the temple. It easily sends the younger man to the floor. Dazed, Arthur can’t even try to stand up before Dutch heaves him off the floor by the back of his collar and drags him to the front door.

“What are you-“ is all Arthur gets out before he’s thrown off the front porch and onto the ground outside the house, catching everyone’s attention.

“Arthur,” Dutch calls out to the gathering people, “has decided to leave us!”

“What?!” Arthur groans as he tries to right himself. He’s only vaguely aware of the gasps and murmurs of the rest of the gang around him.

“He will be leaving immediately!” Dutch further explains. “He doesn’t want to be a part of our family anymore!”

Everyone looks on in confusion, including Arthur.

“I never said that!” he tries, but Dutch yells over him.

“He thinks he’s better than us!”

As soon as Emmeline rounds the house and comes upon the scene, she rushes over to Arthur, seeing that he’s unsteady in his feet as he’s still feeling the effects of the powerful blow to the head that Dutch delivered. “What’s going on?” she calls out once she reaches him.

Before Arthur can answer, Dutch does. “Emmeline, come here.”

She doesn’t move from Arthur as she examines the blooming bruise on his cheekbone. “Are you alright?”

“Emmeline!” Dutch tries again. This time he’s successful in getting her to look at him. “Come here.”

She looks away from him and back to Arthur, her worry for the man outweighing everything else. “Are you alright?”

“Listen to your father!” Dutch booms and everyone’s eyes snap to him. “Say goodbye, darling,” he says more sweetly. “Arthur’s leaving.”

“What? No. If he leaves, I’m leaving, too,” she announces defiantly.

Without hesitation, Dutch lunges forward and grabs Emmeline’s arm, harshly pulling her over to him. “I said come here!”

Arthur retaliates automatically, throwing his own fist into Dutch’s nose. It sends the older man reeling, but he doesn’t fall to the ground. Before Arthur can wind up again, Dutch pulls the pistol from his holster and points it right at Arthur’s head.

Everyone, including Arthur is frozen in shock. He’s had a lot of guns pointed at his head, but none of them were being held by someone he thought he could trust with his life.

“You gonna shoot me , Dutch?” Arthur almost whispers. “After everything I’ve done for you?”

“Leave,” Dutch spits back. “I don’t ever want to see you again.”

When Arthur doesn’t move to leave, Dutch tenses minutely. Before he can do anything he might regret, Hosea finally steps between the two men, in front of the gun, though he’s facing Arthur.

“You need to leave,” he says calmly to the younger man, knowing that the situation will only escalate if Dutch and Arthur remain in the same place. “Take Emmeline with you.”

Dutch doesn’t object, but rather, holsters his gun and turns away to start walking back into the house. Before he gets to the door, he calls over his shoulder, “Emmeline, when you come to your senses and leave him, you’ll be welcomed back. You always will. You’re family .” With that, he walks through the door and into the house calmly, like nothing had even happened.

Arthur can’t even say anything, like his brain is two steps behind. It’s not until Hosea pats his chest that he snaps back to reality.

Once Hosea has Arthur’s attention, he starts to speak. “It’ll only be a few days. I’ll talk some sense into him and we’ll come to bring you back.”

“I told him,” is all Arthur can say.

Hosea nods, though, knowing what he means. “He’s still not right, Arthur. I’ll talk to him while you’re gone.”

“But-“ Arthur starts, but Hosea doesn’t let him protest.

“You and Emmeline need to leave now,” he insists. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

Still thoroughly confused, Arthur just nods, not wanting to fight it. When he looks over to Emmeline, she has tears in her eyes. She has no idea why Dutch kicked Arthur out, but she knows that she’ll never leave Arthur’s side. When she wordlessly takes his hand in her own, he realizes it, too.

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