#I straight up just gave echo Arthur’s hat

[blackseafoam]

WIP

[sirensmojo]

"Low lows"- Hubby! Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: ANGST, mention of losing a baby. It gets better in the end.

gif of @mayzkaban {here is the post}

Summary: You and Tommy drifted apart after the loss of your baby. It’s the first time in months that you visit him.

A/N: I'm SO sorry for this... I was listening to Dermot Kennedy - Lost and got carried away with sad stuff...

*Masterlist*

*House of Commons, London*

“Mr Shelby, your wife is here. Should I let her come in or tell her to wait?”

Tommy’s icy eyes lift to his assistant in a hurry, confusion mixed with curiosity all over his face.

“Let her come.” He succeeded at wording, waving his hand. He leaned back in his chair, getting rid of his glasses and clearing his throat.

It has been five months since the last time he saw her, and six since their little daughter died.

A day hasn’t passed when he didn’t think about her. She looked a lot like himself, she loved horses and the more she could be outside in nature, the happier she was.

He remembered fondling her long and soft hair while she was squeezing him as hard as her little arms allowed her to, and whenever he would come back home, she was the one to welcome him. In those times he was less stiffened, he was content.

Tommy tried to free his mind from painful memories by pressing his thumb and index on his eyes when he heard the door opening.

Here she was, the woman who gave him his wonderful lost loved one. The woman he still very much loves regardless of the complicated situation, the woman he needed the most in those times.

But she was also the woman that refused to see him considering it was his fault if their Sophia lost her life.

Y/N seemed well, light makeup on her face, finger-wave Y/H/C curls with a deep brown hat at the top of her head. Her long brown woollen coat on top of a cherry red dress. It was her favourite, and he wondered why she was wearing it?

She walked into the office slowly, joining the chairs in front of his desk. Y/N sat down and finally raised her gaze to her husband, who was staring at her already, “Hi, Tommy. You look terrible.” She ultimately said, worry in her voice.

He was surprised to feel like she cared, which Y/N didn’t miss noticing.

“How’s work?” She continued as if he wasn’t ignoring her.

Tommy coughed, abruptly getting up. He couldn’t do it, he wouldn’t sit here and talk with her as if nothing had happened. She wasn’t wrong to think it was his fault, and he knew it the most. Even looking at his own reflection in the mirror stopped his lungs from getting oxygenated, he would always glimpse, at the back of him, the ghost of their daughter, pointing at him with her little chubby fingers...

Drinking and smoking were all he knew at one point, but even that he couldn’t continue to do as life kept going on, business needed to be done, and he had so many people relying on him, and his wife wasn’t there to keep him sane.

It was easier that way anyway, he didn’t need to be reminded of his mistake every time he’d look into her eyes that were darkened by the bereavement.

In this battle, he didn’t only lose his wife and daughter, he lost himself a little more.

If he was fully honest with himself, Tommy would admit he didn’t even know how he could still make it to the end of the day, shaking hands and going to sleep.

Sleep.

It was another thing he lost. The first weeks after the loss of their daughter, the couple didn’t even see each other, Tommy being too filled with rage, he tracked down Father Hughes and took his time torturing him and every single one involved in the abducting and killing of his daughter. But when the hunt was finally over, he had to come home, and face his other half hurting. Or should he say, he had to hear her whimpers, every day, every night, before losing her too.

Y/N wasn’t even sleeping by his side anymore, but how surprised he was that one day, he woke up to Frances waiting outside his bedroom door, fear and worry filling her dark eyes.

He opened the door after preparing himself for another meaningless day and bumped into his maid, she was standing straight, head down, “What is it?” His grumpy voice echoed on the corridor’s walls.

Frances lifted her face to him, her eyes staring into his blue ones. She seemed worried, but she couldn’t say anything for some reason.

Tommy raised his brows, waiting.

“It’s your wife, Sir…” She crossed her fingers together, “She left early this morning... told me not to wake you up... she left a note.”

Tommy looked to the end of the corridor, to the guests' rooms. It wasn’t the truth, right? She couldn’t just leave like that.

He walked past the maid without saying anything and went downstairs, “In your little girl’s room, Sir” Frances added, assuming he was looking for the note.

As soon as the words reached his ears, Tommy stopped, his body stiffened. He slowly looked up the stairs, he hadn’t been in this room since…

He exhaled deeply and went up again, walking reluctantly to his daughter’s room before pushing the door.

Everything was still in place, even the sweet perfume of candy was still present in the air. He blankly blinked a couple of times, glimpsing a folded paper on the perfectly made bed.

He walked into the room, his heart tightening at each of his steps. He ultimately grabbed the paper and unfolded it,

“Tommy, my sweet love,

I don’t understand how it happened although I’m aware of business risks and I regret happier circumstances, our family moments.

She looked so much like you, both physically and mentally, so whenever I see you, I see her, which is too much at the moment...

Though, I don’t hate you... I could never.

But I need time.

Keep business in place, take care of Arthur. Visit Polly and, most of all, take care of you…”

After that, sleeping seemed impossible and even breathing cut him deep. Every time he would close his eyes, he would see the face of his daughter handing her hands to him and calling “Daddy! Come look at my horse.”

“Tommy?” Y/N’s voice led him to look up to her. Her head was tilted to the side, he must have been lost in thoughts for too long.

His back was flat on the wall when she got up. A faint smile on her lips, she got closer to him, raised her hand and reached for his cheek that she tenderly fondled.

Tommy’s eyes were deeply rooted in hers, and he felt it to his core, here she was, his Y/N.

“I’m back now, we’re going to get through this.” She reached for one of his hands and squeezed it. “Together,” she added, trying to convince him.

He intertwined their fingers together.

[moral-turpitudes]

Golden Ring: Part 2

Trigger Warnings: Angst, Fighting, Swearing, Fluff, Gore, Smoking, Drinking, etc.

Word Count: 1,833

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Requested by: @captivatedbycillianmurphy​  (thank you!)

Summary: When the Shelby’s are on business, there’s no such thing as rest, not even for Y/N.

A/N: Totally had “Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked” by Cage The Elephant stuck in my head while writing this. (Also fun fact: they’re from the city I went to college in and they did a free show on campus once which was lit).

Part 1 | Part 2

Tommy drove through the late-night fog and along the dark roads that led to their warehouse, the wheels creeping by ever so slightly on the dirt covered streets. The gears shifted as he put the car in park and got out, and walked towards the old building.

He pulled out a cigarette and rubbed it against his lips as he walked further into the darkness, the only light coming from what he assumed were his brothers cigarettes in the distance.

“Aye, who the fuck are you?” One of the men asked, who was most definitely not his brother.

“I could ask you the same question. Why are you on my property?” Tommy asked, the light from a cracked window seeping in, illuminating the two men’s faces.

“Well if it isn’t Mr. Thomas Shelby. We’re here to take your stock. The weapons. The drugs...What are you going to do? Call your brothers? Make your whore of a mother appear out of thin air or something?” He asked.

Tommy sighed, straightened his coat, and took his hat off nonchalantly, flipping it around in his hand as he looked down at it, before landing a hard punch to the mans jaw.

His other friend quickly took off towards the door with two bags full of cocaine.

“I wouldn’t run if I were you mate. You won’t get far.” Arthur said blocking the door with John next to him holding a shotgun.

Tommy then grabbed his cap tightly and pulled his hand back, sending the razor blade straight towards the mans eye. He slashed open one of them to where he’d be barely be able to see out of it, and the other he cut out completely, leaving the man screaming bloody murder as he walked towards his brothers.

“Where are the other men aye?” He asked grabbing the man by his collar.

“By the cut, I heard them fighting so I stayed here with him.” He said pointing to his partner bleeding out on the ground.

“They aren’t there anymore, you little London boy. You don’t mess with the peaky fookin’ blinders and live to tell about it.” Arthur said inching closer to the young man.

He was shaking as he realized he was the only one of his gang left, his boss surely plotting his death the longer he stayed in Small Heath.

“I’ll give you one minute to run out of here, because I don’t think you’re worth killing just yet. You tell your boss that if he wants to do business he’ll come to me directly, or I’ll have to come to him, and he won’t want that.” Tommy said menacingly as he held the young man by his collar.

“Al-alright. I will, can you let me go?” He asked.

Tommy held him there for a couple moments just to watch him struggle before letting him go. The young man dropped to the ground and ran straight out, leaving his friend and other deceased gang members behind.

“Now, what did you lot do with the others? I’m not digging any graves tonight.” He asked, his eyes landing on John.

“Well Arthur beat two of them to a pulp. I told ya he would go feral.” John said giving a sideways glance at Arthur.

Arthur smacked him in the back of the head before he continued.

“Well John-boy shot one in the head, the other is drifting down the cut with 3 bullet holes in his chest. Do we have to fookin’ retrieve them now Tommy?” Arthur asked.

“If you don’t want the coppers to get on us again, then yes. I’d imagine it would frighten the women and children walking past the cut as well, we don’t want that.” Tommy said before heading towards the door.

He looked down at his golden ring before looking back at his brothers who angrily spoke up.

“You’re just gonna leave us here to do the dirty work then aye Tommy?” John yelled.

“I have some things to do. You’ve both buried worse, just make their graves deeper this time.” He said before looking at his pocket watch.

“It’s Y/N again isn’t it Tommy? Bastard can’t even handle a murder job without wanting to run home to his spouse!” Arthur said, chuckling as John smirked.

“You’ll understand someday Arthur. Just get to work or I’ll make sure you’re both buried with that gang of fools instead of buried in company work tomorrow.” Tommy said before stepping outside and lighting another cigarette before heading home.

Back at home, the sun was shining brightly through the bedroom window with you laying in it’s rays, the sun warm on your skin as you draped yourself across the sheets as sleep eluded you still.

Your eyes were tired, with dark circles starting to form as the thoughts danced around in your head at where your husband could be. It had been 3 hours since he’d left, not that time meant much when he was away, it always seemed to blur until he came home.

As you stared at the old stone fireplace, you could hear the door cracking open downstairs as familiar footsteps heavily echoed through the hall and up to the bedroom.

He cracked the door open as light as he could, not wanting to disturb you if you were asleep, but you moved so you were facing him as he entered the room, meeting his tired eyes and blood stained hands and face. His clothes weren’t much better off, knowing that would be a pain to wash out.

“You haven’t slept...” He said taking his cap off and looking at you. He undid his dress shirt and took of the suspenders that clanked as he set them down on the table.

“I told you I probably wouldn’t be able to, you know that my love.” You said as you curled up on the sofa, the robe around you shifting with your movements.

“What can I do to help ya then aye? I can’t have you passing out at work.” He said coming over to sit on the floor next to you.

You lazily ran your hand through his hair as he leaned into your touch. The blood from earlier still glinting off his face in the sunlight.

“Well you could go take a shower, you’ve become so used to being covered in blood you forget it’s all over your face.” You said giggling slightly, he smiled and you felt him laugh a bit as you dropped your hand to his shoulder, massaging it lightly.

“You’re right about that, do you want to join?” He asked, looking over to you as he smirked.

“Only after you’ve washed the blood off, and on one condition.” You said.

“And what is that?” He asked.

“You lay with me for a while since you’ve been gone more often than not this week...that might help me sleep, at least until we have to get to work.” You said.

He smiled and nodded in agreement before getting up to rid himself of last nights business. You reluctantly getting up from the comfort of the sofa to join him in the steaming shower not soon after.

Showers always made everything better in a sense, so after it, you had no trouble falling asleep in Tommy’s arms.

You awoke later to the sun shining even brighter than before, signaling the afternoon, and you felt his warm arms still holding you as you lifted your head up slightly to look at him. He looked peaceful when he slept, or at least when he slept near you. Other times he’d be wide awake as the sounds of shovels and the muddy tunnels plagued his mind.

You carefully got up to not wake him and looked at the clock on the wall, lightly ticking in the distance and your eyes growing wide at the realization.

“My god...oh no...not again!” You said hurriedly.

“Thomas wake up! Thomas!” You said shaking his shoulder lightly.

His eyes shot open and he sat up immediately, looking around the room for any danger.

“What is it Y/N?” He said groggily and calming down as he saw you frantically getting ready.

“We overslept! Polly’s gonna kill us! We can’t be late to another meeting...you know this.” You said scurrying into the bathroom as you heard Tommy swearing under his breath.

He walked in as you were doing your hair quickly and putting in minimal effort to look presentable. Tommy was shirtless and standing behind you brushing his teeth, with his pants and belt undone as he’d hurriedly thrown a new pair on.

“You can finish getting ready and I’ll wait in the car.” You said moving out of his way and slipping your shoes on and grabbing your coat.

That was always the one little thing he loved about you, as you would always get ready quickly which often came in handy when he’d steal you away before other meetings or parties, and you still looked remarkable even if you put in minimal effort.

Not long after you started the car, he was bounding out the door and climbing into the drivers side, giving you a quick peck on the lips before speeding off towards the shop.

You looked at the watch Tommy had gifted you a while back, it reading 12:30pm as you both headed towards the familiar streets. People looked on as Tommy sped slightly through the streets earning some concerned glances.

With a lurching stop, Tommy parked the car and help you out, letting you inside the shop first as he followed.

“Y/N...Thomas...nice of you to join us.” Polly said smirking at you both as you walked in to the packed meeting room.

Tommy shook his head as he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before sitting down and lifting a cigarette to his lips, wincing as Polly loudly re-hashed some of the news and plans involving the business.

“Tom, the London boys boss is wanting to meet you. Your message was delivered.” Michael said, eyeing him as he lit his own cigarette.

“When will he be here? 3 in the morning?” He asked, yawning on cue as you smirked, remembering the annoying events of last night.

“Actually yeah...What? That’s what he said...” Michael said confused.

You and Tommy shared a knowing look, as he rolled his eyes back to his brother.

“Alright...tell him it’s doing me a disservice but I’ll meet him...with backup of course.” He said looking to John and Arthur, they seemed just as tired, and still wearing their clothes from last night.

“For fucks sake. As long as you bury him this time Tom.” John said.

Tommy smirked in response, turning his gaze to you as you lazily rested your head on your arm, Polly glaring at you until you straightened up.

As much as you loved your husband, it was a known fact in the Shelby family that the wicked never rested. So you sighed as you accepted your fate, knowing sleep would elude you once again until business was done.

Tag List:

(If you’d like to be added/removed just shoot me an ask/message!) :)

@msbzowy, @nofckingfighting, @aranoburns, @sighonahurricane, @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes, @gaytommyshelby, @wowjeena, @fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby, @inglourious-imagines, @thebloodyshelbys, @tsolomons, @blinder-secrets, @reveparade, @shelby-fanatic, @ta-ka-shi-ma, @psychkunox​, @peakyxtommy, @captivatedbycillianmurphy, @dreamwastakenx, @lovemissyhoneybee

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Marco’s Home for Lost Boys 

Read on AO3 - Ok this time, this fic belongs to yours truly :) *hides*

Summary:

Emma Doe is a survivor. She’s had 4 homes in her first six years of life. Not that she would call them home. Because they are most definitely not her home.

But when she winds up on the docks in a town called Storybrooke, she's surprised to learn that finding a home here ends up being the easy part.

Marco’s Home for Lost Boys...and now one little lost girl.

Turns out the hard part is growing up with 5 brothers, especially when one of them makes her feel like maybe she'd be ok with not running anymore.

But growing up is hard to do!

Notes:

I’ve been reading CS fanfiction during the pandemic and haven’t written anything since my Glee days. But this story came to me and it wouldn’t get out of my head, so here I go trying something I am not sure I’m comfortable with yet. There will be some discussions or scenes of violence, curse words, references to uncomfortable situations with a child and a foster parent, and maybe some sexy times in the later chapters. Thank you for taking the time to read this. I will try and update as often as I can. The story will go between Emma and Killian’s POV.

Chapter 1

Emma was not afraid of the dark. She did not share the same nightmares as other six-year-old girls. She had never believed in fictional monsters that hid under the bed. She knew there were no beasts with large toes and blue hair waiting in her closet to jump out and scare her while she slept in her cozy bed. No, Emma’s monsters tip toed quietly in the night, whispering in the dark as they touched her hair and told her to lay still while they peeked under the covers at her bare legs.

Emma’s monsters had flesh, dark eyes, and rough hands. But she was not afraid of the dark. The darkness was a friend to her. She found ways to use it to hide herself away. This would anger the man with the dark eyes, but he would give up on his search for her to avoid creating noise in a quiet house.

She had only been here a few weeks, at the home with the man and the dark eyes. Her fourth home in 6 years. She knew he would come again tonight.

I am not afraid.

In the last few days, he had become braver, his breath hitching as he reached out to touch the skin at her waist before stepping back into the dark and watching her sleep.

She knew she could not stay here anymore. She was cursed. Never finding a home where she could stay for long. She wasn’t like other six-year-olds. Emma Doe was a survivor.

She skipped breakfast the next morning, gathering her things and shoving them under the bed. She would wait for the darkness to come and run before the dark eyes came to consume her again.

~ She wakes with a start, curled in her cramped corner, and wonders if anyone knows she is missing yet. She hopes that she has gotten far enough away from Boston. Her stomach growls. Digging through her bag all she finds is wrappers. She knows she needs to eat soon so she stands from her corner, stretching her legs as she wobbles across the metal floor and pushes the grate an inch to peer into the void.

She can see the docks from where she stands. There is silence all around her except for the echo of her tiny steps as she inches out the door on a quest to find something to stop the sounds growing louder in her belly.

~ “You lost?”

Emma spun around quickly looking for anywhere she could run as the boy approached her.

“Hey, it’s ok, I’m not gonna hurt you.” He spoke softly as he stepped closer to her.

“What’s your name?” He asked, bending onto his knee to meet her eyes. She stepped backward toward the trash can she was just ransacking through.

“Ah, the silent type.” His mouth turned up in a soft smile. “It’s ok, you look hungry. Are you hungry?” He dug into his pocket and produced a small bag of nuts. “It’s ok, you can trust me.”

Emma thought about taking the food, her stomach was still grumbling. But trust. No Emma didn’t trust anyone.

“Well, I’m starving.” He shrugged and stood, taking a few nuts from the bag and dropping them in his mouth.

Emma stared up at the boy. He didn’t look scary. In fact, quite the opposite. She didn’t want to trust him, but she was hungry. She stepped forward and held out her hand.

“Thought you might change your mind.” He chuckled as he poured out a few of the mixed nuts into her hand. She grabbed them before retreating behind the can and savoring the nuts one by one.

“August, what are you doing down here?” Emma looked up quickly to see a short fat man coming toward the boy and she ducked down behind the can.

“Oh, hey Leroy, I was just taking a short cut.” The boy pushed his hands into his pockets and shifted back on his feet.

“You know you aren’t supposed to be down here, it’s locked for a reason boy.” The man looked stern and Emma curled into herself, her hands covering her ears as she stared at her shoes.

“Um, yeah I’m sorry about that.” His voice got quieter and Emma squeezed her eyes shut.

“What? Speak up boy I can’t hear…. What girl?” The voices stopped suddenly. “Oh.”

She opened her eyes and stared upward as a man’s face came into view, staring at her from above. She slammed her eyes shut again.

Run, Emma, Run!

“Hey, it’s ok there little girl, we ain’t gonna hurt ya.” There was another shuffle and more whispering.

“She was just standing there when I walked by.” The boy whispered.

“We better take her to the Sheriff and find out who’s missing a kid.” Emma jumped up and started to run before she felt arms wrap around her and she fell to the ground crying.

“Hey, it’s ok.” She looked up to see the boy leaning beside her. “We just want to make sure you’re ok. No one’s going to hurt you, I promise.” He said with a smile that made her want to believe him. She pushed away from him wanting to go back to her hiding spot where she felt safe.

“Look, if you come with me, I will make sure you get some food, I’ll stay with you, if that helps.”

She frowned. She couldn’t go back to her hiding spot now. They would definitely come searching for her. And she was still really hungry. She looked once more at the boy, his smile still on his face as he reached his hand out for hers.

She quickly pulled her hand away from him but stood from her spot and yanked her shirt down firmly before making the decision to walk past him toward the angry little man still staring at the scene unfolding before him.

“Ok little girl lets go see if we can find your mom and dad” He grumbled as he gestured toward the boy. “I can’t be having kids hanging out at my docks, that means you too August.”

“it was just a short cut.” He spit back.

“Still against the rules and I ain’t no babysitter.” The man gruffed.

~

The police station was small and cold as she sat on the chair opposite a small desk. The man behind the desk was typing furiously into his computer. He banged the side of the monitor with a thump and looked up at her.

“Do you want to tell me your name?” She looked down at her feet and shrugged.

I’m no one.

“She doesn’t talk.” The boy who they called August spoke from the chair beside her. He gave her a small grin and a nod.

“Ok well that’s gonna make it a lot harder to find her don’t ya think kid?”

“Can I go now?” The angry man from the docks had been standing near the back door and seemed eager to not be hanging around the police station or the man in the hat sitting in front of her.

“Oh, come on Leroy, it’s been about 2 weeks since the last time you spent the night in my cage, so eager to take off already?”

“Listen Sheriff Humbert, I brought the kid here, I got no need for a kid and I’d rather get back to work.”

“And what am I supposed to do with a kid who has no name and won’t talk? I can’t just throw her in your cage.” The sheriff exclaimed and Leroy grumbled. “Not my cage, and not my problem. You’re the dang Sheriff.”

“She could stay at the home.” August offered. “Arthur moved out last week since he’s starting college. We have an extra room she could stay in until you find her folks.”

“Hmm, that’s not a bad idea. I’ll put out some notices and see who’s missing a kid. Surely someone is looking for her.” The Sheriff grabbed his phone and clicked a few photos of her as she blinked and turned her head away from him. It wouldn’t matter, no one important was looking for her. No one was ever looking for her.

~

She was curled up on a cot in an open cell when an old man walked into the station. He must have known August because he went straight to him and hugged the boy. They looked up and turned in her direction and Emma sank down under the blankets.

Run, Emma!

“Well, what do we have here? A little lost girl.” The friendly voice came closer to her and she peeked out from behind the green blanket. She was met by a friendly but much older face. “It’s ok, you don’t have to say anything.”

She looked behind him to see August peering around the older man. “This is my Papa, Marco. He makes a really good Blueberry Pie.” He steps near her cot and sits down beside her. “Are you still hungry?”

She nods her head shyly. She didn’t know what they wanted from her but if food came with whatever they wanted her to do for the evening, she was willing to play along for a little bit.

“Well, it’s almost dinner time and the boys will be destroying the kitchen if we don’t get home soon. Would you like to come with us?” The older man seemed nice and he didn’t peer at her from behind dark eyes. Perhaps just one night would be alright.

She stood up from her cot as Marco reached for her and she shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket.

Run!

“Doesn’t really like to be touched.” He gestured toward the older man as he turned toward the exit of the station. “Come on.” He said softly as Emma followed them out to the old truck waiting for them.

~

The town she had found herself in, Storybrooke, wasn’t like any town she had seen before. She stared out the window, watching the small town come into view. Gone was the bustling of people on the streets, the bright lights, the honking cars. Instead, she saw a street with small shops, a few people passing each other and waving as the truck passed them.

There were many nights that she would lie awake in her bed and dream about her parents finding her and telling her how somehow, she had been taken from them, stolen away in the night and that they had been searching for six years to find her. They would whisk her away to a small town, a home with a white picket fence, and maybe even a dog. She would live happily ever after.

But Emma knew that was just a dream, a stupid fairytale and Emma didn’t believe in fairytales. No one was looking for her, no one wanted her. She had no home. No parents. No happy ending where Prince Charming wakes Snow White from a dream with a kiss. She was no one and no one ever loved Emma.

She felt her heart tightening, reaching up to wipe at her eyes as they turned off the street onto a small road, heading into the trees. She was memorizing each turn, each stretch of road. She needed to know how to get out of here later. To get back to her hiding spot. To safety.

They stopped in front of a house, lights blazing bright in every window of the wooden home.

You don’t get a home, Emma. No one wants you.

“Glad to see your brothers are following the turn-off-the-lights-when-you-aren’t-in-the-room rule.” The man laughed.

“When have you ever known them to follow any rules, Papa?” August bellowed.

“Very true my boy.” He climbed out of the truck and came to her side as the door swung open. “Well little lost girl, you will be safe here for the night.” He winked at her and she jumped down from the truck, wrapping her arms around her chest as they climbed toward the home.

Suddenly the door swung open and a small boy who looked to be about her age, ran toward them. She flinched.

Run!

“You’re home! What did you bring me? Is it food? Is it…” He stopped and stared at her. “Oy, what is that?” He pointed at her. “Is that a girl.” He made a gagging sound as the man swept him off his feet and stepped into the front door.

“That’s enough Will, that’s no way to speak to our guest.”

August walked into the room with Emma by his side and she was overwhelmed by the sweet smells of something cooking in the kitchen.

“The food is almost ready.” A boy who looked to be the same age as August came out of the kitchen. His eyes landed on the small girl. “Oh, didn’t realize we had a guest father.”

“Yes, we have one more for dinner, Robin. David, please set one more place at the table.” The man spoke softly as the boys all stood still in place for a moment as they stared at her.

“Right away.” The boy named David who seemed to be a bit older than her hurried into the kitchen to grab a plate and quickly set about putting dishes and silverware onto the checkered linens while another boy she had not noticed was pulling a chair from the next room to the table. He looked to be the same age as the one who was now singing while setting up the table.

“Thank you, Killian.” The father spoke as he patted the boy who had brought the chair on the head, tousling his hair.

“Boys, um this is…. well, I don’t know what to call you dear.” He leaned down toward her and Emma ducked her chin into her chest as she looked at her shoes.

“Is she stupid?” The little boy who was now running circles around his father said stopping in front of her. “Don’t you talk?” He narrowed his eyes as he stepped closer to her. “Why won’t she say anything?”

“Maybe because you’re an annoying prat!” Killian shouted with a sharp laugh and Emma hid the slight grin that threatened to overtake her face.

“Killy, that’s not the way we speak to each other.” Their father groaned as the boy’s eyes dropped to the floor, “However, Will, we should not speak to our guest like that. Mind your manners.” Killian peered up at Will and quickly stuck out his tongue at the small boy. This time Emma did smile, turning away the moment the boy’s eyes met hers.

“She will speak when she feels ready to.” August winked toward her as he gestured her toward the table. Emma’s eyes went wide when she saw the food being delivered in front of her. Chicken and potatoes with a pile of bread were being pushed onto her plate.

She wanted to groan with every bite but was cautious to sit quietly as eyes from everyone around the table bore holes into her. Well, everyone except for the boy they called Killian, who stared at his own plate throughout the entire meal.

“Well, whatever your name may be, we welcome you to Marco’s Home for Lost Boys.” Robin spoke as he raised his water glass toward her and sipped.

“And one lost girl.” David added with a chuckle.

Home.

Emma offered a shy smile, shoveling as much food as she could into her mouth. She knew she would not be eating like this again for a long time. “Home” was not a place that Emma belonged. She needed to get back to her hiding spot. And she needed to get there tonight.

[gunsmoke-snakeoil]

At the Rivers Edge- Pt 1

Arthur X Female!Reader 

 Part 2| Part 3

Arthur comes into camp with a familiar dark air about him that leaves you hurting in his stead. Being one of the few who know him well enough to read his body language, you do everything to keep his mind off of the one and only Mary Linton

This one ended up getting long, and I wanted to split it up. However I felt like it would take away from the story… So in the end I decided it will just be a really long, short story. I hope you will all forgive me for it’s length, and enjoy this fluffy and angsty little fic! Stay safe and healthy! 

A shit eating grin radiated off your glowing face as you slammed your hunting knife into the table in a wave of victory. Hoops and hollers echoed through the trees as you slouched back in your chair, eyeing your blonde headed opponent. Micah mumbled complaints and slides in your direction while forcing the tip of his knife from the wood grain of the table. He wiped the blade on his pants before spreading his fingers wide.

It was one of those days; too hot to go out but perfect for staying in and enjoying the fleeting cool mountain breeze that happened it’s way through Horseshoe Overlook.  Everyone in camp had that same feeling, so that late afternoon when chores were nearly completed, there was a challenge of five finger fillet  and Micah was the Challenger. People would pay to see you compete against him.

It was well known that a rivalry blossomed between you since the moment he graced the gang with his presence. He hated that you, a woman, stood on a higher pedestal then he did. Your word was held to more importance then his. And whenever you’d take a lead and begin your journey out with Arthur or John by your side; he’d spit venom at you for being one of the side arms of Dutch. Women are second to the man and when I get on top, you’ll be the first to fall. You hardly paid his snarls any mind, you just moved on passed as if the breeze had whistled just a touch.

Ever since his entry in, he worked his way to the top ready to drop who he could. And like an ear mite he began to work into Dutch’s ear. And Micah would challenge you all the way for dominance, whether it was big or small it didnt matter, he just needed to win.

So when Micah stabbed his knife into the table you sat at eating Pearson’s stew and presented the challenge; everyone was gathered to see how well the cocky gunslinger would manage.

You rubbed your smooth, unscathed fingers watching as Micah slipped, nicking the crease of his pinkie finger. He seethed before starting again, quicker this time to make up for the loss. Before he made it back to his oozing pinkie, Lenny slammed the table “Time!” He shouted making Micah curse and toss his knife.

“Well, that leaves (Y/N) with nine, and Micah with eight.” Javier grinned, sipping at a half drunk beer. Micah scowled, watching your sweet eyes move around the crowd.

“Good game Micah,” you smirked, “you talk the talk,” you stood pulling your knife from the table and sheathing it. “But you can’t walk the walk.”

“I think that was luck.” Micah’s voice came off in a airy tone, “I say we do it again. This time will be different.”

The sound of beating hooves caught your attention and you turned your head to see Arthur ride in with a swarm of bad air. “I’d love to Micah, but you ought to rest that bloody stump of a hand before trying again. I’d hate to see you lose a finger.” You narrowed your eyes with a quirky grin before going to greet Arthur.

It was another well known fact that you were very close with Arthur. And just like him and John, you were one of the first. You were young, about 14 when Hosea and Dutch introduced you to the boys. You had a wild look to you, drawn up from abandonment and abuse that lead you to act in a crazed way that intrigued the older gentlemen. You were shaking and covered in bruises and blood when you met the eyes of Arthur and John. It took you a while, but you came around and became close with both boys; especially Arthur. Over the years, you both went sweet on each other but couldn’t gain the courage to admit it. And the feeling always stuck even after he met Mary Gillis.

“How’s it goin’,” you grinned giving his stallion a soft pat as Arthur climbed down.

“Been better.” He sighed while whispering compliments in his horses’ ear.

You knew Arthur pretty well, and you could read some of his body language like a book. His jaw tightened and his blue eyes grew a little cold. Your heart grew heavy, sinking deep towards your stomach. He gave you a weak smile before turning to head into camp. You stood cemented in place, running gentle hands down the mane of his  Dutch Warmblood. 

“Tell me boy,” you whispered as Arthur stopped at Dutch’s tent, with his large hands resting on his gun belt. “Did he meet up with Mary?” The horse whinnied almost like a confirmation. You gave him a sugar cube as a thank you before nodding slowly, “thought so.”

You hated Mary, and Arthur knew that. You didn’t hate her because he loved her; you weren’t that shallow. You hated the way she talked to him, hated the way she treated him and the way she left him. You had watched the way she destroyed pieces of him you were lucky to see before they were damaged. He was a different man after she came through like a tsunami of manipulation and negativity. And even after the engagement was broken, her picture remained at his bedside. You had wished to go back before he met Mary and confess all of your feelings to spare him the heartbreak.

You plotted, while leaning against the post between your horse and his; on how to take his mind off of whatever transpired in the few days he had been gone. If your sole purpose was to bring him back from whatever sad trip he took, then you’d be damned if that job hadn’t been completed. Your wild bay mustang laid his head on your shoulder huffing his hot breath onto your cheek. He lipped your ear gently making you giggle and nudge him off. “I’m thinking Zeus.” Your horse snorted, dipping his head down to catch some grass in his teeth.

You kicked at a rock buried deep in the earth, masked beneath the saw grass that came up to your upper thigh. Digging the tip of your boot to wedge beneath the rock, you kicked it up and smacked it out of the way. Your gaze followed the bending blades of grass and didn’t stop until you found Arthur’s figure again. Now he was talking to a drunk Swanson, who seemed to have a permanent scent of beer staining his weathered skin. People would think nothing of  Arthur’s changed demeanor. Nor would they notice. But you knew by the way he stood, the way his blue green eyes hardly held the motivation to focus on anything in particular. You felt the twinge of restlessness settle in your bones. Just a mild distraction you thought as you pushed yourself off the hitching post. 

Arthur moseyed over to Strauss who sat near the edge of Horseshoe overlook writing feverishly in the ledger. “Ah, Mr. Morgan-” Strauss began, looking over his rounded glasses. Arthur tipped his hat, looking out at the valley below. Strauss wrote something on a piece of paper and handed it up to Arthur, who hesitantly took it and looked over it. You moved through camp quietly, not picking up to much attention as you moved towards Arthur. You hadn’t thought up any plan, but you were better on the spot anyway. Once you stood a few feet from Arthur with his back to you, head down and looking at the paper, you waited a moment for that idea to pop up. And it surely did as soon as he shifted his hat slightly on his head.

You smiled wickedly, glancing around at the less then aware camp behind you. Biting your lip, you rose to your tip toes and grabbed the brim of his hat. With one motion you whipped the hat off his head and rested it gently on your own. It was way to big, and covered your eyes slightly. The whiff of musky scent the hat held filled your body with a sudden nervousness. The confidence that forced your hand to take the hat was pilfered as soon as the hat hit your own head.

He whipped around, meeting your shaking wide grin. You forced the nervousness away for a moment to regain the ability to think straight.

Just a distraction

“What are you doing?”

You shrugged, shifting the hat to properly see the swarm of confusion in his eyes. “I think your hat looks fantastic on me, don’t you?” That nervousness turned quickly to mischievous as you backed up.

“(Y/N) I ain’t really in the mood for this.” He grumbled turning fully to face you. “Give me the hat back.”

With a cheeky grin you popped out your hip. “Now I stole it, you think I’m gonna give it back?” You challenged. “If I robbed a bank, you think imma give that money back cause they want it?” A sudden surge of excitement filled you when he sighed, the look from before dissipated and a spark of playfulness flashed back.

You had everyone’s attention as you backed up slowly towards the horses. “Now if we are playing by that logic,” Arthur reasoned stepping around Strauss “then I have the right to watch you swing.”

“You do, and rightfully so. But in order for that, you gotta catch me.”

“How old you think we are? Twelve?” Arthur grumbled a small smile growing from the corner of his lips.

“Ain’t too old for thievn’ and taking what I want.” You hummed while turning on your heels and walking to your horse. “I always wanted the hat of the great Arthur Morgan!” You called, holding the crown of his hat to your head. The breeze of your stride threatening to knock it off. Shaking his head he gave an airy chuckle while following after you. He had longer legs, so making the distance between you took hardly any time at all. Of course you were slowed by the wind gathering in his hat. You heard his steps before you saw him and held the hat tight to your crown when you felt it tug.

“Come on, you’re being a fool.” He breathed, grabbing you around your waist to keep you from leaving and again he tried to pry the hat off your head.

“Arthur!” You gasped “look!” You pointed to the trees with one hand.

“Don’t think you’re fooling me with that crap.” He huffed as you slammed your butt into his hips. He released you and a laugh bubbled from your throat and warmed your cheeks.

“I know, silly me,“  the rush of shock that fumbled against his face made your heart skip a beat. It didn’t take long for him to bounce back.

“Oh you are gonna get it woman.” He called, as you quickly made it to your horse. In a rushed frenzy you untied him from the post and took off with Arthur close behind you.

“What wild thing bit you on the ass?” He yelled after you, your hands holding tight to the weathered leather perched on your head. You laughed in response while encouraging Zeus towards the  Dakota River. It only took a small gust of wind to knock that hat off your head and send it flying to the river. You gasped before having Zeus turn sharply and dart towards the bank where the hat sat in the gravel. Zeus had hardly made it to the shore by the time Arthur scooped the hat off the ground.

“You are a terrible thief.” He smirked, watching as you climbed off of your mustang.

You huffed, shaking your head. “I know it. Bout as good as Jack,”

“Now that’s just mean towards Jack. He could do better then this half ass attempt.” Arthur chuckled “I’m sure a squirrel could do better.”

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up Morgan…” You rolled your eyes before focusing them on his chest. “Ew now what’s that?” You asked walking towards him, pointing to his left pectoral. “Looks like you hit a June bug.”

He groaned in disgust, eyes flickering towards his chest; searching for the squashed beetle. You smiled ear to ear before running your finger up his chest, hitting his nose and grabbing his hat off his head. “Made ya look.” You giggled, taking off towards the river with his hat secured in your arms.

He couldn’t help but laugh himself. “You make me wonder if you ever grew up.” He smiled admiring you as you stood at the edge of the water, pointed boots dipped into the waters edge.

“Do any of us really grow up?” You asked putting his hat back on your head while looking out at the river.

“I suppose not all of us…” He came to stand beside you, his boots also dipped into the river. “some of us more then others.“ 

“Keeps us from getting boring.” You breathed, the sun growing warmer, the sky burning gold. In that moment, you wished you were kids again. It seemed so much easier, despite the many things stacked against you. Spontaneously, you kicked off your boots and rolled your pants up to your mid calf. The river water danced through the tips of your toes sending soft shivers through your limbs. You held onto his hat with one hand before taking one large step forward. The glacier water was freezing, but at the same time, you couldn’t careless. It felt good, the rushing rapids brushing against your bare legs.

The feeling of his eyes on you made your heart beat harder, stronger then before; sending waves of heat to your already red cheeks. You noticed the look on his face from the corner of your eye, a small smile graced against his rough features. The blue in his eyes shimmered against the oranges of the sun and that look you knew from before turned into something foreign. You looked away, grinning at the birds flying just in front of the sun, and the deer grazing 200 yards away.

It wasn’t long until Arthur joined you, wading beside you. No words were spoken, but that look remained. “I never seen you smile like that Arthur, you okay?”

The moment cut and he looked down at you. “I’m thinking.” He stated shortly.

“Now I’ve seen your thinking face.” Stepping in front of him, you looked up at his face. “Your eyebrows are usually not so loose. They are more knotted.” Your own mimicked what his would look like. “You’re mouth, well usually that sits in a thin line like this.” You pulled your delicate smile into a line. “and your eyes don’t sparkle quite like that. They are more sharp,” you squinted your eyes just a bit forcing a small chuckle from Arthur.

“Do I look that ugly when I think?”

You couldn’t help but gasp, and hurl a handful of water towards him. “You are not ugly, and I like your thinking face!” He laughed at the offended look you gave him. He sent water back with his foot making you yelp, the water sending a cold shock through your body.

“Tell me what this face means then,” he gave you the dumbest look, jutted jaw, crossed eyes, tongue out.

“That’s the look of I’m bout to kick your ass Morgan!” You shouted grabbing his hat off your head and tossing it to the shore. You charged at him, sending barrels of water his way and he did the same back. You went to push him, but he was ready and hoisted you up on his shoulder.  He kicked back cold waves of water from his feet, soaking your upper body and face. You choked out laughter, pounding balled fists into his back in hopes he’d have enough. “Oh you are so dead! Dead like a door nail!” You gasped as he sat you down. Without a beat, you shoved him enough to send him back into the river. And you winced when he hit, water splashing up and hitting your already drenched face.

The shock from his face disappeared when you laughed, and a smile of his own took its place. You helped him up while wringing out your soaked top. Bending, you collected his hat from the ground and combed your wet hair with your fingers; pushing the locks from your face. He stood, groaning at the wet clothes. You climbed up on a boulder just on the edge of shore and sat down, letting the sun dry you off.

“I’m getting to old for your antics,” he groaned while he stepped to shore.  Smiling you tapped the spot next to you, inviting him into the sun.

“As am I.”

He shook his head and sat beside you, running cold hands down his face. You sat cross legged his hat in your lap. Your fingers traced the many scratches on the brim, fingertips dancing towards the crown where the hat dipped. “You went to visit Mary today didn’t you?” Your eyes never looked up from the hat.

“Why does it matter (Y/N)?”

“She ain’t nothing but trouble Arthur. I don’t like seeing you come home looking like that. She ain’t fair with you.” Your grip on his hat tightened. “what did she even want this time? Cause I can tell nothin good came from it.”

“It ain’t none of your business.”

“Yeah, sure, it is when it hurts you cause seeing you like that hurts me. Why do you keep going back Arthur? Don’t you think you deserve better then that?” Your face flushed with frustration.

Sighing, his face sunk into his cupped palms. “I dunno (Y/N), whenever she calls… I come. She has this way with me. I can’t explain.”

“Well what did she want?”

“Wanted me to help Jamie. He got caught with some Chelonians or some crap.” He propped his arms on his knees, looking out at the setting sun. “I dunno (Y/N), She plays me like a fiddle, and wants me to change to fit her daddy’s vision.”

“You thinking of leaving?” Your voice came off quiet, like a wounded animal.

“No. I can’t.” He met your eyes, the concern flooding them making his own glance away. “I’ve got to many people relying on me. You know that.”

“Good. Because I don’t think she deserves you.” You slid off the rock, pebbles stabbing into your feet. You winced a little, but proceeded towards your boots. You slid them on while Arthur climbed down as well.

“I think you got that confused.” He let out an airy chuckle.

“I know what I said.” The hat fumbled in your hands as you stepped closer to him. “She’s manipulative. She is degrading. Arthur if she can’t see the beauty in who you are, then I don’t see why you stick around. She uses you, because you love her and she knows that. I think you deserve better. Sure, we are doing bad things, robbing and killing. But her guilt tripping you into changing just ain’t right.” You now stood inches from him. “I don’t like how she is with you, because I think you are an amazing man Arthur Morgan, despite all of the bad things. Right now, standing here, you are an amazing man, selfless, loyal, and understanding. You deserve more then she gives you.” You gently sat his hat on his head. “If you love her, fine. But you need to stay true to who you are and what matters most. Don’t change because she wants you to.” Your hand slid down his chest before you pulled away and mounted Zeus.

“Thank you, (Y/N).” He breathed as you took off back to camp leaving him at the river’s edge.

[im-a-meteorite]

i’ve been marathoning the harry potter movies since im in quarantine and i’ve been taking some notes. i’ll post them all bc why not 

sorcerer’s stone

harry knowing that there’s no post on sunday,, a genius

hedwig’s theme playing when harry looks out of the window and sees an owl flying by, very nice

hagrid doing magic at the house on the rock thing,, wouldnt the ministry be able to track that?? since there’s no wizard that lives there, they should be alerted?? or did they remove the trace from hagrid once he got expelled?? like does it work by the trace only or? bc if it doesn’t work by location then how would they know that a muggle witnessed the magic?? idk anymore

the kids staring at the nimbus 2000 and saying its the fastest model yet,, then the camera zooming on the handle w/ the background blurred -> the most straight forward foreshadowing

hagrid is actually the worst person to take harry on his tour situation,, like bro literally left him in the middle of a train station

the weasleys and harry going to the platform while theres a shit ton of ppl walking around,,, statute of secrecy where??

the great hall is on the first floor?? i thought it was on the ground floor

ew the hats

i wish the movies had dumbledore’s weird few words speeches

“theres not one witch or wizard that went bad that wasnt in slytherin” broooo

mcgonagall is so savage i love her

snape is an asshole

a crap ton of chessboards in the great hall study hall scene,, foreshadowing the challenges?

madam hooch really yeeted herself out of neville’s way

✨🥰 oliver wood 🥰✨✨

harry really wiped the troll buggers on his robe,, disgusting

snapes hair is lowkey on fleek tho,,

making most of the slytherins ugly bc they’re the “evil” house is just a disservice to all the inbreeding

hermione setting snape on fire is truly iconic and very extra tbh like sis why tf would u know a spell like that

seasonal transition wasnt that great tbh

overall the directing style is kinda basic

“not in the restricted section,,” rule breaking hermione is the best hermione

dumbledore’s handwriting is so extra and loopy like tf?? but it fits his character

the hedwig flying season transition was good

“immortal?” “it means you’ll never die.” “i know what it means!”

50 points each for being out of bed??? wtf is this point system

filtch saying there’s werewolves in the forbidden forest,,, thats illegal sir

hagrid calling the trio by their first names but draco by his last,, we love favoritism

harry’s thoughts r so ridiculous,, “snape doesnt want the stone for himself, he wants it for voldemort!” lmaoo wtf,, evidence pls sir,, u don’t even know he was a death eater. was it the bad vibes?? bc same

harry figuring out that the person who gave hagrid the dragon egg is voldy,, a genius

“kill us faster?? now i can relax!!” ron is so iconic i love him

“lucky we didnt panic!” “lucky hermione pays attention in herbology”

how is it that harry’s hand burned quirrel but not the skin on harry’s neck?? that shit makes no sense

yeah i really cant imagine this dumbledore fighting voldy in movie 5

hermione’s headband in the reunion scene is so cute i love it

chamber of secrets:

how is dobby even allowed to just jump on the bed?? like is it bc harry isnt his master that he can do smth like that

“dobby has heard about harry potter’s kindness” or whatever,, bro u work for the malfoys either the elves gossip or draco is waxing poetry about harry

aunt petunia saying “we have ice-cream” after that whole affair is just ridiculous

DIAGONALLY

this seems like the extended version bc i dont remember the borgin and bruks scene to be that long

the close ups with lucius and ginny’s books r insane lmao like chris columbus made it so obvious

also mr weasley’s acting is so funny like its so exaggerated

lucius malfoy is so dramatic and extra we love it

also lucius knowing hermione’s name and “draco’s told me all about you”??? bro whats with draco?? lmaoo

snape really got mad with the whole car business

mandrakes r fucking weird bro how did jkr come up with that

PERCY WALKING WITH PENELOPE CLEARWATER??? HOW DID I MISS THAT??

omg colin had so many lines?? wow

omg erol with the fucking howler,, iconic

ron’s facial expressions?? pure comedy, rupret is so good

LOCKHEART REALLY SAID “GOOD GIRL” THEN WINKED AT HERMIONE

“pesky piksy pescinomy” this bitch dumb

“why is it always me?” poor neville

omfg ✨🥰 oliver wood 🥰✨

ahh using the seeker position for fighting

ew draco used the m-word

the shit the basilisk is saying is so lame lmaoo

how does harry not recognize that he’s hearing a different language?? or does parsaltongue act weird

HOW IS THE WHOLE SCHOOL IN THE SAME CORRIDOR???

“i know the counter-curse that could’ve spared her” bitch the dirty looks he got?? omfg

the movies would’ve been 500% better if they had lee jordan’s iconic quidditch commentary

“scarhead” “TRAINING FOR THE BALLET, POTTER?”

“what did you expect?? pumpkin juice??” madam pomfery is a queen

dobby is dumb dumb

“who am i, hedwig? what am i?”

“reading? i didnt know you could read?”

“look at my face” “look at your tail!”

“you can’t cancel quidditch!”

“oh harry, if you die down there, you’re welcome to share my toilet”

lockheart: do you live here? ron: no *smacks him in the head with a rock*

“voldemort is my past, present and future” are all slytherins this dramatic??

the tension between hermione and ron in the last feast was insane

justin filtch fletchy is so ugly im so sorry i cant

prisoner of azkaban:

im sorry but harry doing underage illegal magic pisses me off every time

aunt marge 🤢

“do they use a cane boy?” “oh yeah, i’ve been beaten loads of times”

that whole scene is so chaotic

“you cant do magic outside of school!” “oh yeah? try me”

sirius really dumb for barking at harry like it makes no sense

the knight bus is probably one of the best things in this movie

“whatcha doing down there??” “i fell over” “whacha fell over for?” “i didnt do it on purpose!” “well come on then, lets not wait for the grass to grow”

harry leans over and looks for the grim, stan: “whatcha looking at?”

“yeah take it away ernie,, its gonna be a bumpy ride”

this whole thing is written and directed so perfectly

i hate how they replaced tom bc it really made no sense

all the bits of magic in the leaky caldron is so genius

fudge reminds me of trump but like dumber

the blue lighting and coloring is just great, it fits the colder vibe of the story (not like HBP with the hazy/blurry effect)

ugh the glass and mirror transitions are one of my favorite things,, alfonso curon really did that 

i love the weasleys,, also everyone looks great in this movie

omg the scene with arthur talking to harry about sirius with the sirius poster always being in sight?? amazing

contrast of light and darkness just echos the whole dementor vs patronus situation

i dont even understand why remus took the train other than for the nostalgia

the lights slowly turning off in the different carriages?? amazing

the visual representation of the dementors’ effect is great

REMUS!!!

i wish there was more emotion from remus when he’s talking about sirius,, like that was one of his only friends

snape clapping literally twice for remus,, ajhshsh

ahh the placement of the slytherin and gryffindor tables right beside each other to increase the tension and further the plot

oh yea the new dumbledore, also cool hat he has

omg the new fat lady painting

omg the candy scene?? so cute i love lads being lads. that scene just echo’s dumbledore’s light in the dark quote bc its storming outside at night and they’re creating a happy environment within the dark especially with the dementors

ah yes the clock references + following the bird to show us important parts of hogwarts and putting the whomping willow in the forefront

ron’s reading of harry’s tea leaves,, still on point tho. ron really has a knack for divination

buckbeak! omg drapple

draco is so hot especially with that ring also the slytherin pins??

“oh yeah, terribly funny, really witty. god, this place has gone to the dogs”

the kids look so messy i love it + harry’s uneven tie

HERMIONE CLINGING TO RONS ARM!!

“its killed me! your gonna regret this, you and your bloody chicken”

omg the boggart lesson

“riddikulus!” “this class is ridiculous”

fuck snape!

draco really pushed someone with his bandaged arm

remus is such an amazing professor i love him and i just miss him so much

ugh harry in this hoodie?? amazing

remus and harry’s conversation with the music :(( lily :((

wtf is that eye painting??

percy screaming about being head boy,, bro stfu

sirius is such a dramatic little bitch i love it

seasonal changes marked by the wimping willow

“turn to page 394”

what a fucking rude ass bitch,, i hate snape

harry really be seeing the grim everywhere

i wish they had “wheres wood?” “trying to drown himself in the shower”

winter transition with hedwig! + clock tower

“come and join the big boys”

i just adore this scene of the twins giving harry the map (bro i really want a series about the marauders)

whos that skinny bitch with draco???

harry’s way too rash tbh

also mcgonagall being also too nonchalant about the whole marauder’s situation?? like those werent your students

remus is a soft boy dark academia icon

if only dumbledore wasnt a dumbass,, remus could have been uncle moony raising harry with sirius

ron’s nightmare scene?? iconic

“my dad didnt strut. nor do i” umm james potter was also a drama queen sooo probably strutting

“you, YOU FOUL LOATHSOME EVIL LITTLE COCKROACH” “hermione no, he’s not worth it”

sirius’ dog form really looks like a rabid dog omfg

the part where hermione grabs harry while she’s on the wimping willow omfg

“only one will die tonight” YOU DRAMATIC BITCH UR NOT MAKING THIS BETTER

“finally the flesh reflects the madness within” “well you’d know all about the madness within, wouldn’t you remus?”

why the fuck is the shreaking shack is swaying in the wind??

QUARRELING LIKE AN OLD MARRIED COUPLE

why the fuck didnt they knock peter out?? like tf?? they’re actually dumb dumb there were so many ways for this to go right

this man really sent 2 13-year-olds on this dumbass mission

buckbeak really beat up remus,, “professor lupin’s having a really tough night”

harry’s a fucking psycho with this patronus bullshit,, i cant

can they stop screaming while flying on buckbeak?? someone might hear them

im still mad sirius didnt get his name cleared,, so much would’ve changed

“we did it” “did what? goodnight” i fucking hate dumbledore and his mindlessness omfg sometimes i wanna punch him in the face

fuck snape for outing remus as a werewolf,,, but also he really didnt have to resign. like istg wheres the marauder energy when it comes to defying everyone??

i wish the movies had went into the marauders’ history :(( its one of my favorite aspects of the series

[ajokeformur-ray]

Women only want one thing and it's for Carnival to hug them gently from behind with a content sigh and a snuggle

This is so convenient an ask because I know someone very dear to me who less than five minutes ago asked me for Carnival cuddles ( @rebs-doom )! So I’ve made it into an impromptu piece of writing, I hope you don’t mind! The world would be a happier place if everyone had their own Carnival to spin signs and make paper flowers come out of wands. 

Be proud of me, darlings - I somehow managed to not swear in this one!!!! First time ever sksksksk I have such a filthy mouth when it comes to swearing in real life that in writing it just seeps out lmaooooo.

Word count: 1, 910 (I keep you all so well fed lmao I usually go to bed with cramps in my fingers sksksksk)

Arthur came home from work still dressed from head to toe as Carnival; the green wig with the little bowler hat, the checkered blazer and the yellow waistcoat, the greasepaint which had started to flake and thin in places so that Arthur’s natural skin tone was beginning to show through, the bright red nose which made a noise when it was pressed, and those shoes - you had told Arthur so many times to change out of his clown shoes when he left for work because they hurt his feet. Instead, he walked around Gotham holding his usual oxfords in one hand and his bag in the other.

His total disregard for his own comfort and safety, especially in the streets of Gotham, drove you mad, but what could you do? Arthur was a grown man who was more than capable of making his own decisions, and so you left him to it most of the time. You knew that he understood your point of view and that he listened to you, but there was something about coming home in his entire work outfit that did it for Arthur. You didn’t know what the something was or what goal he was trying to achieve by coming home as Carnival - perhaps the bright colours he wore were kept on his worn body to cheer him up, to give him something to pay attention to on the long and expensive way home - but you would support his every decision, even if you didn’t necessarily understand or agree with it. Goodness knew that you did things that seemed utterly illogical to Arthur; still, what was a relationship without minor flaws, a couple without their own strange ways despite the alternatives offered by the other? Your relationship was painfully unique and as such, you treasured every good and bad thing about it.

You were sat on the sofa working on some papers; you loathed having to bring your daily responsibilities into your very time limited evenings with Arthur, but needs must. It was something that you knew Arthur would understand; he, too, often couldn’t escape the daily grind once it had hit that certain point in the evening where you set all work aside and just relaxed before bed time. Your head shot up as the front door opened and closed and you sprang up off the sofa, fighting away the dizziness you felt from standing up too fast.

“Arthur!” A happy exclamation of his name greeting him at the door always put a smile on his face, and you were met with Carnival. Sometimes, when he was feeling particularly happy within his work disguise did Arthur stay in character. It either meant that being his normal self was just too painful at that given moment, or that he just wanted to be Carnival for a little longer just because he could. You didn’t mind. You loved Carnival the clown; you had stopped in the street one day when he had been spinning a sign for a shop that was closing down soon, and his performance had captivated you into silent activity. You owed your relationship to Carnival and you were very fond of him because of it.

With a comically wide smile did Carnival set down his keys and his bag before padding with exaggerated steps towards you. You grinned easily, the feeling of childlike innocence radiating off your love in warm waves, and flung your arms around his neck by way of saying hello. You had spoken his name in greeting, this was true, but even Carnival appreciated actions over words; he spoke little, focusing more on the way that he made other people feel, and with you was this no exception. You pressed kiss after kiss to one spot on his cheek, Carnival’s hands splayed out at his sides. He was frozen in the face of your ferocious attack of love on his person and you giggled against his painted skin before you released him entirely and almost danced into the kitchen; so happy were you that he was home.

“Are you hungry?” You ignored whatever Carnival did to say yes or no, which was just as well because he was leaning in the doorway, one arm propped up at the level of his eyes, the other on his hips, and the opposite leg to the side of the arm on the door frame was crossed over at the ankle. He just watched you reheat his dinner with the softest, kindest look on his face. If you had seen the way he was looking at you, you would have burst into happy tears. You had made something simple for dinner, not wanting to go too overboard because, well, you didn’t want to be stuck with multiple pots, pans and utensils to wash up for just one meal. You hated cleaning with a passion, especially when you had a full stomach and therefore the only thing you wanted to do was to crawl onto the nearest available surface and sleep it off in a food coma; one of life’s simple pleasures which you really didn’t experience enough of. 

As you set about plating up Arthur’s dinner did a shadow come over your shoulder, darkening the area you were working on. A heavy weight dropped onto that same shoulder and arms snaked around your waist. There was a happy sigh, a gentle kiss placed to your neck, and you felt Carnival snuggling up so close to your back that you could feel all of him pressed against you. You tipped your head back, resting your own head on Carnival’s shoulder, and stood there together did you take a minute to just… be. 

“I missed you today.” Your voice was a little above a whisper, as if you were afraid of breaking the tranquillity of the moment by speaking too loudly. You could hear a question in Carnival’s silence, so well did you know him, and you smiled up at the ceiling, your eyes blissfully closed. “Yes, really. I always miss you.” The arms tightened around your waist and he pressed himself even closer to you. Arthur was in a cuddling mood, then. “How are your feet?” You turned, shattering the moment, and Carnival pouted as you turned to face him. “No, none of that. You gotta eat and you gotta get your shoes off. Don’t think I don’t see those blisters when you take them off.” Carnival huffed by way of expressing displeasure but the smile tugging at the corners of his painted lined lips betrayed his truth. He always gave himself away. You knew him far too well. “Go on. Shoes then food.” You paused, caught the pleading look in Carnival’s green eyes, and then said, “and then we can cuddle as much as you want. Sound good, sweetheart?”

Carnival nodded so enthusiastically that he looked like a puppy and you giggled as he turned and almost ran from the kitchen, skidding around the corner. The bathroom door slammed shut and you allowed yourself to truly laugh, knowing all the while that he could hear you. Knowing him as well as you did, you could easily visualise Carnival with his back pressed to the bathroom door, a shaking hand over his pounding heart as he listened to your laughter echoing off the paper thin walls with his eyes closed, a sweet smile on his face. 

Some time later, when Carnival’s shoes were off - you had heard the relieved groan coming out of the bathroom from where you were in the kitchen and fondly had you shaken your head at the way Arthur continued to torture himself in the name of bringing happiness to others - and he had eaten, his face bare and his body dressed only in black trousers, were you on the sofa. He hadn’t come out of the bathroom yet but you had heard shuffling, like he was dancing by himself or perhaps practising. You had always been his favourite audience and often did you grace him wordlessly with your undivided attention. The door cracked open and Carnival peeked his head out, looking left and right before coming out and shutting the door behind him. He walked slowly forward with a slight spring in his step and a hand behind his back and you grinned. Arthur was still Carnival in this moment and you knew this because of the red clown nose on his face. When it came off would Arthur come home to you. 

In the meantime, however, Carnival was going to put on a show for you.

With some complicated but fluid dance steps did Carnival present you with paper flowers out of a wand with a dramatic flourish and a low bow and you had laughed easily at the small noises and smiles that had lightened up his face; he was just so pretty that it made you breathless and stunned into stillness. In the moments in which he smiled did it seem as though the world could burn around you, everything you had ever known razed to the very ground and yet you would still be entranced by your enigmatic lover who stepped into different roles and characters as part of his work; which was his entire life. Arthur lived for other people, having long ago given up on himself. You were the last thing he had left in this horrible world and he was going to hold onto you as surely as Carnival was holding onto those paper flowers.

“Thank you, darling,” You took the flowers with a smile and beckoned Carnival forward with a crooked finger. He stood up straight, came forward with exaggerated steps even without the aid of those shoes which were at least four sizes too big, and bent down at the waist. You grabbed his shoulders and pulled him in for a kiss; you weren’t gentle, putting every inch of your happiness, joy and love into it. He made some kind of squeak against your lips and you pulled away to laugh. The noise which he had been seeking this entire time made Carnival grin, his pupils dilated, and he reached up slowly to pull the nose off his face.

You loved Carnival but nothing filled you with more happiness or gave you more of a reason to smile than knowing that Arthur was home.

“Hi.”

“Hey.” You smiled softly and used your grip on Arthur to pull him down on top of you. It took a lot of fidgeting and shifting but soon enough were you cuddled together on the sofa; Arthur on top of you so that he could listen to your heartbeat, your arms acting as a shield against the harshness of reality. There was no sadness, fear, anger or trepidation within the cosy flat, within your home. You spent the few precious hours you had together cuddled within each other’s arms. There was no need to speak; your love was so vivid, so obvious and so tangible that it felt like a third entity in the living room. It kept the two of you company when you couldn’t be together, lending strength and comfort in times of need, and it shined brightly when you were together, filling the cracks within your souls which were unavoidable as you struggled against yourselves and the world.

So long as you had each other to come home to every night, why, you both had the world.

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[verai-marcel]

A Smile Worth More Than Gold (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur x F!OC)

Summary: Arthur comes across a woman in a field, and out of curiosity, decides to speak to her. He makes a friend he’ll never forget. Eleanor Ivie is a collector and an adventurer. When an intimidating man comes to talk to her, she is wary, but is soon charmed by his surprisingly kind demeanor and asks him something neither of them expected.  "Will you hunt treasure with me?"

Author’s Notes: For my dear @writingandsins, who put up with me asking for moodboards for Verai and Everett, not just once, not twice, but THREE TIMES. Thanks for being so patient with me!

Tags: Arthur x OC, fluff, romance, gun violence

AO3 Link is here, my darlings.

Word Count: 5212

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The sky was blue, the air was fresh and clean, and the scent of wildflowers and fresh earth carried on the light breeze as a young woman stood on top of a rolling hill, leaning on her shovel. Before her eyes, a wood chest, the paint long gone, the metal hinges rusty with age, lay half buried in the soft soil. A smile crept onto her face as she knelt down and started to pick the lock. Now the fun began.

***

Arthur traveled a lot and he’d see a lot of strange things in his time, but today, as he rode his horse off the path through a grassy plain looking for some creeping thyme, he spotted a particularly unusual sight. His curiosity getting the better of him, as it always did, he rode closer until he could spot the shape of a woman, kneeling in the dirt, stabbing away at something. He got off his horse and silently walked closer, wanting to see what she was doing.

Huffing under her breath, the woman lifted up a hunting knife and brought it down, a loud clink echoing around her as she mumbled under her breath.

“Need some help there, miss?”

She turned to him quickly, her other hand immediately going to the pistol on her hip. Her green eyes flashed and stray strands of her auburn hair whipped around her face as she looked at him with suspicion. “I’m doing quite fine, thank you,” she said, her tone polite but laced with warning.

Arthur immediately held his hands up. “I don’t mean you no harm, miss. Just curious as to why a lady was playin’ in the dirt.”

Looking down at herself, she laughed self-consciously. “Oh, I look a right mess, don’t I?” Her shirtwaist, despite rolling up her sleeves, was flecked with dirt, as were her boots. Getting up and dusting off her pants, she extended her hand out to him. “Forgive my rudeness, I don’t particularly like being snuck up on. My name is Eleanor Ivie.”

Her speech was slightly accented, British, he guessed. The cadence of her words was like music, her voice soft and silky, caressing his ears. He smiled despite himself. “Name’s Arthur. Sorry ‘bout sneakin’ up on ya. Didn’t mean to disturb you.” He took her hand and shook it, noting that her arms were freckled, as was her face, reminding him of a young deer. Was the rest of her just as cute? He quickly shoved down the thought before he let go of her hand and nodded at the box behind her. “Need some help openin’ that? I… have some experience.”

***

Eleanor weighed her options; if she allowed this strange man to open up the box, he could potentially overpower her and take the contents for himself. On the other hand, she couldn’t open it without help, and there was no way she’d be able to dig out the chest and carry it all the way back to her tent on her own.

She watched as Arthur took out his gun and handed it to her. “I can tell you don’t trust me. Here. As a sign of good faith.”

Taking the revolver, she watched as he kneeled down in front of the chest, examined the hinges and lock, pulled out his own hunting knife, and with a quick, strong thrust, broke the lock.

“There ya go, Miss Ivie.” He stood back up and took a step towards her, sheathing his knife. It hadn’t occurred to her how big he was until he got closer, but that wasn’t what made her heart skip.

It was his eyes. His smile made them shine, and their color reminded her of the striking blue-green of Cotorra Springs. Momentarily stunned by their beauty, it took a few seconds for her to realize that Arthur was holding out his hand to her.

“May I have my gun back?”

“Oh! Yes, of course,” she said apologetically as she tried to hand back his gun, but she fumbled and nearly dropped it. Trying to catch it in her hands, she felt his hands enclose hers as they caught it together. His touch was warm, his skin calloused, his grip gentle on hers as he plucked the gun from her fingers and holstered it.

Her heart hammering, she swallowed and attempted to look unflustered by the contact. “M-my apologies.”

Arthur just chuckled. “No harm done, my lady.” He gestured back at the chest. “You wanna see what you’ve found?”

“Oh, right,” she said as she found her confidence once more. She had a feeling that there were good heirlooms in there, but she also thought it might be underwear. That would be embarrassing. Not knowing how to dismiss her visitor, she opted for the truth. “It might not be very exciting; could be union suits, for all I know.”

Arthur laughed. “That’d be amusin’ on its own. Who’d bury that way out here?”

Eleanor laughed with him. Of course. How silly. Turning back to the chest, she opened the lid.

***

Looking over her shoulder, Arthur saw some very mundane things in the chest: a pile of clothes, a fancy comb, some hair pins, some gun oil, and a small bag. It was the bag that intrigued him, but he left it alone, thinking that it wouldn’t be right to steal from this lady right after he had helped her. When she reached for it first and emptied its contents onto the pile of clothes, two gold bars fell out. She picked one up and turned back to him.

“Here, for your trouble.”

Arthur was astonished. Half of the take? All he did was open the chest. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, you did help me, after all.”

Taking the proffered gold bar and tucking it away in his satchel, Arthur tipped his hat towards her. “Well, thank you kindly. Guess I better get goin’.”

As he turned to go back to his horse, he felt her hand grip his elbow.

“Wait!”

He looked at her, struck once again by her green eyes. They were a lighter shade than he had ever seen, reminding him of spring leaves. “Yes?” he asked, his voice softening.

“Could… could you… perhaps, help me with another treasure hunt?”

Turning to face her fully, he looked at her, somewhat surprised. “You do this fer a livin’?”

She stood up straight, jutting out her chin, a proud smile on her face. “Yes, this is my job. I’m a collector of artifacts and rare objects.” She leaned towards him. “There’s supposed to be a treasure chest on a small island in Flat Iron Lake. I’ll give you half the gold we find. What do you say?”

Arthur pondered. The thought of gold was awfully tempting, but even more so was the opportunity to spend more time with this intriguing person.

“Alright, I’m in.”

***

They spent half a day gathering supplies for a three day trip, leaving their horses at a nearby stable and walking to the shoreline. Finding an abandoned rowboat, Eleanor praised their luck. 

"This one looks safe," she said as she started to push it out into the water. "I'll check it first."

Suddenly Arthur was at her side, helping her push, his shoulder brushing against hers. Glancing sideways at his profile, she noticed his look of ferocious concentration and quickly turned back to the task at hand. She didn't want to think about how her body warmed at his closeness

Before the boat went farther into the water, Arthur put a hand on her shoulder. "Why don't you get in first, Miss Ivie." He stepped back and held out his hand to help her in. 

"I told you, you can call me Ella," she said as she took his hand, reveling in his touch as he helped her into the boat, his hand hovering over her hip in case she fell.

"Alright, Ella."

Eleanor felt a little thrill at hearing her nickname from him; his voice had such a lovely texture to it. Gracefully stepping into the boat, she started to move towards the oars. 

"I can row," Arthur said as he pushed the boat into the water and hopped in. He shooed her away from the oars and sat down facing her. 

They rowed out into the lake and checked for leaks. After they confirmed that the boat was safe, they went back to shore and grabbed their bags, then set off for the first island. 

"We'll use this large island as our base and make camp for the night after we canvass these few islands here," Eleanor said as she showed Arthur the map she had of the lake. 

He nodded. "Sounds good."

***

The first afternoon was a bust. They had searched and dug and searched some more, but found only a couple of arrowheads and what looked like an old brush. As night began to fall, Arthur pulled out a cigarette and smoked while he leaned against his shovel, impatient to get back to the large island. 

"Almost done," Eleanor said over her shoulder as she jabbed her shovel in the dirt one last time, hitting nothing but sand. "But you're quite right, we should go."

"I didn't say anything," Arthur mumbled as he followed her back to the boat. 

"Didn't need to," she replied. "I could tell." Smiling as she threw her shovel back into the boat, she hopped in and went for the oars. 

"What did I say about rowin'?" he barked as he climbed in after her. 

"You've been rowing all day. I'm not some tenderfoot. I can handle a bit of manual labour." 

Unable to argue with her without disparaging her abilities, Arthur sat back and let the young lady row. It gave him a chance to observe her; Eleanor's brow wrinkled with focus as she pulled at the oars, a drop of sweat making its way from her temple, down her cheek, and into the collar of her shirt. His eyes immediately darted back up to her face. He was fascinated by her; a woman with the drive to search for hours for artifacts that seemed pretty worthless to him, but when she weaved him a tale of how the boar bristle brush was made, he felt swept up in her excitement. She could make something so mundane seem interesting, and he found himself leaning closer to her, perching on the edge of his seat, listening to her every word. 

***

They camped for the night, sharing a quiet meal of canned vegetables and fish that Eleanor had caught. After cleaning up and washing their hands in the lake, she sat on a patch of grass near the shore, enjoying the light of the moon over the water. She heard Arthur pad over to her and sit down. 

"Penny for your thoughts, Mr. Morgan?" 

"Eh, my thoughts ain't worth that much," he said as he chuckled in a self-deprecating tone. 

"Oh, come now. Surely you have something of interest in that head of yours."

Arthur was silent for a moment as he stared up at the stars. "You ever wonder," he said softly, "why the moon glows like that?"

"It reflects the light of the sun."

Arthur looked at her. "Really?" 

Eleanor nodded. She had learned a little bit of astronomy when she was younger. Picking up a stick, she drew in the sand the diagram she remembered long ago. "The sun is huge, but far away. The light travels past the earth to the moon and reflects off its surface."

"Huh. Imagine that." After looking at her diagram for a few moments more, he looked up at her, a smile on his face making him look younger. "Yer real smart, you know that? Why ain't you a teacher?" 

Eleanor was glad it was night so her blush wasn't so apparent. "That's all I remember, really. I don't know why the moon waxes and wanes, I don't know why the moon glows red some nights and white the others."

"I always imagined… well, never mind what I imagined."

She reached out and touched his knee. "Please, tell me! I'm interested!" 

"It's silly."

"I promise I won't laugh."

Arthur watched her for a moment, then let out a breath. "Alright. I thought that maybe the moon got red and big because she was nearer to the earth, like she was blushin', bein' so close to the one she likes." He laughed self-consciously. "That's what I thought when I was a kid, anyway."

"Oh, that's so sweet," she said, leaning in closer unconsciously. "That sounds like a folktale, the beautiful moon blushing as she comes closer to her beloved earth."

Arthur swallowed, his heart skipping a beat, feeling her hand on his knee, seeing her move closer to him. In the light of the moon, her skin glowed and her eyes sparkled with excitement. He had a strong urge to lean down and taste that smile. 

"Beautiful," he mumbled. 

Eleanor couldn't quite hear him, his lips barely moving, hampering his speech. "Hmm?" 

Leaning away from her, Arthur quickly looked up at the moon again to distract himself. "Just sayin' the moon was beautiful," he said, his voice cracking a little bit. After a moment, he got up. "I'm gonna turn in. Have a good night, Miss, uh, Ella."

"You too, Arthur."

***

She heard him walking away, and once he had tucked himself into his tent, Eleanor breathed a sigh. For a moment she thought that he had called her beautiful, but she chalked that up to wishful thinking.

Eleanor hadn't expected Arthur to help as much as he had; she felt pampered with everything he had done. It was a nice change of pace from having to do everything herself. But she had to remind herself that she had hired him to help, that he wasn't just doing this out of the kindness of his heart.

Yet every time he did something for her, no matter how small, she felt her heart glow, like the moon as she came close to her earth.

***

Two days had passed and they had found nothing big, just a few small trinkets here and there. Nothing worth a three day excursion, and certainly nothing worth bringing along someone who was expecting a big payout. 

She glanced at Arthur across the campfire as he roasted the duck they had caught. He was a charming man, once he let his guard down. But even she could tell that he was a bit annoyed by their lack of treasure. 

“I’m sorry Arthur,” she said all of a sudden after they had eaten in relative silence. “Not all treasure hunts end with a pot of gold.”

Arthur looked at her and let out a short laugh. “I know. It’s a bit… frustratin’, I guess. But I ain’t mad.”

When the dour expression on her face didn’t disappear, he scooted closer to her, leaning forward to meet her eyes. “Listen. Every job, every hunt, there ain’t ever a guarantee things will turn out good. We just gotta do our best. Okay?”

She blinked and looked at him, feeling inspired. “You’re right. I just… I guess I’ve been spoiled by my own good luck recently. Can’t have it so good all the time. Just have to keep going.” She took his hands into hers and held them, smiling up at him. “Thank you Arthur, I’m glad you’re here with me.”

“Uh, weren’t nothin’,” he mumbled, feeling shy all of a sudden.

Patting his knee, Eleanor leaned in. “Words can move the world, Arthur. Just by saying something kind, we can change hearts.”

Arthur looked at her, so close to his face, and wondered what her kiss would be like. Would it be soft and inviting like she was?

Then she pulled away and stood up. “I’m going to turn in for the night.” She touched his shoulder, running her fingers along his jacket as she walked past. “Good night, Arthur.”

He watched her duck into her tent, waited for the tent flap to close, then touched his shoulder in wonder. He wondered if his cheeks were as warm as he felt in his heart.

***

If they didn't find the big treasure today, they'd have to go back to shore empty handed. 

"Just two more islands to check," Eleanor said as she climbed into the little rowboat.

"Ain't holdin' out hope," Arthur muttered. 

When she looked back at him apologetically, he shook his head. "I didn't mean anythin' by that. It's just that we've searched so many places, and there's only two left? Seems unlikely."

Eleanor shrugged, undeterred by the odds. "I suppose, but I'm not giving up until the end."

They reached the first island, and after digging around for a few hours, they only found two liquor bottles, which she gladly gave to Arthur. 

"Well, even if we don't find anything, we can drink our sorrows away," he joked.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Come now, we aren't done yet," she said, still optimistic. She started to walk towards the rowboat. 

They rowed to the last island in silence. This was one of the larger islands, and would probably take the rest of the afternoon to search. 

"Ella?" 

She blinked rapidly and turned to Arthur, who had already pulled the boat to shore and was holding his hand out to her. "Oh, I'm sorry, I was, daydreaming, I suppose."

Arthur chuckled. "That's fine, as long as you're alright."

Warmed by his concern, she took his hand and stepped off the boat. As she stepped off, her boot slipped on the wet surface and she started to tumble forward. 

"AHH-" 

Bracing herself for an impact with the sand, she found herself landing on Arthur, his arms wrapping around her protectively. Time stood as still as she did, her heart hammering wildly. She felt like she fit perfectly in his embrace, his heart beating against her ear, her cheek against his warm chest. He smelled of leather and musk, a man of the wilderness, and she found herself wanting to bury her face into his chest to take a deep breath. 

But that would be weird. So instead she pulled back and looked down, unable to meet his face. “I’m sorry, I’m not usually that clumsy,” she apologized.

“Not a problem,” he said, his voice lower, a slight breathlessness to his tone. 

Then she stepped out of his arms, and time moved once more.

***

It felt like they had dug in a million different spots, but they had only covered two-thirds of the island. In the middle of a dense patch of trees and brush, Eleanor would have forgotten they were on an island if not for the sound of the waves. Covered in sand and sweat, she longed for a bath and to feel clean again. She pulled out her metal detector. It was still clicking steadily, the light flashing at the same rate it had been the entire time they had entered the small forest.

“This is absurd,” she mumbled as she finished digging at their current spot. At every location they had dug, bits of rusted metal came out of the earth; it was as if something had exploded and the metal shrapnel had scattered across the ground. 

“Let’s try that,” Arthur said, pointing into the distance.

She looked up and saw that he had wandered further ahead. Jogging up to him, she looked through the trees to where he was pointing and saw a log sticking out of the ground.

No, not a log. A ship mast.

“Brilliant!” she exclaimed as she picked up her shovel and ran towards the shoreline.

They found a part of a broken ship, with a few crates strewn along the beach. Pulling her tools out of her bag, Eleanor immediately set to work opening all the crates they could see.

With Arthur’s help, they opened them all, finding the usual: rotten food, old clothes, some alcohol bottles which Arthur helped himself to, and a few small coins, which Eleanor took happily.

“I guess the gold sunk to the ocean,” Arthur mumbled as he looked around for anything else. Then his heart stopped as he watched Eleanor climb the broken shipwreck like a squirrel, ducking into the cavities and between the broken boards in search for more. He quickly went after her, worried that she would fall and hurt herself.

When he heard her scream, he felt like his soul left his body as he scrambled up the side of the wreck to look.

In the dimness of the half-sunken galley, he saw Eleanor with a huge grin on her face, up to her thighs in the water, tugging on a chest. Quickly leaping down to help her, they pulled the chest out far enough so they could open it without flooding the contents.

Arthur made quick work of the rusted lock, stepping back to gesture at the chest. “You open it. It’s your find.”

Eleanor grabbed his hand and put it on the chest. “Together.”

He nodded.

They opened the chest, and a gasp escaped both of them as they saw a pile of six gold bars and a soaked velvet bag. 

Their eyes met; for a moment all he could see was a beautiful shade of green.

Then she hugged him.

As if all the air was taken out of his lungs, he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Her body pressed against his, and immediately he felt a joy in his old bones, and just as quickly he felt guilty for feeling that way. Still in shock that she would hug an ugly old man, he didn’t register that she had pulled her head back to look at him.

“Arthur?”

“Uh.”

She pulled away from him completely, and he felt the loss so keenly that he nearly whimpered. 

Wringing her hands nervously, Eleanor bowed her head. “I’m sorry, I know not everyone is comfortable with touch, but I couldn’t help myself, I was so excited.”

“No need to apologize,” he said with a smile, letting her know that it was alright. “Just wasn’t expectin’ it.”

She nodded, then gestured at the treasure. “Let’s split this and go back, shall we?” Taking out the gold bars, Eleanor handed three of them to Arthur before taking out the bag. Opening it, she poured the contents out into her hand: three silver hairpins, all with different patterns.

“Stunning,” she said, holding them each up to the light. Looking back at him, the twinkling in her eyes made him think of emeralds. He felt grateful that he could be here, now, in this moment, to witness the happiness that radiated from her.

Arthur helped her out of the shipwreck as she rambled on about how the pins were made, and he realized that he could listen to her for hours and not be bored. 

***

As he rowed back to shore, three gold bars richer, the sun set over the water, spreading its red light across the sky. Watching Eleanor, her eyes looking over the strange collection of hairpins with an excitement he reserved for large bags of money, he was filled with a yearning in his heart. If only this moment could last.

"Thank you Arthur," she said, looking up at him as if she knew he was thinking about her. "I'm glad you came."

"So am I," he said softly. "Got to relax a bit, and made some money too."

"But honestly, I can't wait to get a bath."

The thought of Eleanor in a bath ran through his mind, and he quickly moved on to other topics. "Sun's pretty," he said. 

"Every sunset I see still fills me with awe," she said a little wistfully, watching the horizon as the light dimmed slowly around them. 

Arthur watched her, his heart tightening at how idyllic the scene looked before him; a beautiful woman looking at the sunset in a boat on a lake seemed like such a romantic image. He wanted to sketch it as soon as he had some time with his journal, to memorialize this moment in pencil. 

"It's like I'm courtin' ya, with the way we look," he commented absently. 

"Wha-what?" she sputtered. 

"Uh, I mean, if someone were to see us from the shore, seein' us in a boat together with the sun settin'. That's all," he mumbled quickly. He glanced up at her from under the brim of his hat and their eyes met, spring leaves and clear skies. 

"O-oh, I suppose we do look like a pair," she said quietly, trying to keep her nerves intact. 

Arthur chuckled. "A lady with her homunculus."

Swatting at his arm, Eleanor gave him a sharp glare. "Now you stop that. I won't have you insulting my friend."

Arthur blinked. "Your friend?" 

She smiled brilliantly, making him feel warm as if the sun's rays had reached him straight in the heart. "Yes, my friend." Leaning in, she touched his knee. "Am I yours?" 

His heart stuttered at her words, and he quickly swallowed his first response with a more appropriate one. "Of course, Ella. We're friends."

She patted his knee and smiled again at him. He felt young again, his face warming, his hands a little sweaty as he felt himself smiling back at her like a fool, wishing for more than he deserved. 

***

They reached the shoreline, and as Arthur helped her out of the boat, he heard a rustling in the trees and a few crows took off, cawing loudly. Instinctively putting Eleanor behind him, he started to guide her to the other side of the path where there were boulders and more trees to use as cover. 

She followed him quietly, sensing his change, feeling the urgency in his movements as they almost made it to the forest.

"Hey there, mister." 

From behind a rock, two men appeared, guns in their hands. 

Arthur stood in front of Eleanor, slowly backing up towards the tree cover. "Hey now. Me and the lady were just passin' through."

“And you can keep on passin’ through. After you give us yer money.”

Eleanor quickly assessed the situation; the two men had their guns out, but pointed in the air, threatening, but not wanting to kill anyone just yet. She saw Arthur’s hand twitch slightly out of the corner of her eye, and slowly moved her hand towards her own volcanic pistol, just in case. 

A loud shot rang out, and the man who spoke first was clutching his hand, his gun dropping to the ground a few feet away. The other man quickly aimed at Arthur, who didn’t move. He couldn’t move, not with a lady behind him. Bracing himself, he prepared to take a hit.

Without thinking, Eleanor pulled Arthur backwards and to the side, swapping places with him as she whipped out her pistol with blazing speed and shot the other man’s gun out of his hand, just as he fired.

The bullet whizzed through the air, and as Arthur stumbled backwards, surprised by the strength of her, he watched as blood exploded from her left arm, where he had been standing moments before.

Without even wincing, Eleanor glared at the two men, both clutching their hands. “I suggest you leave. Now.”

Both men glared, but when Arthur pointed his gun at them as well, they both turned and fled, yelling obscenities as they ran.

Neither of them put their guns down until the would-be robbers were well out of sight. Together they let out a breath.

“You coulda been killed!” Arthur growled finally.

“So could you!” Eleanor shot back.

Arthur blinked, sighed, and shook his head. Then he went to his satchel, pulling out the whiskey bottle. “C’mon, let’s get yer arm tended to,” he said gently, the initial adrenaline surge leaving his body, leaving him a worried mess. Seeing the blood drip down her arm, he grimaced. “I didn’t want you to get hurt,” he said quietly, reaching out for her.

“I didn’t think,” she said, just as quietly. “I just acted. Because I wanted to protect you.”

He couldn’t respond, he only moved as he knew how, helping roll up her sleeve, pouring the whiskey to clean the wound. She flinched at the first contact of alcohol to her skin, but once the wound was clean, they discovered that the graze wasn’t as bad as it looked. Pulling a spare bandana out of his satchel, he wrapped up her arm, the act almost too intimate for Arthur as he avoided looking at her face until he had stepped back a respectable distance. 

“I, uh, thank you. Not sure if I’m worth the trouble, so don’t do that again,” he said. When he was met with silence, Arthur finally looked at her.

She was frowning at him. Stepping forward, she cupped his cheek. “You’re worth the trouble.”

“I-”

“Don’t argue with me on this point, I won’t budge.”

Arthur gaped like a fish for a second, seeing her glaring so cutely at him. Then he laughed, a true laugh from his heart, as he felt lighter and happier than he had in a long time.

***

They walked back to the nearby stable where they had left their horses, chatting amicably the whole way. He found that she had a wealth of knowledge about even the most mundane things, making the world a more fascinating place. When they had gotten their horses and walked them out of the building, Arthur realized that he wanted to go with her, wherever she went. Would he be welcomed? He didn’t want to burden her with his presence.

Her voice brought him out of his musings. "I will say, I've had a grand time with you, Arthur. I do hope we can go on another hunt together some day."

"That sounds mighty fine," he said, her smile infecting him as he couldn’t help but smile back at her. “You just let me know, and I’ll go with you.”

Eleanor surprised him by wrapping her arms around him for a hug, but this time he quickly hugged her back, reveling in the feel of her soft body in his arms as a protectiveness surged inside of him. He held her close and breathed in her scent, committing the aroma of wildflowers and vanilla to memory. Then he let her go reluctantly, his heart clawing for more of her touch.

“I’ll bring this back to you,” she said, patting the bandana around her arm.

“You keep it,” he said, trying not to let the feelings blossoming in his heart take over and make him say something foolish. “Just. Uh. Somethin’ to remember me by.” 

He wanted to kick himself for being a fool.

But Eleanor smiled warmly at him, just like the sun. If only he could memorize her smile forever. 

“Thank you, Arthur. I’ll remember you.” She mounted her horse. “I’ll send word soon!”

“Soon?”

“Yes! There’s always treasure to be found, after all,” she said cheekily. Waving goodbye, she galloped away as Arthur watched, letting that soft feeling wrap itself around him as he felt hope bloom in his heart. He was determined that next time they met, he would be the one to protect her smile. 

Her happiness was a treasure more valuable than gold.

--------------------

End Notes: This is a little outside of my usual stories, but I fell in love with darling Eleanor while I wrote this, and I hope you did too. @writingandsins, thank you so much for your contributions to the fandom!

[rainythefox]

Oh, Brother (RDR2 Fanfic Ch.1)

Summary: 1885, Illinois. A young Dutch, Hosea, and Arthur wander into a country town following a lead to swindle a wealthy homestead and break their control over the town. But while scoping it out, Arthur encounters a young John Marston, setting fate in motion that will eventually become a rocky, yet loyal brotherhood. A short multi-chapter fic revolving around how Dutch, Hosea, and Arthur met John, further developing what would eventually become the Van der Linde gang. Rated T for language, some violence, drinking/drugs and mischief. It will mostly be Frienship/Family and Humor, but there will be Action/Adventure with some violence!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Red Dead Redemption franchise, Rockstar, or its characters, etc. This is just for fun.

Chapter 1

"I did no such thing."

Hosea's tone was playful as he rubbed a hand through his light-blond hair before placing a hat upon his head. Dutch made a sound nearby, a mix between a chuckle and a snort as he spurred his horse to canter alongside them.

"Oh, dear brother, don't play sly with me. Even Arthur can see straight through your façade. That much is painfully clear."

"His what?" Arthur drawled, shaking his head, already impatient. "Are we lost or not?"

"I may have slightly got us off course."

"Hosea, you said it was due southeast of the camp."

"Southeast?" Arthur grunted, glaring at Dutch. "Bessie said southwest."

"Did she?" Hosea asked, glancing over his shoulder at the path behind them. "Huh, that explains a lot."

They halted their horses on the road, Arthur voicing his displeasure with a groan. Dutch wheezed a laugh beside him. A gust of wind brushed by, plains surrounding them. The same, dull prairie had been their only scenery for the couple hour ride they've done.

"My friend the master con artist, horrible with directions."

Hosea waved them off. "I haven't been down this way in ten goddamn years. What do you expect? And every blade of grass looks the same."

"Next time maybe you should stay behind, old man, an' we can bring Bessie instead," Arthur said.

"Very funny, my boy."

"Jus' sayin'."

"Now come on, son, where is the fun in that? We couldn't get into quite as much trouble with 'ol Bessie and Susan around."

"That's the point!" Arthur looked around. "Can we move? I feel exposed here."

"We're exposed everywhere," Dutch replied. "What, you missing Chicago?"

"Hell no!"

"Okay then."

"We got company," Hosea announced.

A wagon pulled by two draft horses met them on the road, coming from behind them. The wagon was full of produce, skins, and other materials. Two men rode in the front while two sat in the back, and all four were armed. Arthur was quick to notice the men's suspicious glares as they rode up on them.

Dutch cleared his throat. "Let me handle this." And directed his horse over to the wagon. The men got their repeaters ready, but Arthur knew Dutch's charm would pacify them easily.

"Hello, gentlemen! My dear friend, his nephew, and I are sight seeing 'round these parts. Decided to get away from Chicago for a bit, and got a little lost. They're as stubborn as mules asking for directions. We're trying to find the town of Andell, could you so kindly point us in the right direction?"

"Andell?" the older man echoed, eyebrows furrowing. He scratched at his full beard. "That's across the river. You a ways off, pal. Ya'll have to head back yonder to Canker Point and take the trail to the river and find the 'ol run down station before headin' west into Andell."

Dutch smiled, a hand to his chest as he dipped his head. "Thank you, friend. You may have saved our necks."

"Not sure why ya boys would wanna go to Andell though," the older man continued. "Fire took out most of it 'bout a year ago or so. It's not near as populated as it was."

Arthur sighed. Well, there went their chance at poking around for jobs. The young man slouched atop his horse, but Hosea didn't break his "hello, I'm a polite gentleman and harmless" expression. Dutch didn't show any falter to the news.

"Is that right? That's quite a shame. I was hoping to surprise an 'ol friend down this way. He's from Chicago too. Had ambitions to start up a livery stable in these parts, if I remember correctly."

One of the younger men in the back of the wagon perked up. He looked to be in his early twenties just like Arthur, only wasn't near as large and sturdy as he was. "Oh, we know that feller. You talkin' 'bout a Mister Galligan right?"

A sly smirk eased on Dutch's face. "Why yes, that's him. I hope he is well?"

"He moved over to the town of Hickory, which is where we're headin'."

Dutch glanced back at his older partner-in-crime, their subtle exchange something only the two of them understood. Dutch turned back to the travelers.

"Why, you fellas are our saving grace today. May we join you on your ride to Hickory?"

The older wagon driver glanced at his passengers then back to Dutch. "Sure. We don't want no trouble though."

Dutch eased their new traveling companions with a gentle laugh, a hand to his chest. "You'll get no such thing from us. Well, except for my brooding friend right there, he's a little grumpy at times."

Arthur gave Dutch a look. He and Hosea trotted alongside the wagon with Dutch as it followed the road to Hickory. Arthur stayed quiet, letting Dutch and Hosea sweet-talk the wagon riders and only talking when spoken to. It wasn't long before Hosea was drawing them in with some humorous story about a faulty fishing trip while portraying one of his many personas.

The wagon riders laughed and after that they were a lot more open and talkative, which is exactly what Dutch and Hosea wanted. Arthur heard the exchange of names, the aliases that his mentors chose this time around. The wagon driver, Hester, and his son, and the other two men were ranch hands for a wealthy homesteader family within the area. They explained how the Warrens were strict and hard to work for, how they used their prosperity to take over the town of Hickory.

Their complaints and frankness drove Dutch and Hosea to exchange knowing smirks with each other. Arthur knew them well enough to know that an idea was hatching. He swore it was like the two men could read each other's thoughts at times. He didn't quite understand it.

After traveling together on the road for an hour, the town of Hickory came into view. It was a bit smaller than what they were used to in scouting for jobs, but it would do. It was average, nothing quite unique stood out to Arthur, and he noticed the typical stores, homes, and dirt roads. The small town seemed to be quite populated, however. Men, women, and children walked the streets, some hollered out to others. Horseback riders and those on wagons kept the roads busy with traffic.

"Now this is quite a town you have here, Mister Foll," Hosea said. "Ya know, I think I've been here years before, and well, seems to have grown considerably."

"I'm sure it ain't nothin' like what you boys are used to in Chicago, but it's an alright town. The Warrens are to thank for its growth, but since they've taken over most stores and businesses, prices have gone up and, well, there're far more poor folk than there should be."

"Such a shame," Dutch said, dark eyes already scanning for opportunities.

"Anyways, this is where we go our separate ways, we gotta get these supplies to Mister Warren. You fellas be careful. Hickory has a thievin’ problem. Ya'll find your friend Mister Galligan on the far side of town at the stables."

Hosea and Dutch waved them off as the wagon turned down a different road. Dutch turned his horse to face Hosea and Arthur as they looked over the town before them. The town was surrounded by more plains, a forest not far to the west. Besides the stores and houses, there were also livestock barns and pens. It looked to be mostly sheep and pigs here.

"Smell that gentlemen?"

"Yeah, smells like shit," Arthur grumbled.

"No, opportunities, Arthur. Did you not pay attention?" Dutch said, shaking his head.

"Aw c'mon, Dutch. There ain't nothin' here. I betchu that Mister Galligan lost all that money. Why else would he leave the city? He gon' have worse men than us after him."

Hosea chuckled. "He left because he has the money, you sulky buffoon. You still upset about what happened?"

"It weren't my fault."

"We never said it was, son."

"Eh, it wasn't that big of a loss anyway. We've been doing this for eight years, Arthur. Some jobs just don't pan out. Best to get over it," Hosea explained.

"Sure."

"Let's hit the saloon. I'm parched. We can discuss some ideas there, get a feel of the town," Dutch ordered, spurring his horse into a trot.

"Okay, Dutch," Hosea answered.

Arthur rode behind his mentors. They hitched their horses outside the small saloon. Inside, several folks drank and laughed away. The voices bounced through the walls, and Arthur scanned the room, the faces, the behaviors. It looked like there would be no trouble.

Dutch got them some drinks and they talked to the side, watching the townsfolk drink and chatter away.

Dutch and Hosea stood out amongst most of the people. They always wore nicer clothes, Dutch especially. Dutch had grown a mustache in the past couple years and kept it trimmed and neat, but Hosea remained clean-shaven as always. Despite Hosea being nearly twelve years older than Dutch, his eyes shown with the same youth, the same passion and ambition.

Arthur himself had grown considerably since they found him eight years ago. No longer a lanky, dirty teenager, he bulked up some and now had some scruff on his face. He wasn't as rowdy or impolite as he was when they first found him, the typical orphan delinquent. Although, he kept Dutch and Hosea on their toes with his sarcastic, often cynical nature.

His clothes weren't near as kept and clean as his mentors', but he often had the dirtier jobs. He finally could wear his father's hat without it swallowing his head. He may have not have liked his blood father too much, but he sure as hell liked his hat.

"Seems like good people here," Dutch said finally. "I'm quite interested about these Warrens our talkative friends spoke of."

"They didn't shut up once you charmed them," Hosea joked. "I'm curious though."

"You thinking what I'm thinking?"

Hosea grinned and Arthur rolled his eyes. "I thought we was here for Mister Galligan, not these Warren folks?"

Dutch patted him on the back. "If you'd paid attention on our humble ride into town, you would've heard the plight of our friends. The Warrens sound like your typical wealthy overlords of the region. Can you imagine what we could take from them?"

Hosea took a shot, letting the bartender give him another. "I'll look into the Warrens, see what I can find. Dutch, you've been wanting a crack at Mister Galligan for three weeks. Maybe you should go check that out?"

Dutch took his own shot, puffing from its bitterness. "Sure. I mean, if you’re confident you can handle some hillbilly homesteaders who think they run this place?"

"You offend me, sir," Hosea mocked.

Dutch laughed. "Well, Arthur. How about you survey the town? See what else there is that we can take advantage of?"

"Sure, Dutch." Arthur raised his glass and gulped it down, hissing at the burn. "Jus' don't leave me here. I'd love to see Miss Grimshaw and Misses Matthews tan both yer hides once this is over."

Dutch lit a cigar as they headed out of the saloon. "Knowing them, they're getting into their own trouble."

Arthur laughed. "No doubt!"

Dutch bowed once they were outside. "I bid you adieu, my dear brothers. See you soon."

"Hey, make sure you drag 'em behind a horse when you're through with 'em!" Arthur hollered.

"Shh," Hosea hissed, a hand going to the younger man's shoulder. "Don't give him any ideas."

"He's the one with the ideas, I'm jus' sayin'! That fool ruined our last job outside Chicago. Nearly broke my goddamn neck."

"We aren't here for revenge. We don't do that. We're here for his money, that's all. The job just didn't go as planned, Arthur. We're outta here once it's done, alright?"

Hosea was always able to settle him with his calm words and caring, wise eyes. "Yeah, sure."

Hosea smiled, patting Arthur's arm. "Alright. Well, get out there, boy, and see what you can find. We'll meet back here later."

Hosea went his own way in town. Arthur heaved a sigh, looking about. Time to get to work, he guessed. Straightening his hat, he stepped away from the saloon over to his horse.

"You be good, fella," Arthur said, patting the bay gelding's neck.

The next few hours, Arthur spent his time going into businesses and stores, getting the feel of the people and the town of Hickory. He eavesdropped on any interesting conversations his ears picked up. Apparently, the Warrens had a livestock auction every Thursday. It was something they could look into.

Later, he overheard the Warrens had some kind of cellar behind one of their barns that they always kept locked up and guarded. This piqued Arthur's interest, and he was excited to tell Dutch and Hosea about it.

While he waited for his father figures to return to him, he leaned on a hitch near their horses smoking a cigarette. He nodded and waved at passersby, just to keep up a friendly appearance. The town of Hickory must've had strangers coming and going a lot, because the townsfolk barely paid him any mind. Arthur liked that.

"Hey, Mister!"

Arthur turned around, only to see the body of a young boy flying through the air. The boy crashed into him, throwing Arthur onto his back, the wind knocked out of him from the kid's legs slamming his gut.

"Oof! What the hell?!" He coughed.

The boy had dark hair, and laughed as he cut his satchel strap, taking it and the hat atop Arthur's head before dashing off. Arthur scrambled to his feet, anger coming over him as he realized he had just been robbed by a damn kid.

"Get back here, you little shit!"

He chased after the boy as he took an alleyway between two stores. He looked to be around eleven or twelve, although Arthur could tell he was scrawny for his age. His hair fell past his chin in greasy dark locks, and his clothes were tattered and dirty.

For being small and thin, the kid could run fast and was nimble, ducking and swerving out of Arthur's grasp each time he went to snatch him. He knew the town well, weaving through people and farm equipment. Arthur barreled his way through folks, keeping the boy in his sights.

The boy climbed up and ran along a fence top before jumping into a pig pen and cutting away. Arthur heaved himself over, kicking and yelling at pigs to get through.

"I'm gonna wring yer neck! Com'ere, boy!"

"Catch me if ya can, ya big oaf!" He had a distinct, raspy voice.

The kid ducked under another wood fence. Arthur vaulted over it seconds later. He kept at the boy's heels, but the slippery little heathen would only veer away, using obstacles and people to stop Arthur. He jumped and grabbed onto a moving wagon as Arthur came back out into the street. Arthur ran after him on foot, the boy laughing.

"Nah nah, ya can't catch me. Why don'tchu give up?"

"Stop that wagon, mister! Ya got a little monster on the back of it!"

The wagon driver turned around at the holler, pulling on the reins to stop the horses. The boy ditched the wagon and darted for another building, Arthur cut him off. He blocked the boy's path, keeping his body as a barrier as he tried to get around him. The boy dove through his legs and got up and scampered off once more.

"Stop, ya little thief!"

As he came around the corner, huffing, the boy was finally caught. Like a little wild animal, he fought Hosea's hold. Hosea tried to calm the boy down. Arthur, jaw clenched, came over and snatched his satchel back. But just as he was about to grab his hat, the boy kicked Hosea in the groin. Hosea yelped, letting the boy go and he escaped.

"Ugh, so much for a polite introduction," Hosea groaned, holding himself.

Arthur, still annoyed, couldn't help but to laugh at the sight. "He got ya too, huh? Little shit was as slippery as the devil." Then Arthur realized the small thief still had his hat. "He got my goddam hat!"

Hosea grabbed him as he started after the boy once more. "Forget it, Arthur. We'll find him. Don't worry."

The boy was probably long gone anyway.

Dutch arrived shortly after. He took in their disheveled appearance, the pained scowl on Hosea's face as he gripped his crotch and Arthur's huffing breaths as he dusted himself off, mumbling a whole range of curses. Arthur reached into his satchel to make sure his journal was still intact. He was relieved to see it was.

Dutch raised his eyebrows. "What the hell did I miss?"

"You don't want to know," Hosea said, finally standing up straight.

"Got robbed by a goddam kid."

Dutch chuckled, earning him a glare from Arthur. "You mean a little bumpkin got the best of you, Arthur? My boy, come now!"

"Not funny, Dutch. He still has my damn hat. And well, damaged Hosea's tallywags."

Hosea wheezed. "I'm fine."

"Come on, we should head back to camp. Got some planning to do," Dutch said.

"But my hat!"

"We'll get it back, Arthur. We're gonna stick around a few days. We will see that brat again, no doubt," Hosea assured.

Arthur groaned. "Fine."

"I leave you both for a few hours and a child wreaks havoc on both your prides. What ever am I going to do with you two?"

"Easy for you to say. You didn't get kicked where it counts," Hosea huffed.

"Low blow, huh Hosea?"

"Hah, you're funny, dear friend."

Dutch feigned innocence, motioning to himself. "It's not my fault you two provide me opportunities for such jokes."

"If I don't get my hat back, I'm siccing Miss Grimshaw on that little heathen."

Hosea chortled. "Dear god, Arthur. The boy doesn't deserve that much torture."

The three of them laughed.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16932513/chapters/39785013

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13143281/1/Oh-Brother

[captain039]

Midnight myths part 3

Arthur Morgan x reader

Summary: After the Micah incident Arthur has gone extra protective and shares some of his deep secrets.

Warnings: light swearing.

Waking up to a cold bed wasn't very pleasing, you groaned pulling the covers closer only to snap your eyes open remembering what happened.

"Hey, easy" You glanced the the voice, Arthur he placed a hand on your shoulder handing you some coffee. Mumbling a thanks you drank it sighing quietly afterwards.

"You ok?" he questioned you scoffed.

"Oh yeah I'm stuck in the middle of werewolves hunting each other and I almost died I'm peachy" You huffed he gave a concerned look.

"Well, I can get you out of here after Micah leaves it isn't safe not after what we pulled" Arthur sighed running a hand over his head.

"I'm sorry" You whispered.

"Dont be it ain't your fault well a little for not leaving but still" You shook your head a small smile crossing your face.

"Arthur" You jumped at the new voice a dark man Indian by the looks of him peeking through the door.

"Charles?" Arthur questioned walking out with him. You sat against the wall waiting for his return to figure out what to do.

So great plan wait here till they attack, great just great, you wanted to smack the man but listened anyway. His associates were, Charles, John, a elderly man Hosea and young Lenny as Arthur called him, quite a gang of ruffians you says.

The night was young at you sat by the fire wishing you had some wool maybe or something to do.

"Hungry?" you jumped as Arthur walked in with some food.

"Thank you" You said taking it from him as he sat down beside you.

"Who are these men? they obviously know about well you" You said glancing to him, he let a sigh nodding his head.

"That old pack I mentioned the one we had slaughtered well we didnt all get slaughter but what I saw sure looked like it, I found Charles and John fighting down at Saint Denise trying to make money, Hoses was barely holding onto life when i found him and young Lenny well he found me, in a bar" He smiled snickering at the memory.

"So are they also?" he shook his head.

"John is got bit like an idiot and went missing for a year was 'to scared' to face us" Arthur rolled his eyes.

"But the others no, but they helped me when controlling it I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for them" He said softly this was his family.

"Micah?" you questioned hating the name.

"Micah was apart of said pack, damn traitor led the hunters right to us and Dutch well he believed the son of a bitches lies and died like the rest only Micah the dick made it out somehow" He growled this man had gone through everything.

"He killed my loved ones, my family he needs to be put to rest I wont let him hurt no one any more especially you" You glanced at him the determined look on his face, you felt your stomach do loops as you shuffled closer placing a hand on his arm. He glanced to shocked by the sudden contact.

"I'm sorry, it's my fault I probably should've left but, I dont know something kept me here, you didnt scare me enough" You chuckled lightly.

"I was real pissed when I though you killed my chickens I would've shot you again" He chuckled shaking his head.

"Its ok I have a abnormal healing rate" Arthur said as you nodded finding yourself leaning into him ever so slightly.

"Guess I'm stuck here now, man the stories I could tell" You joked looking to him again.

"I think people would send you straight to the sheriff" You laughed Arthur's eyes kind as he looked to you.

"Your a good man Mr. Morgan even in these few months I know that" You said softly patting his arm gently.

"I ain't a good man Miss. Y/l/n" You smacked him as he frowned.

"Its Y/n and yes you are even with your rough edges" You commented staring at the fire.

"I ain't gonna argue with a woman" Arthur surrendered making you smirk in victory.

"Good, because you'll end up with another shot leg" He scoffed smiling looking to you.

"Your real brave Y/n I'll give you that, but maybe after this do get somewhere far away think one beast is enough" You frowned at the statement as he chuckled to himself, leave? did you really want to leave? after everything you wouldn't be able to just pack up and go like nothing happened, Arthur he- well he was different in the good sense.

"Well I best get some rest" You snapped out of your thoughts nodding.

"Yes as shall I, good night Mr. Morgan" You said.

"Arthur, and goodnight Miss" He walked out as you sighed heading to bed.

Running with wolves, a odd thing to be doing but you were safe the large golden furred beast running beside you as you laughed falling into the meadow. He stopped prancing around you like a puppy as you laughed some more pretending to tackle him, he licked your face as you made a disgusted noise laughing some more. You both settled down as you lent against his body his warmth seeping around you.

"I will always love you" You whispered as the wolf smiled leaning his head on your lap giving you a gentle nudge.

You woke up trying to figure out the dream you had it looked just like Arthur, but why did you say those words? you huffed getting out of bed and outside by the dying fire. You rolled your eyes seeing the men all asleep a few with drinks in their hands.

"WAKE UP" The all jumped awake as you smirked seeing them jump.

"Good morning gentlemen" Arthur groaned as did the others rubbing their faces.

"Breakfast?" You questioned starting it.

"Damn well be for waking me up" Arthur grumbled making you shoot him a glare.

"Alright, Alright sorry" he said his voice deep with sleep.

The day was rather boring you weren't aloud very far away from the house even though you knew it was unsafe you needed to get out.

"Arthur?" you called as he turned to you cocking his head.

"Hm?" he said as you approached.

"Can you take me somewhere please maybe the stream I cant be cooped up here, I know it's dangerous but I will shoot myself so help me" He sighed going to argue but the look on your face was begging.

"Fine but only for an hour" You fisted saying yes as he took you to the stream keeping on guard. You sighed happily taking off your shoes and socks.

"What are you doing?" Arthur questioned you smiled dipping your feet into the water.

"Cooling off" You said as he made an adorable confused face.

"Right well uh dont go to far" He said looking away awkwardly aw the man was a gentleman. You smirked splashing him with water making him flinch glancing to you seeing your playful smirk. You splashed him again with more water as he scoffed smiling.

"Well Miss I do believe you'll regret that" You smirked before yelping as he tackled you into the water. You came back up laughing as you pushed your hair back. You splashed him as he splashed back smiling as well.

"Ah ok I'm sorry! im sorry" You gave in as he smirked sending you one last splash.

"Aw didnt think you'd give in that easily" you had a small smirk before he knew it his head was dipped underwater you pressing him down before letting him up

"Why you little" You laughed running back to shore kicking some water ar him. He got out grabbing you around the waist as you tried to run laughter echoing in his ear.

"Let go" You laughed as he smirked to himself.

"Uh uh say your sorry" You wiggled in his hold but he was to strong.

"Alright I'm sorry" You smiled he nodded his grip loosening but not letting go.

"Arthur?" you questioned looking back at him. His eyes held something new something you've never seen.

"Why did you stay?" he whispered.

"Arthur, i-i dont know, you- ugh I dont know Gods truth" You said softly not really sure. He nodded his face in deep thought before someone came.

"There you are come on we've seen Micahs men" Arthur let you go nodding to John as he grabbed his hat nodding to you to follow. What just happened?

[hysterialevi]

When the Devil Cries pt. 18

Fanfic summary: (NO SPOILERS IN THIS STORY) After arriving in Saint Denis, Arthur ends up falling in love with a seemingly innocent pianist, only to find himself in a battle with one of the most notorious outlaws to ever emerge from America. Now, between working for Dutch and robbing money for the gang, Arthur has to also protect the man he loves as the two of them try to find their freedom.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Male OC

Previous chapter

This story is also on AO3

From Arthur’s POV

SHADY BELLE

ONE WEEK LATER

Waking up to a bright beam of sunlight hittin’ me directly in the face, I squinted in response and shielded my eyes with a lazy hand, only to feel my ears perk in interest when I suddenly picked up on the distant chime of piano music.

It sounded like it was comin’ from downstairs, and I could also hear a few other voices speaking over it -- Hosea and Abigail, to be precise -- but it didn’t seem like whoever was playin’ it was doing it out of leisure. It seemed more like...they was practicing. As if preparing for some kinda performance.

Heh. If I was bein’ honest, I completely forgot there was a piano downstairs in the first place. No one ever used it, and it was covered in dust and old paint just like everything else, but I could see it didn’t take Eddie long to find it.

It was nice to hear him playin’ again though. It felt like ages since he last hit a single note, and I was glad that the boy finally had some time to just take a breath and do what he loved, for once. He certainly deserved it.

Sluggishly rising from bed, I let out a fatigued yawn and rolled my shoulders, afterwards touchin’ up my appearance a bit before grabbing my hat and heading out the door.

It had been a while since I was able to walk freely on my own. Last time I was up and about, I was clingin’ onto Dutch like a man whose foot got stuck in a stirrup, and I felt like death. No -- worse than death.

Thanks to Eddie though, I was finally back home and in a good enough shape to return to work. Every inch of me still ached to some extent, but I imagined Dutch was done waiting, and had plans to hit that bank at any minute now. I’d have to be ready.

Pushing the door open, I made my way into the corridor and wandered to the stairs, listenin’ in on the conversation that was going on below as Eddie finished the song.

Abigail let out an impressed sigh, her soft voice echoing throughout the otherwise quiet mansion.

“That...was real nice, Eddie. I had no idea Arthur brought such a musician to us.”

Eddie smiled at her, thinking back to a certain memory. “Did you know I convinced Arthur to play the piano once?”

Abigail chortled. “You’re pullin’ my leg.”

“No, seriously. I managed to persuade him to play an entire song with me. He’s...actually not too bad at it.”

Surprisingly, she didn’t appear that shocked. “Is that so? Hmm...some part o’ me always knew Arthur weren’t as gruff as he came across. I mean, you leave that man with a pen and paper for long enough, and he might just create a masterpiece. Still though, I wish I was half as good as you when it came to the piano.”

Eddie quirked a brow. “You play the piano?”

“Not well,” she replied with a chuckle. “But I dabble in it sometimes. Though, it’s hard to practice regularly when I’m constantly lookin’ after that boy.”

The musician nodded in understanding. “Jack is quite the wanderer, indeed. He always seems to be exploring.”

Abigail gave him a nudge. “I was talkin’ about John.”

The two of them laughed nonchalantly at that, their voices gradually falling silent once Abigail decided it was time for her to leave.

She stood up from the piano, beaming at Eddie in a grateful manner.

“Well, thank you for playin’ that song, Mister Ryan. It was a nice change o’ pace, compared to what normally goes on around here, but...I should probably get back to work. Miss Grimshaw don’t like it when I take breaks. Or rest at all, for that matter.”

The boy waved her goodbye. “Then I won’t keep you any longer. Have a good day, Abigail. Perhaps I can teach you more songs some other time.”

The woman strolled out of the mansion. “I’d like that. Well, goodbye, Eddie. And take care of yourself, you hear?”

The pianist gave her an affable expression. “I’ll do my best.”

Tracing his fingers along the piano as Abigail took her leave, Eddie glanced outta the corner of his eye and watched Hosea as he avidly worked on something, catchin’ the boy’s attention.

Eddie peered at him in curiosity. “What are you making there, Hosea?”

The old man looked up from his project, grinning proudly as he sat up straight in his chair.

“Some bait,” he answered. “I’m planning to go hunting sometime soon. The camp should be good on food, but...it never hurts to be sure. And besides, I have no idea when I’ll get the chance to hunt again. There are so many fellas out there looking for us right now -- it’d honestly be dangerous to set foot outside camp. But we do what we have to do.”

Hosea placed the bait down for a moment, giving Eddie an inquisitive glance as I reached the bottom the stairs and quietly listened to his story.

“...Did Arthur ever tell you about that one time he and I went huntin’ for a bear?” Hosea asked.

Eddie shook his head, his expression lighting up with a newfound interest. “No. Did you catch it?”

“Yes, but it weren’t easy. We spent a few days in the wilderness all by ourselves, you see. Miles away from any sign of civilization. We were alone in the mountains...and we had nothing to go off other than my own memory.”

The old man rested his elbows on his knees, continuing the tale.

“It took us quite a while to hunt that animal down. Tracks were scarce, and the area we was camping in was huge. We would find the occasional fish carcass lying around, or disturbance in the grass...but nothing solid enough to lead us to our target.”

A victorious glint shimmered in Hosea’s eyes. “Eventually though, while Arthur and I were out scouting one day...we spotted a paw print. ...Two. Three! It was a trail. We followed it all the way up the mountain until we reached a gathering of boulders hidden deep inside a forest. It definitely looked like the sort of place a beast would turn into its home, and so that was where we placed the bait. Well, Arthur placed it. And once he was done, the two of us waited behind the boulders, sitting in complete silence.”

“We didn’t dare move a single muscle, not when there was a bear roaming around. Hell, we barely even breathed. After all, we had no idea if we truly had the upper hand in this situation. A beast such as the one we was hunting could’ve easily turned the tables if we weren’t careful, and on top of that, we were fighting it up close.”

Hosea smirked out of excitement as he reached the ending, amused to see that Eddie was listenin’ so intently to him.

“Finally, however, after what felt like an eternity...I heard a menacing growl not too far away from me. It sounded more like a monster than an animal, and I won’t lie: it got my heart racing. But I knew there was no time for fear. We had located our target at last, and it was our opportunity to strike. So, I reached for my rifle and prepared to confront it, when suddenly...a big, hairy beast came leaping out of the shadows from behind me and let out a ferocious roar, its raw power shaking the ground underneath as the birds fled from the trees surrounding us.”

Hosea brought his gaze to me, grinning mischievously.

“...Arthur scared the bear off pretty quick. Ha!”

I let out a blunt chuckle, shakin’ my head in an amused manner. “Oh, very funny.”

The older man laughed at my annoyance and took the bait in hand, switching to a more sincere tone as he leaned back in his chair.

“No...the truth is, Arthur saved my life that day. Like the old fool I am, I nearly let that bear get the best of me. But Arthur stepped in just in time. Just as I’m sure he’s done for you.”

Eddie nodded, turning towards me with a fond look. “He has.”

Hosea stood up from his chair. “See, Arthur? You do have a heart, after all.”

I snickered at that. “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.”

The man smirked in return and began makin’ his way out the mansion, winking at Eddie in a friendly manner.

“Don’t listen to him,” Hosea teased as he walked through the door. “He may act like a big, angry moron -- and play the role exceptionally well sometimes, heh -- but there’s a soul lying underneath all that...whether he wants to admit it or not. ...Welp, anyway, I’ll leave you boys alone. In the meantime, I should go speak with Dutch. I know he’s been itchin’ to hit that bank. Stay safe.”

I gave him a casual wave. “You too, Hosea.”

Disappearing behind the mansion’s front doors, Hosea took his leave while Eddie and I stayed behind, the boy turning towards me with a relieved look on his face when he noticed I was no longer bed-ridden.

“Arthur!” Eddie greeted happily as I approached him. “You’re looking much better.”

I casually leaned against the side of the piano. “Thanks to you. How’s the gang been treatin’ you?”

The pianist’s response was surprisingly optimistic. “Most of them have been pretty welcoming. Hosea and Mary-Beth, especially. Mary-Beth can’t seem to get over the fact that you’ve found a new lover. She says it’s ‘adorable.’ Like a romance in one of those books she’s reading.”

I sighed, scratching my beard. “That does sound like somethin’ she would say.”

Eddie flicked his eyes to the side. “...And I may or may not’ve shown her the portrait you made of me.”

A groan escaped me. “...Dammit, Eddie.”

He chuckled. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t resist. It’s a wonderful drawing.”

“I’m just surprised you kept it this long.”

Eddie looked at me affectionately. “Of course I kept it. It’s...it’s special to me. I take it with me everywhere I go. Just brings back a lot of good memories, you know?”

I awkwardly rubbed the back of my neck, tryin’ to hide the faint blush creeping onto my face. “Well, I’m glad you like it so much.”

A certain thought suddenly crossed my mind, leadin’ me to take a seat next to the boy as I propped myself on the edge of the piano’s thin bench.

“Listen,” I said, shifting inelegantly, “I, ah...I never thanked you properly for gettin’ me outta that camp.”

Eddie didn’t appear bothered. “I understand. You were just concerned.”

I rested my hand on the piano, mindlessly fiddling with its keys. “Yeah, but still. I’d be dead by now if you hadn’t come along and saved my ass -- all by yourself, no less. It was a brave and foolish thing, waltzin’ into their camp the way you did...but I’m grateful nonetheless. So...thank you.”

Scooting closer to the musician, I gently cupped his face and planted a brief kiss on his lips, earning a radiant smile from him as he nestled against my hand.

Eddie gazed me in a tender way, placing his own hand on top of mine.

“I’d do anything for you, Arthur. You know that.”

I nodded, furrowing my brow in uneasiness. “I do. And that’s what worries me. But I also know there ain’t no stoppin’ you once you’ve got your mind set on something. Just...don’t go throwin’ your life away like that again, okay? I don’t wanna die, but if it comes down to it, I’d rather you save yourself. Even if it means you can’t save me.”

The boy frowned at that. “Don’t talk that way, Arthur. I’m not going to abandon you.”

I let out a despondent sigh. “Yeah, well...you may not have a choice.”

Interrupting us before we could talk further, the front door suddenly swung open as Miss Grimshaw came stormin’ through, causing me and Eddie to jolt our heads in her direction to see what was goin’ on.

Susan hurriedly approached me, her temperament fueled with a sense of haste as always.

“Mister Morgan,” she called out in a cranky tone, “Dutch is lookin’ for you. Says he needs to speak with you about the bank job.”

I mentally chuckled to myself. I was wonderin’ how long it’d take for Dutch to hit the bank.

“Alright,” I said, rising from the bench and revealing Eddie in the process. “Guess I better go see him, then. Thank you, Susan.”

Upon noticing his presence, Miss Grimshaw brought her attention to the pianist and abruptly changed her mood, takin’ on a more compassionate and motherly nature.

“Oh!” She blurted out. “Well, hello there, young man. You must be that new member Dutch mentioned.”

I gestured to the boy. “This is Eddie. Eddie Ryan.” I switched over to the pianist. “Eddie, Miss Grimshaw.”

The man stood up from his seat, greeting her in a courteous manner as he reached out a hand.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

Susan politely shook his hand, actually managin’ to crack a smile for once.

“The pleasure is mine,” she replied. “It’s always a pleasure to meet someone with manners.” Grimshaw emphasized the last word, sending a glare my way.

I shrugged innocently. “I’ve got manners.”

The woman gripped my arm, forcefully guiding me out the mansion.

“For a no-good outlaw, perhaps. Now go on and get! Dutch is waitin’ for you in the gazebo outside!”

I chuckled, shielding myself from Susan’s frantic swats as she followed me out the door.

“Alright!” I said with a laugh. “I’m on my way.”

Miss Grimshaw regained her composure once I was outta the building and straightened her blouse, turning to Eddie with a sweet expression on her usually grumpy face.

“Mister Ryan, have you met Karen and Tilly yet?”

“I’m afraid not,” he answered. “I’ve met Mary-Beth, though.”

Susan beckoned him. “Well, allow me to introduce you to ‘em. Them girls drive me insane, and they haven’t got a lick of manners like yourself, but I imagine they’ll be quite fond of you.”

Eddie followed the woman, the two of us divertin’ our paths once I spotted the gazebo.

“I hope you’re right. Lord knows I’ve made more than enough enemies.”

Miss Grimshaw nodded at that with a sigh.

“Haven’t we all.”

A LITTLE LATER

Approaching the gazebo just in front of the mansion, I searched for Dutch as I strolled through Lemoyne’s humid, soupy weather, only to find a snake leanin’ against the fence.

At the moment, Micah was currently under the gazebo’s roof as he sharpened his precious knife, givin’ me an unsettling smirk while I walked up the steps.

He put his knife down for a second.

“There he is...” Micah announced, “Dutch’s favorite son. How are you, Arthur?”

I scowled at him impatiently. “Well, I was fine. What you want, Micah?”

He held his hands up defensively. “Just catchin’ up with you, my brother. No need to get angry. See, I got the chance to speak with Eddie while you was...licking your wounds this past week.”

I paused, not interested in the slightest. “...And?”

Micah smiled insincerely, placing a “friendly” hand on my shoulder. “Well, I’m happy for you, Arthur. Outta all the things to find in Saint Denis, I certainly didn’t expect you to find a lover. It’s...surprising, is all. I just never really thought of you as a romantic. ‘Specially when it came to...y’know...boys.”

I aggressively brushed his hand away. “Yeah, well you don’t do much thinkin’ anyway.”

The man gave me a condescending pout. “Why you gettin’ all sour? I ain’t judging you. In fact...I get it. We all need some sort of distraction. I mean, things is tense recently.”

“Which is why we’d all appreciate it if you left.”

Micah snickered mischievously at that, casually wavin’ his knife in my face as he leaned towards me. “Oh, Arthur...I hope you never change.”

A third, guttural voice jumped in, breaking us up before we could argue more.

“Enough! Both of you.”

Joining us in the gazebo, Dutch ascended the short stairs with a rolled up map in his hand as he stepped in between us, starin’ us down like a disappointed father.

He let out a defeated breath. “Can’t you two put aside your differences for just one minute? We have got a bank to rob, and you’re actin’ like a pair of little boys!”

As always, Micah played the role of the ass-kisser.

“I’m sorry, Dutch...” he apologized. “I don’t know what came over me. I just get...I just get so irritated sometimes, but I know it ain’t gonna do us no good. It...it won’t happen again, boss.”

The other man saw through the apology, but accepted it nonetheless.

“Thank you.”

I rested an elbow on the fence, changing the subject. “So, we still hittin’ the bank?”

Dutch spread the map out. “Yes, but not today. Tomorrow. Now, lemme explain the plan. If you’re willin’ to behave, that is.”

He pointed to the Lemoyne National Bank.

“Alright, as you both know, this city is crawlin’ with lawmen. That means if we rob this bank, every policeman in a five-mile radius is gonna be on top of us within seconds. And that’s why we need a distraction.”

I was with the plan so far. “What kinda distraction?”

Dutch brought our focus to a different part of the map, pointing at the trolley station.

“We’ll send some men to start another ‘robbery’ at the trolley station,” he explained. “That should keep the law away from the bank and give us... eight minutes or so to get in, get the money, and get out.”

I blinked in confusion. “Wait -- you wanna rob two places at once?”

Dutch seemed confident. “Why not? The robbery at the station will be more of a distraction than an actual heist, but if we can pull this off, we’ll get double the reward, and twice the amount of money.”

I still wasn’t sure. “And if the plan goes wrong, we’ll get twice the amount of trouble!”

He held up a reassuring hand. “Now, I know this is a risky move...but we need money, Arthur. And we need to get it soon. This city has thousands of dollars just sittin’ in it. We’d be fools to leave it behind!”

I shook my head, starin’ aimlessly at the swamps in the distance. “I dunno, Dutch. Robbin’ a national bank -- that ain’t no easy task. But breakin’ up the gang and startin’ another robbery on the other side of the city? That’s gonna make our chances of success even lower. The risk outweighs the reward here.”

Micah disagreed because of course he did. “Trust Dutch, Arthur. He knows what he’s doing.”

Dutch added onto that. “And besides, like I said, all we’re doin’ is making a bit of noise. If we can confuse the law and have them split up, that’ll make our escape all the easier!”

“And what if they catch someone, Dutch?” I asked. “We won’t even know until we regroup at camp.”

“They won’t,” he reiterated. “Trust me on this, Arthur. This plan will work. We just need to keep our wits about us, and we need to move fast. Just do what I say, and all will be fine. Oh, and another thing -- I want Mister Ryan to come along with us. He knows his way around Saint Denis, and we’re gonna need that knowledge if we’re hopin’ to evade the law.”

I hesitated. “You wanna bring Eddie to the robbery?”

Dutch sensed my caution. “The boy’ll be alright, Arthur. I can promise you that. Just have some faith.”

I fell silent at that, unsure of what else I could say.

It was pretty evident that Dutch was beyond the point of changin’ his mind, and no matter how much I mighta disliked this plan, I knew he was right about the money.

We could take as many jobs as we liked, and run as many errands as we wanted...but the truth o’ the matter was: the gang was runnin’ low on money. We were stuck in the middle of some godforsaken swamp with Pinkertons on our ass, and the only opportunities to grab some cash all lay in that civilized hellhole called Saint Denis.

We would have to rob something, and fast, if we wanted to get outta here. I just didn’t know if stealing from a national bank and baiting the law with our own people was the answer.

There was also the fact that Dutch wanted Eddie to come with us.

I knew the boy could handle himself, and I had no doubts he’d be able to help us...but just the idea of bringin’ him along to a goddamned bank robbery made me uneasy. I mean, I had already forced him into a den full of outlaws and degenerates. The last thing I wanted was for him to become one himself.

But then again, I didn’t really have much of a choice, did I? After all, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and he was gonna have to pull his weight if he wanted to stay.

I supposed I’d have to do what Dutch said...and just have some faith.

“...Alright,” I finally agreed, earning a satisfied expression from the older man. “I’m in.”

Dutch nodded in approval. “We will survive, Arthur. And before that sun finishes its cycle, we are gonna be a whole, lot, richer. Now, why don’t you go and inform Eddie of the plan? I want the whole gang to be prepared for this. We ain’t robbin’ theaters and galas no more, after all. Tomorrow...we’re hitting the heart of Saint Denis.”

[moralesbynature-blog]

Wake Up!!

‘Aahhh’, I awake in a sweaty panic. Breathing fast and heavy, I look over at my alarm clock on my nightstand, two hours before it would've gone off. What am I supposed to do now? There is no way I can get back to sleep, not after the nightmare I just had. I sit up on the edge of my bed, trying to calm my heart and catch my breath, before I start my normal morning routine. ‘Damn, that was some crazy dream’, I say as I force myself up to get the day started. I drag my still sleepy and trembling body all across my small studio apartment, stopping first at the bathroom, and then the kitchen slash living room. I open the fridge and immediately remember that thing I tried to force myself to remember yesterday before coming home for the night. ‘You idiot,’ I grumbled out loud, as I closed my empty fridge. I guess I can go out for breakfast, it has been such a long time since I have treated myself, and besides I have plenty of spare time now. A quick Google search of the nearest open diner, and I was on my way. Only a quick 15 minute bike ride and I'll be deep in pancake heaven, and hopefully the horrible dream, no terrifying nightmare would be well behind me.

The city seemed so different this early in the morning, there's no traffic, car or foot. Except for the waitress, a cook and some old guy, the diner was completely empty. I don't know if it was because of my nightmare or not but, this guy was really giving me a weird vibe. His head was tilted a bit but, I can tell he was staring at me. Even through his thick black sunglasses, I felt his gaze. The waitress came by and placed a glass of ice water on the table, before asking me if I needed more time with the menu. I smiled at her and said no, I can order now. She flipped to what I believe to be a new page in her order booklet. I found it weird as to how many pages she had to go through. Could it've really been that busy this early in the morning, or does she not bother to waste time ripping out the pages. I didn't realise how much time I was wasting wondering about something so trivial, until the sounds of the waitress clearing her throat filled my ears. I looked up at her and smile, ‘sorry’, I pushed out as she smiled politely and ready herself to take my order. ‘Three pancakes, four strips of bacon, two over medium eggs and crispy hashbrowns’, my all time favorite meal, I figured I deserved it after that hellish dream. After she finished taking my order, she grabbed the menu and walked away. I looked around, and found myself in awe. From the outside looking in, you wouldn't expect much from this small place. It is actually quite wonderful. There's a homey feel to it, like your mother would come walking down the stairs at any minute, asking if you got your homework done. I felt as if my dog Arthur would be begging to be let in at any minute.

As I was caught up in the decor of the diner my eyes unknowingly settled on the the other customer. I grinned awkwardly and quickly looked away, just in time to see the waitress walking up with food. No way it could be mine, it hasn't even been seven minutes. It has to be the other guy's. I turn my head to look out the window, when I heard the sound of ceramic hitting the table. I turn to see my smiling waitress placing down my order, first the pancakes, then the bacon and eggs, and last the hashbrowns. ‘Sorry it took so long, I'm just starting to’, and she turned to look me right in the eyes, ‘wake up’. I thought to myself she must be kidding, this is the fastest I've ever received food. ‘No problem’, I said to her as she smiled and walked away. I picked up my knife and as I dug in, I couldn't believe my senses, this has to be the best food I have ever eaten in my life. Every single bite, seemed to be better than the last. The pancakes were moist, soft, and fluffy, the bacon, nice and thick. The eggs perfectly runny, and buttery, and the hashbrowns, crisped to perfection. As quickly as the food arrived it was gone. The waitress came by, almost the second after I finished gorging myself. ‘You look a thousand times better, you must have really needed this.’ She said as she cleared the table. I must've have looked troubled when I arrived here. ‘There's nothing a good breakfast can't fix’, she smiled and walked away. The other guy in the diner started to move for the first time, since I've been here. He stood up and reached over his table to pick up his hat and newspaper. He then started to leave, one foot after another. His footsteps filled the quiet diner, as he made his way to the exit. He stopped right in front of me, ‘There is nothing like a good meal, that helps one,’ and looks straight at me, ‘wake up’, he flashed a smile at me and continued to the door. It was weird, because I not sure if I seen the waitress go over to his table, or even if he ate anything for that matter. I looked at the time, and I figured I had more than 30 minutes before I needed to get to work. I turned to wave down the waitress, and before I could get my hand up, there she was standing right beside me. ‘Um, the check’, I spat out. ‘Oh there is no need for that, the gentleman that just left, paid for everything’, she smiled and left for the last time. I felt like a complete ass, here I was judging this nice man. I got up and headed to work.

I arrived with 15 minutes to spare, and to my surprise my best friend Claire was already there, this was not like her at all, we used to joke that she'll be late to her own funeral. I put my bag on the back of my chair, and said to her ‘Oh wow, I must be dreaming, you are never on time’. She smiled, ‘Well maybe you are, and you should’, and she turned to me, ‘wake up Jim’. She stood up, with enough speed and force to throw her chair more than a few feet behind her. She grabbed me by my shoulders and shock me violently, shouting wake up Jim, wake up. The room started spinning, my head was pounding, as Claire, the waitress and the old guy all started to scream wake up!

I jumped up, sweat pouring down my face, my side is burning with this crazy intense pain. The room I was in was dark, and there was a smell of mold and rust in the air, a smell so overwhelming, I could taste it. The only thing I can hear are whispers for me to wake up. ‘Ugh, where am I?’ I managed to get out, trying to get to my feet, only to hit my head on something metal. I quickly realized I was in a cage, much too small for me to stand, or do much of anything for that matter. ‘Well, what happened?’ I squinted in the darkness trying to find where Claire's voice was coming from. Everything slowly started coming back to me. ‘What did they do to you’ she squealed out. ‘I-I don't know, ahh, but my side really hurts.’ ‘I'm scared Jim, I'm so scared’, she called out. ‘You were gone for some long, I didn't think you would ever coming back.’ Her words echoed in my head over and over again. Then it hit me, just like that, this was the dream. I must have never gotten up, I just got to find a way to wake up. That's it, I started slapping my already pounding head, telling myself to wake up, that this is all a dream. I can hear Claire through my chant saying it's not a dream, that it is really happening, and we need to figure away out if this. I couldn't expect what she was saying, there was no way that any of this was real. So I just kept chanting. Someone bursted through the door, and a blinding light filled the room. I started to hear footsteps as I strained my eyes to get some kind of idea as to where I am. Just as my eyes started to adjust, I looked over in Claire's direction and saw just before the room was blanketed in darkness again, something that looked like Claire, but couldn't possibly be her. I shouted out what happened to your arms! I started to panic, curling up into a ball, I cried out this isn't happening.

Loud screams soon filled the room. Louder than my cries, louder than Claire's shouting. The door flew open again. I felt the figure making his way towards me. Being far on the other side of the room the door closed before he got to me. The room grew quiet, as I tried to find where the figure had gone. Before I could, I felt a sharp pain in my neck, and my entire body went numb. The figure begun to open my cage, I could hear Claire calling out to me, but I couldn't speak back to here. The figure slumped me over his shoulder and carried me off. A short walk later he threw me down on a metal table. This room was different from the last. It was extremely clean, and the smell was gone. I tried to look around, but I was unable to move my head, only my eyes. All I could see were white fluorescent lights,  and some kind of monitor. A deep booming voice said to me, ‘Shall we begin?’ and the monitor switched on. I look and to my horror it was me that I was looking at. What in the Hell is going on here? That's when he walked into view. He was a mountain of a man, covered in white and with far too many blood stains from head to toe. ‘Enjoy the show’, he said with a chuckle. He pulled out a scalpel, and moved in towards my chest. ‘Don't worry, you won't feel a thing’, I tired to fight, but whatever he gave me, was strong. The scalpel pierced my skin, as he dragged it down to my bellybutton. Blood oozed out and down the sides of my body, to the table. It was like some kind of a sick car crash. No matter how hard I tried I couldn't look away.I stared at the monitor, both terrified and concerned as to what he was doing. He peeled my skin back revealing my ribs, lungs, and heart. My eyes started to water, even though I couldn't feel them, I know tears were falling down my face. He put down the scalpel, and picked up a black sack that seemed tiny in his hand but quite large when compared to my body. He stuff the sack inside me, in the area where my side was hurting when I woke up. He walked away to grab a needle and thread, so he can attach this foreign object, to replace my kidney. So many thoughts filled my mind, including where my kidney is, when did he take it and what is the slack, he just put in my body. It felt like hours, but whatever he has done to me was finally over. I couldn't help but feel relieved as he cut the thread that sealed my body shut. He stuffed his hand underneath me to carry me back to my cage. Only a moment past by when there was a loud bang of crashing metal, that made him drop me onto a different table. My body met the cold metal with a thud. As I lay there waiting for my  tormentor to return, it dawned on me, this table is cold. I wasn't able to feel anything until now. Maybe the shot is wearing off, and maybe just maybe I can escape. With every but of force I could muster I propped myself up on the table and looked around the room, and there they were my keys to freedom. Laying on a countertop only a few feet away, were syringes with what I am praying to be the same thing he gave me. I threw myself into the floor hoping I don't open my freshly closed stitches, and dragged myself up to the countertop, I stole two of the syringes and made my way back to the the table. ‘Now I wait’, I said out loud.

It was no time at all before he returned, under the impression that I was still sedated, he picked me and threw me over his shoulder. Now is the time to strike, I lifted my hand up and stabbed him right in the neck. Before he could realize what happened, it was already too late, he let out a roar as his body collapsed under him. We hit the ground with a tremendous force, that shook the room. Before I left I hit him with two more syringes to be on the safe side, and I sluggishly made my way to an exit.

Nearly an hour I walked clueless as to where I was going, or even if I was ever going to find a way out. That's when I saw it, a big set of doors, with a beam of light shining through. Freedom, my body was overcome with warmth, as I thought to myself this nightmare is finally over. Once outside it didn't take long for people to notice a naked man wondering the streets. The police were quick on the scene, I told them what happened and guided them to the building, where Claire and the others were before passing out in the back of an ambulance.

I woke up to the sound of a heart monitor beeping, and the smell of a clean hospital room. My eyes opened slow, so that I can adjust to the light. I called out for anyone that would hear, it didn't take long for a nurse to hear me, he came in with a smile, ‘You are a real hero. Three whole days you were out, I was beginning to think you were never going to’, and he looked right at me, ‘wake up’. My body went cold, as all the sound left the room. I look at him, ‘wh-what did you say?’ My heart rate increase, causing the monitor to beep faster. The nurse placed a hand on my shoulder, ‘you have to calm down, don’t worry you are safe now.’ He smiled and left the room, nodding to a police officer as he left. ‘Where's Claire’, I asked. ‘She's sleeping in the ICU, I can take you to her when she gets the strength to’, and the officer looks right at me, ‘wake up’. My heart started to pound again, my head spun around. I pulled on my hair and shouted out not again, oh God not again. Nurses ran into the room, all trying to get me to calm down. ‘Claire! I need to see Claire! Where is she?’ The room grew quiet, as Claire walked into the room. Nurses urged her to sit down, and that she shouldn't be walking around. She assured them that she was fine, and sat on the edge of the bed. She looked me right in the eyes. ‘Jim’, she said with a smiled, and pushing my hair out of my face with her hands, ‘You need to wake up.’

[sympathyfortheblinderdevil]

The Cursed Side Of This Family Chapter 8

Slow burn, Tommy x Esme, grief, guilt, lust, drugs…What’s not to love? 

Look here for Chapter 7              Look here for Chapter 9

This chapter features the obligatory visit to the Garrison. Tommy wants what he wants, but Esme is still feels conflicted (horny, but conflicted).

Esme and Polly sat in the Garrison drinking pints. Aunt Pol, usually a whiskey drinker, had decided to keep things more tame than usual tonight. She had picked up on the lingering tension between Esme and Tommy, and she hoped that Esme would loosen up enough to talk about it. If something was troubling Esme, or if (God forbid) Tommy had a plan he had shared with her, Polly needed to know about it.

Aside from that, it wouldn’t hurt the poor girl to get out and have a good time. Aunt Pol believed that Esme need to be reminded that she was a Shelby, and that she belonged. A night at the Garrison was just what she needed.

Polly remembered that after she lost her husband to a canal accident, she felt like she couldn’t enjoy herself without disrespecting her husband’s memory. She herself felt like she had no call to smile for almost a year after her husband’s death, and she was afraid that Esme was going the same way. Esme listened as Polly explained, “I was angry at the sun for shining after my husband died. He was young, strong, handsome… a real river gypsy. After he passed, if I laughed about something silly that Anna or Michael had done, I felt such guilt. How could I feel joy, happiness, anything, when he was gone?” Polly looked into Esme’s eyes and emphasized her next words, “Esme, I had to decide if I was going to carry on living, or die with him. Do you understand my meaning? You have to get on with living. No one will think any less of you.”

Esme watched the bubbles rise to the top of her glass of lager and pop as she took in every word. She wanted all of her reservations about Tommy to be unfounded. When he held her, she felt high. Better than high. For months she had craved nothing but oblivion, a numbness to stem the pain of losing John. Tommy made her want to feel again. All of her pain seemed to drain away when he looked at her with want in his eyes. She wanted to believe that Tommy could make her feel good again, but her residual anger for the way the Italian situation was handled and her mistrust of Tommy were hard to shake. Esme’s head swam with thinking of it.

“What is going on in that head of yours?” Polly asked, after Esme sat quietly for a few minutes.

“I’m thinking about Thomas.”

Her answer surprised Polly, who assumed she was lost in thoughts of John. “What about Tommy?”

“Well, as you know, we have not always cared for each other as family should,” Esme began. “I believe that the way he handled the Italians is to blame for John being taken from us, but with the Wood family closing in, I have had to put all of that to one side.”

“You have done what any mother would do; you’ve made a truce in order to survive.” Polly knew all about truces with Tommy.

“I had no choice. But, Polly, he has been kind, humble, and sympathetic to me since I came home, and it confuses me. I don’t know what to believe anymore. I want to let my guard down and let myself come back into the fold, but I keep waiting for him to show himself.  You were there for the betrayals… you stood inside the noose. How do you take what he did to you and reconcile it with who he appears to be today?”

Polly lit a cigarette and considered her question for a moment before answering. “Some days it is nearly impossible.” Polly exhaled a plume of smoke and it floated up to the ceiling in wisps. “It might be easier for me to do because I remember how he was when he was just a boy. When his mum died, the poor thing was adrift, and sometimes I still see the hurt hiding there behind his eyes.”

Esme tried to picture Tommy as a lonely young boy, taking care of John and Ada as best he could, worrying about Finn. He had to grow up very quickly.

“Esme, Tommy contradicts himself all too often, but I believe his heart is in the right place. It is true that he traded us, temporarily, because he had no choice. Now, he is in a position of power, high enough to make sure that we are untouchable. He is one of them now, and they won’t go after one of their own. Thomas will take care of us. He and Arthur will finish the Woods, and you will be able to have peace again.”

As the night went on, Esme and Polly shared stories about growing up on the road and pints turned to shots. They shared a bond from traveling, and Polly was growing to see Esme with true affection. Polly noticed that Tommy had come in and was standing at the bar. She left Esme chatting with some neighbors and went to get the next round of drinks in. Tommy glowered at Polly as she approached the bar. “How long have you two been here?”

“Long enough,” Polly smiled in defiance of his attitude as she answered him. “Two more, Harry!”

Esme strolled up to the bar as Harry set up the shots. As she approached, she overheard Tommy tell Polly, “Don’t let Esme get too far gone, yeah?”

Having passed the point of tipsy and strayed into the territory of drunk, Esme took umbrage at Tommy’s remark.

She stared him down. “Oh, we know. You’re the only one allowed to do that.” She smiled at Polly in a conspiratorial way and sank one of the shots.

Tommy set his jaw and lit a cigarette. “I’m only thinking about how you will feel later.”

The comment went right past Polly’s radar, but Esme absorbed a deeper meaning.   I saw a very sad, very drunk girl. Lost in grief and smoke. The memory of the night before echoed in her head. He held her steady in his gaze as she wordlessly reached over to the bar, grabbed the second shot, and drank it down. She licked the whiskey off of her top lip and handed Tommy the empty glass, “Oh, I believe I’ll manage. Pol, I’m going to the loo.” Esme drifted off in the direction of the ladies room leaving Polly and Tommy standing at the bar.

“What the hell was that?” Polly eyed Tommy, “And don’t think you can lie to me because I know you better than you know yourself.”

Tommy ran a hand over his face and turned away from Polly to compose his features. “Look, when I went to talk to Esme the other day, she had been drinking. She is not the easiest person to reason with under the best of circumstances, so you can imagine how it went trying to make peace with a soused Esme. Christ, Pol, she has spent the past year chanting curses on me.”

Polly narrowed her eyes at him, “But you made peace?”

“Yeah. But these are not normal circumstances. The Woods are out there, and I need Esme to keep her mind about her. I thought the whole point of getting her back to work was so that we could keep her reined in, keep her off the booze and the smoke…”

“The smoke?” Polly rolled her eyes and snapped at Tommy, “Who said anything about smoke? Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to worry. She said it was just a little to help her sleep. She doesn’t have any more.” Tommy was becoming exasperated with the way their conversation was going. “When she comes back, Pol, you need to convince her that it’s time to go home. I think she’s had enough.”

Polly stared straight ahead at the row of bottles behind the bar, but nodded her head in assent.

Tommy finished his drink and put his hat on his head. “Good. I’ll get the car.”

When they got home, Polly went upstairs to run a bath for Esme while Tommy stayed in the parlor with her.

“How could you throw that in my face, Thomas?” Esme lurched around the room, scowling at him.

“I only stated that I was concerned about your well-being.”

“You knew exactly what you were implying.”

“Esme, you are drunk and mistaken. Come sit down.”

“I don’t wanna sit with the likes of you.”

“Then sit over there, but sit down before you fall. I need to talk to you, and I need you to listen. Can you do that for me?”

Esme slouched beside Tommy on the divan, despite what she had said. She folded her arms and turned to face him, blinking slowly and nodding her head.

“Listen,” Tommy whispered, “Polly was asking questions tonight, questions about us.”

Esme’s eyes grew wide and she gasped with a little squeak.

“Shhhhh, I don’t want her to hear us. I smoothed things over for now, but I told her about the smoke.”

“For fooks sake, Thomas!” Esme whispered loudly, bringing her face close to his and uncrossing her arms. She put a hand on his thigh as she leaned into him.

“Polly sensed tension between us, so I gave her something to go on. She’ll think about that instead of figuring out…”

“God, Thomas, she only just now decided she likes me. Now she thinks I’m some kind of dope fiend.”

“No, she doesn’t. It’s alright. But, Esme,” Tommy twisted a tendril of her hair around his finger and continued on whispering softly to her, “I don’t want to hide forever. Fuck what anybody thinks.” He pulled her face to his, and tenderly brushed his lips across her cheek. “We better get you upstairs before Polly comes looking for you.”

“Thomas,”

“mmmmm,” he hummed into her neck,

“Will you come see me tonight?”

“If that is what you want.”

“I want you.”

@hethrewmyheartinthecut @theskinofmyemotions @unluckymonaghan @aranoburns  @imsortoftrash I tried to tag people who have given me feedback on this. If you want to be tagged on future chapters (or not) let me know. xoxo

[theliterateape]

Half Pant Final

by Paul Teodo & Tom Myers

He was 7 feet tall, wearing yellow flowered shorts that stopped an inch above his deeply scarred right knee. Muscular calves supported long legs that ended in crooked toes sprouting from lime green sandals. The image of a blues man wailing on his Stratocaster was silk-screened in silver on his black tee shirt. “Buddy Guy” in script identified the artist.

“You play ball?” I didn’t know what else to say.

“Turkey,” he said, straightening his black cowboy hat, “Slim” embroidered along the left side, silver coins embedded in its red satin band. There was nothing slim about him. He wasn’t a seven-foot bean pole. He was a muscular seven-footer with a well-manicured salt-and-pepper goatee.

“Turkey?”

“Yeah, they have a league. They needed a ‘big.’ I dabbled.”

I’d heard of pro basketball in Spain, Italy, Israel, even Australia, but not Turkey. “Well, that’s not what we’re here for. Thanks for coming.”

He kept looking out the window as if someone was out to get him. “Ra said you were okay.”

“Ra?”

“Raheem.”

“Our cook?”

“Yeah, we ball together, over on Madison, 24-hour gym, just down from the stadium. He vouched for you.” He glanced out the window again.

I resisted the urge to follow his stare.

“When do you have time? You’re already at three hospitals, Lourdes, Nicoletta, Pious, and you ball?”

“Sleep’s overrated. You only die once. Like I said, that’s why I came. Ra, he said you were okay. Said you were open,” he chuckled, “to a little different, and I can be different.”

Yeah, I thought, he was different. “Glad I got a good recommendation.”

“So what do you need?”

“I’ll be straight with you. We got a problem. Our orthos think they own the place.”

He looked back at me. “I’ve heard. You got Vince who thinks he’s the Don of the hospital and should get paid juice.” I cringed at his bluntness. “Schweingart, the Nazi, is flat-out scary, and Seamus can’t stay sober, and came close to killing a guy last month in the OR.” He looked out the window again. “Yeah, you got problems.”

How’d he know about all that shit? Were we that infamous? And what the hell was out the window? “How’d you hear about all that?”

He smiled, towering over me like I was a child. My chin, maybe, came up to his waist. “C’mon.” He clapped his hands shut; the slap of his palms, like a bullet, echoed off my office walls. “People talk, and they tell others not to talk, which makes them talk even more.” He studied his hand as if he was examining a wound. Empty. He shook his head with disappointment. “I used to be better.”

He folded himself like a wounded crane into a chair, making it, and my desk look miniature next to his out-sized frame. 

I scanned his CV. It smelled like cigarettes, coffee stains obliterated most of his references. “Guadalajara Medical School?”

“I like the sun.”

“What else do you like?”

He shifted, struggling to find his “spot” in a human-sized seat. “Mexicans, they’re so laid back, and their cuisine.”

“And?”

“I quit. I don’t do that stuff anymore.” He tapped his chest. “Bad for the lungs….” He wrenched his neck with a giant hand, Big-foot came to mind, looking around the room trying to figure out a way of answering me without sounding stupid. A bone somewhere inside cracked, exploding like a firecracker, making me jump.

“Jesus,” I said, letting him off the hook for a second.

“C-4. I took a charge from a kid from Kenya. Fractured my spine.”

“You quit…you were saying.”

“Yeah. I mean I got into Michigan, Rush, Hopkins, but I wanted sun, and chill. So ‘Mexico, here I come.’”

“That’s when it started?”

“Naw, in high school, but I stopped when I got to Mexico.”

“Get busted?”

“No way.” He said like he was proud of himself. “I had a vision.”

“Totally done with it?”

“Yep, twelve years. She stays on me.”

“She?”

“My wife.”

“What she do?”

“Sex therapist.”

The conversation was making me feel like I was the only old maid in a popcorn machine.

“You have a colorful life.”

“I get interested in everything really easy, and I get bored even easier. So I bounce around.”

“You think you can handle it here?”

“I can adapt to just about anything, and because of how I am,” he smiled and waved his hand over his Goliath-sized frame, his flowered shorts, his skin-tight Buddy Guy tee, and his silver-studded, red-sash hat, “I’m used to taking a little shit.”

I imagined it wasn’t too much shit, given his imposing stature. “I can’t have you giving it back. These guys are vicious. I need to run a hospital.”

“You like Mexican?”

Back into the popcorn machine. I tried to keep the conversation going. “Good people. A big part of our patient base. A bit shy for me. But terribly discriminated against.”

“I mean food.”

“Food?”

“Yeah, tamales, tacos, empanadas, and horchata, my favorite drink. Saved my ass when I got off the stuff.”

“Why?”

“Why?” He repeated.

“Why are you interested in my palate?”

“I’m hungry. Let’s eat. If I’m gonna get my ass grilled, it might as well be where the grilling isn’t just my ass.”

“I gotta check my schedule.” I hate Mexican food.

“Screw your schedule. I’ll drive.”

More bones cracked as he uncoiled from the chair, sending shivers up my spine, “Jesus.” He straightened his right leg, massaging it with the longest fingers I’d ever seen.

 “IT band. Tighter than a freakin’ bungee cord. It’s all connected.”

 “Kenyan kid?”

“Yep, a nice kid. Coulda played in the NBA . But he broke my freakin’ back. He got me into medicine. I owe him. Killed a lion with his bare hands. He could really play ball.  His family didn’t want him to leave. He’s in line to be a chief or something.”

“Who coulda played in the NBA?”

He paused, his eyes darting out the window again. “Both of us. Let’s go eat.”

“You’re something. What’s with the window?”

He shrugged. “We keep in touch. I told you I like different. Let’s go.”

We walked to the door. “Sasha. Dr. Vuckovich and I are going to lunch. I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Make it two,” he said, removing his hat, revealing a polished skull, wiping beads of sweat from his extremely broad forehead. 

Sasha gave me a disgruntled look, then a disapproving grunt, acting as if she was writing something distasteful on a piece of yellow paper to show to all of her friends. 

“We’re getting Mexican. Can I bring you back something?”

“You hate Mexican.”

So much for my diplomacy with Dr. V.

He smiled, grabbed my arm and pulled me forward. ��Let’s go. You’ll like this, Boss. I parked in front.” I stumbled to keep up. His gait was about 142 feet longer than mine. “Hope I didn’t bend the rules too much.” He turned, giving me a shit-eating smile.

I was now his boss? Were we making progress?  Who the hell could figure? 

Just to the left of the front entrance, taking up two spots, one a handicap space, sat a vehicle that should have been repossessed by a chop-shop on 63rd Street. He waved his hand at this long black piece of metal, bowing as if he was introducing royalty. “Meet Miss Koko.”

“Koko?” I asked, trying to hide my displeasure at both his cavalier attitude toward our parking regulations and being carted off to a Mexican lunch in this ridiculous piece of shit.

“Yep, Koko Taylor,” he said proudly. “Best blues singer this city’s ever had.”

“You named your car after a blues singer?”

“Better than Impala or Bonneville, or Arthur.” His voice rose, echoing off our one-hundred year-old building. “C’mon, all bullshit names.”

I popped open the door. “It’s a fucking hearse.”

A huge grin spread across his face. “Not anymore. I had a patient trick it out for me. I did his shoulder. Put him back to work. He was broke. No insurance. He got what he wanted and so did I.” He opened the door threw his hat into the back seat. “It’s more like a cargo van.”

“You really drive this?”

“Yep, everywhere, and check this out” Despite his size he slid in effortlessly, and arched his back against the black velvet front seat.  His legs stretched under the dash deep into what would normally be the engine compartment. He wiggled his snake-like toes and smiled, and let out a satisfied groan.” Leg room. A shit-load of leg room!”

I looked into his back seat, sliding in, imagining all the dead bodies that had rested there. I noticed what appeared to be a neck of a guitar peeking out from a Navajo blanket. Across the top, embossed in gold on shiny black wood was the word Gibson. “A guitar?” I nodded to the back seat.

“For my band,” he said, popping a mint into his mouth. “Want one?”

“Band?”

“Well, not really mine, we got a gig tonight. Wanna come? I’ll comp you.”

The popcorn kept exploding all around me, and I was still the old maid.

“Gig? Where?”

“Let’s go.” He slammed Koko into gear, kicked it in the ass, and sped out of the parking lot.

“Sure.” Why the hell not?

 “Great! Rosa’s. Armitage, near Western.” He leaned over, not slowing one bit, his shoulder jammed into my chest, ripped open the glove compartment and the pulled a ticket from the box. 

He handed it to me then slammed on his brakes, and screamed. “Asshole!”

Dr. V. was able to hand me my comped ticket for his gig and avoid crushing a neon blue Prius at the same time.

“That was close,” I said looking down at the ticket.

“Naw, I’m a defensive driver.”

I wanted to tell him he was an offensive driver but I bit my tongue. I looked back at the ticket. It read: Chicago Blues Pussyhounds, Featuring Dr. Slim. Slim? from his hat.

“Provocative name.”

“Gets people’s attention. Layla thought of it.”

“Layla?”

“My wife.”

The sex therapist. Jesus.

It was like I was in a movie. And I was having a helluva time keeping up. Vuckovich’s  Most Excellent Adventure. 

“Relax,” he ordered, and flipped on the stereo, multiple pulsing speakers rattled my bones. A soulful woman’s voice rose over it all. He pointed in the air, bobbing his head to the beat of the thumping music.  “Koko! Let’s go! I got a hip at Pious at 3!”

“Any bodies back there?” I asked, looking at the cavernous area behind us.

“I keep ‘em alive,” he smiled and popped another mint. “I don’t kill ‘em like your boys.”

He’d heard that too?  Shit.

                                                                           ***

“He wears half pant.”

Dev Balakrishnan, unlike Igor Vuckovich, was nowhere near seven feet tall. In fact, he barely cleared five feet. I didn’t think he’d fall in love with Dr. V, but I thought he’d at least give him a chance.

“He’s got great experience.” I was grasping.

“And auto is for dead people.”

Shit, he’d seen Koko.

“Dr. Balakrishnan,” I butchered his name every time I tried to say it.

“B,” he said “call me B. I’d rather hear you say B than you pronounce name like a contagious disease.”

I peered into the conference room where B had been interrogating V who now sat alone upright and uncomfortable, in a wooden chair, drumming his hands on the table, head bobbing up and down, probably grooving to Koko or Buddy. I indulged myself for a moment, imagining their interview, popcorn exploding all over the room.

“Why do you wear half pant?”

“Half pant?”

“Yes. And your car is for dead people. And toes should not be seen.”

“Ever listen to Koko Taylor, Doc? I think you’d dig her.”

I would have bought a ticket to that show.

“We’re dying here,” I said to B. “With only three orthos, and they run the department like gangsters.”

“The man would not fit here.” He pointed to Dr. V, now standing, rocking out on his air guitar. “He is too much, how you say, eccentric. Plus, training is bad. Mexico.”

“And Vince and his boys do fit?  Schweingart got his training in the Caribbean at a pop-up school that closed right after he graduated.”

“They do not wear half pant or drive car for dead people.”

“I’ll bring it to the Board.” I lowered my voice trying to make him think.

Dr. B winced. “Board is for major issues.”

“This is a major issue. They’re killing us. They’re all trying to squeeze us, and we got nothing left.”

“I do not know this squeeze.”

B was dumb like a fox. He knew what those guys were. He did it once in a while too, but overall he was a good guy. He played fair and was a good surgeon. He took who came in the door and didn’t try to bullshit his way out of treating people who had no dough. Vince and his crew were different. No money or insurance? Then it was… Too big a case. We don’t have a bed. We’re short staffed. No supplies. Too much a risk. So ship ‘em out to someplace else. The County was always their fallback. If they could pay, then Vince and his boys would roll out the red carpet. What they did was plain wrong, a royal pain in the ass, and illegal. If Medicare pays your hospital and doctors, you have to care for those who can’t pay. And while docs were making lame excuses not to treat a banged up guy laid out in the mangled and broken, the entire place would back up like the traffic on the Jane Byrne or worse yet, the Hillside Fucking Strangler. Bullshit, and we were all tired of it.

“Doc, you know what I’m talking about. You accepted the position of President of the Medical Staff” and its stipend, I implied. “It’s time for you to man up.”

Pondering what he should do, he studied me with puffy eyes and labored breath, looked to Dr. V, still grooving to his tunes. He rubbed his disheveled hair. “Temporary,” he said, clearing his phlegmy throat. “We will give him temporary opportunity. Vince going to vacation home in Florida for February month. He can take his call. Ten days.”

“Temporary…” I began…but stopped. B could tell I was ready to fight, so I countered with silence.

“But,” he pointed at me, “no Board. We will work this out man to man.”

So, what direction should I go?  Eat the entire enchilada, I hate Mexican, or take it one bite at a time? “I’m not sure Dr. V would go for that. Would you?”

“He will agree.”

“How do you know?”

B looked at me.  A wry smile peeked out from under his scruff. “He already told me he would.”

                                                                               ***

“A John Doe.”

“Who’s on call?”

Shaneese, our ER traffic cop, paused. “Vince,” she said, her voice low, filled with disdain. “He won’t take it. You know that.”

We paid the asshole a grand for every call he took. But she was right. He’d hem and haw and make everybody sit on their hands, listening to his excuses.

I could see her standing in the ER, hand on hip, head tilted, staring at the ceiling, waiting for my response, judging the shit out of me.

“John Doe?” I asked, as if I hadn’t heard her, trying to buy time.

She did not respond. She let me dangle.

“What’s the damage?”

“He was thrown off a roof.” Her voice flat. “Multiple cervical fractures.”

“Jesus.”

“People are animals.”

“How many?”

“I stopped counting at C-5,” she said, growing more impatient.

“Stable?” Stupid question.

Her voice rising. “Stable? At least three of his seven vertebrae are busted. His spinal cord probably sprung a leak. He’s NOT stable. He’s going to die. He needs surgery now!”

“Call Vince. Tell him what you got and let me know what he says.”

I could feel her scorn as she hung up. And I deserved it. I’d let this shit go on too long.

Fuck. I grabbed my phone and called the front desk.

“Hello.”

“Shanda could you get me Dr. Endrizzi?”

“He don’t like me to call him. He only likes to talk to medical folks.”

“What’s his number?”

“Office or cell?”

“Cell.”

“312-665-3987. Good luck.”

                                                                              ***

“Hello.” His voice thick, filled with the hills of northern Italy.

“Vince, it’s Jim. We got a situation in the ER.”

“The John Doe with the spine?”

He’d heard already. “Yeah.”

“Too complex for us.”

“You’ve done them before.”

“Not too complex for me, but your staff isn’t qualified.” He hung up.

Sonofabitch. That arrogant prick. Isn’t qualified? Our staff was good, real good, and brave as shit. I redialed. “This is Dr. Endrizzi, I cannot take a call. I’m gone in February with important Medical Business. If you have big problem, call 911, or go to Hospital Emergency. They take care of you.”

Important Medical Business, my ass. 

I yanked open my office door and headed to the OR. 

 I swiped my card and the panels slid open. I asked the OR Receptionist Denelle, “is Dr. Balakrishnan in there?” I pointed to suite #1, where we configured the surgical table and the lighting for a man of his small stature.

“He’s got a TURP,” she said, without looking up from her desk. 

“How long before he’s done?”

“Depends on the size of the prostate.” She smiled.

I wasn’t in the mood for jokes. “I’ll wait.”

“Put this on.” She handed me a package of scrubs.

In the middle of my rage I struggled to yank on the gown, booties, gloves, and mask. She pointed to a chair in the corner of the room. I sat dressed in my surgery get-up like a child waiting to be punished by Mother Superior.

Denelle picked up the phone and tapped numbers with her pencil. “This is Denelle,” she said, “Tell Dr. B the boss is here for him.”

I stared at the thin red second hand on the wall-mounted clock, swooshing around the face in slow motion, my leg jumpy, like a junkie, full of rage. Important Medical Business, my ass. Your staff aren’t qualified. Fuck him.

The surgical suite door slid open. The tiny man waddled toward me, his disheveled hair peeking out from under his blue cap. He unpeeled his bloody gloves, the rubber making a snapping sound. He sighed and shook his head. “Big case.” His voice tired, never looking this old. “What is it?”

I stood. “Vince.”

His face contorted. “What now?”

“We got a John Doe in the ER. Busted neck. Vince won’t do the case.”

“It sounds complex.”

“Doc, don’t go down that path. He can do it. We can do it. He blew me off.”

“These are difficult decisions.”

“My ass. It’s a John Doe. He wants nothing to do with them. That’s why we pay him a fucking grand a call.” I was too loud.

B took me by the arm and led me to an empty suite. “He told me he wasn’t going to take any cases today. He’s leaving tomorrow morning.”

“What the hell are we gonna do with the patient?”

“Half pant.”

“What?”

“Call half pant surgeon.”

Was he shitting me? “No way. It’s Vince’s call. He’s already got his grand.  It’s his case.” 

“Call half pant.”

John Doe needed help. I’d deal with Vince later.

                                                                            ***

No cell reception in the OR, so I rushed to the waiting area. As soon as I walked in, a flock of petrified family members approached me. For a moment, I was disoriented, like a man just entering a room with the lights out. Then it hit me. My scrubs, mask, and gloves.

“I’m not a doctor,” I said, sounding like a moron. “I’m not,” I pleaded with them to believe me.

I fumbled with the buttons on my phone. Vuckovich, nothing came up. I couldn’t have. I tried again. V-U Still nothing. Then it hit me. I looked around to see if I’d get caught.  7-footer. I punched it in. Bingo. The phone rang once. “Yo.” His voice so loud it hurt. Koko Taylor blasted in the background. I could picture him, head bobbing, fingers fretting his invisible Gibson. “Yo,” he yelled again. “What’s up?”

“We got a John Doe in the ER.”

He didn’t let me finish. “On my way.” Sirens blared over Koko. I pictured him speeding down 63rd Street in that black chop-shopped hearse. “Don’t get pulled over. I hear sirens.”

“Siren’s mine. I told you, my guy pimped this baby out. Ten minutes.” His phone went dead.

                                                                   ***

I called Shaneese in the ER. “Dr. Vuckovich is on his way.”

“Dr. Who?”

“Vuckovich,” I said. “Send the John Doe to the OR with everything you got on him.”

“One second,” She said. “Can I help you?”

“Where’s the OR?” I heard over the commotion.

“Who the hell are you?” Shaneese did not mince words.

“Igor.”

“Igor?” Her voice rose over the craziness.

“Shaneese!” I shouted.

“I can’t talk!” she said. ”I got a crazy monster in here, wearing flowery shorts,” her voice rose, “a black hat, and a pair of nasty feet, telling me he got to go to the OR.”

“That’s Dr. Vuckovich.”

“You playin’ with me.”

“Shaneese, I’m not. He’s got temporary privileges. He’s gonna do the case.” 

“A big ass man comin’ in here…”

“I’ll explain later. Just get him to the OR.”

“Who parked a hearse in the doctors’ parking lot?” Al, our ER security guard, yelled over the ruckus.

“It’s not a hearse.” I heard Dr. V retort.

“Shaneese, get him to the OR.”

Five minutes later, the elevator door opened. Removing his hat, then ducking his head to get out, Igor Vuckovich appeared, carrying a red duffle bag with a white crescent and TURKEY emblazoned on its side. He looked around the waiting room, spotted me, and smiled.

I gave him a confused look.

 “From my playing days. You doin’ surgery now?” He pointed at my scrubs.

“He’s in there.” I nodded to where they’d taken John Doe, ignoring his joke.

“You are a doctor,” a visitor said.

“He’s not,” Dr. V interrupted, “but I am.”

“I never seen no doctor who look like you.”

“Me either,” V smiled. “Let’s rock and roll.”

I swiped my card and the doors slid open. 

He entered, again bowing his head, this time not removing his hat. He dropped his bag on the floor and grabbed a package wrapped in plastic and a CD. He ripped open the plastic removing the largest pair of scrubs I’d ever seen and began dressing in the middle of the OR.  The legs traveled past my chin. The arms could have served as a strait jacket for a lineman on the Bears, and his booties looked like canoe paddles. Our staff was in awe, speechless, jaws descending to the floor.

Dr. Balakrishnan approached Dr. V, “Thank you for helping us.”

 “Dev, you assisting on this?” 

“I…” B paused.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

“I…”

I’d never seen Balakrishnan so lost for words.

“Here.” V tossed the CD to one of the techs. “Koko Taylor track 2. Anesthesia?”

“In the suite already.” Danny, our tech, said, looking ready to jive to Koko. “Wait!” Danny shouted.

V swung around. “What?”

Danny jumped removing V’s cowboy hat. “Now you’re good.”

“Thanks,” V said.

Dr. V scrubbed his immense fingers, paws and forearms in the sink. He motioned for Dr. B to join.

They toweled off and donned fresh masks, eyes meeting each other’s. “Let’s go,” V said to B. 

The sight of this odd couple entering surgical suite 1, B’s suite, that he shared with absolutely no one, caused me grave consternation. What scared the shit out of me was a squatty little urologist assisting a seven foot orthopod with complex surgery. At the same time I was invigorated like a man who’d just slugged a double espresso. 

“We gotta fix this.” I heard Dr. V laugh, raising the OR lights to their highest, then sliding the tiny platform stool we had made for Dr. B, in his direction. 

The doors to the suite slid shut.

And that was that. Our new eccentric, Blues-playing, Koko Taylor-loving, orthopod worked side by side with our diminutive, Board-fearing Chief Medical Officer, saving the life of Mr. John Doe.

This is what we did. This is what we should do.

I waited in the family area, still wearing my scrubs, playing chess, losing to a man with no teeth. 

The door slid open. B standing next to V. Both tired, sweaty, and smiling. Visitors’ eyes rose to the men in the doorway. “He made it.” V announcing to the crowd. “He made it,” B softly echoing V.

“You were magnificent,” Balakrishnan placed his hand in Vuckovich’s. “Magnificent.”

“We worked well together.” V rubbed B’s shoulder.

“No, what you did was remarkable.”

“Koko.” He smiled.

The toothless man, who’d just beaten me in chess four times in a row, stood. “Thank the Lord Jesus for these two fine men.” His smile warm, his eyes bright. He then began to clap. Another visitor stood, then another. The room now full, with deafening applause bouncing off the walls.  Igor and Dev, exhausted, soaking in their well-earned recognition.

“Let’s go.” Dr. V’s voice cut through the acknowledgement.

We stripped off our scrubs and headed toward the parking lot.

“Go? Where?” Balakrishnan asked.

“Celebrate! Mexican! We’ll take Ms. Koko. My treat!”

I paused…fuck me…I hated Mexican. 

“You in?” B asked me like an excited little kid.

I’d brought this strange creature here, a mammoth guitar-playing behemoth, but without Dr. Dev Balakrishnan’s help, Mr. John Doe would be dead, and I’d be going after Vince like a hit man.

But Mexican? C’mon.

“You’re wasting time. Let’s go. I sit in front.”Balakrishnan was almost giddy.

John Doe was not dead. He was alive.

“I’m in,” I said, reaching for Koko’s back door.

“Nope,” Dr. V said.

He tossed me the keys. “You’re driving.”

[fireofmyloins19]

Him - Chapter Two

Oh how unfortunate it should be to love an older man. Unless, he was to love you back. 

Prologue / Chapter One

“Why can’t you just use a typewriter to write all that down?” Michael questioned as he placed the nimble cup on the table beside Rose, steaming with freshly brewed tea. She lifted her eyes from her journal momentarily with a glare before continuing to write, Michael lifting his hands up to her defensively without another word.

“Well I’m obviously not very good at using one am I Michael? Or else I would have passed my exam.” Michael spluttered back his tea in between laughter while Rose stared at him in disbelief, stifling a sarcastic laugh herself, not finding her failure at all amusing. “Besides, I prefer to write in pen, it's more personal. The words come to me and I can put them straight onto the paper.”

“As you can with a typewriter.” Michael stared hard at his tea with wide eyes, a smirk fighting its way from his lips as he avoided looking towards her, the ever growing anger seething from her eyes. Rather than retaliate she decided to ignore him, knowing her defensiveness would only encourage him to irritate her. She pulled her legs further to her body, crossing them together where she sat on top of the chest by her window, her preferred spot to write as the view of the street below and the people on it fuelled her ideas. Rose placed the journal in her lap carefully, popping the pen between the crease of the pages and reaching for her tea, slurping it carefully once it met her lips, welcoming the warmth. “So, still not got round to decorating?” Michael’s eyes studied the decaying room, its cracked walls and dim interior a sorry sight.

“Obviously not” Rose huffed, “I will soon.”

“You’ve been saying that for a year.” Michael gave her a quick grin to show he was joking before pulled himself from the bed and walked towards one of the worser areas of wall, his finger gliding steadily over the cracking brick. “You know, Mum has said plenty of times you can live at our place, why are you still paying rent to stay in this squalor?”

“Christ Michael” Rose finally snapped, no longer capable of holding back the rising anger, “you make it sound like I’m living in a slum!” She crawled off the chest and threw her journal to the side, realising with Michael present and in such a playful mood, her writing wasn’t going to be very productive. “Is your mum also still saying she hopes for us to be together some day?”

Her bare feet padded along the cold wooden floor towards Michael, her eyebrows raised to him dramatically and her head tilted to the side as though waiting for a reply but she already knew the answer, having to hear the comments from his family day in, day out about when the two of them would finally tie the knot. “I'm sure moving in would really shake off those hopes Michael, your whole family would have a bloody field day. Wouldn't hear the last of it from John, making little remarks every time I entered the offices, not that he doesn’t already. And God, Polly would be buying a hat for the wedding the second my foot stepped over the threshold.” Rose threw her free arm above her head in despair at his suggestion, finding it ridiculous. She shuffled back across the room, stepping over the organised mess that was strewn along the floorboards towards the little table where she returned her now empty tea cup.

”God you're so against marrying me aren't you.” Michael took the last swig of his with a shake of his head, a wide cheesy grin plastered on his face when Rose turned to him with a playful look of disgust.

“Too right I am” she giggled, swinging open the doors of her wardrobe and digging inside for the dress she had earlier decided on wearing. “Right sling your hook whilst I get ready, we don’t want to leave your family waiting!”

Michael frowned at her from where he had just got comfy on the bed but reluctantly dragged himself up and made his way for the door. “I’ll wait downstairs but don’t be taking your time.”

“Out!” Rose called as she began unbuttoning her dress causing Michael to hurry from the room.

Rose’s heels clipped along the street as she caught up to Michael’s strides, grabbing onto his arm. “Right remember what we said?” she pulled him away from the Garrison’s door before they entered, “Don’t ment-”

“Don’t mention that you failed your exam.” Michael interrupted whilst rolling his eyes, laughing at Rose’s pleased smile when she was satisfied he remembered. She nodded her head as though to signal that he could now enter the pub which he did, resulting in a cheer from the Shelby’s who hovered by the bar in a rowdy cluster.

“Here they are!” Arthur cheered, raising his glass to the air causing some of its contents to splash over the edge which Rose swiftly dodged when she reached them. “Come on get yourselves a drink.”

Michael stepped forward and lent on the bar as he took up Arthur’s offer, waiting patiently whilst watching him slosh an excessive amount of Whisky into a glass. Rose simply ignored the offer as her way of politely declining, the taste of Whisky, or any alcohol for that matter, being one thing she was thankful to have not gained a liking for since moving to Small Heath. She weaved her way through the men steadily with her eyes fixated on the floor, making her way towards Polly. The fear of her exam being mentioned dissipating as a new fear arose; being in the presence of Tommy. But before making it to Polly’s warm embrace, as though he had read her mind and taken it upon himself to send her fragile body into a frenzy, she heard Tommy say her name softly, the sound of it rolling off his tongue in his thick Brummie tone caused her feet to freeze on the spot, incapable of moving any further.

“Let me get you a drink.”

“Oh no honestly Tommy it’s fine” she insisted once she’d spun around in his direction, fighting for her eyes to look anywhere but at him, the mere thought of his structured face and tantalising eyes sending her into a fluster. “I’m not really into drinking….still.”

“That was when you were in the country love, you’re not gonna be able to keep that up here for much longer!” Arthur’s voice bellowed over the bar sending a ripple of laughter through the family, Rose breaking into a smile and somewhat agreeing with his words. She turned back to Tommy instinctively with the smile still spread across her lips and instantly cursed herself when she met his eyes, making the exact mistake she had hoped to avoid. The smile stayed yet seemed out of place as her eyes widened slightly, ducking her head and pushing the few stray hairs from her face as she succumbed to the nerves. Her eyes settled on his broad chest, counting the buttons on his shirt as a way of distracting herself before letting her eyes flicker back towards his face. She parted her lips to speak, not the slightest clue what she was about to say but before she had chance John’s voice called out, saving her.

“Oi Rose.” she lifted her head quickly, desperate to find his voice to remove her from the embarrassing situation with Tommy. Michael gulped back his Whisky behind her, peering over her shoulder with strained eyes as he tried to gain John’s attention, realising what he may be about to say and shaking his head violently to warn him. “How’d your exam go?”

Michael let out a sigh and buried his head in his hands, wincing at the inevitability of Rose yelling at him later. She huffed and squeezed her eyes closed, pulling herself together before facing even more embarrassment.

“I failed” she rushed, her eyes still scrunched together before turning to Tommy and opening them quickly without worrying about meeting his for the first time, “I think I’ll have that drink.”

“It’s fucking lively down there, in London.” Arthur swayed his glass side to side, slumped back in the booth with John by his side, explaining to the half whom payed attention about his trip, “God those women, there’s just…...something about them.”

“Do they just have that ‘je ne sais quoi’?” Rose teased him leaning across the table a little too far, having to concentrate exceedingly hard on not slurring her words. She giggled whilst taking a sip of another Whisky, adding to an amount she had now lost count of. Expecting a laugh and nod of agreement from the family she pouted in an exaggerated manner when nothing came, frowning at them.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Arthur’s face contorted with confusion, him and John sharing a puzzled glance between one another as John attempted to repeat the phrase and ending up nowhere near.

“Je ne sais quoi?” Rose questioned as though the phrase should have been easily understood, not welcoming the bemused faces looking back at her and becoming slightly defensive when she heard Tommy chuckle lightly beside her, a small smile playing on her lips in a more flirtatious presence than she had of wished for, but the Whisky was in control of her actions now, no longer her rational mind. Tommy smiled back, finding her smile and inviting eyes to be more sweet than alluring, the glaze cast over her eyes confirming she was drunk.

“How the fuck do you know what that means, but you can’t pass a typewriter exam?” Arthur gave her a toothy smile while cracking into a hoarse laughter. Rose turned to him with a dramatic gasp, glaring at him before raising a finger across the table to his face.

“It is a correspondence course Arthur and how do you know the name and mechanics of every gun, yet can’t do simple adding up?” She snarled at him before raising an eyebrow and smirking playfully, waiting for him to respond until the whole family gave a chorus of jeers, confirming Rose had successfully put Arthur in his place. Arthur continued to smile, raising his glass again as though to cheers to Rose’s efforts.

“Cause I fought in the bloody war love” his voice echoed through the pub grabbing a few of the punters attention as he rose from his seat with a struggle, stumbling to the bar while John followed him to collect another bottle. Rose smiled to herself while watching them walk away, her vision seemingly jumping in and out of focus while she concentrated. She felt the touch on her lower back, turning slower than she had intended to see Tommy sat with a cigarette between two fingers, held towards her. She took it off him with great care, fiddling with it between her fingers before it made its way to her lips.

“Never going to stop smoking at this rate if you keep handing them out” Rose joked whilst taking another long drag, the smoke burning at her throat and leaving her mouth haphazardly as she struggled. Tommy’s turned up smile blessed his lips again, something Rose was thoroughly enjoying the sight of on that rare occasion.

“Oh you’d still be smoking Rose, trust me” he glanced around at the people of the Garrison as though he was suggesting that Small Heath as a place could turn even the most innocent people toxic, soon enough.

“Do you dance?” Rose spluttered excitedly all of a sudden, balancing the cigarette between her peach stained lips and already beginning to rise from her seat before he had answered. Tommy watched her carefully, holding an arm up only to steady her and being shocked, yet pleased when she grabbed onto it attempting to pull him from his seat.

“On occasion” he spoke truthfully, those occasions being incredibly infrequent. He rose from his seat with one hand still in hers, his other held tightly onto his cigarette as he took a final drag before stubbing it out into the glass tray on the table. Rose slipped her way out from the table and began to twirl around under his arm, swaying side to side clumsily before they made it anywhere near the crowd of people. Tommy watched, only realising now how drunk she actually was once she was on her feet, knowing if he let go of her hand she would more than likely be on the floor.

“Rose” he began, the concern evident in his voice though she wasn’t capable of noticing it. She didn’t respond, not having heard him over the boom of the jazz music being played into the pub, continuing to twirl about giggling. “Rose I think we best get you home ey?”

“No” Rose whined, dragging out the word with a pout, continuing to giggle seconds later as though forgetting Tommy’s words. He reached forward to take her other hand, hoping to guide her towards the door but she went stumbling into a man at the bar before he had the chance.

A small yelp left her mouth when she met his body, his hands having automatically reached out to grab her, her arms now dangling out to the side over his where he pulled her to a standing position.

“Are you okay?” he beamed at her, finding her drunken antics quite amusing and also finding the pretty face he was greeted with once she looked up to be quite the sight. “You’ve been enjoying yourself tonight haven’t you.” Rose simply let a girlish giggle slip her lips, no awareness of what she was doing in that moment as she attempted to steady herself, the man’s grip around her tightening when he felt her beginning to fall again. Rose half managed a nod in agreement which caused him to laugh, his tongue rolling steadily across his lip. “Well, how about we get you another drink then, you can have one with me this time.”

“Rose, were leaving” Tommy placed his hand on the small of her back, giving the man a polite nod as though to warn him against doing anything he may regret but also seemingly to suggest he had no problem with the exchange, which pained him. The man gave Rose one more look up and down and a smirk formed on his lips, Tommy grimacing at the hunger in the man’s eyes before he handed Rose over to him.

“Jesus christ she’s going to be bad in the morning!” John laughed as he approached Rose, the rest of the family following to get a better look, Michael the only one with worry tainting his face.

“I’ll take her home.” Michael insisted, reaching an arm out to steady her while Tommy reluctantly let him scoop her limp body into his arms.

“Take her back to our house Michael” Polly said, giving Rose a sorry expression as she watched her head lolling about, “let her stay in your bed for tonight.” Tommy blinked harshly, his head turning to Polly with sharp eyes as her words sent a rage racing through him before she continued, “You can manage on the sofa for a night.”

Michael said his goodbyes as he pulled Rose closer to him to get a better grip, John and Arthur holding open the Garrison’s door for him to get her out safely. Polly cooed with sympathy once Rose had left, feeling guilty for the having let the men get her in such a state. She looked to Tommy and shook her head with disappointment, receiving only an eye roll in return before he turned back to the bar and dug into his pocket for a cigarette, waiting a few moments until he was sure his family had dispersed throughout the pub once again. Harry dropped a Whisky onto the bar in front of him without Tommy having to say a word, he nodded in thanks, lighting the cigarette swiftly and turning to the man who had caught Rose. He coughed lowly, gaining the man’s attention and receiving a puzzled look when he didn’t speak but continued to smoke his cigarette slowly.

“Yeah?”

“You saw the girl, who fell into you here.” Tommy began, taking another drag on his cigarette.”

“Yeah.” the man smiled widely as he remembered.

“Well,” Tommy took a final drag, leaving the man waiting in anticipation as he stubbed it out on the bar and turned to him with his fingers folded between one another, leaning them on his chest. “You’re not to go near her again, do you hear me?”

Tommy waved his hand nonchalantly, as though having an ordinary conversation with a regular punter, his blank expression never wavering for a second whilst he had he man’s now panicked eyes caught in his stare. The man began to deny any wrongdoing, repeating the word no profusely as Tommy straightened up. He lifted his hands defensively, shaking his head and cowering at the fear of Tommy harming him yet he couldn’t, not wanting to draw the attention of his family as he wasn’t able to explain why he was giving the man this warning.

“No never Mr. Shelby, it won’t happen again I swear.” the man whimpered.

Tommy dragged his glass along the bar and downed the contents in one, allowing the Whisky to burn his throat and trickle its warmth into his chest, as though the pain was replacing his anger.

“Good, or I’ll fucking cut you and feed you the blade.”

[peakywritings]

You stood up from the floor of your bathroom on shaking legs, the sour taste of vomit still strong in your mouth.  You staggered your way over to the sink, rising the taste out from your mouth.  You ran some water over your flushed face and braced your arms on the sink.

Four week.  You'd been ill for four weeks now.  You'd gone to see your doctor two weeks ago and earned yourself a tonic and a suggested diagnoses that you'd laughed at.  You were late, yes, but you'd never been regular to start with.

Even for you, though ten weeks was unheard of.

You looked at your reflection again, hoping for some sort of guidance, only to freeze.  You stood up straight before pulling your nightgown tight across your chest.  Your breasts.  They were bigger.  Noticeably so.

You braced yourself on the sink with shaking arms.

Pregnant.  You were pregnant.

Christ, what were you going to do?  You were only fifteen, barely out of childhood yourself.  How were you going to raise one?  If you even decided to keep it.  What a bloody mess.

You knew who the baby's father was.  There was only one boy that you'd even been intimate with.  You fancied yourself in love with him, and he'd told you he was in love with you.  But you'd never told anyone about your relationship.  Not his family, and certainly not yours.  Your mother and father hated the Blinders.  The neighborhood had been ruined, as far as they were concerned, ever since the "gypsy riff-raff" had dared to move in.  If your father knew that you'd been friends with Finn, let alone seeing him, he would have sent you away to a convent.  If he or your mother found out about this, they'd turn you out on the street.

Finn hadn't told you why he'd kept his secrets, but you didn't mind.  The fewer people who knew, the easier it was to keep it a secret.  Besides, there was something exciting about it.  Just the two of you, sneaking around.  It made things more exciting.

It wasn't exciting now, though.  It was terrifying.  You knew what your family would do, but what would his?  You heard things about the Shelbys, none of them good.

Finn.  You needed to talk to Finn.  See what he wanted.

With trembling fingers, you washed your face before making your way out of the bedroom and down the hall to the phone.  Taking a deep breath, you picked the phone up from off the cradle.  You gave the address to the operator and waited with baited breath.

"Shelby residence," a voice answered.

"Is Finn home?" you asked, hating how weak your voice was.

"May I ask who's calling?" the woman asked.

You gave your name and waited, anxiety building with every moment.

"'Lo?" a familiar voice said.

You relaxed somewhat at the sound of Finn's voice, only for all the anxiety to come rushing back a moment later as you remember exactly what it was that you were telling him.

"Finn?" you said, your voice barely more than a whisper.  "Finn, I'm pregnant."

Two weeks later, you stood in front of arrow house in your best dress, so nervous you could barely keep yourself from shaking.

Finn wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you against his side.  You looked up at him, taking reassurace from the familiar features, the freckled face, the curly hair, the bright smile.  But what comforted you most of all was the look in his eyes.  Pride. Pride and warmth.  The same look that had been their for the past two weeks.

He'd hung up on you without saying a word, and you'd been terrified that you'd have to deal with all of this alone.  You'd worked your way into a state of panic by the time there was a knock on your window, Finn Shelby on the other side, paler than you'd ever seen him.

You let him in, and he'd stood in front of you, clutching his hat nervously.

"Give me one reason I shouldn't smack you right now for hanging up on me, Finn Shelby," you'd said, your voice shaking.  "One reason."

He'd tossed his hat on the floor before lowering himself to one knee, pulling a box out of his pocket.

"Because this was something I had to do in person," he said, his eyes filled with an anxious sort of joy.

It was that same look he wore now.

"They're going to love you," Finn said.

"How do you know that?" You asked him.  "How can you know that?"

"Because I do," he said simply before leaning down to peck you on the nose.

It was this small gesture that gave you the strength to take his hand and walk into Arrow house.  Finn lead you through the rooms with the ease of practice, not to the drawing room, as you had expected, but down to the kitchens.

There were five people waiting there.  Four men, who must've been his brothers and his cousin, and an older woman, who could be no-one but the legendary Aunt Polly.

"Well then?" one of the men asked, the oldest if you were forced to guess.  "What's all the fuss about?  Why'd you call us here, Finn?"

The man the rest of the family seemed to orient themselves around gave a small smile, one that barely reached his eyes.  Tommy Shelby, you assumed.

"Go on, Finn," he said, taking a puff from his cigarette. "Share the news."

"News?" Aunt Polly said, eyeing you speculatiely with a gleam in her eye.  It was one you were familiar with.  Your mother had the same gleam every time you mentioned a boy from one of the families your own thought acceptable.  It was the gleam of a woman picturing marriage.  "What news?"

"Everyone," Finn said, "I want you to meet the future Mrs. Finn Shelby."

After that it was a whirlwind of handshakes and hugs and congratulations.  Better even that your most hopeful imagines and worlds above your worst fears.  Still, it wasn't until Tommy approached you that your worries were truly set to rest.

He leaned down and put a hand on your shoulder.

"Don't look so nervous," he said with a sly grin.  "You're one of us now, and we take care of our own."

"By Order of the Peaky Blinders!" Arthur echoed loudly, earning cheers and echoes from the rest of them.

Overwhelmed, you felt tears of joy begin to fall down your face.  Finn saw and pulled you into a warm embrace, whispering in your ear.

"Welcome to the family."