#I’m just always gonna be an Arthur Defender

[fangirl-dot-com]

Incorrect Quotes - Part 2

All of these were taken from Pinterest - again, I am not this funny

Special thank you to @sinfully-yoursss for asking for another one!

Max: Do you ever do anything except whine like a little bitch?  Y/n: Sometimes I whine like a BIG bitch 

Arthur (propping his feet up on a table): So, I heard you like bad boys Y/n: What? No??? Arthur (immediately taking his feet off the table): Oh thank God, that felt terrible 

Christian: Where’s Y/n and the child?  Toto: Y/n is teaching him how to drive Christian: Y/n never learned to drive??????

*Meanwhile*

Y/n: So there’s two pedals. Sometimes three but you can ignore the left one  Kimi: I don’t think…. Y/n: the lines on the road are more like suggestions than anything, like the speed limit Kimi: Are you positive that… Y/n: I’m not sure how to turn on the blinkers. Ready?  Kimi: Uhhhhh Y/n (shouting): GO GO GO GO  Kimi (screaming) *floors it* 

Nurse: I’m sorry sir, we can only allow family to see Miss L/n at this time  Christian: bold of you to assume I won’t legally adopt her right now  Y/n (sleepy, inside the hospital wing): you tell ‘em dad! 

Max: Your honor, my client is ready  Judge: And what does the defendant plead?  Max (mouthing the words): not guilty  Y/n (squinting at Max): hot milky Max (facepalms): take her away 

Y/n: Deck the halls with crippling depression  Charles: Fa la la la la, la la la la  Y/n: ‘Tis the season for emotional suppression  Arthur: Fa la la la la, la la la la  Max (passing through): what??? 

Y/n (on the phone): Hey Lance, can Arthur and I borrow $5000?  Lance: Why the hell do you need $5000?!  Y/n: For an escape room.  Lance: What kind of escape room costs 5 grand??  Y/n:  Y/n: Jail.

Max (answers phone): hello?  Y/n: It’s Y/n Max: What did she do this time  Y/n: no, it’s me, Max  Max: what did you do this time 

Y/n (on the floor): Go on…without me! Lando (crying while kneeling beside her): No! We can get through this together, just like we always do!  Y/n: There’s no time! You must defend our honor. Don’t let my death be for nothing!  Lando (sobbing): I can’t do this without you!  Y/n: Goodbye, old friend….(goes limp) Oscar (whispering to Max): They do realize this is just a dodgeball game, right?   Max (aiming at Lando): Oscar, this is war. Show no mercy. 

Oscar: One day, someone will think about you for the last time in eternity. You will be forgotten by the world  Y/n: not if I eat the Mona Lisa 

Yuki: I’m small but knowing  Y/n: You don’t be knowing what the top shelf looks like  Yuki:  Y/n:  Yuki: Bitch 

Y/n: Go big or go home! Vito (tears in his eyes): I am begging you, Y/n. For once in your life, go home. Just this once. Go. Home.  Y/n: I’m gonna go big

Y/n: I will do a lot of thing. But admitting I’m cold to Max after he told me to bring a jacket isn’t one of them 

Max: I sleep with a knife beside my bed  Carlos: I have a machete under my bed  Logan: I have a gun under my pillow  Arthur: Weak. Pathetic. All of you  Max: And what deadly weapon do you sleep with?  Arthur (putting on shades): Y/n 

Arthur: I will speak French between your legs  Y/n: That is the hottest thing I’ve ever been told  Lando: I’m just imagining someone screaming “Bonjour” to a dick Daniel: SACRE BLEAU MADEMOISELLE HON HON HON TITTY CROISSANTS  Logan (wheezing): TITTY CROISANTS  Max: None of you should ever be having sex 

Y/n: Hey do you know anyone who can teach me how to play the trumpet?  Alex: Why? Y/n: I wanna wander around the paddock and annoy Esteban  Logan: Technically, you don’t actually need to know how to play it for that  Y/n: You have opened my eyes Logan 

Max (not looking up from his book): what did he do now?  Y/n: HE SMILED  Max: At you?  Y/n: No, at Oscar and Ollie but HE LOOKS LIKE AN ANGEL  Max: go away  Y/n: shut up, I watched you pine over Charles for months – let me have this  Max: carry on 

Arthur: I came up with a brilliant idea for a prank  Y/n: Ooh, what is it?  Arthur: We should kiss.  Y/n: …I don’t get it  Arthur: Think about it! Imagine Max and Charles come into the garage, only to find us making out, hands all over each other. You can sit in my lap and we’ll really just go to town. Max will be like “WHAAAAAAA” and Charles might even faint!  Y/n: Oh, that’s hilarious! We totally should 

Esteban: The math problem isn’t so hard, it’s just a simple repetition of-  Y/n (frustrated): You’re a simple repetition  Esteban:  Y/n:  Charles: Did Y/n really just hurt Esteban’s feelings  Max: I’m so freakin proud 

Y/n (googling): snake bite leg what to do  Google: elevate and apply pressure  Y/n (lifting the snake really high): apologize or else 

Y/n: with all due respect  Y/n: Y/n: which is none 

Toto: If you took a shot for every time you made a bad decision, how drunk would you be? Kimi: Maybe a little tipsy?  George: Drunk.  Y/n: Wasted.  Lewis: Dead. 

Esteban: Could you at least try to be nice?  Y/n: You’re still breathing. That’s me being nice. 

Oscar: Hey do you have a bag I can borrow?  Zhou: The only bags I have are the ones under my eyes, and they’re specifically designed to carry the burden of my existence  Oscar: Literally all you had to do was say no 

Max (at Y/n’s funeral): Can I have a moment alone with her?  Arthur: Of course *leaves*  Max (leaning over the coffin): Now listen, I know you’re not dead  Y/n: no duh 

Y/n: Ow!  Oscar: You dislocated your shoulder. Want me to pop it back in?  Y/n (grimacing): Yeah…okay Oscar: All right, on 3….0, 1 *pops shoulder back in*  Y/n: MOTHERFU- WHO THE HELL STARTS AT 0 

Yuki: Hey Y/n, did you eat all the powdered donuts?  Y/n: …No?  Yuki: Then what’s that white powder on your pants Y/n (panicking): cocaine

Y/n: Max, I think you should play the role of my father  Max: I don’t want to be your father Y/n: That’s perfect. You already know your lines 

Lando: Can I be frank with you guys?  Y/n: I don’t know how changing your name is going to help us here, but sure?  Charles: Wait, can I still be Charles?  Oscar: Shh, let Frank speak. 

Lewis: I have a bad feeling about this.  Y/n: What do you mean?  Lewis: Don’t you ever have that little voice in your head that tells you if something is going to get you in trouble?  Y/n: no  Lewis: That explains so much 

Y/n: What do you call a fish with no eye (i)?  Oscar (not looking up from his book): myxine circifrons Y/n:  Y/n: fsh  

George: Do you have any skeletons in your closet?  Y/n: Figuratively or literally?  George: Y/n, honestly, the fact that I have to specify 

Mitch: I know you took the last Red Bull Y/n Y/n (internally): play dumb  Y/n: Who’s Y/n?  Y/n (internally): not that dumb! 

Y/n: Big mood  Fernando: What does that mean…big mood?  Y/n: Uh well, it kind of means like, me too, I guess  Fernando: Thanks 

*1 week later before a race in the rain* 

Oscar: I’m kind of worried about this race guys  Fernando: Big mood, Piastri, big mood  Oscar: Y/n what did you do? 

Charles: What’s worse than a DNF at a home race? Y/n: realizing that dragons can’t blow out their birthday candles  Charles:  Charles: mate 

Y/n: You know what? Underneath it all, you’re actually quite nice  Max: Repeat that disgusting slander and you’ll be hearing from my lawyers 

Carlos: Now that I have explained the answer to this problem to you for ten minutes, do you understand?  Y/n: Yes.  Carlos:…Are you lying to me?  Y/n: Yes. 

Christian: Y/n, it’s your turn to give the pre-race talk  Y/n (claps hands): Fuck shit up, hit some barriers, run Charles off the road, don’t die  Max (proudly): succinct and informative 

Max: The FIA really seems to hate us  Charles: Maybe they’re homophobic  Max: We’re not a couple Charles  Charles: We’re not  Y/n: You’re not? 

Vito: Why is Y/n in the bathroom on the floor crying?  Max: She’s drunk  Vito: And? Mitch: She heard that Arthur has a girlfriend  Vito:…but she is Arthur’s girlfriend  Max: Yeah, we know that 

Max (wears lighter skinny jeans and a brighter blue Red Bull polo) Y/n: I see you’re busting out the spring colors 

Oscar: How do you two normally get out of these types of messes?  Lando: We don’t.  Y/n: We just make a bigger mess that cancels out the first one 

*Valentines Day* 

Arthur (reading Y/n’s texts): Y/n just said she’s going to give me 102 minutes of pleasure tonight Max: Oh wow

*Later watching Cars 2* 

Y/n: You look disappointed 

Y/n: Chillax!  Oscar: that’s not a word  Y/n: Sometimes the ones who deny “chillax” are the ones who need to chillax the most

Y/n: You know, water is pretty crazy. It can boil you to death, freeze you to death, drown you, or spin your car out of control, throw you into the barriers and kill you. But you still need it to survive  Max: Y/n, I love you, but its 3 AM 

Christian: Y/n, a word.  Y/n: BALLOON 

Max: I have the sharpest memory! Name one time I forgot something  Y/n: You left Charles in a Walmart like three weeks ago  Max: I did that on purpose, try again 

Vito: Y/n isn’t answering her phone  Arthur: I’ll call  Vito: Max and I have both tried, along with everyone else on the grid. What make you think she’ll answer?  *Calls her anyway* Y/n: Hello? 

Y/n: Oi, where’s your boyfriend?  Max: Who?  Y/n: Charles, where is he?  Max: He’s not my boyfriend Y/n: Have you told him that? 

Fan: Max, what motivates you?  Max: My ambition and desire to push forward no matter what  Fan: Y/n, what about you?  Y/n: An unhealthy mix of spite, pettiness, the thirst for vengeance, and pure, relentless rage. That and a Red Bull in the morning 

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[clxja16]

Since Day One

Gifs not mine

Arthur Leclerc X Reader

Genre: childhood friends to lovers

Warnings: angst, threatening, slight cheating,

Word Count: 2K+

Author’s Note: I forgot what started this idea, but I wanted it to be with a current F1 driver, but it just fit so well with the Leclerc brothers that I couldn’t change it. Also idek how to label this, biggest its really just this small moment but, the context is everything for this fic. Also there’s gonna be a part two.

Part two

————————————

“Why won’t you go to the races anymore?” Lorenzo had asked as you joined him and his family for dinner one evening.

“I don’t think it’s best if I attend the races, it doesn’t lead to anything good,” you say, as you helped set the table.

You grew up in Monaco just a few houses down from the Leclercs. You were the same age as Arthur and the two of you were in the same 1st grade class. Since that fateful day where he put glue into your water bottle because he wanted you to notice him. Which led to you going to the ER because you didn’t realize there was glue in your water bottle, and drank the entirety of it, the two of you have been the best of friends. You have been an honorary member of the Leclerc family since then, evening addressing Arthur’s mom as auntie.

When Charles committed to racing, you supported him fully, attending nearly every race possible. And when Arthur committed to racing you did the same for him too. Going to all their races when you could, and the two of them loved it. They loved seeing you at races, they loved having your support, they loved you being around, because you were family to them, as much as they were family to you too.

“Is it because of that one night in Amsterdam?” Lorenzo asked as the two of you finished with the table.

“It’s not solely because of that, but it is a reason,” you said, not really wanting to get into it.

“Charlotte has forgiven you for that, she was never even mad in the first place,” Lorenzo said, as he tried to put together the pieces.

“It’s not because of Charlotte that I’m staying away, and she wasn’t mad at me because of that. She actually understood the situation,” you said as you began to nitpick at the table, looking for a distraction.

“Lorenzo, leaving her alone,” Mrs. Leclerc, or as you called her, Auntie Pa, said, “if y/n doesn’t want to go the races anymore, then she doesn’t have to.”

“Ma, I’m not saying she has to go to the races, it’s just the boys miss having the extra support,” Lorenzo defended himself.

“Drop it already Lo, auntie said to leave me alone,” you teased, knowing that auntie would always protect you from the boys. Lorenzo shook his head knowing that he couldn’t argue once his mom got involved.

-

Before Charles and Arthur committed to racing, when they were still doing karting for fun, you were right there with them. You would drive out in the rain, in a little go-kart for hours on end. You stopped long before Charles and Arthur decided to commit, but being in those go-karts next to them really solidified the relationship between you guys. However when you did stop, that’s when you started to be your own person.

“Don’t you remember when y/n was like 12, and she would look at Charles with hearts in her eyes?” Lorenzo asked his mom, bringing up years of memories of pinning.

“Shut up Lo,” you gritted through your teeth, while the rest of the dinner table was a fit of giggles. It wasn’t your best kept secret by far, that you once had the largest crush on Charles.

“I mean I’m irresistible, how could she not have a crush on me,” Charles sighed, with a satisfied smirk, as he leaned back in his chair. Causing his brothers to laugh harder.

“Ewwww,” you exclaimed, with a disgust look, throwing a dinner roll across the table to Charles. Charles caught the dinner roll with a laugh. “That crush is long gone, I know I can do so much better than Charles.”

“Wow,” Charles said in feign offense, to which you and the rest of the table laughed.

When you and Arthur were 12, Charles was 15, and at that time you were head over heels in love with Charles. Charles never reciprocated your feelings, claiming that you were just a little sister to him and nothing more. Charles presently, looking back, regrets his choice of words at that time. As he looks at you now across the table from him, he wishes he had given you a chance, when you asked him out during your 18 birthday.

Nevertheless Charles took his actual girlfriend's hand in his, as he looked at Charlotte, whom he was very much in love with. And he conceited that you and him were just not meant to be in this life. Charles is happy and in love, you are happy, waiting to fall in love. He might regret not giving you a chance, but it is a decision he refuses to dwell on, as his and your life turned out alright.

-

As the night wined down, you and Charlotte sat in the living room sipping your drinks while the boys helped to clear the table.

“You know,” Charlotte started off, “Charles really misses you out at the races.”

“Why would he miss me when he has you?” You asked, taking a large sip from yur glass, “he should stop being greedy.”

“You have known and supported him for a lot longer than me.” Charlotte conceited, “and Arthur misses you out there too.”

You sighed, you want to be at the races, you want to support them, you want it to be like old times, but it’s just not the same anymore. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“You have to ignore all the comments,” Charlotte sighed. She and Auntie Pa, were the only two that knew the real reason you stayed away. They were the only two that understood the gravity of the words said to you.

“I don’t know if I can handle it Charlotte,” you sighed, you felt guilty that you allowed it to get to you, “I know I have your support and I am thankful because honestly when I saw the tweets, I thought you were gonna hate me.”

“You were clearly highly intoxicated that night, and I know you personally, they don’t know you,” Charlotte offered.

“Even then, if I was you, I don’t think I would like, let alone tolerate me right now,” you said, taking another sip from your drink, “I’m amazed you believed me so easily, and I am truly grateful you did.”

“If I didn’t know you so well I wouldn’t have believed you, but because of how well I know you, I believed you right away.” Charlotte said.

“What are you girls discussing?” Charles asked, as he and Arthur walked into the room. You slightly shook your head for Charlotte to understand to not say anything about what you were really discussing.

“Just girl stuff,” Charlotte answered, “Where’s Lorenzo and Ma?”

“Lorenzo went to put mom to bed,” Charles answered.

“Where's the girlfriend, Arthur?” You asked, noticing that Arthur’s girlfriend had been missing from the past few family events.

Arthur just sighed, “we got into it a few days ago.” You, Charlotte and Charles just rolled your eyes. Arthur and his girlfriend have been in an ongoing, off and on relationship for the past year. It’s gotten to the point where not even Arthur himself really cares how the two of them turn out.

-

“Seriously y/n, why won’t you come to the races anymore?” Arthur asked, the hurt evident in his eyes.

“I just don’t think it’s good idea for me to be there,” you said for the millionth time, “plus you know I’ll always support you even from my couch.”

“I know you’re always supporting me, but it would be great if you were at the races in person,” Arthur said, as he drove you home, since you moved further away from his family home and since you had a drink earlier in the night.

“Maybe when you race in Monaco, I’ll come to a race,” you teased light-heartedly.

“That’s not true, Charles was racing in Monaco, and you still didn’t show up, even when he got you a paddock pass,” Arthur said more seriously. Arthur’s tone had you rethinking your decision to stop going. You were just beginning to realize how your absences from the races affected the boys.

“Arthur it’s not that serious, you have a great deal of support, even without me there,” you said, not looking at Arthur.

“I know I have a lot of support, but I want you there too. So does Charles, it’s why he gets you a paddock pass every race weekend, even if you say you’re not gonna be there.”

“That’s not true Arthur, Charles…”

“Yes he has y/n,” Arthur said with a raised tone, getting frustrated at your dismissive attitude to the situation. “Charles gets you a paddock pass every race weekend, he has this entire season. He was just telling me and Lorenzo this the other day.”

“That’s why Lorenzo was pushing the issue tonight,” you say, more to yourself than to Arthur.

“Lorenzo was trying to get you to a race?” Arthur questioned, having no idea what you were talking about.

“Earlier tonight, Lorenzo was asking me why I haven’t gone to any of the races, he was really pushing it.”

At this moment, Arthur finally pulled up in front of your building, “me and Charles really miss you at the races, we get a lot of support from mom, and Lorenzo, and Charlotte, but we, both, want you to be there. You are the only one that raced with us in go-karts in the afternoon, and ate dinner at the same table in the same evening.”

“I’ll think about it Arthur, I have a lot going on too,” you said as you stepped out of the car, you turned back to shut the door, “thank you for the ride.”

Arthur waited there in the car, watching you go, making sure you made it in safely before driving off. Arthur knows that after the 2021 Dutch Grand Prix, you guys went out in Amsterdam. It was a big group that included Charles, Arthur, Lorenzo and a whole lot more. Arthur knows that night you got very intoxicated, and you kissed Charles, by accident. Charlotte was back in Monaco, she wasn’t there that night.

Arthur also knows that fans took a picture of you and Charles, it was all over twitter before you could even comprehend what you had done. You immediately apologized to Charles when you realized what you did. Charles was very understanding, finding the situation decently funny. And as soon as you could you immediately apologized to Charlotte as well, who took your apology kindly. Charlotte as well found the situation funny. They both knew you, and they both knew you meant no harm, you just weren’t in the right state of mind.

However Arthur also knows that the fans were quick to judge. He had seen the nasty comments they left you, he read a million and one articles written about you. Arthur had seen the rumors going around. Arthur knew how cruel, mean, and just downright awful the majority of the comments about you were.

But what Arthur, or Charles, or Lorenzo didn’t see, was the direct messages they left you when they figured out it was you in the picture. The amount of information they found about you. The fact that you Charlotte had to step in at your job, because you were on the verge of getting fired. The fact that the reason you moved further away from the Leclerc’s family home, was because people found your address and were sending you hate mail directly.

You knew what you did wrong, you repented, you apologized, you made amends for your actions. You weren’t denying that you were in the wrong, you just didn’t think that you deserved to be ‘burned on a stake like the witch you are,’ or that you ‘needed to be drowned in holy water.’ Which are the direct messages that people left you.

And you never told the boys any of this, because how would they feel about it? These are their fans at the end of the day. These are the people that come out to the races and cheer their name. These are the people that sport their colors, that buy their merch, that swear they can win it all. These are the people that ask for pictures with them, that ask for their autographs, that leave comments of encouragement and praise on their social media. You had no right to vilify their fans, when they support them more than you do.

01 > 02

[thebearchives]

Group C, prompt B with you and Charles at his birthday party

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

prompt: one person pouting, only to have it removed by a kiss from the other person.

at the head of the table, charles sat with a wide smile on his face, brighter than all the lights that were flashing at him. you sat next to him, smiling just as wide as your boyfriend squeezed your hand under the table.

“c'est fou,” charles shook his head, a laugh of disbelief escaped his lips, “tout ça pour moi?” this is crazy. all of this for me?

your eyes caught arthur’s on the other side of charles. he was frowning, his own eyes rolling at his brother’s words, “et moi, mais s'il te plaît, ignore-moi comme tu le fais toujours.” and me, but please, ignore me like you always do.

“alright, alright, let’s not get carried away,” you giggled, hand already coming up to close charles’ mouth just as it opened, “no fighting at your shared birthday celebration, please.”

arthur gave you a sickly sweet smile, “me? fight with my stupid older brother? never!”

“hey,” charles pushed arthur’s head away with one finger on his forehead, “if i’m stupid, what does that make you, huh? et je suis plus âgé que toi, traite-moi avec respect.” and i’m older than you, treat me with respect.

“tu dois mériter mon respect, je ne vais pas te le donner comme ça,” arthur leaned back in his seat smugly, “essayez plus fort.” you need to deserve my respect, i won’t just give it to you. try harder.

pascale came around, yanking arthur by his ear, “tu marches sur une fine couche de glace, gamin. traite ton frère avec respect, je ne te le redemanderai pas.” you're walking on thin ice, kid. treat your brother with respect, i'm not gonna ask you again.

charles smirked, sticking his tongue out at arthur. pascale turned to her older son, rolling her eyes while smacking him across the back of his head, “charles, s'il te plaît, arrête de te comporter comme un enfant. tu as vingt-cinq ans maintenant, arrête de contrarier ton frère.” charles, please stop behaving like a child. you're twenty five now, stop antagonizing your brother.

charles frowned, hand coming up to rub his head, “ah, ok, ok. maman, vous m'embarrassez.” ah, okay, okay. mom, you're embarrassing me. 

pascale narrowed her eyes at him, “tu peux penser que tu es un crack, mais tu es toujours mon fils et j'ai le droit de te gronder quand et comme bon me semble.” you might think you're some hotshot, but you're still my son and i get to scold you whenever and however i see fit.

your loud laughter caused several heads to turn your way. you hid your face behind your hands, shoulder shaking as charles whined at you to stop laughing.

“amour, please,” charles grabbed your hand, tugging it down, though you wouldn’t let him, “this is so embarrassing. defend me!”

you wiped under your eyes, hoping no makeup got smudged with the tears that formed from your laughter, “i am sorry, my love, but i can’t defend you. la mère sait toujours ce qui est le mieux.” mother always knows best.

pascale smiled at you, hand smoothing down your hair before she leaned over and pressed a kiss to your head, “ah, my favourite child,” she glared at her two boys who were looking at the two of you, “you guys should learn something from her.”

pascale walked away soon after, with arthur following behind her spewing complaints, leaving you with a pouting charles.

you giggled, “why are you pouting?”

charles’ pout deepened and he crossed his arms, moving his body away from you. to think this man had turned twenty-five today, you refused to believe it.

“oh, so i’m getting the silent treatment now?” more silence, “well, this is highly unfair. can i know why, at least?”

charles’ eyes flitted back to you. he stayed quiet for a second before breathing deeply, “you didn’t defend me.”

you held back the laugh that threatened to escape, “charles, are you serious right now?”

charles turned towards you, a deep frown on his face, “le plus grave.” the most serious.

you rolled your eyes, “you’re acting like a baby.”

charles said nothing, arms still crossed at his chest and a furrow in his eyebrows.

you sighed, “fine, i’m sorry i didn’t defend you. i promise i won’t leave you hanging like that ever again.”

his pout returned, “i don’t believe you.”

you leaned closer, lips pressing against his pout. you pulled away shortly after, charles unwilling to cave.

his pout remained, although his eyes showed slight flashes of amusement. you hummed, “guess i’ll just have to try again.”

you leaned forward once again, this time pecking his mouth multiple times before pressing a single long kiss against his lips, hard. seconds into the kiss, you felt his lips quiver, pout transforming into a smile. his teeth just barely grazed your lips before he pulled back, unable to keep his laughter down.

his shoulders shook as he shook his head, “fine, fine, i believe you.”

“good,” you smiled, leaning back in your seat, “now, stop acting like a drama queen. you’re worse than arthur.”

charles’ laughter stopped, eyes wide as he stared at your side profile. he gasped, “you did not.”

you gave him a saccharine smile, “oh, but i did.”

[k-marzolf]

Mulled wine & ham

A Monsters in the Dark Christmas Drabble

Christmas fluff, mentions of dark themes (prevalent throughout this series), possessive behavior, alcohol consumption, bust mostly just fluff, fem!reader.

Monsters in the Dark Masterlist.

737 words.

x

He watched you drinking too much at a holiday party that night in December, playing footsies under the table with him, unbeknownst to all the guests.

He’d smirked, sipping his mulled wine as you snitched ham off his plate, and then another piece, and another still.

“Oi, Billy. You gonna let her steal all your ham?” asked one of the men, drunk and on his third plate of food, looking curiously at you.

Billy hummed, not liking the man’s gaze on you at all, and gave him a dark look. “I don’t care for ham, at all actually. It’s too fatty and salty.” He said as your foot climbed up his calf, and you stole some mashed potatoes with your fork.

“I’m sorry, Wilbur. But I can’t resist the taste.” You mumbled, before biting off another piece of ham you’d taken.

Billy took another drink, and almost choked on his wine at your words. God, you made these holiday parties for Anvil worth going to. He wasn’t bored out of his mind with you here. He saw several women wanting to approach him, by the way they kept peeking at him and giggling like school girls. A year ago he would have happily indulged in it, but he was entirely caught up in you, especially after you’d killed Arthur. You’d defended him when his own mother, and others hadn’t.

He’d always grown disinterested in women after a week. He was sure some had loved him, but he loved you. Because you wanted him, because you were soft, and devoted, and made him realize the world wasn’t always such a dark, and evil place. Because he could be his true self with you, and still receive your love. He didn’t have to put up the facade of a good man, because you wanted him to be entirely himself, otherwise he wouldn’t be worth half as much to you.

The Tiffany bracelet he bought you last week, was shining on your wrist in the light, creating prisms. The only reason you wore it was for him. You couldn’t care less about material things, which made it hard when he wanted to spoil you, to take care of you.

And he’d wanted to care for you, he didn’t think you needed to work, but you put your foot down on that. You liked your independence, and if something went wrong you’d be stranded with nowhere to go.

Billy had reluctantly agreed, but he knew nothing was going to change. You were his.

You liked working at the library anyway, affectionately complaining about the cranky old lady who worked there.

“I’ll probably end up like her,” you laughed, “with five cats.”

That was when he seriously decided to keep you. He wanted your five cats, attachments be damned.

“I want to grab your hair, and kiss you.” You said, watching him, feet still playing with his legs.

Billy uncrossed his legs, “Why don’t you?” He asked, leaning in, voice husky.

“I don’t think your fan club would approve.” You laughed, eyes flicking down to his mouth.

Billy huffed, “The only fan club I want is yours.” He said, leaning back.

You smiled, “Oh, Billy. Don’t tempt me. You might find yourself stalked.” You said, drinking more of the awful wine.

Billy didn’t get a chance to respond.

“Isn’t he handsome?” One of the women laughed, looking at you, eyes glazed. Drunk, probably.

You stole a piece of his pumpkin pie, “And smart. And ambitious. A tactician. Resourceful. A protector. And sweet when he’s not being an asshole.” You said softly, spraying a bunch of whipped cream on a single bite of pumpkin pie.

Billy adjusted his tie, feeling uncomfortable. You saw him through the facade, you didn’t see him just for his beauty, but everything else, too.

The woman stared. She hadn’t thought of those things, she just saw him superficially. Just another pretty face, as they say. She ended up drifting away and Billy let out a sigh of relief. “Janice. Every office party she hits on me.” He whispered, pouring himself more wine.

“I bet she’s the president of your fan club.” You laughed, and then paused. “Billy should take me home, so we can have a hot bath together with some better wine.”

Billy’s lips turned up. “You don’t like mulled wine?”

You curled your nose, and he kissed your mouth. “I thought you’d never ask, sweet pea.”

x

Tags; @idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack @firexfate @aoi-targaryen

[samglyph]

Hello! if it is not wrong to ask, can you explain the thing with antlers? When I first saw your pfp I thought you were 'cosplaying' jackaloop, but in the last art you've mentioned it means something metaphorical?

Hi! I can explain, but it’s kinda weird!

I’ve been drawing myself with antlers for a long time! I live in an area with a lot of deer, and since I was little they’ve been one of my favorite animals. I have been described as deer like (jumpy, makes weird sounds out of nowhere, will attack if startled, etc, etc,). We live next to a big overgrown field and my family has always taken joy in watching the deer in the summer and spring. We also hike a lot so we run into them a lot. They’re familiar, and a connection to my life so far.

I also associate them with death and growth— living in the area I do I’ve seen as many dead deer as I’ve seen fauns. I have a deer skull in my room that my dad gave me as a birthday present (he did not kill this deer. He just found the skull) I have a hipbone that I found in the woods (also on my birthday?) I’m not gonna dive into this, cause it’s too personal, but I have a weird relationship with death! Deer are a comfort!

The ‘metaphor’ I mention in the post is referring mostly to Arthur (but a bit myself as I just explained). Arthur is a character who is constantly hunted by things bigger and stronger than himself, however he has that distinct ‘prey animal rage’ where instead of only getting scared, he’s fully willing to attack and defend himself, even when things are hopeless. (‘I’m gonna kill him’ said about a being double your height that just snapped your leg in two.) Anybody familiar with bucks knows to keep a good distance if you run into one on a hike.

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 10: Equality vs Justice

Later that night we hold dinner for two hours before I finally decide to stop waiting for the Shelby brothers to return. Finn left to help about an hour ago and it’s just been Polly and me preparing Shepherd’s pies. When I tell her about Ada’s behavior she gets a funny look in her eye.

“I’ve got some suspicions. For now I’ll wait for Ada to come to me but my patience is wearing thin. She’s been avoiding me.”

A few more minutes go by and I check the clock. “Do you always wait for them to come back this late? If I were to stay out unaccompanied like this my mother would personally kill me.”

Polly laughs as she stirs the filling. “With those boys nothing is ever normal. Between John worrying about his family, Arthur wanting to be smarter than he is, and Thomas thinking he knows everything, I sometimes wonder how they can even function.”

“And Finn?”

She sighs heavily. “I hope he’ll turn out straight. He tries so hard to be like his brothers that sometimes we forget he’s still just a kid. How’s his lessons been going?”

I wipe my flower-covered hands on a towel. “No complaints at all, ma’am. Finn’s a prime student. He definitely has potential and dedication, though I’m glad to say he does not share his brother’s lack of resilience. Finn always has an open mind, which I think is inspired by his sister.”

We hear the front door open and all four Shelby brothers crowd into the room, all taking their places at the kitchen table. I can tell they’ve been drinking due to the smell of liquor but they seem to be level-headed enough. I just hope Finn hasn’t drank too much.

“How was the bonfire?” I ask lightly as I pass out a tray of slightly-cold pies.

“Affective.” 

Thomas is the only one to reply as they all dig into the simple meal. No doubt they’re tired. Finn is the only one that still shows any hint of ignorance. In these insane times a touch of ignorance might not be so bad.

“I got to leave early,” John says after he swallows. “Kids’ll be wanting their dad to tuck ‘em in.”

“Ever considered a sitter?” I ask.

Arthur slurs a laugh. “Ha! Yeah, so we can pay you double? Watch his tykes and teach Finn, ey?”

I shake my head and try to defend his accusation but John waves it off.

“‘S alright, Steenstra. I don’t expect you to. You’ve got enough on your plate as it is. I need a more stable solution.”

Thomas speaks up. “You need a wife, John.” He gets up and comes over to search through the cupboard. “Polly, where are those biscuits-?”

“In the refrigerator,” John says. “Though there may not be many left. Verena’s a damn good baker.”

“All the more reason why my decision to hire her has paid off well,” Polly comments. “Which is why you lot should treat her as the proper Peaky Blinders employee she is, Arthur.” She points a warning finger at the eldest Shelby brother, who just rolls his eyes.

“Respect is earned,” I reply. “Since my position is temporary I don’t expect to gain anything before-”

“Before you go back,” Finn grunts. “You’ve mentioned it once or twice.”

Thomas ruffles his brother’s hair. “Hear that, Verena? Someone’s gonna miss you.”

Finn swats his hand away. “I will not!”

“I will,” John says as he chews another cookie. “Without her there’s no biscuits.”

The brothers go on chatting about other Blinders business and I take the chance to finish cleaning part of the kitchen before slipping off to bed. It’s already midnight and my eyes are starting to droop. I don’t even bother thinking about reading as I dim the lights and slip under the covers…

“Clocking out early?” Thomas’ voice stirs me from my thoughts. He’s standing in the doorway.

“It’s midnight, Mr. Shelby. If I did have an established work schedule my shift would have ended hours ago.”

The man simply nods his head and walks over to look out my window. “Dinner was nice. And I know John’s exaggerated this already but your biscuits are to die for.”

In the dark I stand up to face him better. “Trying to butter me up with a compliment before delivering unpleasant news?”

Thomas’ reaction is covered by the shadows. “Only giving a compliment, Ms. Steenstra. I must say I’m surprised at how much you’ve changed around here.”

I tilt my head. “I haven’t changed much in the house besides my cooking-”

“I mean us,” Thomas gestures towards the kitchen. “You might not see it but you do more than what you think, Verena. And Finn will miss you, by the way.” He pauses. “Most all of us will miss you.”

“Most?”

“Well… Arthur’s still undecided about me hiring you.”

I nod respectfully. “I’m still grateful for your trust. In my family it’s a high honor for younger members to be part of something this big.”

Something I say doesn’t sit well with Thomas. His laid-back expression shifts to one of curiosity.

“Members? What kind of family are you part of, Steenstra?”

I slipped up. He suspects my involvement with the mob. 

“Like I said before. I’m half Dutch, half Irish. My father runs a chain of breweries.”

“And are there any business deals made under the table away from federal eyes?” Thomas inquires.

I keep a steady expression. “Do not accuse my father of bootlegging, Mr. Shelby. All his transactions are thoroughly legal.”

It’s not a lie. Father’s refused several proposals from Uncle Colon about selling his products to the Irish mobs. Thankfully my answer persuades Thomas to drop the subject.

“Your father seems like a good man. He raised a bright and resourceful daughter.” Thomas steps closer and I can smell the mint cologne and ash on him. “Good night, Ms. Steenstra.”

“Good night, Thomas. Prayers be with you.”

The gangster nods and exits the room, taking the chill of the conversation with him. That was close. At this point I’ve gone too far to confess to my family connections. The Shelbys trust me as myself, not as a mob asset. As I lay down once again to catch some sleep I can’t help but wonder if my family’s noticed I’m missing…

I open my eyes to a brand-new day and quickly get dressed. Now that I have my own clothing with English fashion I don’t feel like an oddball. It’s already 10:00. Much later than I wanted to start but there’s no use crying about it. I walk into the kitchen and am not surprised to find out that Thomas and his brothers have already left.

“Morning, love,” Polly greets from the table. “Finn’s running an errand and then you can do a lesson. He seemed eager to get back so you should expect him soon. The only other one who’s here is Ada.”

As if on cue, the Shelby sister walks into the room and slumps into the chair next to Polly.

“Good of you to join us.” Polly remarks as Ada pours some tea. “Where have you been all day?”

“In bed,” the brunette replies, sharing knowing glances with me. Sure. ‘Bed.’ “Couldn’t sleep. Then I couldn’t wake up.”

She goes on to ramble about dreams while Polly chats about recent bad news. It’s not until I hear Polly abruptly say “stand up” that I look up from the novel I’m reading. Ada does as she’s told and Polly walks around examining her, then suddenly feels up her chest.

“Polly what are you doing?” Ada shouts.

“Ada. How late are you?”

Her words take a moment to drift in the air, then it clicks in my head. You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes. It was only a matter of time before Ada’s affair would catch up with her. She’s pregnant.

“One week- 5 weeks- seven weeks, but it must be a lack of iron…” Ada desperately tries to patch up an excuse.

But Polly won’t have it. “I’m taking you to the doctor.” She gives Ada a stern look to quiet her then glances over at me. “Verena, love, it’s best you not tell a soul if you know what’s good for you. You can wait here for Finn while I take her.”

Hiding my face behind my book cover, I nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

Polly nods and drags Ada out of the room. Ada gives me one last panicked look before the pair walks through the front door. Don’t expect sympathy from me. You know what you were getting yourself into. I sit quietly at the table and continue reading until the door opens again and Finn walks in.

“Where’s Aunt Polly?”

Not a word about Ada. “She had something come up. Didn’t say when she’d be back.” I try to reroute the conversation. “What do you want to learn about today?”

Finn joins me at the table and sets down a new book. “I found this at the library. Before you say anything-” He points a finger at me. “No, I don’t agree with Tommy about using public resources. I like the library.” He holds the book up for me to see. “I found this today and was hoping you might know about it?”

The book is one I’ve never heard of before but the topic looks enticing. “You want to learn about equality and justice?”

“Yeah. We deal with social concepts like them all the time in the family business.”

“That you do, Finn. If only others would share your willingness to learn.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Thomas’ voice asks from behind.

Of course he’s here. I turn around to find the blue-eyed gangster leaning against the counter with an amused smirk.

“Good morning, Thomas. Care to join us?”

“Depends. Will I like what I hear?” 

I raise a brow. “Depends. Does talk of justice bother you? You Shelbys seem to admire it.”

Thomas doesn’t answer verbally. Instead he slowly walks over to sit next to Finn. I take that as my cue to begin.

“Equality is the state of being equal, regardless of background or social status.”

“So socialism, then,” Thomas says.

“Please hold all comments for after the lesson, Mr. Shelby. As I was saying, justice is the concept of what is fair. What is right and what is deserved.”

“That sounds like the same thing as equality,” Finn says, confused.

“Think of it like this, Finn. Imagine two people watching a horse race from behind a fence. They’re each too short to see over the top. In a scenario when equality is involved, each person is given a crate to stand on. However one person is still too short to see over. In a scenario with justice, the fence would be removed to allow both people to see.”

Both Shelbys take in my words with consideration. However our lesson is interrupted when Arthur bursts through the door.

“Tommy, where’ve you been? Been looking for you in the Bull Ring and you’re here being lectured by the American?”

I suppress the urge to argue. Thankfully I don’t have to because Thomas does the work for me.

“She’s got a name, Arthur. Verena’s a Peaky Blinders employee so she’ll be treated as such. We were just finishing a lesson with Finn.”

The oldest Shelby brother takes little notice to apologize and motions for Thomas to follow him. Probably more urgent business than a lecture.

“That’s enough for today, Finn.”

He gives a disappointed sigh. “Thanks, Verena.”

The rest of the day ticks by and I do my best to make the time pass faster while I wait for Ada and Polly to return. The sound of the door opening alerts me to look up from my book and see the two sit down on the couch across from me, both holding cigarettes.

“You’re pregnant, and you’re smoking?! What is wrong with you?”

“Quiet!” Polly hisses. “I’ll talk to Tommy about it later but for now no one knows. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She nods. “Good. How was Finn today?”

How can she expect me to ignore this blessing? “Ambitious as usual. Is the baby healthy?”

“So far so good,” Ada assures me. “Have you been stuck inside all day? You should get some fresh air.”

Come to think of it, I am getting a little antsy. Some time outdoors would do me some good. Polly and Ada probably need to discuss the situation more thoroughly with privacy.

“Good idea, Ada. I think I’ll step out back and take a stroll in the alley. I won’t stray far.”

After picking out a hat to block out what little sun there is I see Polly approach me with a pistol.

“For protection.”

I take it graciously and slip it into my skirt pocket. “How did you know I know how to shoot one?”

She gives me a subtle wink. “Intuition.”

The moment I open the back door I’m welcomed by a gust of ash and dirt. Today’s much windier than normal and is not in my favor. But beggars can’t be choosers. I should stretch my legs before I develop cabin fever. The pistol's weight pressing against my leg serves as a reminder that I can defend against any unwanted violence.

Just as I step into the alley and wander into the nearby street the sound of hooves signals for me to peek around the corner. Thomas is back, and he’s riding his new white horse. The horse almost looks out of place here, with the whole ‘gloom and doom’ atmosphere. Thomas halts the horse and dismounts, gently stroking the animal’s nose.

“Seems to me like you treat horses like people and people like snakes.”

Thomas rolls his eyes but takes the comment all in good fun. “Yeah, yeah. The humanity in me is dead.” He pats the horse and ties him to a nearby hitching post. “On another note, I just talked with Grace. I’m taking her to the races later this week.”

My thoughts come to an abrupt stop, like a freight train tumbling off a twisted track. Why? Why do I feel so… disappointed? It only makes sense that Thomas would ask her out. Grace is pretty and kind. He’ll only ever think of me as an employee, so at least he trusts me enough with his family’s business.

“Oh. That sounds fun,” I try to sound encouraging. “Are the races here exciting?”

“They never disappoint, love. Ever been to one?”

I shake my head and stroke the horse’s mane. “My father never lets me go to the races. Says it’s not ladylike.” Another thought surfaces. “What did you think of today’s lesson?”

The gangster scoffs and takes off his cap to run a hand through his hair. “I think part of that lecture was directed at me.”

“Oh really?”

“Really. You want me to reconsider my mindset of establishing justice, eh?”

Honestly I didn’t plan for the topic to hint at Thomas’ mindset but he makes a good point. “You have heart, Thomas. But you can’t act as life’s judge, jury, and executioner. It’s not always about what people deserve. It can be about what they need. No, they may not always want what they need. But God’s plans aren’t spelled out for everyone.”

Thomas looks over at me with a happy smile. “Keep that hope alive, Verena. We all need it.”

His praise causes me to smile too. Besides being a teacher I’m also on the good side of one of the fiercest gangsters in England all because I speak my mind.

But the moment is gone when Thomas reaches for a cigarette and I see something fall out of his pocket. I bend down to pick it up and dust off the ash to reveal a gleaming silver and bronze bullet with the markings Tommy etched into it.

“Thomas, what is this?”

My boss takes a puff of his cigarette. “Oh. That. ‘S just a gift from the Lee family.”

This is no gift, this is a threat! I’ve heard of threats like this from Uncle Colon and they are no light matter. How is he so calm?

“They’ve signed your death warrant, Thomas. The bullet literally has your name on it!”

But Thomas doesn’t share my worry. Instead he chuckles and puts both hands on my shoulders. “No need to worry, love. I’ll handle it.’S not the first time I’ve gotten a death threat. Now,” he rubs his hands together and starts walking towards the Shelby house. “Where’s Polly? I’ve got a few questions for her.”

Oh. Right. And he doesn’t know about Ada yet.

“Last I saw she was in the living room.” Lord, I do not want to hear this!

I follow him inside and briskly walk back to hide in the kitchen, where Finn has settled to do some reading. He is also smoking a cigarette!

“Finn! Not you too!” I throw my arms up in defeat. “Am I the only one who thinks smoking is a death wish?”

He just shrugs and continues reading. I don’t hear a reaction from the other room but after a few minutes Polly walks in with a determined look.

“I just told Tommy.”

“About Ada?” I ask softly.

“Yes.”

“What’d he say?”

Polly sets out the kettle and begins brewing tea. “Nothing. He just stormed out to find her. The instant Ada spills his name, he’s a dead man. Thomas won’t stand for it.”

I don’t blame him. If I were to ever try something like that my brothers would kill any man who looks at me in cold blood. All I can hope is that Thomas goes easy on the poor bloke.

[crowleywowley]

hai….i’m back….here to give more modern (plus some general) hcs!! :3

⭑i like to think of john and abi as highschool sweethearts :) But they were pretty on and off, so everyone was surprised when they made it to senior prom (john wore those tuxedo t-shirts)and eventually graduation! they got pregnant with jack a few months after graduating

⭑when it’s time for spring cleaning, DUTCH IS THE LOUDEST MF IN THE HOUSE. he’s blasting the 70s music, waking up everyone in the house very loudly announcing that it’s spring cleaning day…poor hosea, john, and arthur

⭑i like to think charles makes these super pretty bracelets and sells them online :3 some of the gang members got some! they’re very meticulously crafted and he takes pride in his art!

⭑Karen is def a crazy cat lady. She has FOUR OF THEM!!! She’d give three of the cats really pretty names but let Sean name her most recent one…in which he named the poor cat “napkin” 💀

⭑Dutch and Hosea have an unreal amount of hawaiian pattern shirts..it’s crazy. hosea wears them in the spring and summer but dutch wears them year round

⭑For some reason, it’s tradition on Arthur’s birthday to go to Texas Roadhouse (I know he’d FUCK UP that bread they give as appetizers). He usually has his family, an s/o, and a couple friends there :)

⭑Speaking of fucking up rolls…I think Artie in general would just have a guilty soft spot to sweets. His s/o would come back with those rolls or just any pastry or candy and arthur will feel so special and spoiled! He’ll also do the same thing for them in return :) (Or just any kinda fave food they like)

⭑Lenny was a SUPER smart kid in school. I like to think in the modern au he just graduated outta highschool, but he got all of these scholarships and awards for being such a smart kid. He’d def major in some sort of writing or literacy thing in college

⭑Sadie can and will destroy anyone at those bull riding things at restaurants. she’s got a plaque of her name on it at a restaurant she won at!

⭑This is more of a general one, but seeing Arthur and John compared to eachother is so funny…Arthur is like this big bear while John is skinny and dorito shaped

⭑It’s also funny seeing the heights of the vandermatthews (name still in progress) family. From shortest to tallest it goes Dutch (5’8”…short dutch all the way), Hosea (5’10”), John (5’11”), and Arthur (6’2”)

⭑One time John borrowed Dutch’s laptop and clicked on a weird website, giving the laptop a virus. John was grounded for a few days and Arthur didn’t stop teasing him about it

OKAY!!! that’s all i have rn ^^ i think i might be saying too many hcs but i love making them…they’re too fun!! (sorry for showing my arthur favoritism again sighhhh 😭😭)

So sorry it took me several days to get to this, real life has had me busy 😔 but I’m here now and EEEEEEEE so fun and silly!!!!

-I’ve also always seen John and Abi as a high school sweethearts type of thing, I think they broke up and got back together so many times in that immature high school way until like senior year when they just stayed together

-Dutch is that one vine where the guy was dancing to Morning Train by Sheena Easton

-crying real tears rn imagining Charles crafting stuff for his pals🥹🥹🥹🥹 I could see him eventually getting into bigger crafts too

-Listen I’m gonna defend Sean bc I just KNOW that napkin the cat fits her namesake so well. It’s one of those skrunkly white kittens

-Arthur having a sweet tooth is canon in my heart sorry ladies, I think he’d enjoy baking goodies for his friends/partners bc he’s suchhhhh an acts of service/gift giver love language kinda guy

-I think Lenny was just one of those kids in high school that everyone loved. He was nice to everyone and genuinely really smart, sorry haters but he definitely got voted prom king or something. As he should!!!!!!

-Sadie drives a cool truck but not in a douchebag way, like that woman is hauling shit AROUND!!!!!!!!

These are all so fun and so silly! It’s been a rough week so I genuinely enjoyed getting to read these :) yall please never hesitate to blow up my inbox with thoughts like these!!

[scribblertown]

Fates of the Fateless Ch. 6: New Faces New Places and a Horse

The gang grows a little bigger and you get to know others a little more.

ao3

wattpad

“The life at sea is a grand and hard. Harder than anything we’ve faced here on land.” Pearson was going off on one of his sailor tangents again. Every time he did you couldn’t help thinking of an old man desperate to relive his glory years. “The fear in your gut wondering if you’ll have enough to last you till next port is beyond imagining.” You’ve heard this story before, more than once actually. Next, he’s going to bring up eating seal meat. “The waters up north are absolutely teaming with seals.” Yep, here we go. “Their meat is real’ greasy you know, has a certain flavor to it. Like a mix of duck and veal.” As he reminisced on his voyages you were stuck cutting and peeling vegetables, nothing you haven’t done before. But the amount to be prepped today was more than usual. Like, an exceptionally larger amount. “I still get cravings for the stuff, can’t find it anywhere ‘round here.”

 His droning tales began to fade away as your mind wondered. Your eyes drifting back and forth to the Juniper tree that sat just behind your tent. The fixation of your attention for the past couple of weeks.

 Peel, peel, peel. A glance at the tree. Chop, chop, chop. A glance at the tree. Peel, peel. A glance. Chop, chop. A glance. It had become an obsession at this point. Every time someone would drift a little too close to the tree, you’d feel yourself tense up, unable to look away until they finally move onto another part of camp. You weren’t sure what would happen if anyone stumbled upon your little secret hidden away in the winding tangled roots of the grand and old juniper. But after witnessing Arthur’s more than adequate show of putting down a man three times your size, you couldn’t help but snatch up that precious pistol. It almost seemed like life had deliberately sent it in your direction, right there at your feet for the taking. At least, if it really came down to it, you had a chance at defending yourself.

 “Once you’re done with those potatoes, throw them in that pot of water. Give the skins to the chickens.” Pearson had swung around with his freshly skinned and cleaved rabbits, the choice meat around these parts apparently. He then does a quick count on his fingers muttering softly under his breath. A gradual scowl crosses his face as his brow furrows, his mustache consumes his mouth in a frown. “Hmm… we’re not gonna have enough for the next week at this rate.” That didn’t seem right.

 “This seems like a lot of food for just us.” Sure, you may be new to the ways of life in the 1800’s, but your pretty sure meal prepping wasn’t a concept of the time beyond canning.

 “It ain’t, Dutch made some connections with some of the mining men up in Bingham. Should be here by nightfall.” Oh great, more strange men. “Rigorous work like that, tends to give one quite the appetite.” He’s quick to grab what carrots and onions you have done before tossing them into the cast iron with a big glob of some sort of animal fat. The smell of it was always a little gamey. “I’m hoping this means more money. More money means better eatin’.” Pearson was nice enough; he had a sweet face and a nice singing voice. You got the impression he was desperate to socialize. Which might work to your advantage.

 “What kind of work does Dutch do?” Maybe you’d get a different piece to the puzzle. “I hear he does dangerous work.”

 “All work is dangerous in this day and age.” Damn it.

 “Have you been traveling long? No place to call home?”

 “Dutch and couple of the others have been out on the road a lot longer than me. I only just joined up maybe… four years ago.”

 “Four years?!” You gaped at him flabbergasted. Four years of this same boring routine of grueling work, of never having a roof over their head, and rarely socializing outside of the camp circle. Is that what your future would be with these people? “And you never left?”

 “No, and I’m not sure I ever want to.” He collects another batch of vegetables from you. “I had made some desperate money decisions, borrowed from a few fellers thinking I’d manage to make up what I owed and some extra to get back on my feet. I didn’t, not even close and some real mean-spirited men were sent after me. Forced me to marry a woman and took everything I had to my name. I’m sure they would’ve taken my life as well had Dutch and Hosea not stepped in.” A smile began to slowly build on his lips, and his eyes became misty and soft. “They paid my debts. Some lowly, good for nothing-nobody they knew shit about. But they saved me anyway.” His eyes then drifted to yours, his brow was tightly furrowed and his gaze suddenly bold and serious. “Everyone here has a similar story, many of them worse than mine.” His voice is deep and breathy. “This world is a cruel and unforgivable place, one that don’t want folk like us. People will do what they have to for survival, but folk like Dutch. Like Hosea. They do what they have to for more than just themselves. They do what they have to for us.” He didn’t say much after that. Leaving you with a new worry in your gut.

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

 When the sun had begun to paint the sky a plethora of warm colors, the men came. Talking loudly and cheerfully. Lead by Dutch, Arthur, and William on horseback. Five new dark silhouettes grew closer before they dismounted their horses just outside of the camps main grounds. You tried to keep yourself from staring, pretending to be all too focused on redoing the seams on a jacket arm. Settled just a few feet from the cooking pot accompanied by Tilly with her own sewing project. The smell of the rabbit and vegetable stew you’d prepped drifting from its large confines of black iron as the two of you observed in silence.

 “Mmmm! Something smells damn good!” The voice that cried out was an unfamiliar one, a bit shrill. His voice sounded quite young.

 “It’s been so long since I’ve had a decent meal…” An older man, rough and worn.

 “Gentlemen, as the first day of our partnership, I would ask you eat to your hearts content knowing that your lives are now you’re own.” Dutch led the line of men towards the large pot, striking a match on his boot. The quick flicker of flame illuminating his face for a quick second before fluttering into a soft glow as he lit a pipe. The group hooping and hollering as they swarmed the area. Two straggled behind a bit. A man and a woman.

 “I’ll getchu a bowl Agatha, you just take a seat and rest a spell.” The man donned bright red hair, swept to the side and styled with some sort of hair grease. His face was angular and skinny, with a decoration of freckles that covered his pale face. He cradled the woman in a gentle and intimate manner.  

 “Alright, but I want you to get yourself a bowl first.” The woman spoke in a broken and course voice. A dark bruise around her left eye, barely hidden behind her dark locks that draped freely down her back and shoulders. They bickered softly for a moment before she finally took a seat on a spare crate near the chicken coop as he joined the rest of the men. A deep sigh fell from her lips as she practically melted into her seat.

 “I certainly hope that bruise isn’t from one of these boys…” Tilly commented under her breath, watching the new group like a hawk with critical eyes scanning every little exchange and movement. You replied with a hum. Out of the corner of your eye Arthur could be seen slipping away into the shadows with a fat saddle bag hefted over his shoulder with a rambunctious William at his tail. Your eyes curiously trailed them as they ventured towards the camps outskirts before your view was cut off by a large figure.  

 “Well well, I wasn’t expectin’ lovely ladies in your band of gunslingers Mr. Van der Linde.” This man was the tallest of the lot, taller than even Arthur or Dutch. Stocky in build with an equally round and stocky face, short salt and pepper hair without a single strand out of place parted down the middle, a thin pencil mustache sat upon his upper lip and sunken light brown eyes that had that familiar predatory stare. An all too happy smirk on his face as his eyes openly wandered your bodies. You unconsciously leaned towards Tilly to block her from his view, before sending him a death glare from under your lashes. “Oooo… Now you don’t wanna go ruinin’ that pretty little face of yours with such an ugly scowl hm?” He chuckled teasingly before bringing another scoop of stew to his mouth full of rotten and crooked teeth. You could just smell the infection on his breath. “Not very lady like.” Bits of food flung out as he spoke.

 “Can’t you be a dumb hunk of shit somewhere else?” Tilly snapped at him brandishing an equally fiery scowl. The rest of the men let out an explosion of laughter. The man’s face quickly became red and tense. Gripping his spoon with enough force to almost bend it in his meaty sausage fingers.

 “Stupid bitch I oughta-” He begins to swing his arm back preparing to strike, you tense spreading your body around Tilly as much as you can awaiting the blow but before he can get enough momentum Dutch is quick to slip between you and dickhead.

 “Wow now Mr. Samson!” His hands are up and his posture relaxed in a mock surrender, “I’ve got rules in my camp, and that includes causin’ trouble for the girls.” His hand drifts to his hip, sweeping aside his jacket flaps exposing his lavish pistol. “You don’t wanna go ruinin’ a beautiful friendship before it even starts.” Samson stares at the pistol a moment before returning to Dutch’s face. “Do you, Mr. Samson?” His face twists before he let out an angry huff, marching off to no doubt sulk in the shadows.

 Hosea then emerges seemingly out of nowhere with John, Arthur, Grimshaw, and William in tow. The saddle bag nowhere to be seen.

 “Been awhile since we’ve had this many people.” Hosea’s eyes wonder over the group of newcomers, rubbing his chin with a small smile. “Guess I better go say hello.” In a matter of seconds of him entering the circle, the men fall under the sweet old man’s charming spell.

 “Just more mouths to feed, and smaller shares for us.” John sulks with a scowl on his face, clearly not happy with the change in guard.

 William has a similar distasteful look, “More like sheep dan men if ya ask me.”

 Dutch comes up behind the two, his hands coming down onto their shoulders with a fierce grip, his pipe nestled between his teeth. “Ooh you boys were just like those poor souls once upon a time.” He spoke through his teeth with a smile. “In fact, I recall you two being a lot more pathetic.”  

 Grimshaw then steps forward, “Dutch I take it you still want us to be packing up to move soon?”

 “Mmhm, after tonight’s haul I imagine word will get out sooner than later. Rather not be so close to town.”

 “What? We’re moving already?” You were just beginning to settle in. “Why?”

 The look of surprise on Dutch’s face made you wonder if he hadn’t realized you were still lingering. “Miss (y/n)! I almost forgot you could talk!”

 “No kiddin’, she’s a real bore.” William shrugs Dutch off his shoulder. “All work ‘nd no play.” That puts a frown on your face knowing full well William’s idea of fun is hassling anyone and everyone he can. “Don’t even know how ta ride a horse. Can ya believe dat?” He’s still going on about that?!

 “At least I don’t smell like one…” you mutter.

 “Dat’s another ting! I know ya go down to the creek for your precious baths princess. Every day!” Your face immediately goes flush and hot. “No one should bathe dat much.”

 “Have you been spying on me?!” You’re standing now, hands clenched in tight fists glaring him in his good eye. He just grins. Which is quickly wiped off his face as Grimshaw swoops in to tug at his ear with a harsh pull.

 “Ooowowowow!” He cries out as she twists him downwards, casually turning to you.

 “Why don’t you girls get yerself something to eat and call it a night. I’m going to have a word with Mr. O’brien.” She gives another hard tug, leading herself and William away. “Goodnight gentlemen.”

 “Ow! What’re ya doin’ ya crazy old hag!” William’s cries of protest fading with each step. Dutch and the other boys simply laugh at his expense.

 “C’mon (y/n) let’s grab some stew and sit by the fire.” Tilly tosses her fabric to the side, quick to jump on her feet and excitedly veer towards the pot.

 Thankfully there was still a decent amount of stew left sticking to the bottom of the cast iron pot, bubbling on the brink of being caramelized and burnt. The two of you quickly found a spot around the main fire where the other men had collected, Uncle balancing a banjo on his knee as he laughs and plays a familiar tune. Out of the corner of your eye you spot John awkwardly standing a decent distance away from you before finally deciding to sit down in the spot to your right.

 “Hi John.”

 “Hi…” He’s not looking at you as he watches his spoon lazily push around a hunk of rabbit. Soon Arthur appears to take up the spot next to him with a hunk of bread in his mouth. “I-I could teach you.”

 “Huh?” John was still staring down at his food, his eyes darting back and forth from his bowl to you, his mouth opening and closing like a fish as he struggled to speak his next words.

 “To ride a horse.” He turns his head to make brief eye contact before they divert to anything but you. “I could teach you how.” You’ve only ever gotten a hello out of the guy and now he’s suddenly offering you free riding lessons.

 “I don’t have a horse.”

 “You can ride mine, or… one of the spare work horses.” He clears his throat before shoveling a large spoonful into his mouth. Just past him you can see Arthur giving him a strange side eye. “Y-yeah, I think… I think you should learn how to ride is all.” He takes another huge mouthful.

 “Alright. That would be very helpful actually.” You sit up a little straighter, turning your body towards him with a small hint of a smile. He visibly freezes hunched over; eyes downcast before he quickly shovels the rest of his food down as fast as he can. He then bolts from his seat, walking almost fast enough to have to break out into a slight jog shouting over his shoulder.

 “Alright I’ll see you later then!”

 “Ok…” a bit baffled at the blunt and brief conversation.

 Arthur scoffs out a slight chuckle, “I would find a different teacher if I were you.”

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 You were grateful for the early bedtime rest as it seemed Grimshaw felt the need to wake you up earlier than usual.  

 “Up up up! It’s time we start packin’!” another swift, sharp kick to your shins only increasing your rising annoyance to such a rude awakening.

 “Alright alright!” you take a second to rub the lingering sleep from your eyes. Blinking slowly to find it was still relatively dark out. Grimshaw who was somehow fully dressed, hair done, and with a pep in her step marched off to wake her next victim. “What time is it?”

 “Is it gonna make you get up faster if I tell you?” Tilly is somehow already on her feet and messing with her hair pins. “I’d get going now if I were you, don’t want that pig from last night getting a glimpse at us in our undergarments.” She moves like lighting twisting and readjusting the pins in her hair before she’s rummaging in your shared chest for her skirt, she grabs yours as well and throws it in your face. “Well? Hurry up!”

 “Hold on, I gotta wash my face first.” You crumble the bunch of clothes in your arms and unhappily get to your feet. Nights in the desert were surprisingly cold, only made getting up all the more difficult. It left any and all the water ice cold, a splash to the face was enough to finally bring you out of your groggy state. Shaking your hands to rid yourself of the lingering drops of chilled water you spotted the woman from last night timidly approaching you. “Good morning.” Your sleepy voice coming out deep and low.

 “Good morning.” She gave a small smile, reaching for the ladle that hung off the lip of the barrels opening and taking a gracious drink. You stood there a little awkwardly unsure if it would be more rude to just leave or start some sort of petty small talk.

 “I’m (y/n).” You seemed to have made the right decision as her eyes lit up with a smile.

 “My name is Agatha.” She gave a brief pause, hands tucked neatly in front of her, “I’m happy to see there are other women here.”

 “Oh, believe me, I thought the same thing when I first joined up.”

 “Have you been here long?”

 “Well…. Not really, only about 3ish months.” I think… “I wasn’t expecting a woman to come from Bingham mine. I figured we’d just be getting men.”

 “Oh, I’d follow Joseph to the ends of the earth. But I’m happy to be away from that place. They were working him to death.” You couldn’t help but stare at the bruise on her eye, she seemed to notice. “This was a parting gift from my previous employer.” She touched the purpling skin delicately. “Joseph was sure to give him twice the beating.”

 “Sounds like you picked a good one.” Just past Agatha you could see Grimshaw prowling about. You’ve been taking up too much time. “Uh, I gotta get to work but let’s chat some more later, ok?” You start to walk backwards as you spoke.

 “Of course! It was nice to meet you.”

 “Nice to meet you too!” You shouted over your shoulder before bolting back to your tent. Tilly had already rolled up your sleeping pads, thankfully leaving the chest and tent up for you. You glance around to find no one else was nearby. You quickly slipped to the Juniper tree crouching down and delving into the roots, fiddling around blindly until the cold steel met your fingertips. Swiftly wrapping the pistol in the change of clothes you had engulfed in your arms. Acting nonchalant as you pretended you were simply packing away your belongings. Careful to bury it at the bottom of the chest where only your belongings laid. Quick to actually get dressed and begin the grueling process of carefully taking down the tent, folding it properly and playing a game of tetris fitting it all into the wagon. Next came everything else that wasn’t absolutely needed. Tables, clothes, personal belongings, most of Pearson’s dry goods and cooking ware. If it wasn’t nailed down or on a horse, it goes in the wagons.

 “Careful vith my equipment! It’s very fragile!”

 “Relax Strauss, I know how glass works.” The camp was bare and empty now with only remnants of footprints and the old campfire among the red sand. The sun was now only just starting to come up as you hefted the last bit of supplies into its rightful spot. “You want me to take your bag too?” you reached out a hand, eyeing his medical bag that he carried around. He cradled it close to his chest with a distasteful look.

 “No, it stays vith me.”

 “Alright well… I guess pick your ride and we can get out of here.” You keep yourself from rolling your eyes and dropped your hand, he hadn’t lifted a finger to help out, didn’t even take down his own tent. “And William calls me princess…” you mutter under your breath as you settle onto a pile of fabric tightly rolled together just outside of the wagon opening. Strauss hesitates a moment before also climbing aboard, sitting adjacent to you, cradling his bag in his lap. Your eyes wandered to find most everyone else has loaded up and found their respective spots to travel. The wagon just in front of you holds Agatha and the red head you now know as Joseph, feet dangling off the edge, their horse tied just in front of them with their personal belongings on its back. You gave her a wave; she gave one back. Thankfully it seemed Samson wasn’t around, along with the regular bread winners. Arthur wasn’t around, nor were John or William. You took some comfort in that.

“Good morning!” Pearson’s chipper chubby face appears as he hops up onto the coach, scooching over as a young man takes the spot next to him.

 “Hello.” His voice was hushed and smooth. Kind dark brown eyes, clean shaven with long silky black hair tied in a braid down his back and donning a simple looking leather hat to keep the sun out of his deep tan face.

 “Ah Guten Morgen Mr. Pearson.”

 “Have you met Jay yet?” Pearson glances over his shoulder at the two of you, the reins resting limply in his hands as you all await the caravan to move along.

 “It’s Jie, Mr. Pearson.” The man corrects him with a smile, he meets your eyes again, “Jie Liu. It’s nice to meet you.” His face carved deep lines up from his jaw and into his cheeks when he smiled.

 “Hallo, Jee-eh, I am Doctor Leopold Strauss.” The poor man’s names get butchered again mixed with Strauss’ heavy European accent, it makes you cringe a little. But Jie just smiles and nods at him seemingly unbothered. Turning to you next.

 “And I already know who you are. Your little confrontation with Mr. O’brien was enough for us to quickly learn your name.” He has a slight accent, it’s very subtle, though it’s noticeable with certain words. “What’s the saying? Cleanliness is close to Godliness!” He laughs. You feel a little embarrassed to remember you had an audience watching your little fight last night.

 “You know I’m pretty sure that’s the most emotion I’ve seen you show since you’ve gotten here.” Pearson has a sly glint in his eye. “Seems some of Grimshaw’s charm is rubbing off on you.”

 You roll your eyes. He just laughs. The wagon in front of you starts to move. You all jolt forward slightly as Pearson snaps the reins.

 “Jee-eh, I take it you’re an immigrant, yes?” Strauss is holding a book in his hands now jotting something down as he speaks.

 “Yes, I am originally from Hong Kong. I take it you are also an immigrant Mr. Strauss?”

 “Austrian. But like everything about this country, I’ve been consumed into the American masses.”

 Jie gives a chipper response. “It is quite the country.”

 “Hong Kong huh? That’s so far away, how and why did you come here?” You ask.

 “My home, the little neighborhood I grew up in wasn’t exactly a good one. Big cities like that tend to attract a lot of… bad people.” He pauses a moment before picking back up again. “I lived their most of my adolescent life but… there’s nothing left for me there.” There’s a sadness in his voice, and the implications of what that might mean makes you wish you didn’t ask.

 “I’m sorry to hear that…” You spoke softly, awaiting his next words with reverence. The other two remain silent.

 He lets out a long sigh, “So, I ended up leaving the country to come here. I was swept up into the work most migrants end up doing. I met a friend who got me into the mining business at Bingham, lost him in the cave ins and now I’m here.”

 “Agatha mentioned something about the mine almost working Joseph to death.”

 “It’s definitely work I hope to never have to fall into again. It paid decently but when you take into account how much goes into food, housing, and medicine, you lose it just as quickly as you gained it.”

 “I haven’t had the chance to talk to the other new recruits. I take it they left under similar circumstances?” Pearson asks curiously.

 “To be honest, I am not very familiar with the others beyond their names. But yes, considering the recent cave in and other issues arising from poor work conditions, I’m actually surprised we didn’t have more men take up Mr. Van der Linde’s offer.”

 “They vere fools not to.”

 “Oh, Strauss you can be a very cold man sometimes you know that?” Pearson lets out a holler, “We got a lot of miles to cover and so much to talk about. You know I was a sailor on the seas once upon a time. Back when I was far younger and had a little more on my head and a little less on my stomach, AHAHA!”

 Dear God no… Not again…

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 This was by far the farthest and longest you’ve traveled so far. It was a shift in driving wagons, sleeping when night fell, and getting back on the road before the sun even came up. Swapping places here and there so you weren’t stuck with some of the more miserable members of your mysterious caravan. Encountering the two other men you hadn’t had a chance to talk to. The oldest of the bunch was an aged and worn man by the name of Crisoforo Abadiano. His skin was dark and sun damaged, deep lines in his face from years of wear and tear. He was the older than even Hosea it seemed. His dark eyes framed by heavy lashes and a sad distant look to them. Hair short and combed back with slivers of silver amongst his jet-black hair, covered by a large brimmed hat. He never really talked much and when he did it was usually single word responses. While very quiet he was the type you could be comfortable in silence with.

 “You have any hobbies Mr. Abadiano?”

 “No.”

 “Really, nothing at all?”

 “Cards.” He was fantastic at ending conversations before they really began.

  And of course, Joseph with Agatha practically attached at his hip. He was quite young, younger than you at least. Both ambitious and optimistic, excited to exchange stories and meet new people.

 “How did you two meet anyway?”

 “Well, I was working at the mining town’s saloon as a waitress and card dealer, you get good commission when all the men want to do after work is drink and gamble all they’re earnings away, sometimes they’d forget I’d already been paid.” Agatha gives a giggle. “Well one night, I was having particular trouble with a tenet who’d pulled a knife on me, accusing me of cheating him out of his winnin’s. I thought I was ‘bout to be gutted when a strapping,” Agatha breathes in a hushed voice as if just the memory of this incident left her breathless, looking dreamily at Joseph, “strong, young, and handsome hero stepped in to save me.” She lets out a long sigh as her lashes flutter in a half-lidded look. “I knew he was the one for me.”

 “Oh Agatha, you’ll never know what joy your words bring to my foolish heart.” Joseph, whose face was red as a tomato and clearly flustered was now cradling Agatha in his arms with a similar look of intense love in his eyes. “I love you, Agatha.”

 “I love you too, Joseph.” The two then shared a chaste kiss leading to another and another until they were holding each other long and tender. Leaving you to uncomfortably look around at anything but the spontaneous make out session you had the misfortune of being an audience for. They were cute and easy to talk to but… they were just too… lovey dovey.

 Other than the small talk, watching the scenery slooowly pass by and napping were your pastimes. (That and avoiding Mr. Samson like the plague personified). It was so incredibly boring to be traveling at a snail’s pace with nothing to occupy yourself. You started to pick up on some of the mannerisms of many of the others.

 Uncle at any point you were caught in his presence was buzzed 9 times out of 10. Bessie had impeccable posture seemingly always sitting straight as a plank. Hosea never seemed hot, even on the hottest of days, you’ve never seen him break a sweat. In more ways than one. Dutch and Annabelle were usually resting against each other, shoulder to shoulder, whispering and giggling to each other. You even managed to catch some poetry from Dutch. It actually wasn’t half bad.

 The bread winners had returned during the night on one of your rest stops, suddenly just there one morning around the coffee pot after having been missing for so long, it had caught you off guard. John was as awkward as ever giving a small hello without looking you in the eyes, Arthur was a bit grumpy and just grunted, and William had that distinct sneer he’d always give you, not saying a word. The stupid bastard.

 They led the rest of the way to a secluded canyon, the jagged red and pink sand rocks speckled with an assortment of desert trees and shrubbery, towering on both sides of a large level bed of rock with two openings that split off into two different directions and a third that you all entered through. It was shaded and cool, quiet and untouched.

 Dutch and Annabelle were excitedly taking in the view of the grand open space, as the rest of you began to unpack. “Quiet, secluded, no nosey neighbors. This place is perfect Arthur!”

 “Thought you’d like it.” Arthur gave a smirk, pulling up a match to light a cigarette perched on his lips. You assisted Pearson with unloading, watching Tilly curiously survey the campsite before boldly stomping up a cloud of dust.

 “I’m claiming this spot for the women!” She announces with wide smile. The area just to the right of the opening to the north.

 “Oh? And where will you be sleeping?” Uncle teases her, he had a box in his arms seemingly pitching in with the labor before realizing it was full of liquor.

Back and forth, back and forth. The camp slowly came to life. Dutch’s tent went up first, next was Bessie’s and Hosea’s, and then Arthur’s and so on and so forth until only yours was left.

 Only problem is it was smothered under an unfamiliar large wooden chest. Sun bleached in places and chipped in others. Barred by rusted iron hinges and simple looking. Only issue was how unexpectedly heavy it was. Even with both hands you barely managed to scoot it an inch.

 “Hmpphh!” You give a harsh pull, causing whatever’s inside to slide and tumble.  

 “Wow, there miss.” Arthur slides into view, hands quick to find the handles, his calloused fingers grazing yours slightly, tickling the little hairs on the back of your hands. His hat shrouds his face from you. “Let me get this out of your way.” He picks it up like it weighs nothing, and heads off towards Dutch’s tent. You watch as Dutch’s eyes light up at the sight of him. Quick to swoop him into his tent and draw back the canvas curtains, shrouding them from view.

 Odd. Very odd.

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  You could feel eyes on your back as you awkwardly finish ramming the final stake into the ground. Giving the twine a good tug before making yourself recognize the presence.

 “Hi John,” you toss the hammer back into the wooden tool box, wiping sand from your hands. “You uh… need something?”

 “Let’s go riding.”

 “Oh, you wanna do the lessons now?” your eyes wander around looking for Grimshaw, you’d rather not wander off without her approval. Not worth the scolding you think.

 “Yes.” He’s quick to start a march towards the horses looking back at you, still unmoved from your spot. “Come on then!” He yells in haste. You stand there hesitantly shifting your weight from one foot to the other. Taking a moment to consider if John is someone you want to be alone with. I mean he’s just a kid, but…

 “But Grimshaw won’t like it if I ditch work!”

 “Your chores will still be here when you get back.” He lets out a huff, clearly anxious to get going, “Now come on!”

 “Can Tilly come?”

 “Huh?” Tilly juggling an arm full of pots and pans shoots you a look of absolute confusion. “I got stuff to do around here!”

 “But I don’t-“ You step a foot closer to her, voice low enough only she can hear. “I don’t want to be alone with a strange man er-boy!”

 “John ain’t gonna do nothin’. He’s as dumb as a bag of dirt but he ain’t bad.” Her hand jumps to catch a cast iron pan that was slipping from underneath her elbow, snagging painfully on her finger. You relieve her of the heavy pan and find it a more convenient place in her jumbled arms. “You’ll be fine. Although I’m not sure you’ll actually learn anything.”

 You can see his horse patiently awaiting its rider, a big and burly warm brown stallion already harnessed. Next to it was one of the driving horses, even bigger than John’s horse and rippling with muscle. Black and white like a cow, towering over everything and everyone else.

 “Uum, isn’t he a little big?” Your eyes scan the big beast, just how in the hell are you even supposed to get on this giant?

 “Horses are for riding. He’s a horse, so ride him.” A blanket is tossed onto the curved slope of the horse’s back before a saddle follows. He’s quick and efficient as he pulls and ties the various leather straps into place, clearly very familiar with his way around a horse. “Alright, hop on up.” You’re a bit hesitant as you nervously approach.

 Please don’t kick me, Mr. Horse.

 Your first instinct is to grab the saddle horn, which is barely within your reach. Next you pick up your foot to awkwardly sit in the stirrup leaving you hanging off of the side like a monkey.

 “You’re doing it wrong.”

 “Huh?” you peek over at John, fidgeting with his suspenders. “How?”

 “Well, uh, you’re just getting on wrong.” You look down at your right foot twisted in the stirrup at an angle, then at your hands tangled together before looking at him quizzically. “You hafta swing your leg over… so you gotta…” He’s at a loss of words, mind clearly working overtime, his face beginning to redden. “Just watch me! Ok?” He places his left foot into the horse’s left stirrup before swinging his right over and finding his perfect perch atop his horse. “Like that.”

 “Ooh.” You readjust yourself to place the correct foot in the stirrup before hopping once, twice, and thrice heaving yourself up and your leg over the seat of the saddle. “Oomph!” your leg only hooks itself at the knee, leaving you to depend on your arms to pull the rest of your body upwards, hands barely having enough room to hold onto the tiny saddle horn before finally getting into your seat. Already looking like an idiot. You scoop the reins into your hands gingerly, actively making sure they are lax in your grip afraid you might cause the horse to move before you’re ready. “Now what?” you ask.

 “Now, we get a move on.” He clicks his tongue and turns his horse out toward the open desert. He gets a ways out before realizing you’re not following. “Are you coming!?” He yells.

 You’re digging your heels into the horse’s sides, clicking your tongue, pulling on the reins trying to get the thing to move, but he remains still. “How do I get him to move!?” you call back.

 “Squeeze his chest!”

 “Squeeze his chest?” pondering for a second, you almost give the big guy a hug before it clicked in your brain to use your legs, he moves almost immediately. “He’s doing it!” Your smiling, excited with your small little accomplishment. “Good boy.” Caressing his long wispy mane as you slowly make your way toward John.

 “There we go, now try and keep up with me.” John goes from a simple walk into a trot. You give his chest another squeeze with your legs, your pace remains the same, you then give a go at digging your heels in. That gets him going a little faster. John goes from a trot to a sort of jog, so you follow suit. Your lower back and bottom bouncing up and down on the saddle uncomfortably.

 “Aren’t we going a little fast?” You cry out. John peeks over his shoulder with a blank confused look.

 “Uh, no? We can go way faster.” His eyes drift off before looking back at you, “Did you wanna go faster?”

 “No, I think that would be a bad idea. I don’t even know how to stop this thing.” Oh my lord, Tilly wasn’t exaggerating. John pulls to the side and slows down, keeping pace on your right. His horse was a considerable amount shorter than yours, causing his head to only reach as high as your shoulder. He sits up a little taller.  

 “You know, I’m the one who found the spot.”

 “Hm? The campsite?”

 “Yeah, I’m the one who found it. Not Arthur.” He spits out Arthur’s name with some disdain.

 “It’s nice.” A pocket of silence fills the air.

 “The foods been better, and I noticed my shirts are not so full of holes.” He clears his throat. “You do good work.”

 “Why are your shirts so fond of holes anyhow?” Your mind drifts to that notorious green shirt. “I swear some of the clothes have had blood on them too.” You watch him carefully from the corner of your eye. Trying to keep a casual, calm air about yourself. “You ought to be more careful.”

 “We uh- get into fights sometimes.” His response isn’t very confident. “But! I mean- we don’t start ‘em.” He steers his horse into yours, “Lets take a left up here.”

 Just what kind of fights are you getting into?

 “Arthur’s good in a fight. I got to see that first hand.” John gets quiet.  You dared a peek to see his face was in a scowl. “Where we goin’ anyway?”

 “There’s another spot I found, thought you’d like it.”

 “So that’s where you boys went? Sight-seeing?”

 “It ain’t like that, someone’s gotta make sure the way ahead is safe.”

 Safe from what?

 “Can’t say I’m not jealous. A break from camp would be nice every once in a while.”

 “Well, we can go riding anytime you want.”

 “I’m sure Grimshaw would not be too keen on the idea.” Another round of silence. The area around you is beginning to become much greener, blooming cactus, flourishing sage brush and a particular earthy smell permeates the air like a delicate perfume. Each step forward becomes an oasis of thriving plant life, and just as your about to ask how, you see it.

 A great pool of water extends the majority of the horizon, reflecting the bright light of the sun and creating a perfect mirror image of the surrounding environment. A small group of Big Horned Sheep could be seen taking a gracious drink off the tranquil water’s surface. Various kinds of birds nesting in the blooms of the Joshua trees providing a sweet melody. Everything was flourishing.

 John’s horse maneuvers itself in front of yours, bringing you to a stop and putting said riders face right in your line of view. “I figured you could come here when you need to… ya know.” His face flushes red. “Bathe.”

 You let out a huff of a laugh and a smirk. “You know, bathing isn’t my whole personality. But I appreciate it.” You both sit in silence as you take it all in. It actually began to make you emotional, tears brimming to the surface of your eyes. You attempt to keep composure but it’s in vain as John clearly notices.

 “A-are you ok?” He sounds almost frightened. No doubt caught off guard by your sudden decent into sadness.

 “I-I’m sorry.” You turn away from him, dabbing away at your eyes. Face scrunched painfully as you try your hardest to hold back the sob desperately trying to come up your throat. “I-I don’t know what’s come over me.” Your voice cracks as you speak. It’s an awkward silence as you fail to keep your feelings at bay. You almost don’t feel the couple soft taps on your shoulder.

 “It’ll be okay…” John attempts say comfortingly, though it comes out sounding more like a question. It was… very sweet of him.

 Your horse seems to dislike the change in mood as he winnies in agitation, swaying side to side before moving suddenly.

 “WHoawhoa-WHOA!!” You shriek in surprise as your horse bolts forward with vigor, your hands yanking on the reins causing him to simply jerk his head and rip them from your grip. “Ah!” your hands desperately grab for his neck, looping around the large and taught muscle before you feel your legs turn cold. Your horse had felt the sudden need to plunge himself directly into the water taking you with him. Your wide eyes meet John’s still in shock.

 “Guess he was hot.” John remarks. The horse let’s out a long grunty sigh that vibrates from underneath you. You’re up to your shoulders in water, soaking you from your socks to your underwear.

 And you laugh.

 A long joyous slip of bliss from your lips, the first in a long time. And it goes on and on and on. Leaving you breathless as you pitter down to little giggles, only to rev back into a fit. Slapping the horse gently on his side.

 “You-hoohoo silly horse- ahahaha!” You can hear John letting loose a few laughs as well.

 “Well, lookie here!” A new voice arises from the shoreline. It’s Arthur. Basking down at you from atop his trusty mare, leaning forward and a twinkle in his eye.

 “What’re you doin’ here?” John doesn’t look happy, eyeing Arthur up with a challenging look in his eyes.

 “Lookin’ for you two.” He attempts to smack John, who swerves harshly out the way nearly falling off his saddle. “You’ve got night watch.”

 “So do you!” John retorts in annoyance.

 “Yeah, and you better not fall asleep on me!” Arthur goes for another swing, this time landing upside John’s head with a smack.

 “Ow!” John’s face scrunches up into a scowl, he retaliates with a smack of his own that causes Arthur’s hat to fall forward into his face. You let out a soft giggle at the sight.

 Like a couple of toddlers.

 Arthur adjusts his hat back into place, clearing his throat before speaking to you in a much more tender tone.

 “You need some help there, ma’am?”

 “uhh…” you grab for the reins floating just on the water’s surface, giving them a pull upwards, backwards and to the side. But the horse simply remains submerged and relaxed. You swing yourself off it’s back, now soaking every inch of you completely. Wading towards the bank as both young men dismount to meet you. Arthur has his hands extended before John practically shoves him out of the way causing Arthur to exclaim an irritated “Hey!”. You’re assisted up and out of the pond, John’s hand lingering in yours long after your clearly on dry solid land.

 “Thanks.”

 John nods with an eager smile. “Course!”

 “You can let go of my hand now…”  

 “Oh uh! Yeah…” He stammers a bit, looking at your intwined hands before finally releasing you from his grip.

 “What about him?” You motion to the large horse still sitting unmoved.

 Arthur looks to John and nods his head towards the water. “You get him.”

 “What!? No way, you do it!”

 “I know you chose the horse. So, you get to pull him out.” Arthur corrals you to follow him back to Boadicea, throwing in one last remark to John before placing you just behind him.  “Maybe you’ll finally learn to swim!”

 John flips him off leaving Arthur to laugh as the two of you ride away.

 “He can’t swim?” You ask genuinely worried.

 “Yeah, so don’t go askin’ for lessons.”

 “Is he gonna be ok?” I mean you did just leave him all alone surrounded by a large body of water.

 “Little John knows how to take care of himself. Drowning won’t be what kills him.” You look back to see John hollering and waving a carrot around trying to get the horse’s attention.

 You only give an uncertain hum, falling quiet. You try not to get too close, for both personal space and to not soak his entire back with your still sopping wet clothes.

 You’d be lying if you said Arthur didn’t scare you. Out of everyone in camp, you knew the least about him. And with his clearly appropriate label as the muscle of camp, it worried you to think if and when he’d use that muscle on you.

 “We haven’t really had a chance to talk much, you and I.” Arthur speaks.

 “Well-“ You exhale, “-it’s been a strange couple of months. Not like I’ve been in the mood to talk anyway.”

 He responds with a hum. “How ya holdin’ up?”

 “I don’t know… I’ll feel ok for a while and then out of nowhere I’m having a mental breakdown.” You fidget with the sleeve of your blouse. “I’m not sure holding on is something I can do for too much longer.”

 “Well… it hasn’t been that long ago since… ya know. But things will get better miss. These things just take time.” He perks up a bit, “And hey, being able to laugh in your situation, I’d say you’re well on your way to healin’.”

 Your lips twitch into an almost small smile. “I sure hope so, it’s a lot to adjust to… And I can’t say how much I appreciate you all taking me in and giving me so much.”

 “What happened to you? If you don’t mind me askin’?”

 “I…I got lost…”

 “Lost?” He sounds confused.

 “But I can never go back home. I can never…” Your throat constricts with the thought of people you once knew flash across your mind. “I-I don’t want to talk about it…”  

 “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.” And you both fall back into the awkward silence. The only sound being the muffled trotting of Boadicea’s hooves on soft sand.

 Arthur suddenly pulls Boadicea to a stop, causing you to squeeze his waist extra hard and smooshing your face against his broad back. Catching a whiff of cigarettes and… Oh god he needs a bath.

 “What? What’s wrong? Why are we stopping?” you quickly slip your arms away as he dismounts, grabbing a rifle from the saddle. You freeze up in fear as he meets your eyes and puts his finger to his lips.

 “Sshh…” he shushes softly. He lowers himself to the ground. Soft careful steps in the direction of a large cluster of brush. Your eyes scan the area finding nothing, fixing back to Arthur confused as to what in the world he’s doing.  

 He stops, stock still. Lifting the rifle to his shoulder before BANG and then another BANG. Making you jump each time. He proceeds to jog over to whatever he decided needed to die. His face is a light with a smile, rifle over one shoulder and two rabbits dangling from his hand held up with triumph.

 “Dinner!” he calls out. Swinging the carcasses over his shoulder. Making his way back to you, you spot dark splotches beginning to form on his shirt.

 Oh my god. It’s animal blood!

 A wave of relief falls over you, hand at your chest as you let go of so much stress and anxiety over that damned bloody shirt.

 “I was wondering where that blood came from.”  He looks at his now red stained shoulder as he ties a rabbit to each side of the saddle.

 “Oh yeah… sorry about that.” He attempts to wipe the blood off his hands before remounting, his hands now a bright pink. “I’ll wash this one, don’t worry about it.”

 “Oh? You know how to do your own laundry?”

 He laughs, “Yes, I know how to do laundry. Susan made sure of that.”

 “And you’re on a first name basis with her too it seems.” You notice the damp imprint you made on his back and can’t help but distance yourself from him a little more.

 “We’ve known each other a long time. I mean she practically raised me.”

 Raised him, so he was a kid when he joined up. My god that’s a long time.

 “Did you know your parents?”

 “I don’t remember much of my Mama, but my Daddy… I wish I didn’t remember much of him.” A bad father figure, not much of a surprise.

 “Must have been hard…”

 “Hard for everyone isn’t it?”

 “Yeah but… doesn’t mean it hurts any less.”

 He stays quiet for a moment before he speaks again, softly this time. “Your right… it don’t.” The conversation dies down after that. You make no effort to change that.

 You start to descend where the camp lies, completely hidden from view until you were basically walking in the front door. Once on the ground you utter a small “thank you” to Arthur. Turning to his horse

 “Thank you, girl.” You stroke her side gently; she eyes you with curiosity as if waiting for something. “Sorry I don’t have a treat for you.”

 “Here, give her this.” Arthur fishes around his bag before pulling out a round pale thing. You take it in your hand, inspecting it a moment. It was light and delicate. A rice cake without the rice. You offer it to Boadicea, palm open as she plucks it up with her big whiskery lips. And you let out an air of a laugh through your nose as she tickles your hand.

 “It was nice talking to you miss.” Arthur speaks with a smile, eyes shrouded by his hat, but you can still see the bright glint of his eyes. The two rabbits hanging over his shoulder.

 “It was nice talking to you too. I hope you sleep well.” You both awkwardly nod a goodbye as he departs.

   The second Arthur leaves your side, a new body takes his place. Samson towers over you and far too close for your liking. Taking two steps back, only for him to take two steps forward.

 “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” He utters with a far too innocent look.

 “What do you want?” you blurt out your question with no effort in sounding in the least bit interested in what he has to say.

 “I want to apologize for the terrible first impression I left on you that first night.” He waits for a response from you, you don’t give him one. “I don’t want us to start off on bad terms, I’m really not a bad fella.” You roll your eyes, it’s the stupid nice guy bullshit even in this era. Turning to leave before you feel his disgusting giant meaty paw clamp onto your forearm like a vice. “Wow wow! I’m not done talking!” He barks angrily, yanking you back to your spot right in front of him causing you to yelp. “I think we could be real good friends. But it takes two my dear.”

 “I don’t want to be your friend!” You spit out at him, yanking your arm only causing him to grip it even tighter. He smiles wide.

 “Good. Neither do I.” Your stomach twists at the way his eyes linger in intimate places as they rave up your body before they fall behind you. Smile dropping and hand quick to release, causing you to stumble back. Gentle hands find themselves cradling your shoulder, pushing you behind a body.

 “What the hell do you think you’re doin’?!” Arthur’s voice comes out deep and low. Eyes staring daggers into Samson as your hidden from view. His shoulders taught and raised like the hackles of a cat. In the moment Arthur seemed to tower over Samson.

 “Nothing, just a friendly chat.” Samson feigns ignorance. “Not like it’s your business anyhow.”

 “When it comes to the safety of the women, it’s my business.” Arthur barks loud and gruff. Samson seems to notice the little exchange is drawing attention, eyes from others peeking around corners and watching. He fidgets.

 “She’s fine, ain’t no hair out of place or bruise on her.” He dares to meet your eyes again, but his view is blocked by Arthur’s body once more. “Like I said, it was just a friendly chat.” And with his final statement he finally leaves.

 Only once he’s out of sight does Arthur relax. “You alright?” His voice no longer holding the animosity he had only seconds ago. Now soft and hushed. You cradle the arm, no marks or bruising. But the feeling of that dirty hand lingers like a burn.

 “Yeah… I’m ok.” Your eyes remain fixated on your hand now rubbing your forearm. “Thank you for stepping in…” Despite the tense situation, you didn’t feel uncomfortable. You felt safe, secure, calm. You can see him fidget in your peripheral. Shifting from foot to foot.

 “If he gives you trouble, you come to me, Alright?” You finally look up into his eyes, kind and concerned. Nothing like the way Samson was looking at you. You nod slowly.

 “I’ll come to you…” His eyes drift from each of your eyes a moment more, before he nods his head.

 “Ok… You be well Ma’am.” You watch as he leaves, hands twitching and shoulders adjusting themselves. He approaches Dutch and Hosea who were sitting and chatting away with cups of coffee. There smiles dissipate as Arthur speaks. Their gaze looking off in the direction of Samson and then they turn to you. Your eyes meet there’s for a split second before you turn away quickly. Wondering off to find a nice sunny spot to dry off and lie low for a while.

[gimmethosedaddymilkers]

A Rough Day

This is specifically for my friend @kieropal who is currently going through it, since they’re replaying rdr2 and well....we all know how that goes. 

Kieran has a special place in their heart, so I’m gonna write a little drabble to cheer them up!

No worries! My other modern Arthur and NSFW Alphabet Arthur headcannons are still coming! 

so

Let’s get to it! 

Warnings!: This is going to be NSFW, 18+ so Minors DNI, just a little soft nsfw :) FEMALE READER

Keiran Duffy was not at all like any of the other men in the Van Der Linde camp.

He wasn’t like Bill, large both in height and in width, or like Hosea, incredibly smart and cunning, not to say he wasn’t smart, or like Arthur, huge and intimidating.

He was, well, for a lack of a better word, he was very scrawny. Small and he wasn’t violent. He stood up for himself, he did, but it wasn’t really anything that made people all that worried. 

He’d threaten everyone but Arthur. 

Granted, they were always muttered with a very nervous sounding voice, followed by pleas to be left alone.

He was entirely different than the rest of the gang.

He wasn’t incredibly tough, or threatening, but yet there was something about him that you just couldn���t get out of your mind.

You’d talked with him, sat down and chatted, and he was genuinely one of the sweetest, most kind people you’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. 

He cared more for horses than he did people, and he was telling the truth about Colm O’Driscoll, it was plain as day on his face. 

You could see it so easily, so you couldn’t understand why anyone else couldn’t.

He was relentlessly bullied in camp, by anyone and everyone, and it just wasn’t fair. 

It was starting to get on your nerves the more you got to know him.

He didn’t harm anyone, he didn’t even talk to anyone, because he was afraid of causing problems. 

He sat alone most days, eating by himself and keeping himself busy with the horses. 

It wasn’t fair that he was so outcasted.

You quickly became his friend, he needed one, and not only that but, you put yourself in his shoes. 

You had been so easily welcomed into the gang, they were like family to you, so you couldn’t imagine being pushed away from them instead. The only thing you could understand was that it would have been awful.

So, you started to seek him out in the mornings, bringing him coffee and cheering him up with jokes and such, you’d listen to him talk about how awful it was being tied to that tree in the middle of camp, and you’d apologize for not being able to do anything to help.

To which he tells you that just being kind to him now is enough to repay it.

His days start to get better and better and you can see it in his attitude. 

He starts to socialize more and you just feel happy to be helping him, to be his friend. 

He has the kindest soul you’ve ever seen. 

It’s been steadily getting better and better until one day you’re out of camp, and you can’t help defend him when something horrible happens. 

When you return you can see it in his body language, in his face that something happened.

You furrow your brow as you hitch up your horse, usually Kieran is always waiting to see you, even if he’s had a bad day, so coupled that with seeing the way he was moping around camp...

You just felt....like there was something up.

You make your way through camp, muttering hellos to everyone who talks to you, until you finally reach the small man, and gently you place a hand on his shoulder.

“Kieran....hey, are you okay?”

He twists to face you and you can see how close to tears he is. They’re pooling in his eyes, threatening to spill over.

“Oh Kieran....” You sigh, and tilt your head. “What happened?” 

He bites his lip and swallows before gesturing towards the outskirts of camp, you assumed not wanting others to hear you.

You feel horrible, just that little look earlier had been enough to sink your stomach and your heart.

As the two of you reach where you’re sure no one will hear the two of you talk, he turns to face you and the tears begin to fall.

You simply open your arms and let him hug you tightly, running your finger through his hair, doing your best to help him feel better.

He cries, sobs almost, and holds your waist, soaking your shirt, but you don’t care in the slightest. You are the only person he trusts, the only one he cares about.

“Kieran...do you want to talk about it? We don’t have to, but I’m here...”

“It’s....just..just Bill.” He finally coughs out. He...He was messing around, threatened me with those stupid gelding tongs again...” 

You see red as you furrow your brow.

In a cruel attempt to get information out of him Bill, Dutch and Arthur had all talked to him as he’d been tied to a tree, and Dutch had the bright idea to tell Bill to geld him.

Arthur didn’t exactly have anything to do with that part but he didn’t stop it either.

Your blood was boiling.

“Not only that...” He continued, and you watched as his face started to grow a little red. “But...he...he made me...made me admit something I wasn’t ready to admit.”

You again furrow your brow and look at him, waiting patiently as he starts to gather his thoughts.

“I....” he looks at you, his eyes are nearly pleading. 

“Please don’t be mad Y/N...”

“I couldn’t never be mad at you for anything Kieran.” You smile and place a hand on his cheek. “You’re the sweetest man I’ve ever met, you couldn’t do anything to upset me.”

He nods and takes a moment, breathing deep, before looking down at his feet.

“I...He made me admit to everyone who was watching that...Y/N...I like you..I’m...I’m real sweet on you.” He spits out.

You blink, and watch him for a moment as he wrings his hands, clearly nervous for your response.

You took a moment to gather your thoughts. 

You’d always had a soft spot for him, I mean, you cared for him, defended him every time someone dared to make fun of him, or threaten him, but it...it hadn’t occurred to you that, well it hadn’t occurred to you that maybe the reaason you had such a soft spot for him was because you were sweet on him.

You thought yourself, to all the times the two of you sat together and talked, telling each other your secrets, making each other laugh, you knew everything there was to know about him, just seeing him made you smile, he was just...adorable for lack of a better word.

You...

You were sweet on him too.

“Y/N, I know that’s not what you wanna hear, and I’m sorry-”

“I’m sweet on you too Kieran.” 

You watch as his eyes widen and you smile, doing your best to make him feel at ease. 

“You...you are?” 

“Of course I am you silly little man.” You step closer and you put your arms around his neck, and you watch his eyes widen further, if that’s even possible. 

“What....I...how do you....I mean...me-”

“You know everything about me, I know everything about you, and...we’ve spent so much time together....Kieran of course I’m sweet on you.” 

His whole face blooms red and you can’t help but think that he really is the sweetest man you’ve ever met. 

The sweetest, kindest, and, looking at him, it dawns on you, truly dawns on you, that he is in fact the cutest man you’ve ever met too. 

He could stand up for himself too, when he needed to, sure, for the most part he was a very calm man, and a very quiet man, but you’d seen him stick up for himself too, and that, that made him all the more attractive.

Sweet, kind, and brave, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

Gently you take his face in your hands and pull him closer and kiss him.

At first he seems confused, but he quickly falls into kissing you back, its timid, and slow, but his feelings for you are clearly there.

You smile against his lips and pull away, taking his hand in yours before leading him back to camp. 

You’d stick up for him, and you’d prove Bill that he was nothing but a bully. A sad, adult man, who had nothing better to do than bully others.

----

You struggled to breathe as you pressed the kiss deeper, listening with a tingling sensation in your stomach as Kieran whimpered against your mouth.

His hands trailed along your sides, but you were very much in charge here.

He sat with his back against the tree, and you straddled his lap, taking control of the situation.

He wasn’t exactly the demanding type.

Since the two of you had officially gotten together you just couldn’t keep your hands off each other.

He was a sweet man, he wanted cuddles all the time, he wanted to be with you, but something in you, wanted more than that.

There was something about the way he was so.....so submissive....it did something to you, made you feel things you hadn’t previously realized you thought about. 

It was exhilarating, sneaking away with him, making him whimper, and whine with every touch you gave him.

It sent your entire body into tingles.

You smile against his lips, and you allow your hand to trail up his chest, and you’re struck with an idea.

You’re gentle of course, but you trail your hand up to his throat and clasp your hand around it, listening to the wonderful noise that escapes his mouth.

You pull back from his lips and mumble against his skin.

“You like that don’t you sweetheart?”

He can’t do anything but mumble a very shaky yes, and you feel that tingle spread through your body. 

You lean close to his ear, and you can’t believe the words that slip out of your mouth.

“I bet you’d really like it if I squeezed your throat like this while I stroked that dick of yours.” 

“Jesus Y/N, are you tryna kill me?” His voice comes out high pitched, nearly squeaky.

You smirk and your other hand trails down between the two of you, and you fumble with the button on his jeans.

You finally manage to get it open and his dick springs forward, and you smile to yourself as you gently run your thumb over the head, listening to the heavenly sound that falls from his lips. 

“Y/N....” 

You nearly lose it there, and continue to stroke him, squeezing his neck just a little tighter.

“Why don’t you help me out a little Kieran...” 

“Help...Help you out?” He stutters and you force him to look you in the eye.

“Help me out Kieran. Stick your hand in my pants.” 

He again makes an amazing noise, but follows your orders, sticking his hand under the waistband of your pants, reaching for the heat between your legs.

He reaches it, and the sound that escapes him makes you feel as though you’ve nearly wet yourself. 

“I didn’t know...you...could feel that....wet...for....for me...” He stutters. 

“All because of you,” You coo. “Because of what a good boy you are for me.” 

“How...how do..do I....Ohhh....” 

He leans his head against the tree behind him as you again graze your thumb gentle across the tip of his dick.

“Just move your fingers, curl them towards you,” You explain as you let go of his neck and gently bring your hand across his chest. “Slowly at first.”

He nods quietly, and bites his lip to attempt to quell another sound from escaping him.

He does as you tell him and he’s very quick to learn, you have to stop yourself from riding his fingers, the want for more nearly takes you over, but your force yourself to remember that you are in charge. 

“Just like that Kieran...” You huff. “You’re doing so good.” 

He simply nods and swallows before again putting his head against the tree behind him.

You cup him with your other hand, gently caressing his balls, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut hard.

“Good boy Kieran..” You’re doing your best not to loose your composure as he starts to buck up into your hands. 

“Y/N....” He moans again, and you kiss him deeply, feeling the hum through his chest. 

You stroke his cock a little faster as he bucks up harder, and keeps curling his fingers like you instructed. 

You finally give in and ride his fingers, giving yourself more friction, and do your best not to make any noise yourself. 

He pulls away from you, not willingly and mumbles out your name again his face red, his chest following suit. 

“Kieran....” You huff quietly and move your body a little faster against his fingers, thrusting faster as you stroke him off, listening to the sounds that escape him.

You can tell he’s already close to finishing as his hips speed up, and you kiss him again right as you feel a warmth spread against your hand and his fingers faulter.

He moans into your mouth, but manages to keep moving his fingers, and with a little more movement you feel yourself fall apart.

The two of you break apart, and you listen as both of you huff and puff loudly, leaning your head against his.

He’s sweaty and so are you, sticky too with his seed over your hand. 

“I didn’t...I never thought....that...you felt....like that for me....” Kieran mumbles. “I....I knew you liked me but....to do that....with....with me?”

You chuckle quietly and kiss his forehead gently. 

“I promise....maybe next time it’ll be a little sweeter...” You mumble. “A little...less demeaning. I feel like I was so condescending...” 

“I...I liked it...” He gives you a sheepish smile and you laugh.

“Yeah...I’d guessed that part.” 

Okay y’all, I don’t usually write for Kieran so I hope this is good!!! I also have been like STRESSED this week so I’m sorry it took so long @kieropal​ I hope it makes your day a little better though!

[mistoffeleesisawitch]

Tag 5 comfort characters and then tag 5 other people

Tagged by @oneeyedaemond thank you!!

Man this was hard to pick just 5, I have too many that are all over the place. I guess I’ll choose the ones I’m really into right now

Alicent Hightower (F&B and HOTD)- One that I’m sure is a surprise to no one. She just fascinates me, especially in HOTD. Forced into a terrible position and having to make the best of it. Torn apart by her love for people doomed to kill each other. And I always have a soft spot for devoutly religious characters I get lesbian vibes from

Marya Bolkonskya (War & Peace and Great Comet)- Speaking of devoutly religious characters I get lesbian vibes from. I can’t forget Marya now that I’m reentering my War & Peace phase for like the fifth time. Absolutely miserable but still genuinely trying to be a good person. She’s had it rough but has tried to not let that turn her into her into a cruel or bitter person (I do not acknowledge the epilogue)

Guinevere (Arthuriana)- Blorbo from my medieval manuscripts. I’m in love with every version of her. Ambitious, influential, romantic, mean, I love her. Her adultery was cool and funny and Arthur isn’t good enough for her. She’s goes through so much but each version just comes back again. I too would fall obsessively in love with her if I were Lancelot.

Wanda Maximoff (Marvel Comics not MCU)- I will defend her with my life. Her poor character has been everywhere and dragged through the mud but no matter what she’s still a character whose been through constant hell and still wants to help people. Dealing with an immense amount of power no human should have, she’s doing her best okay?

Apple White (Ever After High)- I’ve loved her since Middle School. She is awful and self-absorbed and incredibly privileged but also well-meaning and loving and dealing with a lot of pressure. She’s deeply motivated by her past trauma and her belief that people will actually die if she doesn’t follow her destiny. She’s kind of a mess and all I want is for her to grow. Also another repressed lesbian who while not religious in the normal sense, is still devout to her beliefs in destiny. I might have a type

+Bonus for my other War & Peace blorbo Sonya Rostova- Sonya goes through so much and doesn’t let it destroy her. Deeply loyal and loving, especially to a family that doesn’t deserve it. Also maybe questing her gender identity a bit. I’m gonna save you Sonya im gonna get you out of there. (And I still don’t acknowledge the epilogue)

Tagging @rusalkascave @prodogg @maester-of-spreadsheets @princegarin @prince-aemond-targaryen (no pressure!) and anyone else who wants to!

[bimrsadler]

Graphite and Gratitude

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x F! Reader

Summary: After a difficult day in camp coming to a head when Micah crosses a line, Arthur comforts you in an unexpected way - by sharing his journal with you.

Warnings/tags: Pure fluff, established relationship, Micah is a gross jerk, very minor sexual mentions and angst

Word Count: 3,082

Notes: This has been sitting in my drafts forever because for some reason I’m more embarrassed about writing fluff than smut lmao, I also got a little emotional thinking about his journal and it shows. 🤡

—————

You lifted your arms above your head, trying to stretch the ache of a hard days work out of your muscles. The sun was hot that afternoon and toiling for so long in it soured your mood and paved the way for exhaustion to set in. Arthur had been away from camp for several days now, working on a job with Javier and John. Details were scarce as usual but he departed with a kiss for you and said to not worry, though you always did. The relationship was fairly new but you’d spent long enough not acting on your feelings for each other that it felt as though you were making up for lost time. You missed him, the stress and exhaustion amplified this terribly.

You had only just finished your work for Miss Grimshaw when you saw Micah, boots up and leaning back smugly at the table - reading your journal.

You had written in a journal since you were a teen, a way to get your most personal thoughts off your chest and express yourself. Seeing Micah handle it was nauseating. On this day he was being particularly vicious with this teasing around camp, which you guessed had something to do with Abigail spurning his advancements again and well, he had to take it out on someone didn’t he?

When he noticed that you noticed, he made sure the flipping of the pages was loud and exaggerated, chuckling like he was so proud of himself. “Quite the thoughts you got inside that head sweetheart,” he said looking up at you while slowly licking his thumb before turning another page.

“You’re so funny,” you snapped sarcastically. “Now give it back.”

When you reached to snatch the journal back he played keep away with a juvenile laugh. “Gonna have to be quicker than that.” He stood up and moved away from you, still browsing the pages. “Besides, I wanna read more about these girly little dreams you talk about. Livin’ in a little cabin with Morgan, raisin’ animals. That don’t sound like the thoughts of someone who should be in a gang honey.” Bill snickered in the seat beside Micah.

“Micah that ain’t yours, it’s private!” You lunged again but the taller man only raised the journal higher and turned his back to you.

“Speakin’ a private, I didn’t know you two were so…intimate,” he chuckled lecherously. “I didn’t know Morgan had it in him at all, actually. But still, if you ever wanna take a ride with a real man...”

“Mr. Bell that is enough!” Miss Grimshaw boomed suddenly.

You were shaking at this point. This was the last thing you wanted to deal with after finishing the chores you hated so much. You knew you weren’t above doing them, but you wanted to be a part of the action more. You were good at pickpocketing and acting, you could shoot and hunt as well. You knew you could do more for the gang and wanted to prove it. Micah undermining you in front of everyone for indulging in your softer fantasies was mortifying. You loved being a part of the gang and wanted to be Arthur’s partner in crime, but was it so bad to imagine a life after that?

While Miss Grimshaw had spent most of the day working you to the bone there were times when you felt that she saw the potential in you. As she scolded Micah you considered that she was defending Arthur as well. The two of you weren’t open about your relationship yet but it was clear you were sweet on each other. The more observant of the gang - Hosea, Charles, Abigail, Grimshaw - could see it had blossomed into something meaningful. Grimshaw was hard on Arthur, like she was with everyone, but she had a soft spot for him and was aware of how happy he was with you. Maybe she wasn’t just annoyed at Micah for the usual reasons, maybe she was also standing up for you and Arthur.

“I don’t wanna hear another word outta you Mr. Bell,” Grimshaw stormed over to him and snatched the journal out of his hand.

“Aww but I was just havin’ some fun.”

“Like hell you were!”

She hurried over to you and shoved the journal into your arms. “I’ll see you bright and early for your chores. Til then, go rest.” Her tone was strict but again, you detected a hint of sympathy.

“Think about my offer princess!” Micah hollered as you stormed away in a huff, tears streaming down your face. They were angry tears primarily, but you couldn’t deny the embarrassment and sadness either. You headed towards a tree that lined the beach on the outskirts of camp, your favorite spot to read, write and have a moment of peace.

Enough time had passed that the sky above the lake had taken on shades of pink and purple, stars beginning to glimmer at the top. Although you managed to calm down somewhat, the anger in your gut was not subsiding. Footsteps gently approached behind you and a familiar voice came with them, "hey sweetheart, heard about the little uh...altercation."

You turned to see Arthur, leaning against the tree above you with a concerned look on his face. You were happy to see him but not thrilled to talk about what happened.

"If you're gonna tell me that's just how it is in the gang and I need thicker skin, I don't wanna hear it," you grumbled.

"Err well no, weren't gonna say anything like that," he was speaking gently and with consideration, "I uh...I brought you back somethin' actually, kinda silly I guess but..."

He sat in the grass and leaned against the tree next to you, broad shoulder brushing against yours. You watched as he shuffled through his satchel delicately until he found what he was looking for; a bundle of orchids and vanilla flowers. He sheepishly handed them to you and shrugged, a sideways grin on his face.

"You...you brought me flowers?" You handled them as if they were expensive jewels, butterflies dancing in your stomach.

"I know it doesn't make up for me bein' away, but I thought you'd like em," he looked away blushing slightly, voice barely above a whisper.

You were enamored seeing Arthur like this, the wanted outlaw who normally appeared brutish and rugged was instead boyish and nervous as he awaited your reply. You loved both sides of him but guessed that not many saw this one and felt privileged. He must have missed you too.

Tears welled in your eyes again as you felt a rush of new emotions combine with the negative ones still lingering, unable to keep from letting out soft sniffles.

Arthur stammered, "shit I...I'm sorry darlin' did I do somethin' wrong? You don't have to accept em if I'm bein' too forward..."

You felt guilty that he could think that at all and brought his face to yours for a gentle kiss. "No you sweet man, you didn't do anything wrong at all," you let go of him and wiped a tear away. "I'm sorry for being snappy when you got here, it's just been a bad few days and Micah was the last straw."

"He usually is..." Arthur remarked, relief in his voice that it wasn't about the flowers. He put his arm around you and pulled you close to his side, squeezing gently. "Mary Beth just told me he stole your journal but didn't really go into detail. You can talk about it if ya want but...no pressure." He ended the statement with a kiss to the top of your head.

"It's embarrassing Arthur. It's bad enough that he made a scene outta keepin’ it away from me but he was loud about private things I wrote." You hesitated to continue but Arthur stayed quiet, not pressuring you either way.

"Well...you're probably gonna hear the rest from someone else anyway," you sighed. "I wrote about how I think of living with you someday. Somewhere quiet, you know...domestic. It's just silly daydreams and I don't want it to scare you away. I love the gang and this lifestyle, at least until we can't anymore. Which is why it was so humiliating, I don't want them all lookin’ down at me like I'm some schoolgirl with a crush. I've been so frustrated just cleanin' up the camp all the time instead of going out. I feel like this set me back in proving myself..." You spoke all in one breath and your voice wavered, happy to have gotten it off your chest but scared about the revealing nature. It left you feeling exposed.

Arthur gently grazed your arm with his fingertips letting a quiet moment pass before replying, "first of all you ain't gonna scare me away girl," he leaned away so that there was enough space for him to look you in the eye while saying this. "Second, there's no reason to be embarrassed...I think about them things too. Whether we wanna admit it or not it's gotta end someday. I never thought much about the after til I met you though..."

Hearing this made your breath hitch in your chest and your head spin. You never considered Arthur thought about those things as well and it filled you with relief and admittedly, anxiety. Would there be an after?

He continued, "besides the folk here who matter already think of ya as one of us. You ain't gotta prove shit, least of all to Micah Bell." He brought his hand to your face and wiped away a tear with the back of his knuckles, "I don't want you to waste no more tears on him darlin, please." You nodded and buried your head into his warm and secure chest, feeling his heart beat. "I could kick his ass if you want me to though, bastard deserves it."

"No Arthur, I'd love to see that but it's fine," you laughed appreciatively.

"I think I'd like to show ya somethin’..." he broke from your embrace to root through his satchel again before pulling out his own journal.

"You...you don't have to do that." Although you’d caught glimpses, most times anyone came near him if he was doodling or writing he would place it flatly against his chest or on the table before anyone inquired. Admittedly you'd wondered so often what it contained. What contents did Arthur Morgan spend so much time and effort putting to paper?

"Nah I want to, now c'mere," he stated nonchalantly before motioning for you to sit in front of him in the grass. You did as he requested, placing your body in front of his, back against his chest. Although you were on the outskirts of camp you were certain they could see you if they glanced over. Arthur had never been this public with his affection for you before. A quick kiss or hug occasionally, an arm around you or hand holding when it was dark and camp was sparsely populated, a quiet romp in his tent when everyone was sleeping, but it was never more than that.

He placed one arm around your stomach and rested the journal against your thighs. “Ain’t really showed these to anyone before,” he glanced nervously behind the two of you, “…but if I’m gonna it should be you, ’specially if it helps ya feel less embarrassed.” You weren’t able to see his face but could feel a smile as his stubbled cheek rested gently on your temple.

He flipped it open to a sketch of the mountains near Valentine. It was gorgeous and you felt flush with heat as your admiration of the man behind you overwhelmed, lucky to witness these portraits of his adventures and of his life. Snapshots of well-defined strangers, some drawn with a smile, some worn and grizzled, each shown with their own beauty, forever captured in an outlaws journal. A testament to a life well lived and the happenstance that allows people to meet. You found yourself unexpectedly emotional pondering what the future held for the pages in front of you. Would it be lost to time and the elements, the paper yellowed, rain soaked or burned? Would a loved one keep it as a precious memory after the two of you were gone? Or perhaps a sentimental stranger would come across it and think it was worth preserving with its insights into a time passed, people mourned, and landscapes changed.

You quietly observed his writings and art filled with gratitude that he trusted you enough to be open this way. It took some time before you could find any words and still struggled to express them properly. "Arthur...I...I don't know what to say. These are beautiful and you're so talented."

Feeling his large frame shrug dismissively behind you he murmured, "never really thought about it like that, 's just somethin' I like to do. Helps me relax."

"Well, I love them. I wanna hear some of the stories about these places and people if I haven't yet. They look like interesting folk."

"Oh they most certainly are," he laughed, "and I’m happy to do that."

His rough and calloused fingers turned the pages delicately to sketches of all manner of nature and manmade wonders. Trees beside waterfalls, rocky rivers, mysterious carvings, sunsets reflected in lakes, predator and prey.

Eventually the pages turned to a doodle of what you assumed was...a duck? It was practically a stick figure and maybe the size of a quarter, inexplicably the only drawing on that page, juxtaposed next to sweeping sketches of stunning landscapes. It was, well...cute, and slightly silly. You couldn't help but giggle.

"Now...the damn thing weren't sittin' still and this is all I could manage," Arthur murmured defensively but still in good humor.

"It ain't bad, it's just...he's so small and cute," you wiped a stray tear from before away, unable to contain your laughter. "I'm sorry darlin’ he just doesn't match the style of other drawings does he?"

"Yeah yeah sweetheart…” You turned to see Arthur roll his eyes with a smirk before softening his demeanor, nuzzling your neck and planting a kiss there. He moved his lips up to your ear. “See? Feelin’ better now ain’tcha? All I had to do was show ya my silly drawing.”

You never thought he would let his guard down this way, all to cheer you up. “I am feeling better Arthur, thank you. And I love all of your drawings.”

“Well, might as well show ya one more thing…”

Rustling through the journal for a specific page he carefully opened to something you never expected to see.

There you were on the paper in front of you. A small scene sat at the campfire, a beer in your hand. The world around you was more roughly sketched, while you were detailed. He caught the cascade of your hair perfectly and the toothy smile you so often had when enjoying the camaraderie of a relaxed evening with the gang.

You turned to look at Arthur and caught a rosy tint in his cheeks as he asked shyly, “whatcha think? This wasn’t too long after ya joined us and I just….couldn’t get ya off my mind. Always caught my eye sittin’ around sharing laughs with everyone.”

You gently ran your fingertips along the drawing as if you could feel the lines and depth, “I don’t know what to say Arthur, it’s lovely and I’m…so flattered.” You were stunned knowing that he admired you enough to draw you, especially that long ago.

“Easier for me to draw somethin’ when the inspiration’s so gorgeous.”

Arthur had been many things when the two of you began your courtship. He was kind, thoughtful, protective, but he bumbled through the flirtations, eventually needing you to take charge and show your interest. Mostly oblivious to it before then, partially from thinking someone like you couldn’t possibly be interested in him. This new confidence and smooth talk suited him. You laughed and turned to look at him again, “Arthur Morgan, where have you been hidin’ all this charm?”

“Gotta wait for the right time I guess,” he leaned forward to gently kiss you, his thumb holding your chin up to him.

“Your timing is impeccable.”

“Glad to hear it beautiful.”

Arthur put the journal back in his satchel and you settled comfortably against his back and lap, arms wrapped around your waist and chin rested on top of your head. The two of you sat melting into each other, watching the fireflies flicker and listening to the chorus of crickets as the sun dipped even further below the horizon.

Eventually Arthurbroke the comfortable silence, “whaddaya say I grab us a few beers and we can find a more secluded spot?” He gave a subtle wink.

“Sounds like a perfect end to the night.” Arthur gingerly removed himself from behind you and stood up as you suddenly realized one detail of the incident you forgot to mention, “oh…uh, another thing…I kinda mentioned us bein’ intimate in my journal - just ya know, how good it’s been. So…they all heard that too.”

Arthur stood slightly bow-legged as he rested his hands on his belt, “that don’t bother me, just happy to hear ya enjoy it so much,” he said with a cocky smile.

“Well Micah had to be nasty and comment on it, said if I wanna ‘take a ride with a real man…’ ”

Arthur scoffed. “Yeah well, I can make it so he hears ya with a real man tonight.” He said with more boldness than you’d ever heard from him.

You feigned propriety, “Mr. Morgan, is that really any way for a gentleman to talk?”

“Oh darlin’ I never said I was a gentleman…” his husky voice stated. Christ was it easy for him to rile you up. “I’ll be back in a bit beautiful, sit tight.”

You watched Arthur saunter back towards camp, excited for what was to come. You stretched and basked in the cool evening air, the weight of the day becoming considerably lighter. All of the stress and anger from earlier faded, tenderness and affection taking its place.

You found yourself thinking of how you would appreciate the sound of graphite on paper in Arthur’s tent during the early morning hours more now. Those peaceful moments when he awoke before you, the birds would chirp their sunrise songs, and he thought you were still asleep beside him.

[cassieb1617]

Always dragons💌

Pairing: Charlie Weasley xfem!healer!reader

Fluff/angst

Summary: Charlie introduced his girlfriend to his family and they don’t seem to like her very much.

Warnings: swear words; mentions of age gap and injuries; let me know if there is more

A/N: Requested by: anonymous. As always feedback is welcomed! <3 I hope you like it and I’m sorry again that it took me so long to write this.

Charlie loved his family. He really did. His brothers, sister and parents but he knew that they are a bit much sometimes. When he announced he wanted to work with dragons they went feral, having been told that working in romania with a bunch of dragons isn’t a right job and how dangerous it’a gonna be. Alas Charlie went anyway and he had never made such a good decision.

When he started working and taking care of the dragons Charlie often got injured and sent to see a healer, though it seems that he always went to you. Maybe it was because Charlie thinks you’re just too pretty not to go to. You didn’t mind of coure, frankly how could you? He was tall, handsome, muscular and not to mention good at talking. So it wasn’t really a surprise from anyone at the reserve when you both announced you were dating and you got support from everyone, even the dragons, mind you.

Since you started knowing each other, Charlie’s letters to Bill always contained at least a sentence about you and Bill’s letters always said something like ‘Charlie you are smitten’. When Charlie was asked by his mother to come home for christmas he saw this as the perfect opportunity to take you with him and meet the Weasley clan. So he wrote back to his mother, saying he will bring someone with him and Molly was overjoyed that Charlie has finally got himself a girlfriend.

When you first arrived at the burrow you were welcomed with the smell of fresh cooked food. The house was tall and seemed to be only stabled with magic - which it probably was. Molly took you in her arms and the twins, as crazy as it sounds - poked you at first. When you regarded them with an questioning glance they just answered with an ‘we thought you’ ‘were a dragon’. You just let it go. Arthur was nice, though a little muggle obsessed but it suits him. Percy wasn’t there and you knew Bill already from school. You helped him out sometimes. Ron was kind but closed off with his friends. He was cute, he always stuttered when you talked to him the same shy way Charlie did at first. It was sweet really. Harry Potter, Ron’s best friend, was really kind to you and blushed a lot, maybe it was because they were so young?

Ginny was probably the person who distrusted and disliked you the most. She said awful things about you with Hermione and even though Mrs. Weasley defended you, you could see the way she wasn’t overly fond of you either. You didn’t know what you did wrong, you were kind to them and thanked them for the hospitality.

Maybe it was the age gap between you and Charlie. It wasn’t big really but you were still five years older than him. It was unnatural for women to be older than men in relationships. But it was great for you and Charlie and worked out pretty well.

The final pull was when you heard them talking about you with Molly. Fleur got there the day before and you got along really well. So when you both were talking and heard them calling you a cougar and saying you were in search for a child it was enough for you. It wasn’t okay of them to call you such things. Charlie was, one, not the richest person that exists and two, he was definitely to old to be a child. Although you could think sometimes he didn’t grow with his brain in the way he talks to his dragons but that’s beside the point.

Fleur told you that they said similar things to her when they met her because she was a Veela and frensh and god knows what but it still annoyed you. Oh boy, and Charlie noticed that you were annoyed, you were acting the sameas before but he couldn’t help but notice the way your smile vanished as soon as it came or how tight lipped you were sitting there. So when you got back to romania he confronted you.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asked as soon as your shoes were seated on the floor. “Nothing.” It was short and definitely not convincing but you didn’t care. “Tell me what’s wrong? You’ve been acting like that for a while.” He practically insisted an answer.

“I think we should break up.” You finally said, no, shouted. He faltered, his face fell and you wished you hadn’t said anything at all. The sight before yoh broke you, he looked like a puppy that just got kicked. “What? No! Why would you say that?” His voice was hard.

“I’m not right for you. You should be spending your life with someone your family likes. Someone who wasn’t already finished with her healer exams when you were startung your OWLs. Someone better.” Your answer softened him. “Why would you say that? You’re right for me, who would take care of me if you weren’t there? And my family can be a bit much but they will learn how to adore you. And even if they wouldn’t, I won’t care what they have to say to me. And our age difference doesn’t matter to me, I thought you knew that.” He spoke so fast you thought a lightning stroke him. “And there’s no better one for me.” It was his final answer and then he took you in his arms. Swaying you from left to right and back, he took your hand in his and danced with you. Maybe it seemed wrong or confused to others as to why you would dance now but that always calmed you. And when you put your head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat, you knew everything is going to be alright.

“And anyway, my real family is here in romania. And they do adore you, the dragons.” Typical Charlie Weasley. Always dragons.

[rebelsandtherest]

Trailmates

🇨🇦 Happy Canada Day, everyone 🇨🇦

A couple of very old (but really rather young) cowboys enjoy some time on the ol' prairie trails.

Length: 2,361 words

Warnings: Language. Otherwise, it’s pure fluff.

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

Before Edison had stumbled upon a design that captured light within glass, before telephones or wires or cables, the world had been simpler, darker, brighter. Cities lapped up every bulb they could find, and high noon in New York City was painted black with cables, but out here, the world was still too wild for wires, too dark for bulbs, too bright for smoke.

Matthew had always found the plains unnerving, he knew. Unnatural, the Canadian had complained, far more than once. He missed the river, the lakes, the landscape that shaped home. So this year, they’d agreed to plot their trail further east; over and upwards to the water. It was not entirely for Matthew’s sake; Alfred had raised himself along the shores of the great lakes before he knew he had a brother staring back at him from the other side.

That had been then; now they were here together, as they’d always meant to be, Matthew’s heart for the water at peace with Alfred’s true love of sky, forested plains of earth spread wide to frame a never-ending field of stars, a freshwater sea below to reflect and refract.

“Do you ever wonder,” Alfred asked aloud, head cushioned by a saddlebag and the saddle itself, “why stars are so beautiful?” Matthew wasn’t looking at the stars, but rather their reflection on the eddies of Lake Superior's northern shore.

“Sometimes,” he said, watching the unpredictable shapes and halos of starlight on the lake. “But I don’t see why beauty needs a reason.”

“Hmm,” Alfred smiled, eyes dancing across Hercules, Cygnus, Sagittarius. Arthur had taught him the names when he was still small, but their imagined patterns danced across his mind’s eye more vividly than they had in his youth. “No reason,” Alfred agreed. “Just more cause to wonder.”

“You think too much,” Matt yawned, rolling his shoulders and tipping his head further back across his saddle, brown bay horse snuffling audibly in the sand nearby.

“Eh, what’s new,” Alfred smirked, reaching out to scratch the curled neck of the drowsy Appaloosa laid down at arm’s reach. She snorted and shifted, but did not fully rouse. Their campfire was still burning; a determined set of flames still flickering against the sand. The cast iron pot of bread still sat warming on the ashes, and the pan beside still smelled of duck and wild onions. Mixed with the coffee and bourbon they’d shared after dinner, their camp still smelled like a feast, but the crackling of the fire and the lap of the water on the shore was enough to hypnotize a man.

“You aren’t falling asleep now, are ya?” Alfred teased his brother, leather creaking under his head when he turned to look over at him.. “I thought you said you were gonna stay up, remember?”

“What? No, I’m awake,” Matt slurred, eyelids wavering. Alfred smirked, cleared his throat, and sang:

“ Oh buryyy me nooot on the lone prairie,”

“ Crisse de câlice , stop ,”

“Where coyotes howl and the wind blows free,”

“Did you have to choose the most depressing song ?”

“In a narrow grave just six by three—”

“Alfred.”

“Hey, it woke you back up, didn’t it?” Alfred defended. “You’re lucky I don’t have my harmonica with me.”

“Oh, Christ, I’m so glad you didn’t bring it with you.”

“Bring it?” The saddle squeaked louder when Alfred turned his head practically upside down to look over at his brother, who lay further up the beach. You squashed it.”

“ It had it coming,” Matt said, staring up at the stars.

“It was a good harmonica!” Alfred insisted. “Cost me a pretty penny too .”

“It’s your own fault for wasting money on a noise machine. I was doing you a favor.” There was some rustling and suddenly the stiff brim of Alfred’s hat was colliding with Matt’s cheekbone.

“Goddamn—“ Matt yelped and whacked it away, making Alfred laugh. The Canadian grumbled in French and threw the hat aside, further away from his brother.

“Give it back,” Alfred demanded.

“No, you threw it over here,” Matt resettled himself against the saddle, crossing his arms and snuggling deeper into the still-warm sand beneath his bedroll.

“Matt,”

“If you wanted to keep it, why did you throw it?”

“Give it back.”

“No.”

“I’m taking your fiddle home with me.”

“What?” Matt actually sat up straight, startling Alfred’s horse into a sleepy snort. “You can’t—you fucker!”

“If you wanted to keep it,” Alfred teased, “why’d you put it on my pack?” Before Alfred could say anything more, Matt clambered to stand and stomped across the camp towards Alfred, promptly ransacking the pile of supplies Alfred had so neatly arranged hours prior, searching for the hard leather case he’d asked his brother to carry.

“Hey— Hey now, that was—Matt, for pete’s sake, I was kidding, stop ruining the supplies! That was organized, you’ll get sand in the coffee!” Matt ignored him and did not cease his rummaging until he had his fiddle’s roughed-up leather case hugged to his chest.

“You ain’t taking my fiddle,” Matt snapped at him, a rare plains burl creeping into his voice as he pulled the instrument to his chest. He returned to his bedroll and sat, seemingly appeased. His voice returned to its soft Ontario tone when he said, “Arthur gave me this, you know.”

“Oh?” Alfred hadn’t known that. “When?”

“Back in the day,” Matt replied, flipping open the latches to look at the instrument and unable to keep the nostalgic smile from creeping across his face. “I don’t remember the exact year. He bought it from Paris.”

“ Arthur went to Paris? Back in the day?”

“ Ouais.”

“Wonders never cease,” Alfred chuckled. He stood upright with a groan and begun correcting the havoc Matt had caused to their pile of supplies. “You could have at least tried to not ruin the whole thing,” he grumbled, and Matt scoffed. But when Matt took the fiddle out of its case and began pulling the horsehair bow over the strings to test its tune, Alfred fell silent. Matt tuned his fiddle to the sound of the sleepless lake, and Alfred didn’t complain as he re-stacked their supplies.

“What time is it, anyway, you reckon?” Matt asked, once all four strings satisfied him.

“Mmmmm,” Alfred turned to squint up at the constellations, “Sunset wasn’t too long ago. Nine thirty, maybe?”

“Hmm. Not late enough, probably, eh?”

“Not quite.”

With that, Matt began pulling the bow back across his fiddle, slowly this time, lazily shifting across the strings in a key that made Alfred’s heart ache with something he couldn’t identify. He played a bit of one melody, and when he grew bored, another.

He was so absorbed in his aimless play that his arm jittered to an off-key stop when he heard the first plucks of Alfred’s banjo. He looked over to his brother, and in the waning firelight could see the man’s smile as he adjusted the pegs.

“Did Arthur buy you that one?” Matt joked, and Alfred laughed from his belly, just like Matt had intended.

“Maybe he did!” the American said through his mirth, plucking and tuning with a grin still shining bright in the orange light of the camp. “By buying up the grain he couldn’t grow himself.” Alfred tweaked the tune until he was satisfied, and gave a strong full-handed strum that made his horse snort and roll away, kicking out a hind leg in a show of annoyance.

“Hey now, girl, it wasn’t that off tune,” he chided, but still leaned over to scratch her hindquarters in apology. Alfred resettled himself against his saddle, low against his back, and began to strum more quietly, as Matt resumed his fiddling. They played in separate streams for a while, but slowly fell together in an improvised melody, an instinctual ritual they’d been practicing for eons.

“Know any good ���uns?” Alfred asked.

“Hmm,” Matt shuffled in his spot, trying to find a comfortable position. “Let’s see here.” He cleared his throat, and began to play.

The pull of the bow tugged Alfred’s ears straight home, to wild honey and hearth and the smell of the mountains, to the unlikely frontiersman who’d brought the melody west. To Matt, it sounded different, like salt water and snow, rocky shores and soft souls who pressed onward against the winter wind. Each way, it was easy to fall into time. Like moonshine and coffee, the notes swirled together, and Matthew began to sing:

“All day long on the prairies I rise, Not even a dog to trot by my side;”

Smiling, Alfred adjusted his grip on the fret, and began to strum the banjo as soft as he could, hooking onto the tune of Matt’s fiddle as if they’d practiced for years. Matthew began again, Alfred now humming in until his voice found the harmony,

“All day long on the prairies I rise, Not even a dog to trot by my side; My fire I kindle with chips gathered round, My coffee I boil without being ground.”

“At least we have that,” Alfred said, and Matt gave a snort.

"I wash in a pool and wipe on a sack;”

Alfred snorted this time, and Matt rolled his eyes.

“I carry my wardrobe all on my back; For want of an oven I cook bread in a pot, And sleep on the ground for want of a cot.

My ceiling is the sky, my floor is the grass, My music is the lowing of the herds as they pass; My books are the brooks, my sermons the stones, My parson is a wolf on his pulpit of bones.

And then if my cooking is not very complete You can't blame me for wanting to eat. But show me a man that sleeps more profound Than the big puncher-boy who stretches himself on the groun—”

“Oh, christ,” Matt’s fiddle squealed when he jumped. A loud, electric alarm was splitting the night air, and Alfred could see light glowing from under Matt’s saddle. He laughed.

“You gonna get that?”

“Oh shut up—” Matt set aside his fiddle and frantically dug under his things. He tapped furiously at the satellite smartphone to make it shut up, but immediately shouted in pain when the screen lit up at full brightness, right in his face. Alfred laughed happily at his brother’s expense. After much creative cursing, Matt found the button to shut off the alarm and pressed it ten times more than he needed to.

“What was that set for?” Alfred asked.

“It’s midnight,” Matt replied. “You were way off.”

“What?” Alfred glared indignantly up at the sky. “I’m not that out of practice. Wait.” He whipped his head back down to Matt. “The score.”

“I know.”

“What’s the score?”

“Shut up! I’m looking.”

“You’re going down,” Alfred declared, and Matt gave him the finger with his right hand while his left hand frantically tapped through the apps on his phone. There was a long silence while he waited for the browser to load, punctuated only by water and crickets and wind in the leaves.

“HA!” burst the Canadian, and the sound echoed off the lake and back, startling their horses once more.

“NO,” his brother moaned, throwing himself backwards in anger, banjo still splayed across his lap. “What the hell,” Matt’s grin was ear to ear, illuminated by the light of the screen. Still seated, he did a little dance, tapping through to the details.

“Jays 4, Sox nil.”

“Oh, fuck that!” Alfred shouted, and Matthew cackled. “Homefield advantage my ass, ugh! You stupid fuck!” Matt just laughed some more.

“I cannot wait for the dinner when we get back,” Matt said, “god, imagine it, a real shower, no more camp food, shampoo. It’s so kind of you to pay for it all, really, you shouldn’t have,” the blonde didn’t bother to fight his cheshire grin.

“And I’m not going to ,”

“Oh yes you are, you said there wasn’t a limit if Boston scored zero,” Alfred was groaning on the ground, shoving the heels of his palms into his eyes. “New shoes, whiskey, poutine, lobster—”

“I don’t think they have lobster in Duluth—”

“Oh, and new flannels,” Matt added, “the moths got to mine.”

“You’re the worst.”

“You made the bet, I just accepted it.” Matt set aside his phone, and the world was dark once more, fire flickering, stars shimmering, waves lapping as they had for centuries before they made stupid baseball game bets. Buoyed by his teams’ win, Matt began to pluck at his fiddle again in meaningless, chipper chords. Alfred remained on the ground, staring up at the sky, left hand fiddling with the fret of his banjo.

“Midnight, you said?” Alfred suddenly asked.

“Yeah,” Matt confirmed, “Why?”

“Happy birthday, Mattie.” Matt actually stopped what he was doing so he could blink in the dark. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

“No,” Matt said, picking up his bow. “Of course not.”

“Good, ‘cause I got you something for the morning—it’s not wrapped, but still,” Alfred said, sitting back up and adjusting his banjo. Matthew’s heart warmed.

“You did?”

“It’s not lobster,” Alfred warned, and Matthew laughed.

“God, can you imagine? If we’d’ve had lobster back then, out on the trail?” Matt rested the fiddle more on his chest than his shoulder, playing through their abandoned melody with newfound glee.

“Lord almighty,” Alfred said, letting his prairie drawl come back on through, “I would’ve found new ways to die by the time it made it west.” He sat back up to adjust his instrument in his lap, finding the strings and the song with the guidance of Matthew’s tune. They played together in a variegated cycle, repeating the familiar chorus notes over and over as they found each other’s tempo.

“Thanks, Alfred,” Matthew said in the midst of it.

“One hundred and fifty-five,” Alfred said back to him, “and here’s to many more. After you,” he gestured, and let Matt lead as they continued right where they’d left off.

“My books teach me ever consistence to prize, My sermons, that small things I should not despise; My parson remarks from his pulpit of bones That fortune favors those who look out for their own.”

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

The song featured here is called "The Cowboy", published in the 1911 book "Cowboy Songs and Other Frontier Ballads", which can be found for free on the University of Nebraska's Digital Commons.

[ameliora-j]

twin flame ii // gw x reader

words: 2k

warnings: angst. like a LOT. bestfriend breakup, mention of blood

a/n: this one is significantly shorter than the first,, sry besties :)

part one | part three | part four

your heart twisted itself in pained knots, increasing the pounding of your head tenfold. it had been this way for days now. christmas with the weasleys came and went and the tension between you and george was thick. you could barely even look at each other without passing hard glares. you had all planned to go to the field at the back of the burrow and play quidditch, and you were currently tasked with collecting george. you knocked gently on the twins’ door before opening it. “hi georgie,” you beamed.

“hello butterfly,” he spat the nickname bitterly and you were taken aback. you ignored the twinge of pain in your chest as you stepped further into the room.

“um… we’re all gonna go and play quidditch. if you wanna join,” you offered a smile. “i need my broom partner,” you had never learned how to fly a broom. you figured life should be lived on the ground, the way merlin intended it to be.

“no thanks,” he grumbled.

“c’mon georgie, we’re the dream team!” you persisted.

“why don’t you ask charlie to be apart of your dream team. seems he’s already replaced me with everything else in your life,” the last part was muffled, not intended for your ears, but you still heard it. you furrowed your brows slightly before answering.

“don’t be silly georgie, i can’t play quidditch without my partner. you can’t break up the dream team,” you pushed, ignoring your confusion.

“yn, i’d really rather not watch you eye-fuck my brother. go ask him to be on your team. or better yet, learn to fly a broom. it’s truly not that hard of a task, even a simpleton such as yourself should be able to catch on quickly,” he seethed.

your heart skipped a beat as it sunk to your stomach and tears pooled at your bottom lash line. you nodded once and pivoted on your heel to leave the room. you sniffled quietly as you closed the door to his room and went downstairs. “george?” fred asked as you came into view.

“he doesn’t wanna play,” you murmured half heartedly as you pushed passed the group of people to go outside. you released a sigh as you plunked yourself down onto the grass, lying back and throwing your arms over your eyes as you forced yourself to keep your tears at bay.

“hey, ynn, c’mon you can fly with me,” charlie offered with a smile as he held a strong arm out to you.

“nah, ‘s okay charlie. i’ll watch with fleur and hermione,” you murmured softly.

charlie’s brows furrowed slightly. you had never called him ‘charlie.’ it was always ‘char char.’ “you okay?” he asked and you simply nodded in response. he released a sigh as he jogged to the center of the field where his other siblings, and harry, were at.

“what happened mon amour?” fleur asked you softly.

“he called me stupid,” you sniffled. “said i replaced him with charlie but i didn’t,” you whimpered softly as you confided in the two girls sat on your sides. “he hates me. this was a stupid plan. ‘m just gonna go home,” you sobbed softly, causing fleur to pull your head to her lap as she trekked her fingers through your hair.

“i’m sorry, yn. i didn’t know he would react like this,” hermione spoke softly.

“not your fault, mione,” you murmured half heartedly as you stood and wiped your eyes. “‘m gonna go home,” you released a shaky breath as you pushed yourself to stand.

you dusted your bottom off as you walked back into the burrow. you waved your wand, packing your stuff neatly in your bag before you wrote a note, thanking molly and arthur and left it on the counter. you grabbed your bag and headed to the fireplace, throwing the floo powder and taking yourself to your childhood home.

“hey yn!” your older brother greeted. “thought you were spending break with the weasleys?” he asked, confused.

“yeah,” you murmured despondently as you walked up to your room.

“okay?” his brows furrowed slightly. when you got to your room, you took out a pair of sweatpants and a gryffindor sweatshirt that you stole from george’s wardrobe and forced yourself to shower.

the water was hot. boiling even. you should have flinched at the heat. screamed. cried. something. but you didn’t. you couldn’t. you were uncomfortably numb. so you just stood there, unmoving, staring at the shower wall as the scorching hot water fell over your body. your breaths came out irregularly as you stood there. your body was screaming for you to get out. to turn down the heat of the water. to do something to stop the pain of the burns. but your mind told you that you deserved this. you needed to feel something other than the pain twisting around in your chest.

by the time you stepped out, your skin was tinted with a slight pinkish color. you took a ragged breath in as you dried yourself off and pulled on the sweatpants and sweatshirt. you didn’t even bother brushing through your hair as you pulled up the hoodie and tied the strings tightly. you whimpered soft as your tears made a trail on the floor on your trek back to your room. you crawled out of your window and climbed up to the roof. you ended up falling asleep on your roof, exhausted from the weight of your tears.

~~

you spent the rest of your christmas break—and longer—at your own home. you didn’t return untill fred had owled you telling you had three more days of paid vacation for the year. you flooed to your shared apartment with the twins and changed into your uniform, brushing through the knots in your hair that had accumulated over the days you laid in bed, sulking. you walked down the stairs into the shop as you pulled your hair into a ponytail and took your post at the till. “sorry ‘m late,” you murmured to fred, who appeared to be filling in for you at the present moment.

“you okay, bunny?” fred asked as he slid over so you could take over. you could only manage a despondent hum as you began working.

“thank you for shopping with weasley’s wizard wheezes, were you able to find everything okay today?” you asked the young wizard at the counter with a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

that’s basically how the rest of your day went. forcing your tears back everytime george had to speak to you and being only half present with the customers instead of your usual lively self. when the day had ended and george locked the doors, you walked into the twins’ office and handed fred an envelope. “what’s this, bunny?” he asked you.

“my two weeks,” you murmured softly.

“you’re quitting?” he asked with raised brows.

“yeah,” you murmured. “found a job uh… closer to home. my brothers will be by to collect my stuff tomorrow,” you told him. “‘m gonna go pack,” you didn’t let fred say more as you quickly turned on your heel and walked back up to the apartment. “sorry,” you murmured as you bumped into george on your way up. he only gave you a distracted grunt in response.

as you walked up the stairs, you heard the argument brew between fred and george on your behalf. “fix her!” fred demanded.

“i didn’t do anything!” george defended.

“you broke her,” fred pushed back.

“she’s fine,” you could practically hear george roll his eyes.

“she’s quitting.” fred deadpanned.

“what?” george asked, shock lacing his tone.

“and she’s moving back with her brothers. so go and fix her. make this right,” you decided to end your eavesdropping here and rushed upstairs and into george’s room, where all your things were kept. you knelt on the floor as you took out your suitcases. you were halfway done when you heard the door creak open.

“butterfly?” your heart twisted and tears stung the backs of your eyes at the nickname you hadn’t heard in over a week. “whatcha up to?” he asked.

“packing,” you murmured softly, but he heard. and boy did he miss your voice like hell.

“for what?” he asked curiously as he sat on his bed.

“‘m moving back home. got a new job,” never once did you look up from your task, for you knew if you did, you would break.

“where at, butterfly?” he knelt on the floor in front of you as he began to help you fold your clothes.

“some muggle bookstore. ‘s close to the house,” your murmurs could barely be heard over the loud thumping of both of your hearts. however, george picked up on every word. he grasped your hands in his, effectively stopping your progress. “george please,” you whispered.

“look at me, butterfly,” he demanded softly.

“george,” you repeated a little bit louder.

“look at me. and tell me this will make you happy. and i will let you walk out that door.” you didn’t. you couldn’t. you knew that this isn’t what you wanted as well as he did. “you can’t, right? because it won’t,” he pointed out.

“i can’t be here, george. i don’t want to be,” you told him, still refusing to meet his gaze.

“why? because of me? because i will leave. yn, if that’s what it takes to make you happy, then i will walk out of that door and go back to live with mum. you only ever have to see me in a professional setting. and i’ll communicate with you through fred at work,” he spoke seriously.

“i don’t want that, george. and neither do you,” you told him.

“i don’t, but if it makes you happy then that’s what you’ll get,” he told you.

“no george!” you shouted.

“then what do you want?!” he shouted back.

“you george!” you yelled, finally meeting his gaze. “i want you! i’ve only ever wanted you but you’re too fucking stupid to see what’s right in front of you! i mean merlin’s beard george i’ve been in bloody love with you since fifth fucking year but you’re never seen it!” you finally released all the emotions you’ve been holding in for years. “i just wanted you,” you whispered softly, your voice cracking as tears fell.

you pushed yourself to stand from the floor and waved your wand, packing the rest of your stuff as you grabbed your suitcase. “butterfly, i-“ you quickly cut him off.

“don’t, george.” there was acrimony written all over your tone. “i don’t want your pity.” you sniffled and hastily wiped your eyes. you passed fred on your way out.

“yn?” he asked softly.

“bye fred,” you murmured softly. “i changed my mind. my resignation is effective immediately. i won’t be in tomorrow.”

“yn wait,” fred called.

“please don’t,” you shook your head. “d-don’t try and get me to stay. please just… just leave me alone,” you sniffled.

“i’m sorry…” he spoke softly. you just shook your head and wiped your tears away as you flicked your wand to apparate back home. when you landed on the road a few miles away from your house, you let out a wail of agony. your arm had splinched during the apparition process. you took a deep breath and pushed yourself through it. you knew this was a bad idea. every wizarding book in history advised against it. even a muggle would know not to. but you pushed past the thoughts to apparate into your living room.

“yn!” your older brother shouted as he saw you, blood pouring from your splinched right arm. you were only able to take two steps before you fell to the floor of your living room. you let out a soft groan and a whine of agony before closing your eyes, letting the feelings consume you. the pain in your arm cancelled out the pain in your chest as you let darkness overcome you, falling into the void, listening to the frantic screaming voices of your siblings.

stupid feelings. stupid boys. stupid george weasley. stupid twin flame.

twin flame. it’s almost laughable now. what a lie.

tags: @i-love-scott-mccall @ellerosie2332 @rmvb24 @astralpcrker @daisybloommm @maybeisthemoon @moonliightbabes @stormi-ames @jochim322 @coninl @melonoptimist @lunajoyce3 @clairdemoony @mangoberry99 @imclueless @enya-2004 @prongsyy @lol-whoandwhat-is-dis @burnfleur @anything444ourmoony @horrorxweasley @alicecullens-gf @theincredibledeadlyviper @georgeweasleyshoe3697 @narwhalebaby

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add yourself to my taglist

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[queenxxxsupreme]

Defender, Protector, Keeper (Arthur Morgan x f!reader)

A/N: This is one of those things I write that should have a first part but.... It doesn’t.... I do plan on making more within this little.... world??? With this mom!reader and her son Ben. So sorry for this mess. 

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: violence, nothing out of canon, Micah is mean to children, mute child (is that a warning?) fluff, Arthur being a father figureish thing, soft Arthur, I don’t know what else to tag, blood? it’s all canon to the game

Summary: Arthur steps in to help you with your son after a run in with Micah.

***

“Miss Y/L/N! Miss Y/L/N!”

You moved out of the tent upon hearing Mrs. Grimshaw calling your name. 

“Right here, Mrs. Grimshaw.” 

“There you are. Where is that boy of yours?” She looked around as if trying to peek into the tent. I’ve got a little chore for him and Jack.”

“He was just in here helping me with laundry, but he wouldn’t mind giving you a hand.” You turned to go into the tent. “Ben? Mrs. Grimshaw needs your help.”

Ben, your five-year-old son, put the clothing in his hand down and looked at you. 

“Come on with me, Ben. I’ve already got Jack over by the woods.” Susan gestured for him to follow her.

“What are the boys going to do?” You asked her. 

“Help Lenny and Sean pick some firewood. The little fellas ain’t gonna pick nothin’ but some small kindling. The fellas– Well, Lenny won’t let the boys hurt themselves.”

You fought the urge to volunteer to follow your son. It was just little kindling sticks and twigs. It wasn’t like they were going to chop down entire trees.

Susan, sensing your hesitation, stopped just at the edge of your tent.

“They aren’t going far into the woods at all, Y/N. Charles and Bill are on guard duty and Sean and Lenny are going to be with them. Nothin’s gonna happen to those boys.” She assured you.

You nodded your head, reaching down to run your fingers over Ben’s hair. 

“Go on and help Mrs. Grimshaw, Ben.”

He silently followed alongside her. 

You continued to fold laundry until it was finished. Once that was complete, you decided to go out and see if there was anything else around camp you could help with. 

It seemed to be a rather mellow evening. No one was out doing any jobs nor was anyone talking about any jobs, which was a rarity. In the three months that you had been staying with the Van Der Linde Gang, you had quickly realized their lifestyle was fast paced and there was almost always something to do. 

You made your way over towards the tent the girls in camp stayed in. 

“Hi, Y/N.” Tilly greeted you first. She was reading a book.

“Hey, Y/N!” Mary-Beth was also reading. Karen sat on a chair next to the two singing. “You wanna sit with us for a bit? You’ve been working hard all day.”

“That’s okay, Mary-Beth. I think I should go see if Ben is doing okay with Sean and Lenny.” You looked around towards the woods.

“What’s he doing with those two fools?” Tilly put her book down in her lap. 

“Mrs. Grimshaw had him and Jack helping them with firewood.”

“Last I saw, Lenny and Sean were sitting over by the fire.”

A knot began to form in your stomach. Why hadn’t your son returned to you?

You moved to search for Lenny and Sean, but they proved to be easy to find. They were sitting at a fire with a few other gang members. 

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” You cut off Sean. “Where is Ben at?”

“Hi, Miss Y/L/N.” Lenny gave you a charming smile. “Ben and Jack went over towards John and Abigail’s tent. Jack said they were going to play.”

“Thank you, Mr. Summers.” 

***

You did indeed find your son at John and Abigail’s tent. He sat outside of it with Jack. Jack was talking about some sort of story that Hosea had told him about a bear while your little Benny just kept playing with his half of the deck of cards. 

“Y/N.”

You looked up to Abigail. 

“Hi, Abigail.”

“I hope you don’t mind that Jack brought Ben over. I know Susan had them working earlier.”

“I don’t mind.” You shook your head, smiling. You crossed your arms as you watched Ben. Jack didn’t seem to care that Ben was silent and wasn’t responding to him. Jack had learned since you both arrived at camp that talking wasn’t something Ben did, so he usually did all of the talking for Jack. You were thankful for this. In the beginning, you weren’t sure how young Jack would react to your quiet son. 

“Do you want to sit down and have a cup of coffee with me?” Abigail asked. “I don’t usually get much down time, but neither do you. You’re always running around.”

“Have to keep busy, you know.” You chuckled a little. “Coffee sounds nice.”

The both of you got your drinks and then sat down at a table not too far from the boys. 

“They grow like weeds.” She thought out loud, shaking her head softly. “I’m gonna have to get Jack some new clothes soon. He’s about to be too big for nearly all the pants he’s got. Maybe Ben could fit into what Jack can’t wear. Ben is a little thing. That way you don’t have to go out and waste money. I mean, the clothes aren’t perfect. Jack has needed them patched more than once. But they work.”

“That’s very kind of you, Abigail. Thank you.”

She gave you a smile.

“Momma! Momma!” Jack called as he ran over to Abigail. 

Ben rushed up to you, a smile on his lips. His hair fell into his face and he tried to wipe it out of his eyes but he didn’t do too good of a job.

“Hi, love.” You smiled down at him, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Are you having fun?”

He nodded, looking over to Jack. 

“Momma, can we go give Sean his cards back?”

“Where is Sean at?” Abigail asked, looking around the camp. 

“He’s just on the other side of camp at one of the other fires.” You told her, recalling where you had seen him earlier.  

“If Miss Y/L/N says that Ben can go, then yes. You can. But you have to ask her.”

Ben tugged on your skirt as if to ask you.

“Miss Y/L/N! Can we take Sean his cards?” Jack waved the stack of cards around.

“I don’t see why not.”

“I’ll race you over there!” 

You watched as Jack took off first with Ben just behind him. 

“I’m glad Jack finally has someone to play with and keep him company.” Abigail smiled. 

“They get along so well.” You nodded. “I was a little…. worried at first, if I’m honest.”

“Oh really?”

“Just because…. Well, sometimes it’s hard for Ben.”

Abigail nodded her head understandingly. 

“He’s a sweet boy, Y/N. You raised him well.”

“Thank you-,”

“You dumb little rat! Watch where you’re going next time!”

You stood up upon hearing the sound of shouting. Feeling the urge to find out what had happened, you ventured across camp until you found your son and Micah Bell. Micah had a hold of Ben’s arm and was holding him at an awkward angle. 

“When someone speaks to you, little boy, you’re supposed to answer them!”

“Micah!” You raised your voice. 

Micah turned his head to look at you but didn’t let your son’s arm go. 

Anger bubbled in your veins. 

“Ah, the whore. Maybe someone better teach this boy manners before he ends up worse than his ma.”

You pushed against Micah’s chest. Ben was crying at this point, trying to grab onto your skirt anywhere he could but Micah was finding amusement in pulling the boy away from you. 

“Micah! Get your hands off of that boy!” Abigail shouted. 

The next few moments happened all too quickly for you to know what exactly happened. But Micah released Ben and he fell backwards to the ground. Your hand flew up to smack him and you landed a nice hit on his cheek, but he was quicker than you and far more skilled in fighting so the backhand to your cheek came out of seemingly nowhere. 

You took a few steps back to keep from falling flat on your ass. You ended up hitting something solid. A hand found your side and another your arm. 

It was Arthur Morgan. He only took a couple seconds to make sure you were steady on your feet before moving around you to deliver two punches to Micah. The nasty man fell back as blood began to pour out of his nose. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” Abigail rushed to one side of you and Mary-Beth came to the other. 

You didn’t answer them. You only pushed them away to get to your son. 

Tears streamed down his cheeks as he sat in the dirt where he had fallen. 

There was a hand on your wrist that stopped you just before you could get to him. 

Arthur turned you back around to face him. You pulled against him, wanting desperately to get to your son.

“You’ve got blood on ya, pumpkin.” He murmured quietly, using his thumb to wipe away the little bit of blood from your busted lip. “He don’t need to see that.”

“Th-Thank you.” You whispered. 

“Can I pick him up? Move him somewhere else for you?”

You nodded. 

Arthur let you go and moved towards Ben. 

“Come here, Benny. You alright?”

Ben nodded his head, shyly tucking his face into Arthur’s neck.

Arthur took him to a table and sat him down on it, then pulled out a chair for you. But you couldn’t sit down just yet. You had to make sure he was okay. 

Your hands cupped his face and tilted his head up so you could check him over for any marks. 

“Are you okay, love? Does anything hurt?”

He held up his hands to you, showing that his palms were scraped up and bleeding a little. He sniffled, his bottom lip quivering. 

“I’ll get somethin’ to clean those up, Y/N.” Mary-Beth spoke, moving towards Strauss’s wagon.

Upon seeing the scratches and bleeding scrapes from Ben falling back and catching himself on his hands, anger welled up inside of Arthur. 

He turned and started to make his way towards Micah. 

“Arthur! Arthur Morgan!” Abigail called after him, but she couldn’t stop him herself. “John! Mr. Smith! Please!”

You couldn’t pay attention to what was happening with Arthur right now. Ben was important and took priority. 

You brushed his hair back and sat down in front of him. 

“I’m so sorry you got hurt, love.” You leaned forward to kiss his cheek. 

He wrapped his arms around your neck, careful not to touch you with his injured hands, and then slid down into your lap. 

A few moments later, Mary-Beth returned with a bowl of water and a few rags. Tilly was with her too, helping to carry bandages. 

“Are you alright, Benji?” Tilly asked. He nodded his head without lifting it from your chest. “He didn’t get too hurt by that nasty Micah, did he?”

“Think it just spooked him more than anything.” You answered her. “Thank you, girls.”

The items were placed on the table and then they left. 

“Ben, I need you to sit on the table so I can reach you, love.”

He shook his head. 

“We’ve got to get these scratches cleaned up, okay? We don’t want them to get yucky.”

A hand found your shoulder. You looked to see Arthur moving around your chair. 

“Lemme give ya some help. That way Benny can stay on your lap where he’s comfortable.”

You nodded your head, giving him a little smile as a thank you. 

“Hey, Benny? Can I see your hands?”

Benny shifted around on your lap so that he could easily face Arthur. He gave Arthur one hand. 

“This might sting just a bit, but I promise it’ll be over soon.” 

Arthur got a rag wet and began to clean the dirt and little bit of blood from Ben’s small palm. 

“You’re a strong fella, Benny. You know that?”

Ben sniffled. 

“I heard you helped Sean and Lenny with getting firewood. Did you carry all the big logs by yourself?”

A little grin tugged at your son’s lips. He shook his head. 

Once he was cleaned up and Arthur had carefully wrapped up his hands, Ben looked around for Jack. He was with Hosea. The two weren’t very far away at all. Ben shimmied down from your lap but stayed by you. His eyes were focused on Jack. He wanted to go play with his friend. 

“You can go on, love.” You told him. He flashed you a little toothy smile before taking off in the direction of Hosea and Jack. 

Arthur stayed on his knees beside you for a few moments, watching Ben go. He let out a breath through his nose and shook his head. 

“That bastard is lucky I don’t put a bullet in him.” He rose to his feet, shaking his head. 

“Ben is okay, Arthur.” You turned your head to look at him. “He just…. He was just shaken up a bit. But he’s okay.”

“He hit you too. No man should ever treat a lady like that.” 

You admired his words, the way he viewed things. 

A little smile came to your lips and you watched him sit down next to you. 

“Well, Mr. Morgan. Not everyone has the same ideals as you.”

Arthur shook his head, fingers curling into a fist. He was still worked up over the situation. 

“It’ll be okay, Arthur.” You reached over to place your hand on his. “I can take a hit just fine. But I do appreciate you stepping in. It was really kind of you to help clean up Ben.”

He became a bit sheepish at your words, tipping his head down so you couldn’t see his eyes completely thanks to the brim of his hat. He cleared his throat. 

“Just-Just hate seein’ the little guy cry is all.”

You smiled a bit and gave his hand a squeeze before moving away from the table he sat at. 

Arthur watched you leave, then turned his head to watch the two youngest members of the gang with Hosea. Hosea was telling a story while Jack and Ben listened. 

Arthur turned his head back to see where you had gone off to. You were standing with Abigail near Pearson’s tent. Abigail said something that caused you to look at Arthur, a smile pulling at your lips then you looked back at her, shaking your head and bringing your hand up to cover your mouth. It was a poor attempt to hide a giggle. 

Arthur fixed the hat on his head and decided to go towards his horse. 

“When are you gonna tell her?” Charles spoke from his horse. He was messing with a strap of Taima’s saddle. 

“Tell her what?”

Charles rolled his eyes and shook his head. 

“I’m not oblivious to it, Arthur. I don’t think any of us in camp are.”

“To what?”

“That you fancy her.”

Arthur mounted his horse, shifting around in the saddle a bit.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Mr. Smith.” He adjusted his hat. 

“Yeah, I’m sure you don’t.”

“You wanna come with me? Or keep standing there goin’ on about it?”

Taglist: @winterwolf @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @krenee1drful @zodiacaldust @nonodino @cal-lifornication @thefirelordm @sargeantsea @sokkasdarling @thecollection @mayday1284 @kashasenpai @misskrql @brooke-supernatural16 @lassiee @hocdolliday @micahs-bird 

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

[thehammondlegacy]

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@thegrimalldis​ ♥

Oasis Springs’ fair - 1.30 pm

???: I should start working on my spanish and soon!

???: Don’t worry! You’ll master it in no time! It’s part of the curriculum here. Margie is a natural! But that’s because her father speaks the language all the time back at home

Amelie: You speak so highly of her... She must be a very good cousin

Eugenie: That’s because I’ve lived with her for a long time, and yes, she is a great cousin!  Do you have a favourite cousin too?

Amelie: Yes, Andreas. We are very close

Eugenie: Wow! No hesitation! You are ruthless, Grimalldi!

Amelie: *laughs* Just don’t ask me who my favourite sibling is

???: Stop laughing! It’s not funny! 

???: Oh, yes it is!! I have to tell Arthur about this!!

Harry: I can’t believe you almost drawn on the children’s pool!!

Louis: It’s deeper than what you think! But of course you are gonna tell Arthur it wasn’t deep at all!

Harry: Of course I am because you know that pool is not deep enough for you to drawn! 

Louis: Oh, look! I guess Nini brought her new roommate with her 

Harry: Great! Now we’ll have to spend the whole Saturday showing the newbie around! 

Amelie: Look! Cotton candy! Can we get some? 

Eugenie: *laughs* You need to get out more often, my friend!

Louis: Why can’t you be nice to her? She’s cool!

Harry: No. She’s competition! She’s going after the debate team. My debate team! But she won’t make it. Not while I’m the captain

Louis: Ok, Rambo! Just don’t be rude to her. Nini really likes her. Since you are basically planning on being a yerk I’m gonna be a nice human being and say HI GIRLS! 

Harry: Jesus! What did I do to deserve this!

Amelie: Hi, guys! 

Louis: I guess you’ve managed to take some time off from homework

Amelie: Only because Nini insisted on going out

Harry: I hope you are not expecting a tour around the fair, cause I’m not down for that. In fact, why don’t you and Nini spend the afternoon on your own? 

Louis: Harry! He didn’t mean that! I can show you around if you like

Eugenie: Why do you have to be such a yerk, Harry? It’s not that complicated being nice!

Louis: To be honest, it’s not like you are always nice to everyone so...

Eugenie: Oh, so now you are defending him? Two seconds ago you were telling him off! 

Louis: Listen, I agree with you, but you have to admit you are not always the kinddest person 

Eugenie: No, but I’m not mean to any of your friends!

Louis: Yeah, right! You made a friend of us go back home last year! 

Eugenie: You didn’t even like him! He made fun of you all the time! 

Harry: Maybe I can admit I was a bit of a yerk and we can all go and try the new roller-coaster. What do you say, Grimalldi? It’ll be good to test if you are worthy of the Hammonds’ friendship

Eugenie: Oh, please! We can go if you like, Millie

Amelie: I don’t know if I want to find out...

Louis: I’m pretty sure you are gonna pass

Eugenie: And I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want to have you friendship anymore!

Harry: Come on! It’s right over there... The first one who throws up pays the ice-cream?

Louis: Then I guess I’m paying

Amelie: Fine... But I’m not sitting next to Lou!

Harry: No one ever sits next to him on the roller-coaster! We sent him at the back so he doesn’t throw up on us

Amelie: Perfect, then...