#I was jus talkin to someone that has struggled in the same ways as me

[angelwuv]

I think your obsessed with her being “obsessed” which just makes you both look obsessed

pls get off my blog

[iwriteweightgainbullshit]

“Yew look good in my clothes, but yew look better without” 18+

Lee Bodecker x reader.

Requested by @chubbychaser384

Edit made by me.

I hope you enjoy this fic! Thank you very much for requesting a fanfic about Sheriff Bodecker!

And sorry that you had to wait so long. :’)

Please check out their blog! @chubbychaser384

Words: 1450

Warning: 18+ content, cursing, cumming, light stuffing, belly kink, handcuffs, sex, tell me if I’m missing a warning.

*

You are around the age of 25 and you are married to Sheriff Bodecker who is 45 in this fic.

*

Sheriff comes home after a long day at work, he is surprised to see you sitting on the couch in one of his uniforms.

He greets you with a small kiss on your lips and sits down next to you.

“Do you like my outfit babe?” you say while smirking at him.

“Hm, ye’r missin’ one thing sweetheart” he grabs his sheriff hat and puts it on your head. Of course, the hat is way too big for you and falls over your eyes.

“Yew look good in my clothes, but yew look better without” He smirks at you and throws you on his lap.

You start rubbing small circles on his belly and notice how the buttons of his shirt almost pop off.

“Hm babe?” you chuckle.

“Yeah angel?”

“Did you have a big meal on work?” you point at his stuffed belly.

“Oh yeah maybe I overdid it a bit, don’t yew think angel?”

You start giving him a belly rub and give him small kisses just below his navel. “I think you still have some room in there for candy, don’t ya sheriff? “

“Depends, ‘re yew gonna feed it to me?”

You quickly run away and come back with a family sized bag of candy.

*

You get back on his lap and start feeding him the candy with one hand and using the other one to give him a belly rub.

After a while you start noticing the buttons of his shirt are holding on to dear life. You are almost halfway thru the bag of candy when one of the buttons pops off.

“Better take that off Sheriff before you lose more buttons” you say while grabbing a Lolli and licking it very sexual.

“Hm yew would like tha’ don’t yew angel?” You start nodding.

“I’ll take it off, if you take ye’r clothes off first sweetheart” Once again you start nodding.

He slowly starts undressing you, staring with your shirt (his work shirt, which is way too big for you) and then takes of your pants (his work pants, which are way too big for you as well).

*

The moment he wants to take of your panties he notices you are wearing his boxers and underneath that a pair of fishnet stockings.

He stops and looks at you with a warning face.

You look at him innocently and ask him “what’s wrong babe?”.

“Don’t act like yew don’t know what’s wrong.”

You just look at him with your mouth shut.

“Oh now we’r not talkin’ huh? Yew planned this, yew naughty girl”

“But I thought you liked me in your clothes?”

“I do but I didn’t lie when I said ‘Yew look good in my clothes, but yew look better without’. So ye’r still a bad girl.”

*

You look down, still not talking.

“Ye’r a badgirl, yew know what happens to badgirls right?”

“Tell me babe” you smirk knowing what’s going to happen next.

“No no badgirl. Badgirls don’t say babe to me, they call me sheriff.”

“I’m sorry sheriff”

“No badgirl, yew aren’t gonna get ‘way with this that easy”

“I’m not sheriff?” you smirk.

“Nah, I should arrest yew. Get up and turn ‘round now”

You do as he says and get off his lap.

“Hands behind ye’r back badgirl” and again you do as he says.

He gets his cuffs and cuffs your hands together.

*

“Yew gonna do whatever I tell yew, do yew understand that?” he whispers in your ear. His belly brushes against your back, which makes you shiver with pleasure.

“Whatever ya want sheriff” you nod.

“Get on yew knees now” he says while taking off his belt.

You do as he says. “Now bent over with yer ass up”

As soon as you get in that position Lee takes off your (his) boxers and rips open your fishnet stockings, takes his belt in his right hand, and hold you with his left hand.

*

“Count from ten to zero with me” and before you can answer he spanks your ass with his belt.

“Ten, say it with me”

“Ten”

Then he spanks twice not giving you a chance to count.

“Nine, eight.”

“N-nine, eight”

He spanks you three times this time.

“Seven, six, five, good job only five more”

“Seven, s-six, five”

This time he only spanks you once, you moan in pleasure and pain.

“Four, ‘m gonna leave a mark of m’ hand on yer pretty ass”

“Four, please sheriff”

He uses his hand for the next three spanks.

“Three, two, one, only one more. Ye’r doin’ so good.”

“Three, two, one” you moan.

He spanks you for the last time.

“Zero, yew did real good”

“Zero” you moan out.

*

“Almost done, jus’ one more thing. Get on yer knees again and suck me with that pretty mouth of yours.”

You immediately get on your knees but notice his pants are still on.

“Sheriff, could ya gimme a hand with the pants?”

“How bout I do the button and yew do the zipper with yer teeth and if yew succeed that I’ll give you my cock for that pretty hole of yours instead of yer mouth? How does that sound?”

You nod yes with big eyes.

“Use yer big girl words.”

“Please sheriff”

Lee opens his button, and you open his zipper with your teeth surprisingly fast and of course kiss his belly.

*

“Goodjob babygirl, now get on the couch”

You’re still wearing his handcuffs but with a little struggle you get on the bed.

He kisses your thighs and puts one of his fingers in your hole.

“Already so wet for me huh?”

“Yes sheriff.”

He takes out his cock and slowly puts it in you, you already start moaning.

He starts fucking you while grabbing your tits.

“hmm such a pretty cunt, who does it belong to?”

“You sheriff!” you moan.

Lee isn’t used to being top but since you’re still in his handcuffs he decided this would be better.

You don’t mind at all since you can see his belly jiggle better in this position. You want to grab his love handles and shake them but your hands are still painfully behind your back.

*

“SHERIFF” you scream as he starts fucking you harder.

“Yew want me to cum in yew? Yew want me to fuck a baby in yew? Hm?”

“Yes please sheriff, please cum in me, please!” you moan.

And with that said he comes in you.

“Cum for me babygirl”

And you do.

*

You’re both out of breath and stay like this for a minute or two, till Lee realizes you are still in his handcuffs.

“Oh angel. ‘Re hurt? Lemme take off those handcuffs sweetheart”

“Can I call you babe again sheriff?” you chuckle at how concerned he is all the sudden.

“Ofcoures angel, I think yew learned not to tease with me, didn’t yew?

“Yes babe” you chuckle.

“But now seriously, does it hurt angel?” His face getting serious again.

“A bit but not too much” you say smiling.

*

He immediately takes of the handcuffs and carries you to bed.

“Ye’r comfortable angel?” he says while cleaning you with a warm washcloth.

“I would be more with one of your hoodies on”

“Angel how many times do I have to tell yew I prefer more yew without clothes on then in mine.” He chuckles.

“Yeah, but I’m getting cold and your clothes are comfy” you chuckle too.

“Alright because yew look so good in them” he winks.

He gives you one of his hoodies and one of his boxers.

“But babe, I thought I wasn’t allowed to wear your boxers” you look confused.

He laughs. “Yew are but yew can’t expect me I to not do the same thing I just did when I see ye’r wearin’ them.”

You smile at him.

“Yew want some cookies and a movie? “ he asks while giving you a kiss on your head.

“Does it involve cuddles?” you look at him with puppy eyes.

“’course that’s a part of the package deal angel” he chuckles.

*

You spend the rest of the evening with your head on your husband’s pudgy belly wondering how you got so lucky.

He may look like a tough guy but secretly he is soft in all the ways you can imagine it.

You’ve never been happier in your life.

*

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[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Human Affection - Good Omens Fic

One more fic for the @bingokisses prompts - this one from last week - Behind the Knee kisses! Which I found a little odd, so I decided to go silly on this. Should be a good counter for the angst I put out. This will be going on AO3 after some edits, so let me know if you spot anything off.

CW: Silly drunken banter.

“Crowley, that is absolutely absurd. Stop making things up.”

“I’m not!” The demon reached for a bottle of wine, shook it, found it empty, and went hunting for the next. “I know these things. I know humans. Better’n anyone.” He finally found one with at a little red still at the bottom, shrugged, and drank it straight from the bottle.

“Not better than me,” Aziraphale protested, scowling a little as he lifted another nearly-full bottle.

“Much better’n you.” Crowley wasn’t quite drunk enough for this sort of argument, but now his pride was at stake. “Y’don’t even like talkin’ to them!”

“No,” he admitted as he poured another glass, “but I read. A’stensivly.”

“Obstentily?”

“Egstenilly.”

“Abstentally?”

“Exten…I read a great deal!”

“Ha!” Crowley jabbed a finger at Aziraphale, then realized he should make a point. “You don’…don’ read the right sor’ of books. Gotta read th’ naughty ones. Th’ones Heaven don’ like.”

“I read plenty that Heaven disproved of,” Aziraphale objected, taking a long drink of wine and licking his lips happily.

“Ooooh, did you? Do you?” Crowley tried to saunter from the sofa to Aziraphale’s chair, but the table unexpectedly got in the way and he wound up sprawled on the floor instead. “Angel reads some…some…scantilating books?”

“I haven’t the first idea wha’ you mean,” Aziraphale said primly. “But I happen to know that humans do not, in fact, just kiss all over everywhere as you so crudely put it.”

“Do, too. Everywhere. Name a part, lips go there.”

“No, no, no.” Aziraphale waved his hand, sloshing wine that took one look at his perfectly white sleeve and quickly crawled shamefully back into the glass. “They have – certain areas. Erroneous zones.”

“Don’ think that’s right.” Crowley managed to crawl close enough to grab the chair, pulling himself up to rest arms and chin near where Aziraphale’s elbow rested. “Ergonomic zones?”

“Erogenous!” Aziraphale beamed, then turned pink. “Oh. Yes. But they kiss there and it feels, er, stimulating. Everywhere else is…not.”

“S’that so?” With a grin, Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s hand and kissed it – or rather, the lowest knuckle of his thumb, since his aim seemed slightly off.

“Crowley!” The angel jerked his hand away. “What’s that s’posed to prove?”

“You din’ like it?”

Aziraphale squinted at his thumb. “I don’ think there’s meant to be nearly this much s’liva, my dear fellow.” He wiped his hand on his trousers. “Really!”

“Oh, you thin’ you’re so clever. Clever Angel. Why don’ you try it?”

“I will!” Aziraphale set his glass down and took Crowley’s hand, studying it like an ancient tome. Finally, he turned it over, spreading Crowley’s palm like a map, and lowered his lips until warm breath filled his hand. Then he pulled back. “There.”

“Wha’? Tha’s not – y’didn’ touch me!”

“Did so!”

“Your nose maybe. Gotta be the lips, or s’not a kiss.”

“Snot kiss? Really Crowley—”

“No – no – is not a kiss.” Crowley made a half-hearted attempt to pull his hand back. “Wha’ they teach you in those books?”

“Perfectly acceptable. Kisses on the palm, light as a breath—”

“Light as a breath. Not a breath. It’s a wossname. Same-ilie.”

“Simile?”

“S’what I said. You gotta actually use the lips or it don’ count.”

“Are you certain? I could just…” Again, he bent forward, lips hovering a hairsbreadth above Crowley’s palm, breath caressing the lines of his hand, warm and strangely tingling.

So Crowley pressed his hand into Aziraphale’s face, mashing his lips. “Mwah-mwah. Now it’s kissing!”

Aziraphale batted at his hand, pulling away. “Stop that! You ridiculous serpent!”

“No! Kiss me again!” Crowley tried to push his hand against Aziraphale’s mouth again, but wound up sliding it across his cheek instead.

“Ah!” Aziraphale caught his hand, pressing it there. “See? That – tha’s good. This feels…pleasant.”

“Does?” For some reason, a different sort of smile began to spread across Crowley’s face. He liked how his hand fit perfectly around the curve of that cheek, how he could feel it bend and pull as Aziraphale smiled. He’d need to try this again some time.

“Oh, yes. Because of, er, nerve endings I think. When…when you touch them…”

“Shooosh.” Crowley cupped both Aziraphale’s cheeks in his hands and pressed until the angel couldn’t talk. “Too many words!”

“We are arguing,” Aziraphale pointed out in a muffled voice, though he didn’t try to push Crowely’s hand away this time.

“Fine. ‘Nuff arguin’. Less try an eggsper…exteri…try science.”

“Crowley, if you just slobber on me…”

“Nah, s’fine. Look. Whazz – what’s one of th’places you’re s’posed to kiss? The error zones.”

“Oh. Ah.” Aziraphale looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Let’s…let’s say mouth. Er. Neck. Wrist.”

“Wrist!” Crowley took Aziraphale’s hand and tugged it towards him, pulling the sleeve back a little to reveal the veins of his wrist. “How’s this feel?”

Pausing to make sure his lips were dry this time, Crowley leaned down and pressed them to that last inch of exposed flesh. It was soft, a little salty, and he swore he could feel Aziraphale’s pulse flutter. He tried again, gently exploring the angel’s wrist, feeling the way his fingers flexed and curled in response.

When he was finished, he tilted his head to look up at Aziraphale, whose face was quite pink. “Good?”

“Er. Yes.” Aziraphale pulled his hand back and slid his sleeve into place. “Obviously. It’s – it’s meant to feel good. But it was. Er. Yes.”

“Ha! An’ you said I can’t kiss!”

“Never said that,” he objected.

“Oh.” Crowley scratched his head. “Wha’ were we arguing about?”

“You – you said humans like being kissed anywhere, and that simply isn’t true. Some areas are – are sensitive to that sort of – of touch an’ others…er…look, no human enjoys, ah, being kissed behind the knee, for ‘zample.”

“Don’ they?” Crowley leaned further over the arm of the chair, grinning up at Aziraphale. “You sure ‘bout that?”

“I would think they’d have mentioned it.”

“Maybe they have. Maybe they talk abou’ it all the time an’ you jus’ don’ know.”

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “But they tell you?”

“I mean…” Crowley waved his hand, trying not to look like someone who knew less about kissing than he did marine biology. “S’in the music, innit? Always talkin’ ‘bout kissin’ everywhere. Or – or movies.” He nodded, certain James Bond had once shown something along those lines, and really, he would know, wouldn’t he?

“Oh, really?” Aziraphale surged to his feet, then tottered, nearly losing his balance. “I think you’re lying.”

“Naaaaah, I don’ lie…”

“Oh-ho! Oh-hoho!” He paused, apparently trying to catch his train of thought again. “Ah. Right.” With a wave of his hand, the angel was suddenly wearing a much shorter pair of trousers, in a style that hadn’t been in fashion for over two centuries. “Yes. Now. We shall see.”

“See what?” Crowley was busy mentally reconstructing the rest of the outfit that had nearly gotten Aziraphale executed in 1793. He really hadn’t had time to appreciate it in that dungeon. Maybe he could say something to convince Aziraphale to miracle up those shiny shoes.

“See if kissing back of the knee feels as good as the wrist. For science.”

Crowley nodded, then the words finally clicked in his mind and his head jerked up to meet Aziraphale’s eyes. “Wai’ – wai’ – wai’ jus’ a minnnnit. You wan’ me to kiss…yer leg?”

“I can’t very well kiss it mysel’, see?” Aziraphale stood awkwardly on one leg, bending the other knee as high as he could before losing his balance and falling back in the chair. “S’no good. You have to do it.”

“Nnnnnh.” Crowley squirmed around to sit in front of Aziraphale and lifted his leg as if about to help him into new shoes. “Where…here?” His fingers traced uncertainly along the bare calf.

“No – no, higher. Back of the knee.” But Crowley could feel the way Aziraphale tried not to wiggle as his long fingers ran up the soft curve of flesh.

“Angel…are you…ticklish?”

“Don’ know what you – stop! Stop!” His leg kicked out and Aziraphale slumped further in his chair, struggling to escape Crowley’s fingers. “You – you monster!” But even as he squirmed, he laughed.

“Jus’ admit I’m right an’ I’ll stop.”

“Never!” And with that, Aziraphale launched himself from the chair, pushing Crowley to the ground. “Never surrender, Foul Field! Er, Fiend!” Before Crowley could try and fight back, he tugged up the side of the demon’s black shirt and started running fingers up and down his ribs.

“No!” Crowley laughed, struggling to push him off. “You – you bastard!”

“I know all your weaknesses!” A second hand joined the first and nearly discorporated Crowley on the spot. “Give up!”

“Aaah,” Crowley managed – a rather ineffective battle cry, and completely drowned in their combined laughter – and twisted, pushing at the angel’s shoulders and arms, squirming to get free. He managed to escape and belly-crawled across the floor, ducking behind a shelf.

“Get back here!” Aziraphale shuffled after him as fast as he could.

But though Aziraphale might be strong, Crowley was far more maneuverable. He darted out and grabbed the angel’s leg. A few quick tickles to make sure he was completely off his guard, then Crowley leaned down and pressed his lips to the inside bend of Azirapahle’s knee.

“There! How you like that?”

“Oh.” Aziraphale sat up, blinking eyes watery from tears. “Ah. Yes. I can see that…tha’s not unpleasant after all.”

“It isn’t?”

“No…it was…well, quite intrik…entreeg…int’resting.” He frowned at his leg as if it had betrayed him. “Though why a spot like that there of all places…”

“Human bodies are weird,” Crowley reminded him.

Aziraphale nodded sagely, then let himself fall to the floor. “Yes. S’pose you’re right. I don’t understand humans at all.”

“No one does. They don’ make sense.” Crowley crawled closer, lower body twisting into a snake tail that wrapped around Aziraphale’s legs while his still-humanoid head and arms rested on the angel’s chest. “I mean, why kissss at all? It’ss fun, but isss weird.”

“Very strange,” Aziraphale agreed, shaking out his wings to drape over them both, enveloping Crowley in warm white feathers. “This is much better, you know.”

“Mmmmh,” Crowley nodded as he started to drift off to sleep, lower body constricting tighter. “Sstill, we could try kissssing again. Or tickling. Tha’ssss fun, too.”

“Of course, dear. Anything you like.”

[emily-strange]

Second Chances

Everyone’s responses have been so encouraging! Thank you so much :)

In this chapter I’ve tried switching between Reader and John’s POV. Please let me know if it doesn’t make sense or is hard to follow. I’ve tried to work it into the story without making it an obvious change in character but let me know!

Tagging @porkchop-ao3 @redeadepression @lucacangettathisasss @janewilson-rdo @gangofgunslingers and @fangirl-ramblings who asked but if you’d like me to stop let me know :)

For the premise of this story, Jack is a little bit younger. I just can’t hurt that boy’s feelings!

Summary: You’re Sadie Adler’s 18 year old daughter who was visiting when the O’Driscoll’s attack. How will you cope with gang life and your increasing feelings for someone who, on the surface, isn’t up for grabs?

Pairing: John Marston x female reader

Warnings: Mild panic/anxiety attack.

Chapter 4

After your little talk with Tilly and Mary-Beth, you decided to check up on your mother. Miss Grimshaw was in a strangely happy mood (you put it down to being in the sun after the snow for so long) so she was alright with the women taking it a bit easier today; which no one was going to argue with.

You find your mother on the edge of camp sewing in the sun. That’s good you think. She’s keeping busy.

“Hi mama,” you greet before sitting next to her on the log “how’re you feeling?”

“Oh fine.” She says smiling, “How’re you baby?”

It’s so nice to see your mother smile again.

“Sore! I actually think washing clothes is harder than hunting” you laugh with her while trying to stretch out your back.

You look over the camp at everyone going about their day and you catch sight of Abigail making daisy chains with Jack. She’s sat on the ground, her skirt bunched up around her and you can tell how much fun they’re having.

“Remember when we used to make mud pies? And then one time I tricked papa into taking a bite?” you giggle to yourself at the memory. Your father was such a soft, sweet man. Your parents were the perfect pair in your eyes. You’re brought back to the present when you see your mom laughing and shaking her head.

“What!?” you ask incredulously and laugh when your mother snorts.

“Oh baby, you tricked no one” she laughed “Your daddy just wanted to see you smile.”

“No! You remember. It was dinner time. You asked me to set the table….and I served him the pie and he put salt on it before….” You stopped explaining your memory when it hit you, “Oh my God” you burst out into fits of laughter covering your face, “I was so gullible!”

Your mother elbows you gently in the side, “Oh hush, you were 9.”

You sit quietly groaning of very mild embarrassment and only show your face to the sun again once you hear your mother sniff, “I’m….I’m sorry mama. I know you don’t like to think about him.”

Your mother sighs and turns to you, “Oh baby. There won’t be a day that goes by I won’t think of your daddy.” She places her palm to your face and smiles sadly, her eyes wet with unshed tears and then you feel it. That prickle behind your eyes.

Not now, you think.

Not now.

You give your mother a small smile and nod before reaching up to squeeze the hand on your face. You clear your throat and manage to get out a strained, “I’ll be right back mama.”

She knows. Your mother always knows. So she doesn’t ask any questions when you practically sprint off into the trees.

You walk, walk, walk until you come to the familiar clearing.

You don’t quite make it to the little quiet spot before you breakdown into great heaving sobs. You find yourself panicking as you try to keep quiet and in turn start hiccupping. Not being able to catch a breath.

Suddenly a voice makes you jump and you turn to face its owner while shaking. Tears staining your red, blotchy face.

“Y/N?” John whispers quietly while emerging from the trees.

You lock eyes with him and try to wipe at your face. You know you look a mess.

“I…..I can’t…..it won’t……” you try to speak as you hiccup between sobbing and gasping for breath. You don’t even know what you’re trying to say, you just know that nothing’s coming out. You can feel your chest beginning to hurt from lack of oxygen and how much your nose is running, mixing with your tears.

John approaches you like one would a wild animal. He puts his palms up in front of him and slowly makes his way over to you, “Okay Y/N. I’m gonna need ya ta try ‘nd breathe.”

If you could roll your eyes right now, you would. But instead all you can do is wheeze and grasp at your chest. John seems to be able to read your look however and stops walking when he’s in front of you.

“Sorry, kinda dumb thin’ ta say right?” he quietly scoffs, “I’m gonna take yer hand okay?” he continues and slowly reaches for your shaky hand.

His warm, calloused hand gently takes one of yours off of your chest but he then hesitates before moving again, “If yer not….comfortable or summit….just squeeze ma hand okay?” John doesn’t wait for you to nod or anything, knowing you’re too deep into the panic attack to respond. He just hopes his words made their way past your stuttering cries.

Ever so slowly he raises your palm to his chest, flinching ever so slightly when he places it over his heart. He then gently takes your other hand, which has been scratching marks into your chest like you’re trying to claw the breath from your own body. With that hand he places your palm firmly against your own heart.

“Just….feel ma heart….feel the beats….try’ta focus on it.” John stutters awkwardly. You feel how his hands are kind of clammy, you can tell he's nervous. “Just try’ta match yer breathin’ ta mine.”

You focus on John, focus on his heart beat under your palm. The sound of his breathing and the feel of the soft hair on his chest. You were so close like this, just like when you cleaning up his face. Just like last time he closed his eyes and seemed to relish the warmth of you. When you involuntarily twitch because of your hiccups, you accidently dig your nails gently into John’s chest. His eyes snap open and his mouth drops into a silent gasp.

You go to pull your hand back as an apology but before you can, John grips your hand again and pushes it down a bit harder where it hovers on his chest. He nods and takes a deep breath, signalling for you to try and do the same.

Slowly, slowly, your breathing evens out and even though you’re still crying, you’re no longer struggling to breathe. You have no idea how long you’ve both been stood like this but the only sounds you hear are the birds and the wind in the trees.

“Yer okay.” John said quietly, “Yer okay.”

Without thinking you throw your arms around John’s neck and bury your face into his shoulder. You smell the tobacco of his cigarettes and the wood of the campfire.

For a moment John is stunned. His hands are squished between your bodies where he was holding them before and he shivers due to the contact. He can’t remember the last time he was held like this and for it to happen so suddenly…. it’s thrown him off. After a few more seconds of you crying into his shoulder, he extracts his arms from between you both and wraps them around your waist. He rubs soothing circles onto your back until your tears finally dry and you pull back, keeping your hands on his shoulders.

“I’m sorry John…I…don’t know what came over me.” You half laugh, fully retracting your arms. John does the same and you hug your arms around yourself. “Tha…thank you.” you stutter.

John clears his throat and takes a decent step back before answering, putting his hands on his hips to stop himself from reaching for you again.

“S’fine…..you okay?” he asks.

You sniff and rub your nose with your sleeve. You’re beyond caring about how you must look!

“Yeah. It kind of just….erupted” you laugh while dabbing at your face.

“Kinda happens that way don’t it.” John smiles kindly, “I saw ya running outta camp pretty quickly so figured I’d check here fer ya.”

You stop rubbing your eyes and look at him with a soft smile on your lips.

“You came out here to check on me?” you ask gently and instantly John’s face reddens.

John coughs again before answering, “I weren’t like, watchin’ you or nothin’….ya know I just saw you….umm……like I weren’t out here….stalkin’ ya” he laughs and you join him.

“I didn’t think you were John” you smile broadly, “It was really kind of you to….help me.”

After a few seconds of comfortable silence, you have a thought, “Hey, how did you know how to….do that? You know, the heartbeat thing.”

John laughs humourlessly and stretches his hands out in front of him before making his way over to the large shaded tree which seems to be his favourite. However instead of sitting against it, he sits next to it and thumps the floor encouraging you to take a seat. You smile and stroll over to him, taking the place against the tree.

“Funny story really” he begins, “When I ferst join’d the gang, I used’ta have a lotta…nightmares. Like real bad ones. ‘N Arthur used ta do the same thing fer me, ta calm me down so he could sleep.”

You pause before answering.

“John….that’s not a very funny story!” you laugh and John’s face falls into an expression of acknowledgment.

“Yeah, I uh, guess it’s not.” He laughs with you until your sides hurt.

After you manage to calm down, again, you close your eyes and lean your head back against the tree trunk behind you.

“Can I ask what happened? You were jus’ talkin’ ta Sadie and then you were runnin’.” John asks while bringing his knees up for his arms to rest on.

You open your eyes again but keep looking forward towards the sunny sky, “We were talking about my father. Just a nice memory. I guess it was just a matter of time before I exploded.”

John just nods and finds himself watching your face for a split second too long to be considered polite. He notices how despite your swollen eye lids and blotchy complexion from the crying, your eyes themselves still seem stuck in your happy memory. Twinkling with the happiness you once had.

Slowly you meet his gaze and before John can look away, you reach out to gently touch his arm, making him keep eye contact.

“You know…..my pa….he wasn’t actually…..my father. I mean by blood.” You say once you manage to find the words. You pull your hand back but keep your eyes on John’s face. You can tell he’s listening intently. Despite how much Abigail shouts about how he doesn’t pay any attention, you know he hears more than they all think.

“My mother was….I guess, seduced? By a man.” You continue, “And like it happens, he didn’t stick around once she found out she was pregnant with me.”

“So when did she meet yer…..pa?” John questions.

“When I was 6. My mama’s always been a strong-willed woman. Not unlike Abigail in a way” you admit begrudgingly, trying to keep the annoyance out of your voice, “Her family wouldn’t take her back once they knew she was having me….but the people she worked for luckily kept her on. She tended to their ranch and went hunting with the other men around.”

“A female ranch-hand huh?” John laughs but you know he means it as a compliment.

It makes you smile.

“Yep. Like I said, strong-willed.” You answer, pausing to have a laugh with John before continuing, “I grew up on that ranch….it was wonderful. From what I remember.”

“I cn imagin’ growin’ up on a ranch would be” John smiles. He always loved working with horses and for a short time before the gang grew, that was something him and Arthur did to make some extra money. He wasn’t a fan of being fixed in one place but for a kid he had no doubt how fun it probably was.

“Then one day, the owners agreed to meet with some city folk who wanted to purchase a ready to go ranch. They wanted the quiet life and all that. Blah blah.” You scoff. “They brought a friend of theirs with them…..someone who wasn’t a stranger to cattle, horses and life on a farm.”

“Yer pa?” John smiles broadly and it makes you happy that he seems so invested in your story.

“Yep. My mama said she was ruthless with him.” You giggle, “Never one to go easy…..she said city folk had no business being ranchers but my pa gave as good as he got. See he’d worked on a farm for a while before moving to the city and he considered himself more than capable. So, my mama challenged him to a race on their best horses.”

“I’m guessing she won?” John asks rhetorically and you nod.

“She won. And he asked her to dinner. Before she could decline, I came back from town with the owners wife and gave my mama a shiny rock I’d found.”

“A rock” John chuckles while frowning and you gently smacked his uninjured leg.

“Hey! That was a really good rock!” you hiss, “Anyway. I gave her the rock and she introduced me…..mama says he was hooked straight away. Performed a crappy magic trick with a coin and insisted I came along to dinner. A picnic in the park……mama said as soon as she saw me on his shoulders, she was in love.”

You stop and break eye contact with John while you take a moment to truly remember the feeling of being on your father’s shoulders. You felt like nothing would ever, could ever, harm you. You’d give anything to feel that invincible again.

“Anyway….point I’m trying to make John….is that Jake Adler wasn’t my blood father…..but he was my pa. And I couldn’t have loved him more.” You finish welling up again and letting one stray tear fall.

You can see that John still doesn’t quite understand your point. You reach for his arm again and when you touch bare skin, his eyes fall to your fingers. Again, he shivers.

“Jack may not be yours by blood….but if you want….” You find yourself struggling around the words you feel like you should say but that part of you doesn’t want to utter, “…..if you want Abigail. It doesn’t have to matter.”

John looks at you for a few seconds before giving you a small smile and touching his hand gently to yours. For a moment you both look at your hands and how the rough pad of his thumb grazes back and forth over one of your knuckles.

“Thats’a nice story Y/N. Real nice….but I ain’t a father and….I ain’t a partner.” John says without looking up at you. Your eyes flick to his face and you feel yourself run cold. You don’t know why but you feel this intense disappointment wash over you. Not because he doesn’t want to be a father to Jack, but that he seems intent on not being with anyone seriously.

You can’t understand why you feel so sick.

You nod your head and move your hand away from his arm and fake the best smile you can when his head snaps up quickly, “That’s….that’s fine as well John. You don’t have to…”

You’re quickly interrupted by John, who’s face is pulled into a grimace of realisation, “To Abigail I mean!” He rushes out so quickly that he almost shouts it. Making you jump.

John clears his throat and scratches at the back of his head before scoffing, “Sorry…I just…I mean I don’t know if I ever want kids…but ya know I…do like women…I mean…I like havin’ women. Not women, women…..a woman….God damn.” John sighs loudly and puts his face in his hands while internally berating himself.

You can’t help but burst out laughing.

John slowly brings his head up from his hands and looks at you with intense mock offence, “Are ya laughin’ at me miss?”

You can’t help it, you snort.

“Oh my God” you groan while burying your own face in your hands. John explodes into laughter and you look up.

After locking eyes with the man next to you, you begin to laugh just as loudly.

After a few moments, you both quieten down and you hold your chest gasping for breath while John holds one of his scabs that’s been tugging too much.

“What I mean is, I don’t think I wanna be with Abigail. Not afta this…I mean we weren’t even that serious before Jack. Then I went away fer a year…”

“Went away?” you interrupt and he shakes his head.

“Not jail or nothin’….but I’ll tell you that story anotha time. Or ask Arthur he’d just LOVE to fill you in.” John hisses angrily. “But what I mean is. There ain’t nothin’…romantic…there anymore. Ya know?”

You can’t help the smile that breaches your face.

“I, uh, yeah I guess I understand what you’re saying.” You say nodding. You look up at the sky and see that time really has moved on since you got here.

“Look I best get back to my mom. I kind of just ran off there” you laugh. “Thank you so much John. It means more than you know that you came to find me.”

John doesn’t answer but the slight tip of his head and small smile says everything you need to know. He gets up and helps you stand by holding out his hand for you to take. Once you’re up John holds onto your hand just a little bit longer before letting go….

“Anytime.” He says in that gruff voice and you can’t help but wonder what that voice would be like whispering in your ear. Maybe late at night. When no one can see you.

You hold your arms out awkwardly in front of you just a little bit and ask quietly, “Can I?”

It takes a second for John to register what you’re asking but as soon as he does, he’s bringing you into his arms for another hug. Before he knows it, he’s taking in a long, deep breath. Filling his senses with the smell of you and only you.

He can’t help but think to himself, has hugging always been this nice?

Has he actually ever had a hug? Yeah, he must have done. Hosea, yeah Hosea used to hug him quite a bit. And he got a few after returning to camp from his year away.

But this? This feeling is something else entirely.

You wind your arms around Johns neck and this time place your face there as well. You feel him physically shudder and for a moment you worry that you’ve actually made him uncomfortable, like maybe he was just being polite by indulging you. But before you can make any move to pull away, his arms tighten around your back.

You’re shorter than John so you’re on your tiptoes but he’s able to keep you steady. You whisper another thank you into his neck and you swear you feel his hands clench into your back where they rest.

You reluctantly pull back and come face to face with John, who’s so damn close.

Panic suddenly engulfs you a little bit and you take a step back. Thankfully John doesn’t seem to notice your moment of worry.

“See you soon then I guess…” you laugh nervously and fiddle with your clothes.

“Um yeah, I uh, like to get out here around noon most days so if yer not out or….” John says quietly, gesturing around the area.

“Yeah I uh, I’m sometimes free around then…” you mention but then you suddenly get embarrassed that maybe you’ve misread his intent, “Oh or I mean I could come later on or earlier if….you like your time or….”

“No! No…I umm” John clears his throat yet again, like he’s trying to bring the right words to the surface, “It’s nice ta have company.”

You hold in your big smile by biting your lip.

“Okay then. Umm, so see ya John.” You say walking deep into the trees before allowing your grin to take over your features.

John turns to look over at the vast openness before him. He sighs but can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of his still healing lips.

“Christ.” he whispers before making his own way back to camp.

John wanders into camp and spots you sitting once again with your mother. You look happy again and this makes him smile. Genuinely smile.

“Marston!” Arthur squawks at him as he approaches.

“Arthur” John answers through clenched teeth.

Arthur stops in front of him with his thumbs in the loops of his belt. Oozing cockiness that’d rival Micah’s, “Dutch wants you on guard duty t’night. Says it’s high-time you start pullin’ yer weight around here.” 

“Pullin’ my….? You all know I’s nearly eaten not too long ago right?” John asks angrily. His voice is so quiet as to not alert the others around him that it comes out as a sort of snide hiss.

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger,” Arthur says holding his hands up and backing away, “Or anyone fer tha’ matter. Don’t need another invalid round here.”

John bites his tongue and storms over to his tent. He needs a beer and a sleep before his shift. However after lifting the heavy canvas and letting it drop closed behind him, he realises that sleep may not be on the cards for him…..

“Hey John” Abigail drawls from his bed. Almost entirely naked. 

Once again he lets out in a whisper, “Christ.”

[visions-from-reaver]

Outlaw Legends

Chapter VII: The Homestead

Back out on the trail the trio crested a hill overlooking a small, cozy looking, homestead. “This is it, gentlemen.” Micah spoke up as he leaned forward on his saddle, eyeing the place like a starved dog would a steak. 

Arthur eyed Micah “You sure about this, Dutch?” He said as he turned to face the leader 

“All we are here for is to see if we can find some supplies and more shelter, that’s all, I don’t plan on killin’ anyone here.” Arthur nodded and turned back to face Micah 

“How many do you reckon are in there?” 

Micah shrugged “Don’t know, all I know is there are quite a few by the sound of things.” Reaver pawed at the ground in agitation, probably due to the cold snow. 

“You’re alright boy.” Arthur said softly as he patted the stallion’s neck.

“Leave the horses here and get out of sight in that shed and behind that wagon. We don’t want to spook anyone who is in there.” 

Micah and Arthur nodded and dismounted their steeds and headed for their hiding spots while Dutch stood just in front of the porch. “Hello in there!” Dutch called out into the storm “Is anyone home?” The music in the house immediately stopped as someone unknown opened the door and stepped outside. 

“What you want?” The stranger, who sounded rather irritated that he had been interrupted, called out to Dutch.

“I am very sorry to disturb you.” Dutch could tell the stranger was not very welcoming “I wouldn’t do this normally but you see, well my friends and I got into some trouble up the way,” Dutch motioned behind him, back up the hill “and we got lost in this awful storm.”

The one who had confronted Dutch came down the stairs to face him properly, just as another man showed up in the doorway. 

“We can’t help you, mister.” The first one spoke out while the other stayed quiet. 

“I got folks dyin’ out on the trail…” Dutch said just as a small rock was thrown at the shed where Arthur was hiding. 

“Arthur, we got a problem.” Micah. Arthur snuck over to the corner of the shed and poked his head slightly over it to see what the problem was. “Arthur, there’s a corpse right here, there’s a body in this wagon.” 

Arthur sighed “I hear you, just...keep an eye on Dutch.” Arthur looked over to see more people coming around from the side of the house, Dutch was getting surrounded. 

“Aw, did you hear that? He said he’s got folks that are dyin’.” The man that was in front of Dutch, mocked him. 

Dutch was becoming a little uneasy “All I need are some cans of food or something…gentlemen, please.” 

The stranger shook his head “I think you should go now, buddy.” Someone else appeared in the window on the second floor, the strangers were drawing their weapons. 

“Now friend...I ain’t askin’ for much…” Dutch started to back away slowly “Please...I am kinda desperate here....”

 BANG! A bullet launched itself from the barrel of Arthur’s Cattleman Revolver and flew straight into the stranger’s skull.

It took a second for the shock to wear off, but the second it did all hell ensued. Dutch dropped his lantern in the snow and drew his own revolvers and began to open fire. “Watch that window Arthur!” Dutch called just as a bullet whizzed past his head as he got behind what cover there was. “Shit, Arthur shoot him!” 

“I see him!” A bullet sailed through the window and into said person’s chest. He went down and didn’t come back up. 

Arthur one is tryin’ to make a break for it!” Arthur started to chase the stranger down and put a bullet in his head. 

“Dammit Arthur, I said I would handle this!” Dutch yelled at him. 

“Didn’t seem like it was goin’ to well to me Dutch, you were bein’ surrounded!” 

Dutch looked down at one of the strangers and cursed “These are O’Driscoll’s boys! What are they doing way out here?” Dutch was shocked and frustrated, he thought he had seen the last of them back in Blackwater. 

“Maybe they are here for the same reason we are?” Micah pondered aloud.

“I don’t know and I don’t care right now, we got more important things to deal with, folks to take care of! Micah, bring the horses down here, Arthur and I will search the cabin!” Micah gave a quick nod and started to trudge back up the hill 

“Hey Micah...watch out for that big stallion! He bites!” Arthur ground out as he followed Dutch inside. 

“Arthur lets turn this place upside down, we need basic essentials, food, medicine...and whiskey, I’ll see if I can find some extra blankets, anything to keep us warm.”

**********

Micah reached the horses and had led The Count and his horse Baylock down to the house, now he was going back up for Reaver. “Alright you big brute, lets go.” Micah reached for the makeshift bridle in order to lead the stallion down to the other two horses. Reaver reared and trumpeted, knocking Micah backward and into the snow. “Hey!” Micah struggled to stand as the black stallion swiftly turned and bolted away into the snow “Dammit, get back here, you stupid beast!” Micah tried to chase after it, but the snow was too deep and he lost sight of him.

Micah cursed and grumbled as he made his way back down to the house, just as Arthur and Dutch made their way outside. 

“Where’s Reaver?” 

Micah sighed “Went to go lead him down here with the others, but the bastard reared and ran off on me.” 

Arthur rubbed a hand down his face and sighed “I told you to be careful.” 

“You told me he bites, not that he’d up and bolt like that! Ain’t my fault your horse is crazy!” 

“He’s ain’t even mine he’s-” 

“Enough! Both of you! Arthur, go see if there is another horse in that barn over there. Micah go into the cabin and search behind us, see if we missed anything, please?” Dutch was annoyed, it was clear by the tone he was using with the two men. 

“Sure.” Arthur said and shivered as he went to check inside the barn “She’s gonna kill me…” Arthur grumbled under his breath as he opened the doors and stepped inside.

He was tackled to the ground the second he made it through the barn doors. “You bastards shot my cousin!” 

Arthur scrambled up off the floor “Yeah well, he started it!” This day just kept getting better and better 

“I’m gonna break your neck!” The stranger jumped at Arthur, but Arthur threw a punch and knocked him backward. 

“You wanna try that again, tough guy?” Arthur taunted “Or are you jus’ gonna run away like your friend out there?” The stranger yelled and tackled Arthur down onto the floor of the barn. They grappled each other for a minute when a voice called in from outside. 

“What’s goin’ on?” It was Dutch, pistol in hand. 

“This guy just jumped me!” 

Dutch laughed “Oh did he now?” 

Arthur got the upper hand and pinned the guy to the floor under him, a hand wrapped around his throat. “Sneaky little bastard, you want me to kill him?” 

Dutch was leaned up against the door frame, smoking one of his prized cigars “No...not yet...find out what they’re doin’ here, and where Colm is.” 

Colm O’Driscoll, one of Dutch Van Der Linde’s worst enemies, besides the law. Dutch and Colm used to run together, that is until things went south between the two. Dutch shot Colm’s brother, and in retaliation, Colm killed Dutch’s lover, a lovely young girl named Annabelle. They have been feuding and killing each other’s gang members ever since, so long in fact that no one really remembers a time when they weren’t fighting. 

“Oh he’ll talk alright.” The grip around the O’Driscoll’s throat tightened and the man coward. “You best start talkin’ boy, if you do, well, I might just let your sorry hide live...whatchu think?” The man nodded 

“Okay okay! I’ll talk, anything you want to know just, don’t kill me please!” 

Arthur grinned, something dangerous flashing in his eyes “Well, where is he?” The man swallowed and shook, either from fear or from the cold, Arthur couldn’t tell, and really didn’t care. 

“He’s with the others! There's an old mining camp just southwest of here near a lake! That’s where you’ll find him!” 

Arthur chuckled “Guess you O’Driscoll boys ain’t as dumb as you look. What are you doin’ up here anyway? I know it ain’t a vacation trip, so what’s the deal?”

The man took too long to answer and Arthur socked him square in the nose “Speak boy, I won’t ask you again!” Arthur’s tone was low, like a growl and the man shook, this time Arthur was certain it was out of fear. 

“Th-There's a train! Colm said it has a lot of money on it, we was gonna blow the tracks! That’s all I know I swear, now please, please, don’t kill me!” 

A deep chuckle came from Dutch as he was leaning against the doorframe “Well, I would say you have this one Arthur. Do what you want with him, I don’t care. But bring that horse when you’re done, you’ll have to use it until we can find that other one.”

“Sure.” Arthur said as Dutch walked off, back to the cabin. “Alright you, get outta here.” Arthur shoved the man down onto the floor and backed away, allowing him to scamper off. “I see you around again I’ll shoot you, you hear?” 

The man scrambled backward away from Arthur and nodded “Yes, clear as crystal, you won’t see me again, no sir!” 

The man ran off, as quick as the snow and the storm would allow him to, and Arthur turned to face the lone horse in the barn. It had been startled by the noise and commotion. “Easy boy...you’re okay.” Arthur slowly opened the stall door and moved near the horse “Shh Shh Shh...it's alright boy.” The horse settled and he patted its neck while grabbing the reins. “Come on, you’re coming with me.” Arthur clicked his tongue and led the horse outside and toward the cabin. 

“You let that boy live? Saw him running off a minute ago!” Dutch shouted over the wind 

“Yeah, figured he wouldn’t get too far in this on his own anyway!” Dutch grunted and motioned to a hitching post near the cabin. 

“Hitch that horse up there and come help me with this stu-” 

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” A scream pierced the night air, it was coming from inside the cabin. Dutch and Arthur didn’t hesitate and rushed inside to quite a sight. Micah was chasing a woman, with long blonde hair around the house, laughing at her. She was screaming and brandishing a large knife, trying to keep Micah away from her. 

“Micah what the hell do you think you’re doin’?!” Dutch yelled at him 

“Look what I found in the cellar! Wild thing ain’t she!” Micah laughed and chased her so she was trapped behind a table, with him on the other side. 

“Leave her alone!” Dutch was trying to maneuver his way around Micah 

“I wasn’t doin’ nothin’! She’s one of those O’Driscoll’s Dutch!” 

“No she ain’t Micah, look at her!” The woman was dressed in nothing but a nightgown. ”Miss! Miss it’s alright!” Dutch was trying his best to calm her down, but the situation only worsened when Micah flipped the table over and sent plates and a burning oil lantern crashing to the floor. The oil spilled and the floor of the cabin lit up in flames. “Oh you fool! Micah!” Dutch wrapped an arm around the man and shoved him backwards toward Arthur while he tried to soothe the woman. “Miss, listen...It is gonna be okay. We mean you no harm.” The woman backed up and held the knife out towards the leader “Miss, please…” Dutch gently took her wrist and pushed her arm down, so he wasn’t in danger of getting stabbed. “Please...come on, it’ll be okay.” 

The flames from the lamp were now licking up the walls, the whole place was going up like a lit match. “We need to get out of here, and quick.” Dutch wrapped his arm around the scared woman’s shoulders and led her towards the door and outside. Once they were safely out of the house Dutch addressed the woman “Are you okay? What happened here?” She shook her head and shivered.

“They came three days ago...and my husband they…” Her words turned into choked out sobs. 

“Listen to me, you are safe now, but you can’t stay here…” Dutch looked back over his shoulder to see the small cabin engulfed in flames. The contrast of the orange flames against the pure white snow was startling and ominous.

Arthur came up behind Dutch “She comin’ back with us then?” Dutch nodded and passed a lamp over to him while he climbed onto The Count. Arthur soothed her as he helped her onto the horse as well “It’s gonna be okay. Now I ain’t gonna lie to you, we are...bad men, but we ain’t them so… it's okay. We’ll keep you safe until you figure out what you wanna do, okay?” She nodded and Arthur climbed onto the back of the new horse he had retrieved from the barn. 

”What’s your name miss?” Dutch asked as they made their way away from the cabin

 “Alder.” She said quietly 

“Adler?” Dutch gently questioned and she nodded 

“Sadie Adler...Misses...I...He...He was my husband...They killed my husband…”

**********

Back at the camp, people were getting restless. “They should have been back by now...Hosea it's been hours.” 

Hosea sighed “I know Ms.Grimshaw, but I trust they will be back here very soon. We’ve got people on watch. They’ll holler if anyone turns up, you and the girls need to get some rest.” 

Ms.Grimshaw sighed in frustration “I’m just worried is all, are you sure we shouldn’t send someone out lookin’ for them?” 

Hosea was about to answer when he heard Lenny, one of the men on guard duty call out. “Someone’s comin’! Looks like it’s Dutch! Everyone, Dutch is back!” 

Hosea let out a relieved sigh “See, I told you they’d be back.” He turned around and headed outside into the weather, Ms.Grimshaw following close behind  “How’d you get on, Dutch?” Hosea said as everyone gathered around the riders and Mrs.Adler. 

“Micah found a homestead, but he weren’t the first. Colm O’Driscoll and his scum, they beat us to it! We found some of them there, but there is more about, apparently.” Dutch grunted as he dismounted The Count and helped Mrs.Adler down as well. “Scoutin’ a train, at least that's what Arthur got out of one of them.”

“That's the last thing we need right now Dutch.” Hosea said disapprovingly, he knew how Dutch was when it came to stealing and robbing, the Blackwater job confirmed it even more. Any talk of money, and Dutch was like a horse chomping at its bit, eager and wanting to gallop away. 

“Well, it is what it is. But we found some supplies, some blankets, a little bit of food, and this poor soul Mrs.Adler.” Everyone turned to look at the scared woman “Ms.Tilly, Ms.Karen would you warm her up? Give her a drink of something? Mrs.Adler it's gonna be okay, you’re safe now.” Dutch said as he passed her off to two of the women of the camp before turning back to Hosea. “They turned her into a widow. Animals. I need to rest, I haven’t slept in three days.” 

Ms.Grimshaw immediately came forward “You’re over here, Ms.O’Shea will show you the way. Mr.Morgan, we put you in a room over here.” She pointed to the cabin where Ms.O’Shea was leading Dutch 

“Thank you Ms.Grimshaw.” 

“Mr.Bell, you’re with the fellas over there.” She pointed to a smaller cabin off to the side. 

Micah immediately started to complain “Wha-? How come Arthur gets a room and I get a bunkbed next to Bill Williamson and a bunch of darkies?” 

“Get yourself to bed!” Hosea snapped at Micah, which sent him scurrying into the cabin.

Once Micah was out of sight Arthur came back to Susan “Where’d you put the kid? I need to talk to her.”

 Susan pointed to the old school house “She’s in there with the other girls, back left corner.” 

Arthur nodded “Thank you, for everythin’.” 

Ms.Grimshaw shook her head “No need to thank me, now get yourself inside, get warm, and get yourself some rest before I beat you!” 

Arthur chuckled “Yes, ma’am.” 

“I mean it Mr.Morgan. Have your conversation, then off to bed with you!” 

Arthur nodded and headed over to the old school house and knocked on the door before entering. “Kid, you awake in here?” He heard shuffling 

“I’m over here, and I’m not a kid, I’m twenty-two for goodness sakes.” 

Arthur tilted his head a little in surprise “Twenty-Two? Seriously? You look younger, you sure you ain’t lyin’ to me?” 

There was a sigh “Why would I lie to you? That’s probably the most foolish decision I could make right now, don’t you think?” 

Arthur pondered that thought for a moment “Not really, you’re out here tryin’ to survive like the rest of us, lyin’ don’t seem all that strange to me.”

She chuckled “Well coming from a group of outlaws I suppose it wouldn’t seem strange.”

That took Arthur off guard  “Outlaws? I never told you we were outlaws…” He heard her say something under her breath 

“I’ll explain later, I promise. If I tell you now your head might explode from what I tell you.” Arthur looked scared and she noticed “Not literally, it's a figure of speech.” 

Now he just looked confused “You ain’t makin’ much sense…” 

She waved him over “Don’t worry about it. What did you need me for anyway?  Something wrong?” 

Arthur looked down as he walked over to her sleeping space “Well, kinda...I um...well I may have lost your horse…” Silence filled the small space “Well technically Micah lost him but either way, he got spooked and ran off, we ain’t seen him since.”

“Micah.” The word was said with such venom that it took Arthur completely off guard. 

“You say that like you hate the guy.” 

She nodded “I do.” 

Arthur paused “You’ve met him?” 

Heather scoffed, “No. But I know a lot about him, and I don’t like him.” 

Arthur frowned, “What else do you know about this gang?” His tone was stern, intimidating even, it was the same tone he used with that O’Driscoll boy back in that barn. 

A chill ran up her spine “I’m no threat to you or anyone here Arthur, I promise you, I also promise you that I will tell you everything in the morning. You, Dutch, and Hosea, okay?” 

Arthur studied the girl for a moment. When he found her in that barn, she seemed harmless enough, but even a snake seems harmless from a distance. “How do I know I can trust you?” 

She sighed and reached into her bag “Here” she said as she pulled out her gun. “Take it and hide it somewhere if you want, heck, take the whole bag if it’ll make you feel better.”

 He nodded and did just that “You tell us what you know, and if we trust you, you can have it back. Deal?” 

She nodded “Deal, now go get some rest, you have got to be exhausted.”

Arthur studied her again for a moment before grunting and hiking the bag onto his shoulder and heading out the door. He went to the cabin just across from the school house and into the room on the right. Dutch and Hosea were already asleep, and that was exactly where he was heading himself.

The room had a bed in the back left corner, the mattress looked rather flimsy but he was willing to take anything at this point. A small nightstand sat at the end of it, with a desk against the back wall that sat under a small window. There was a large shelf in the back right corner of the room, beside the desk and another slightly larger nightstand on the left wall under another small window followed by another, larger, desk.

Arthur set the bag down inside one of the shelves in the right corner before removing his gunbelt and satchel. He removed his Cattleman Revolver from its holster and put it on the desk right next to the bed, just in case he needed it during the night. He didn’t bother stripping down for bed, it was far too cold for that, even with a fire burning in the fireplace just outside in the main room. He sat on the bed, lit a lantern and pulled his old brown leather journal and began to write...

May 1899,

We have been running for weeks, I mean running more than usual. The job they was pulling in Blackwater, robbing that ferry, it turned into a disaster. Young Jenny got killed, poor thing, while Sean and Mac both got arrested, or killed, nobody seems sure which. Dutch shot a girl, I am not too sure if by accident or design, and it seems like it might have been a set up. We took to the hills in an almighty scramble, leaving money and most of our things behind. Then, as we were fleeing east over the Grizzlies, an almighty storm hit us. Davey Callendar, who had got shot in the gut on the raid, passed away. It was brutal to watch, and the rest of us nearly froze, but we found shelter and have been resting here in some old, abandoned mining town while we await the thaw.

Hardly the spring I had been hoping for. Hosea and I had been planning a robbery of our own in Blackwater, but I guess that’s been abandoned along with most of what I owned. I am profoundly concerned as to what happens next, once we leave this place or the law finds us cowering up here. 

Found a girl while I was scouting the place out, she was huddled up in the barn here, with the strangest horse I’ve ever seen. Big black stallion with coal black eyes that turn white when he’s scared, and he’s got teeth that are jagged and sharp as daggers. The girl, or well, woman I should say, since she’s twenty-two, named Heather, said the horse’s name was Reaver, a strange name for a strange horse. She says she's from the future, looked through some of her things, I don’t think she’s lying, but if she ain’t she's got a hell of a lot of explaining to do.

Met another woman up here while Dutch and I went out to find John and Micah. Her husband had been murdered by some of Colm O’Driscoll’s boys, nasty business.

Found Micah but we haven’t found John yet. 

Micah, that’s another mystery with Heather, says she hates him, but she’s never met him, she knows we are outlaws, but I never told her that...That kid is just full of surprises but I do not know if she is dangerous or not, I guess we shall soon find out. She said she would tell me, Dutch, and Hosea everything tomorrow, that’ll be the deciding factor I reckon, but until then I’m keeping her stuff in this room I’m currently holed up in, told her I’d give it back if we deemed her trustworthy. I just hope we make it out of here soon, and that we ALL make it out ALIVE.

Arthur sighed and shut his journal, putting it back into his satchel, before finally laying down and closing his eyes. It was going to be tough surviving out here that was for sure, food would be scarce most likely, and keeping warm would be another issue entirely. But with any luck, a hope, and a prayer, they might just make it off this Godforsaken mountain alive and move back out west, at least, that was the plan that Arthur was hoping for, and what he dreamed of when he finally fell asleep.

[tcswritings]

MASTER DUMP.

Just a whole lot of very rough scribbles that were in my drafts. Some are lengthy, some are very short, some are super old (and partly outdated), others are somewhat recent but they all got one thing in common - I probably won’t go back to them, at least not any time soon. I really just wanna clear my drafts for now, and hey, why not share these bits? I kind of enjoy them anyway after all. xD

***

I. Untitled

(Declan tries to talk to Mick during the time of their big fight.)

***

“This is so stupid, man. We'll keep crossin’ paths after all, whether you like it or not and you don’t really wanna keep this up for all eternity, do you?” Declan asked, crossing his arms while he and the others watched Ryan unpacking the next box.

“Why are you talkin’ to me?” Mick mumbled out of the corner of his mouth. He didn’t even bother to look at Declan.

“This is bullshit, Mick!”

Mick merely took a deep breath, trying to stay calm and focussing on Ryan instead who currently struggled with the wrapping of his gift.

“I mean, I know you love actin’ like a petulant lil’ arsewipe but you could as well as just use that energy to try and forgive me?”

“Do me a favour and drop dead.”

“In sixty years, maybe. You’re gonna have to put up with me for a few more years, I’m afraid.”

“Fuck you.”

“Guys! Shhh!” Jessie hissed at her two fighting friends.

*****

“Can you please tell me what’s so funny?” The least Declan expected from Lauren was a laughing fit.

“I’m sorry!” she chuckled, doing her best to pull herself together. “It’s nothin’ personal, just the thought of my son’s father and his best friend - two grown up men - bitchin’ at each other like sum’ pre-teens would.”

____________________

II. Untitled

(Charlie and Kieran and that one evening in the O’Leary’s.)

It’s Summer 2016 and Charlie realises that her feelings for Kieran have taken a somewhat different turn as she finds herself smitten with him when they have a talk at her favourite pub in Boston.

*****

He looked thinner than the last time she had seen him, and he looked worn-out and very tired.

Not the kind of tired that a few hours of a good night’s sleep could fix, but the kind of tired that someone who had seen and endured too much within a short time would look like, someone who was silently suffering and who was bad at taking care of it.

When Charlie had met Kieran O’Connell for the first time a little more than six years ago, he had acted like an unnecessarily rude brat and there was no other way to put it. He had the questionable charm of a guy who was well aware of his good looks and who knew he was quite the catch, so to say, and she could still remember his overly confident swagger, the arrogant look on his face, his deep and penetrating voice as well as how his pale blue eyes had pierced hers when he had looked into her face for the very first time.

Despite his rudeness (and the apparent lack of manners), Charlie had thought of Kieran as a force of nature from the very beginning and it turned out that she was right - once she got to know him a little better, it became more and more obvious to her that he was actually a very passionate and spirited guy with a heart as big as the entire world and that had impressed her so much more than his cocky behaviour and she couldn’t help but grow really fond of him over the years.

Not much was left of the cocky and lively guy today, though, and while it ached Charlie to see her friend in pain - he tried his best to cover it up but he couldn’t hide it - she had felt a strange wave of affection overwhelming her right in the moment they had greeted each other with a heartfelt hug. There was sympathy, of course, but it was mixed with something else and it took her a little while to figure the feeling out.

Charlie was nervous. Anticipating. And she had been ever since they had sat down at one of the tables. Charlie had been listening closely and her heart ached for him and yet she couldn’t help but notice a little spark despite the gloomy subject. There was nothing in this world she wanted more in this moment than to be close to him and to fix the things going wrong in his life so he would smile at her again, like he always had.

“I just wish there was something I could say.” Charlie sighed. “I don’t have too much to offer aside from ‘I know how it feels.’”

“Y’ do?”

“Yeah.” she nodded. “I lost my aunt when I was 15.”

“That’s rough. You never told me about it.”

“Yeah, it’s not really a subject to keep a mood up, right?”

“Fair enough.” Kieran laughed. “What happened to your aunt?”

“Well, to be fair, she wasn’t really my aunt, not by blood at least. She was the wife of my dad’s best friend.”

“Blood or no blood, it no longer matters after a while.” Kieran said with a faint smile. “How did she die?”

“Same. Car crash. She had her little daughter with her, they both died. She was only 31, her daughter was three.”

“That’s horrible.”

“Yeah, it was. And it wasn’t even just the pain of losing them, y’know? Seeing dad hurt, seeing Adrian hurt - all of a sudden, our entire life was nothing but sadness and grief.”

Kieran let out a dry chuckle. “I know what y’ mean. Watching Ma and Pa, and also my siblings, is the worst. Like a punch to the guts. I try to come an’ see them as often as I can these days but truth is that I dread it every damn time. Sometimes it’s - I dunno. It’s-”

“Too much?”

“Too much.” Kieran nodded. “I mean, how do you even comfort the people who have raised you? What do you tell ‘em? That it’s gonna be alright? I don’t know what losing a child feels like. Gave ‘em nothin’ but grief myself for the better part of my life, I just don’t know what to do or say most of the time.”

“Do you think you have to do or say something?”

“Yeah, it’s what I think. It’s what I think any damn time I’m at home, any time my sister looks at me with her big sad eyes, like she’s at a loss at how t’ move on and any time my brother snaps at us, somethin’ he’s never done before, not like that at least. Someone has to keep this fuckin’ bunch from fallin’ apart after all-”

Kieran fell quiet as Charlie reached over the table and took his hand. It was a spontaneous reaction and Charlie already feared that she could come across as intrusive but Kieran didn’t even flinch at the gesture. He even closed his hand around hers. She squeezed it a little and a few moments later she could tell that he was starting to relax.

“I‘m sorry. Fuckin’ nerves.” he smiled.

“Couldn’t tell.” Charlie smiled back. “Relax. Breathe. You’re here for vacation. You can go back to saving your folks once you charged up.”

“I dunno, I think it takes a lot more to charge up than a few weeks away from home. Actually, I even feel like I’m running away.”

“No. It’s good you’re here. And maybe you won’t charge up right away, but you can get your mind off things for a little while. You gotta do that, y’know?”

“You think so, eh?”

“Yes, I do, and it has nothing to do with running away. You gotta take care of yourself every once in a while.” Charlie squeezed Kieran’s hand once more.

“You’re cute.”

“Well, it’s obvious that you’re not really good at taking care of yourself so I’m just trying to be the person who does it until you learn it.” Charlie cocked her head and smiled at him.

Returning the smile, Kieran brushed a strand of dark hair out of his face with his free hand. He looked at Charlie for a few more moments before he gently pulled his hand back, adjusting himself and looking around the pub. “Alright, how ‘bout we order a jug of ale, get roaring drunk and we’ll go wherever you wanna go?”

“I don’t do ‘roaring drunk’ too well.” Charlie chuckled, suddenly remembering the first and only time he had seen her in that exact state.

“Me neither. We’re already halfway there, though, and we’ll be fine, c’mon.”

“Wait, what’s that supposed to mean? I’m nowhere near roaring drunk and neither are you?”

“We could be. Anything you want, love. Let’s get our minds off things, as you put it.”

Charlie couldn’t tell what exactly caused the flutter in her stomach - the little spark in Kieran’s eyes as well as his playful smile or the term of affection. He had addressed her like that before but it meant more today than it ever had before and she felt herself all too willing to respond.

(...)

____________________ 

III. Untitled

(Orla yells at Mick for getting married in a fever.)

***

“You. WHAT?”

Orla’s outcry was followed by the distinct noise of shattering glass, causing Mick to flinch and jump back a little. He looked at the mess at his feet and then back at Orla who merely stared at him, her eyes wide, before she looked to the ground and slowly took a crouching position, proceeding to swipe the little shards together with her bare hands.

Mick could see that she was trembling and hunkered down as well. “Be careful, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” he said, but Orla merely batted Mick’s hand away as he tried to keep her from touching the glass.

“NO, don’t touch me!”

“Orla-”

“Look me in the eye and tell me that you didn’t do what I think you just said you did!” Orla’s voice cracked.

“Orla, there’s no need to freak out-”

“You can’t be married!?”

“I am, I jus' told you!”

“Oh my god.” Orla closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Still in her squatting position, she propped up her elbow on her knee, wiping her face with her hand and eventually pinching the bridge of her nose with her finger and her thumb.

Mick raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you a bit dramatic right now?”

"Shut up!” she hissed back at him. “Don’t you dare calling me dramatic!"

“Aye, sorry, I-”

“Are you out of your mind? I mean, more than usual?!"

Mick ignored the little remark. “I don’t even know why you’re makin’ such a big deal of it-”

“Because it is a big deal! It is a Big. Fucking. Deal, Mick! You got married!” She glared at him and realised that she still had a few shards of glass in her left hand. “Ah, fuck this!” she hissed, tossed the few shards to the ground and stood up again, eventually stomping out of the room.

Mick looked after her for a few moments. Granted, he hadn’t really expected Orla to be thrilled, but he hadn’t expected her to be so furious either. Feeling a little helpless, he bit his lip, before he stood up as well and followed her into her living room. When he opened the door, he almost bumped into her. Orla swiftly turned around on the spot.

“Orla, c’mon, let’s just-”

She cut him off once more. “I don’t believe this, Mick. You come here and tell me that you just got married to this total nutcase-”

“Oi, watch it!”

“- and expect me to be, what exactly?! To be cool with it? Like it’s no big deal at all, like it’s the most natural thing ever that my best friend disappears for a weekend and comes home married, to a woman he hardly knows, without letting any of us know-”

“Orla, what the fuck is your problem?”

“You! You are my problem! For years I was the one,” - Orla pointed at herself - “who always stood up for you when anyone called you stupid or idiotic and whatnot but it’s true. They’re all right, you are an idiot and you have always been!”

Mick let out a little laugh as he now faced Orla, his eyes narrowing. “Is that all y’ have to say? That I’m an idiot?”

“Well, you must be!” Orla went on. “The only other explanation I have for this bullshit is that she must do some really amazing things in the bedroom. Does she?”

Mick let out another laugh but it wasn’t a friendly one. “Fuck this, I don’t need to justify myself.”

“No, of course you don’t. Go off, be happy, do what you want. You never cared about filling me in about this but hey, as your best friend I couldn’t be happier for you!” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

“How many times do I have to tell you that-”

“- that it was a spontaneous thing? Oh, don’t worry, I got that!”

“Orla-” Mick tried again after a few moments of silence, his voice soft, but Orla wasn‘t done yet.

“I mean, it is not quite what I meant when I told you a while ago that you need to work on being more spontaneous again. You could’ve started by, dunno, going on a road trip or buying a new couch or gettin’ Sasha a friend but hey, why not marry a woman you have known for six minutes? You exceeded my expectations, congratulations!”

All of a sudden, a thought crossed Orla’s mind and as it did, her heart skipped a beat and she could feel the colour rushing from her face. “Oh dear lord. She’s pregnant, isn’t she?”

Mick now closed his eyes and groaned. “Oh god, oh my fuckin’ god.”

“Answer me!” Orla spat out.

“I dunno!” he shot back.

“Wrong answer!”

Mick groaned. “I mean, I don’t think so, no?! Even if she was, it wasn’t the reason why we did this.”

“Oh my god, I would even get that, considering how you were raised and-”

“Shut up! Just shut. up!” Mick eventually interrupted her harshly. He was done being patient. “Stop psychoanalysing me, stop buggin’ me, stop doin’ whatever y’ doin’. You insulted me in every possible way within the last ten minutes and I don’t need that shit from you, not from you!”

“Well, did you expect me to be happy for you? Like you didn’t just ruin your entire life?”

“I didn’t ruin my life and no, I didn’t expect that.” Mick replied wearily. “I dunno what I expected, I just didn’t think y’ would be that much of an arsehole about everything.”

“I am not being an arsehole-”

“You’re bein’ the worst arsehole I’ve ever known right now and I’m done talkin’ about this unless you tell me what the real problem is.”

“I don’t have a problem?”

“You most certainly do. And I wanna know what it is, goddammit.”

“You’re throwing your life away for a woman you hardly know! You keep falling for all those wacko women who are terrible for you and it’s beyond me how you fail to see that-”

“Wait, just so I get this right... you can date whomever you want, for as  long or short as you want, no matter how much of a fuckwad the guy is, but once I pick someone, I need your approval?”

“That is not what I’m saying.” Orla groaned and rolled her eyes.

“So what are y’ sayin’ then?”

Orla blinked and took a breath as she put her hands to her hips, shooting Mick a harsh look.

“Has  it ever occurred to you that you make the worst choices, Mick? That  you’re complete and utter shit at getting your damn life together? You just outdid yourself! First Leila-”

“That was different-”

“-and now Mina. Why can’t you just pick a nice and stable one for once? Why can’t you just-”

“Stay alone so I can be your last resort?”

Startled, Orla looked at Mick, her lips parted in shock.

“What did you just say?” she whispered.

“I dunno, I’m merely gettin’ the impression that you like keepin’ me on a short leash but once I go off and do my own thing-”

“You have some nerve-”

“Obviously hit a nerve.” Mick mumbled.

“You’re so full of shit! Why would I want to keep you as a last resort? What kinda fucked up thought is that even? You’re my best friend!”

“Hell yes, I am, and I wouldn’t want it any other way but right now y’ bein’ the world’s worst bitch-”

“HEY!”

“And don‘t tell me that you wouldn’t have ran off with that fuckin’ Australian if he’d asked you to.”

“Yeah, maybe, but I’m glad I didn’t. All relationships start out great, you know that, but things can blow up so quickly. Even worse, sometimes one part just runs away when nothing at all happened, just like James did.”

“Just like you did.”

“What are you even talking about?”

“You ran away from me, just like that.”

“Oh my god, why are you bringing up age old stories again?”

Mick ignored the question. “Y’know what? I don’t even care. I care about makin’ this work, I can do that all by myself and I don’ need your support anyway. How about y’ just leave me be, alright?”

____________________ 

IV. Untitled

(Declan and Lauren face some unexpected trials of life.)

***

September 2014

“What about Marshall?”

“What, like the guy from that terrible sitcom?”

“Nah, like the amplifiers. Or, y’know, like Jimi Hendrix’s middle name.”

Lauren pursed her lips as she pondered the suggestion for a few moments. She eventually shook her head. “Don’t think so, no.”

“Aw, c’mon, why not? It sounds badass.”

“But I will know that the poor baby was named after either a drug addict or a huge black... block. Thanks, I’ll pass.”

“Just think about this, though: he’ll love us for the name when he eventually becomes a guitarist?”

“We don’t even know if he’s a he, Dec. Let alone whether he becomes a guitarist.”

“Come on. ‘Course it’s gonna be a boy. I mean, “ Declan shrugged, “two brothers, two nephews? We have strong genes.”

“Dear lord, no, I really don’t wanna raise a... you.” Lauren groaned as she leaned back against the wall, struggling to find a comfortable position. She was in the eighth month of her pregnancy and some things became a little tricky - such as finding resting positions that didn’t leave her sore or in pain after ten or less minutes.

“Aw, will you ever stop pretending that you can’t stand me? I mean, we both know how that came to be?” Declan gently patted Lauren’s belly before he reached over to grab one of the pillows that were piled up next to the little cupboard that he had helped her build up earlier. “C’mon, take that. You probably shouldn’t be sitting on the floor anyway, eh?”

“Ugh, it no longer makes a difference anyway. I feel and look like a whale, everything hurts and nothing is comfortable anymore. Not ever.”

As he put the pillow behind Lauren’s back, trying to make sure that she felt at least a little more comfy, Declan grimaced. He felt pretty guilty all of a sudden. “... sorry you feel like that.”

“That, uhm, was actually the part when you were to say ‘You don’t look like a whale, Lauren!’, y’know.”

“Ah, shit.” Declan laughed. “You don’t look like a whale, Lauren!”

“You’re a horrible liar but, y’know, points for trying and such.” Lauren smiled back. “It’s alright, I’m kidding, don’t worry. Looking like a whale is kinda like my least problem these days.”

“What do you mean?”

“Okay. Can I be completely honest for a second?”

“Sure.”

Lauren took a heavy breath. “I’m freaking out, actually.”

“What? Now?”

“No, not now. I mean, yeah. Also now! All the damn time! I mean, aren’t you freaking out? Not at all?”

Declan looked at Lauren and when he pondered the question in his mind he realised that, at least right now, he was quite far from freaking out. “Not really.” he replied. “I mean, I used to, yeah?”

“I know you used to. You freaked out right in the beginning and now, with due date ‘round the corner, it’s me... I dunno. I kinda don’t want this.”

“Bit late for second thoughts, I’m afraid.”

“I know! I know how horrible that must sound to you now, oh god.”

“Nah, it doesn’t.”

“I’m just wondering how on goddamned earth I thought I could be a good parent. I mean, I took the risk of getting pregnant just so I - so we could- oh god. So what’s next? Huh? Tell me.”

“Uhm-”

“I tell you what’s next. I’m gonna put Baby on the changing table and leave the room, just like that, because hey, what’s the worst that could happen, eh?”

“Okay, what are you talking about-”

“And I sure won’t bother reading about nutrition and food?! Oh hell no, I’ll just give Baby some rubbish I find in the back of my refrigerator ‘cause, I mean, it works for me, right?!”

“Oh god, Lauren, what the fuck is that about now?”

“I am stupid, Dec! I don’t think things through, I can’t possibly be a parent!”

“So what, I’m stupid, too? Kinda played my part in this, y’know.”

“Oh my god! Yes, you are stupid! We’re both stupid!”

Declan snorted. “So let’s just hope this all maybe works out like multiplication, eh? Minus times minus equals plus?”

“We’re not at school!” Lauren moaned.

“Yeah I’m kinda grasping at straws here.” Declan admitted and bit his lip. “Honestly though, it’s what I do all the time. I just hope for the best. And somehow it works?”

“But you can’t just ‘hope for the best’ when a baby is involved?”

“Huh! Just think about all those weirdos in this world who manage to raise a kid. It somehow works? My parents raised us and they’re pretty much the worst weirdos I know.”

“Is that supposed to reassure me now?!” Lauren raised an eyebrow.

“C’mon, we really didn’t turn out all too bad! ... okay, Orla is a bit weird, I’ll give you that, but three out of four is still a good rate?”

“Oh my god!” Lauren laughed.

Declan smiled at her for a few moments before he eventually put his arm around her shoulder, scooting a little closer and pressing a kiss to her temple.

“I’m not even saying that everything will be fine, I’m just saying that it’s gonna happen, no matter what, and we just kinda... have to do this.”

“My parents offered any help I need...” Lauren murmured, resting her head on Declan’s shoulder.

(...)

September 2019

(...)

“Oh man, for how much longer are they even going to be in there?!”

“Shh. It’s all good, it’s been only five minutes.” Lauren whispered.

“I don’t understand why they have to keep doing all this, it’s not like it changes, y’know... what it is.”

“They need the x-ray to check his lymph vessels, so they can eventually figure out the best way to treat him.”

“They’re clueless.”

“They’re thorough. He’ll be fine, you know they won’t harm him.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you already sound like them.” Declan scoffed.

“I don’t. Unlike you, I listened to what they had to say! Stop using that tone on me already!”

“What tone?”

“Like I have no clue what you’re going through.”

Declan could hear the bitterness in Lauren’s voice and it was when he knew he had gone too far. He couldn’t let it out on her. Of all people in his life, Lauren was the one who understood exactly how he felt and she was also the one whose company he longed for most these days.

“I’m sorry. God, I- I know I’m awful. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I get it.” Lauren rested her head against his shoulder while they held each other close.

“He’s all alone in there.” Declan’s voice broke and he wiped his tired eyes with the palm of his hand. “I hate it when they take him away.”

“I know. Me too.”

“I’m freakin’ out, Lauren.”

“C’mon, let’s sit.”

“Don’t wanna sit, I want him back.”

“I know, I want the same.”

“Don’t know how it happened but I’m strangely fond of this kid.” Declan now let out a little laugh. It was a nervous laugh, one that happened because he was too scared to let out anything else at this point. Lauren knew him well enough.

“Go figure.” she replied faintly. There was silence for a few moments until Declan spoke again.

(...)

____________________

  V. Text Messages, part 1.            

Declan has created the group ‘concert shit’.

Declan has added you to the group.

Declan has changed the group image.

6:43 - Declan: Lady and Gentlemen, this is the long overdue group chat to plan our concerts and open airs. I’m sick of talking to you individually and organise shit all by myself.

6:44 - Jessie: Like you ever did that or are remotely good at that kinda stuff 😆

6:44 - Declan: Quiet Jessica.

6:44 - Jessie: No. 😂 😂 😂

6:44 - Declan: Suggestions to change the group title are not welcome btw. Concert shit is a grand name for this kind of group

6:45 - Mick: why cant we change the title

6:45 - Mick: it’s shit

6:45 - Mick: literally

6:46 - Declan: Because we can’t Michael.

6:46 - Declan: I’m the admin, I say what’s to be done.

6:46 - Mick: ya do shit man

6:46 - Mick: like I let ya tell me what to do

6:47 - Daryl: I already hate this group dynamic.

6:47 - Jessie: It’s like in real life. 😆

6:47 - Jessie: Dipso always tries to be the one who decides shit. And we just don’t let him so it’s all good? So, Clockwork Fury in Dublin? I’d be up for it!

6:48 - Daryl: When?

6:48 - Daryl: And why Dublin, why not Athlone? Aren’t they playng in Athlone this time?

6:48 - Daryl: *playing

6:48 - Declan: I didn’t even know they are touring. Found them kinda lame last time tbh.

6:49 - Mick: they ARe lame

6:49 - Mick: Im out

6:49 - Mick: road trip to dublin tho

6:49 - Mick: like 2017

6:49 - Mick: for gojira

6:49 - Mick: I WANT a noTHER ROAD RIP

6:49 - Mick: TRIP lol

6:50 - Daryl: I still have nightmares and flashbacks from that trip. How much are tickets for CF, Jess?

6:52 - Jessie: 30ish, I think. I’ll order next week, I’m definitely gonna go and I’m taking Harper.

6:53 - Daryl: You guys are serious now?

6:53 - Jessie: I dunno. Yeah? I guess? 😂

6:53 - Jessie: The woman needs some good taste in music HONESTLY. And, I mean, she agreed to come and to be open about more future concerts and planning stuff together kinda means we’re in relationship land!? I mean, is that even a good sign?

6:54 - Daryl: How would I know? I’m shit at that stuff. 😂

6:55 - Jessie: Does Patti know you’re shit at that stuff? xD

6:55 - Daryl: She’s had first hand experience for three months now so yeah, I assume she does. She kinda seems to like me enough. 😂

6:55 - Jessie: Yeah why she’s a KEEPER?! 😜

6:55 - Jessie: Told ya that if you mess it up, I will gladly take her.

6:56 - Declan: what the fuck??

6:56 - Daryl: Thanks Jess but I think I’m gonna keep her myself. :D

6:56 - Declan: last time I checked this chat was called ‘concert shit’

6:56 - Declan: NOT ‘RELATIONSHIP SHIT’

6:56 - Declan: y’all are annoying with your relationship shit.

_________________

VI. Sailor Man

March 2020. The days are getting longer, the air is getting warmer and Orla just met a handsome sailor from overseas. Her friends are very, very curious.

***

“So, who was that guy last night?”

“Can we maybe not talk about last night? I still feel horrible.” Orla sounded tired and as she rubbed her temples, she let out a faint sigh.

“Ah, sweetheart, don’t worry. You got tipsy, so what?” Rosamund waved off. “All I could complain about is that you didn’t spend your money here at my place, as usual.”

“Honestly, I don’t even know what happened.” Orla groaned. “I was at the tattoo studio, and all of a sudden this incredibly sexy guy in a sailor uniform comes in. Tall, broad, dark hair, gorgeous tan, tattooed all over, bright smile, cute dimples... and that’s when I, well. I kinda stopped thinking.”

“A sailor uniform?” Patti asked. “You’re dating a sailor?”

“We’re not dating, we have met only yesterday! He wanted to get a little tattoo that would remind him of his stay here. I think Harper noticed that I was... , well, that I was a bit into him and pointed him in my direction and I told him that I was only the apprentice but he didn’t care, he wanted the tat anyway so I did it.”

Orla looked around. Rosamund, Declan and Patti all stared expectantly at her. She frowned but eventually shrugged and went on.

“Well, we went out afterwards, we had a snack, I showed him around, he told me he was from Detroit... annnnd we hopped some bars, I got tipsy, and at some point he kissed me, and I got even more tipsy.... and then we got here and I said some really terrible things to Mick and... oh god, Mick.” Orla groaned, closing her eyes and burying her face in her hands. “I somehow need to sort that out.”

“Ah, not now, though.” Patti interfered. “A sailor, wow. I mean, is he a sailor or just some weirdo who likes dressing up as one?”

“Oh, he is a sailor, darling. Such a sailor.” Rosamund closed her eyes and smiled, still charmed by the cheer memory of the guy.

“And he’s definitely an upgrade to Pizza Pete.” Declan nodded.

“Don’t call him Pizza Pete!?” Orla snapped.

“He referred to himself as Pizza Pete?! Don’t try to cover that he was the unfunniest... blandest boyfriend you ever had.”

“It’s the way you said it. Don’t be so condescending. Pete was cute and... well, I got fifty percent off my next order after any time we, uh... we met.”

“Ugggh...” Declan wrinkled his nose and looked away.

“Fifty percent? You were screwing that guy and all you got was lousy fifty percent? What a cheapskate.” Patti exclaimed, clearly appalled.

“It’s better than nothing- what, no, I don’t wanna talk about Pete now? My head’s still spinning, y’all need to leave me suffer in silence, please.”

(...)

_____________

VII. Untitled

(I don’t even know what this was supposed to be, lol. Sean turns 53 and the family celebrates?!?!?! Also, this must be set in 2013 since Orla and Mick are a thing here, haha.)

***

“I still don’t know how y’all convinced me to celebrate my 53th birthday.” Sean O’Connell laughed. “It’s not an even number or somethin’ after all.”

“Well, we need some kind of excuse to stuff our faces and get drunk during daylight?” his daughter suggested, rasing her glass to her father. “Cheers, Da!”

“Cheers, sweetheart. Like you ever cared about that.” Sean replied and he nearly lost it at Orla’s dumbfounded expression.

“When did I ever get drunk during daylight? I don’t do that!” Orla seemed appalled.

“You did. With Ma.” Declan chimed in. “Like, two weeks ago.”

“You did what?” Next to Orla, Mick raised his eyebrow, suppressing a smile.

“Uhm no, that was just-”

Sean laughed heartily now. “No no no, no need to justify yourself, kid, that was hilarious. I loved how you two sang along to- what was it again?”

“Daaaad!” Orla moaned.

“The Moulin Rouge soundtrack! After all those years it’s still wonderful!” Sarah noted.

“Oh yeah.” Declan noted with an eyeroll. “So wonderful.”

“Glad I wasn’t around for that.” Malachy mumbled next to him.

“You should be. It was ugly. Very, very ugly.” Declan mumbled back at him. “Earshattering. Frightening.”

“Oh god, can you just stop being arseholes and-” Orla interfered but Sarah just shook her head.

“C’mon, sweetheart, it’s not our fault that all these lil’ fuckers here have no idea how to spend a good time, eh?”

Orla pursed her lips for a bit and eventually nodded. “You know what? Right you are, Ma. Y’all are just boring. We should do it again, I think. Right here. Right now.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, don’t.” Malachy spat out. “I don’t need any nightmares later.”

“You are a nightmare.” Orla shot back. When she saw that her boyfriend was still looking at her with his eyes wide in apparent confusion, she groaned. “Don’t look at me like that? I promise, I won’t burst out singing songs now.”

“Whatever,” Mick answered. “There could be worse after all.”

Malachy snorted. “Jesus Christ, congrats!” he said into Orla’s direction. “Apparently love ain’t just blind, it’s also deaf.”

“I mean, Mick, you know she can’t sing, don’t you? ‘Course you do.” Declan added.

“Ugh, c’mon, Dip, what am I supposed to say now? She’s sittin’ right next to me.”

“At least he’s not blatantly lying!” Sarah chimed in. “I like that! Very promising!”

“Y’gotta learn that, tho.” Declan said. “Relationships are all about sugarcoating and tellin’ each other weird cute-sy shit just so the other one ain’t pissed all the time.”

“Aye, I’m, uh, not gonna take that note, don’t mind me.” Mick raised an eyebrow.

“Good boy!” Sarah nodded. “You two will do just fine, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, just don’t take any tips from Declan.” Malachy added.

“Hey!” Declan protested. “I give great advice.” He turned to Mick and Orla again. “Mark my words, man, in a few years, when the two of you have three weird kids and are miserable all the time, you’ll be longing for my piece of advice.”

“No one is having weird kids!” Sarah chimed in. “Hopefully.” she added quietly, but still loud enough that both Mick and Orla now shared a startled look.

(...)

__________________

.... that’s it, I guess. Sanne out. :’D

[peroxideprinces]

☕️ doctor who?

LOVE TALKIN AB DW OKAY

overall, i love modern who to death !! i love nine - twelve sm <333 havent gotten around to watchin classic who yet though <//3

nine: i think the first series is wonderful, but it was limited bc it was the first dw series in over a decade. they couldnt do many ambitious things bc they had to keep things tame for newer audiences at first, but as series two rolled around w ten it got a lot more wild. i think that nine was played wonderfully, although eccleston wasnt the best at actin out comedy. he was an amazin serious actor for the doctor. i prefer rose here to how she is w ten bc tenrose were constantly flirtin n it got annoyin after a while, but in series one shes still jus a close friend of the doctor up until the finale. shes such a fun character n i love the way billie piper plays her ! mickey is wonderful as always, n i felt so bad for him durin some of the episodes bc of how he was portrayed. i dont like jackie so i dont wanna tak ab her lmao,, JACK MY BELOVED <333 he was so fun to watch n m glad that carried on into the later seasons w him ! hes always a joy to watch. i think the episodes varied in quality, but ovwrall it was a solid series ! i wish we were able to explore nine more, though.

ten: theres... a lot goin on w ten. series two was ab the same level as one, but it got better durin series three, four, n the specials. the writin also got a lot better. i think david tennant is the second best actor for the doctor, n id put ten at number three out of the modern who doctors. david tennant was brilliant n the writin was amazin for him ! i wnjoyed his struggle w his arrogance n how he was possibly the most human doctor. he was funny n enjoyable but he wasnt without his faults. one of the best episodes in the entire show i would say is the waters of mars bc there can never be another wpisode of dw like it, n it shows that the doctor can get carried away w things. the separation of ten n rose was devastatin, n m upset that it was undone durin the series four finale. tenrose was a decent romance, though i think i wouldve preferred a friendship. martha is a step up from rose i think ?? she gets a bit more development, though i dont like the unrequited love between her n ten ig ?? n her gettin w mickey at the end was kinda unnecessary. she was more of an intellectual match to ten than rose was, n she was much more fun to watch ! donna is my favorite, easily. series four was as good as it was because of her n tens dynamic. i loved how she wasnt a love interest for him ! personally, i reallt dont like it when the doctor has a love interest (other than jack n river n also yaz but shhhh) n donna was a nice change of pace. watchin her grow into the person she became was so fun bc she truly did become better, n that made it all the more depressin when the doctor basically turned her back into the person she was before. i didnt like the series four finale bc it felt a little too fanservice-y ig ? though seein jack n mickey again did help lmao. the specials ranged from a bit borin to “holy shit this is fantastic” n the regeneration of ten was truly one of the saddest things i think ive ever had to watch, especially whne rememberin that man was like 906 n he like canonically lived for only like 7 years. imagine only bein yourself for 7 years. ofc he didnt wanna go.

eleven: HOLY SHIT ELEVEN !!! series five is easily my favorite series of modern who. i think series six was decent n the first half of series seven was alright, but the latter half of series seven was disappointin. matt smith ran w this role n did such a wonderful job, eleven is probably the best doctor i think (imo ofc). amy n rory are my favorite companions as well, n their relationship is so dear to me. i didnt like the whole thing they tried to do w amy n eleven like it jus rubbed me the wrong way ig. i cannot describe in words how much i adore rory also. eleven n river is the best relationship between someone n the doctor, dont argue w me. they were so cute which makes everythin else all the more sad. clara is much better w twelve than she is w eleven. i sincerely dont like companion/doctor relationships, n eleven n clara is my least favorite example of that. i think that eleven shows what the doctor should be v well. hes less arrogant than ten n nine but i cant deny that he is still arrogant. hes kinder than the two previous doctors, which makes him much more likeable to me. matt smith does an amazin job w eleven.

twelve: i havent fully finished his run yet, but ive finished series eight n m halfway through series nine. peter capaldi is easily the best actor to play tge doctor. he does such a wonderful job w emotional actin as well as showin twelves sense of humor. the writin is much better in series nine than it is in eight, but that doesnt necessarily mean that series nine was bad. i think clara is best is series nine. i dont enjoy watchin her much n shes one of my least favorite companions, but i do still adore her. shes confident n independent. she reminds me a lot of donna, though shes less rash. shes impulsive as well which is fun to see even if it ultimately leads to her death. i think the second best episode in the show is heaven sent because it shows twelve grievin after losin clara in such a realistic n painful way. watchin that after losin a close friend hit different,,, i dont have many complaints ab twelves run yet, but tgat could change once i start series ten.

thirteen: okay. look. thirteen is such a fuckin disappointment, its quite frankly insultin. jodie whittaker is such an amazin actor ! i watched her in other shows n she does such a wonderful job ! she does her best with what she has n m grateful for that bc it means that thirteens run so far is somewhat enjoyable. my problem is the writin. i dont feel like elaboratin here bc then this post would be a Lot longer than it already is, but the writin is jus so,,,, dogshit, i guess. like they could do so much w her n they dont ! her companions could be so much cooler n they arent ! s been a while since ive seen thirteens run n maybe my opinions will change upon rewatch but from what i remember,, i dont thibk i wanna rewatch honestly. hopefully the writin will get better honestly.

these are jus my opinions take them w a grain of salt GNSMFNSMFNS