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ilovebabygirls · 1 month ago

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LOW HONOUR ARTHUR MORGAN HEADCANONS . boyfriend

pairing — low honour arthur morgan × female reader | mention of abigail roberts × female reader (platonic)

tags — fluff | angst | third person point of view | proofread | tuberculosis huh? i hardly know her

words count — 4,3k

summary — a life with the infamous outlaw, arthur morgan.

last updated — 03/05/2025

requested by @shackspossum

latest work — kang dae-ho × female reader . PERSEVERANCE (angst)

PRE RELATIONSHIP

IT took quite some time after [your name] joined the gang for her to spark arthur's interest. she was just some poor new girl hosea had found in black water, a thief like many others in the gang. she was nothing special; he considered her to be mundane and unworthy of his attention. after all, he already had his plate full with mary gillis and her alcoholic father. however, the outlaw did not purposefully ignore her; as harsh as it sounded, he simply could not care less. she would enthusiastically greet him every morning, and he would barely answer with a grunt. she would attempt to strike a conversation with him when his social skills were lower than women's standards in men. she was young, naive, ambitious and reckless, a bit like him a decade ago; and he was a cold-blooded murderer, a nasty some of a bitch who did not care about anyone's feelings who had a five thousand dollars bounty over his head. he was a man who had found himself in enough undesirable situations to loathe life.

yet, she kept trying.

[your name] was the only young woman polite to him; all the other girls were too uncomfortable in his intense and unbearable company. arthur would provoke anyone on sight, karen would spit venom back at him, mary-beth avoided him like the plague, as for tilly, despite considering arthur like her older brother, she knew better than to get on his bad side or question his behaviour (arthur would still defend these women with his life if they were in danger). [your name] was different. she talked to him despite all the warnings she was given by her new friends, and even after miss grimshaw reprimanded her for getting distracted from her chores.

she never stopped.

and an unfamiliar warmth slowly spread through his body.

DURING sean's welcome party, she was drinking and dancing with karen and the party boy himself. arthur was sitting in a corner, a bottle of whiskey in hand and a drunk john talking his ear off; however, the cowboy was solely focused on [your name], her charming smile and playful dance moves. eventually, his target noticed his intense staring, quite frankly, arthur was staring her down. he did not mean to appear menacing; he just happened to be menacing. arthur was the type of man who would do something as innocent as gazing at someone; for once, it was his true intention, and the person would feel in danger. [your name] knew better than to feel threatened by arthur, they were not friends (yet), but he had never laid a hand on her (he had a policy of never harming women unless they were as warped, corrupt and twisted as the worst men he had encountered, and he had crossed path with many of these vile creatures).

arthur tilted his hat in acknowledgement and sent a curt smirk her way that she practically instantly reciprocated with a small wave.

pretty out of character for you, mr. morgan...

he frowned, looking away.

he did not comprehend what came over him.

would he do it again?

most definitely.

during all parties thrown by the gang, either it was to celebrate a successful robbery or the return of a member who had been missing for a while, arthur would be sitting away from the commotion, usually in the company of charles, who relished in the calm provided by the cowboy. [your name] would be sitting around the crackling fire, enjoying the sweet melody of javier's guitar, unaware of arthur watching over her like a hawk.

she was gorgeous.

young and ambitious.

the polar opposite of everything he represented.

he wanted her.

he did not deserve her.

or so, he had convinced himself.

TEASING her was his favourite hobby (outside of drawing, intimidating micah and horse riding). the thought of riling her up, even in the slightest, brought him joy in his grim daily life. arthur thought she was adorable when annoyed, encouraging him to push her buttons further.

all the sighs and eye rolls were his rewards.

"can't you leave me alone, mr. morgan?" [your name] asked, closing the book mary-beth had lent her.

"can't do so, sweetheart." he smirked, arms folded as he leaned against the tree she was sitting by under its shadow.

WHEN arthur found out [your name] did not know how to use a gun, he seemed unimpressed, muttering something along the line of wondering what she was actually good at (sure, she was a rather skilled thief, but to survive in this uncivilised world, handling a firearm was of the utmost importance).

arthur tasked himself to teach her how to defend herself with a gun, when no one had asked him to. he pretended to be irritated by her incompetence, saying how he could not let her become a burden for the gang, while simultaneously assuring her it was a necessity when [your name] would tell him he did not need to do it.

"you know, if you ain't got the time, we can go back to camp." she sighed, pressing her lips in a thin line.

"ain't no way! otherwise you'll get yourself killed in less than a day. i ain't your daddy and i ain't always gon' be here to save your ass, sweetheart." arthur retorted as he got off his horse and grabbed a gun for his pupil.

moreover, women who knew their way around weapons were rather attractive to him.

AFTER six months of taunting each other, the two of them began an intimate, yet casual, relationship during a night outside of camp in the plains of new hanover. dutch had sent them together on reconnaissance to check if any o'driscolls were lurking in the region. a long trip ahead of them awaited, but [your name] was looking forward to it. alone time with arthur was an opportunity she could not sacrifice.

the sun was setting down, no signs of o'driscolls, bellies were grumbling, and their horses were exhausted; everyone needed some well-deserved rest. they had stopped at a random spot and set up camp. the fire crept, warming up their freezing bodies, both arthur and [your name] were lying down in their respective tent, struggling to fall into the arms of morpheus. bored out of their minds, in dire need of warmth, one thing led to another, and soon enough, [your name] ended up joining arthur in his small tent.

the following morning, none of them brought up the passionate night they had shared under the soft moonlight that had illuminated their naked, sweaty skin.

ARTHUR is possessive, nay, jealous. the two of them may not be in a relationship (yet), but they might as well be with the way arthur behaved when another man in camp approached [your name], especially javier, known to be a charmer. he felt threatened, conscious that he was not a tender or romantic man. he knew he had no right to feel entitled towards her; he could not help it. arthur would come closer to her and whoever she was conversing with. he would eavesdrop (as the nosy person he was) and wait for the perfect moment to rudely interrupt.

"did you really need to be this aggressive?" she said as javier retreated to the fire with his hands up and flashing arthur a knowing smirk. she simply glared at the cowboy before storming off to her tent.

she was abruptly stopped when the latter harshly grabbed her by the arm.

"trust me, i know men, you should thank me." he growled back, letting go of her arm before walking away to a more secluded area (to sulk).

HOW THEY GOT TOGETHER

ARTHUR had strong commitment issues due to what had happened to his late family and everything mary gillis had put him through, yet continuing to reach out after breaking his heart into a million tiny fragments. he did not want to admit to [your name] or himself that he was sweet on her. i believe arthur followed the low honour path after his family had perished in the robbery and began to disregard life after mary broke his heart. he might have desired to be a good man for his late son, but was not willing to change himself for mary (especially with a father like hers).

if that woman had truly loved him, she would have accepted him as such.

that is what he had told himself when she had rejected him.

[your name] was an outlaw.

she was on the run.

nevertheless, she did not have as many enemies as he did, apart from the pinkertons and o'driscolls (everyone in the gang was targeted by them). however, arthur was preyed on by several bounty hunters and people he had wronged in the past. all more dangerous than the others.

he was scared.

scared for her safety.

the people after him could harm her, use her against him, it could risk all the gang members' lives.

his genius solution?

pushing her away by behaving rudely and intentionally avoiding her.

"don't you dare push me away, arthur morgan! i don't deserve such treatment, mister!" she yelled at him, as he walked away. as tough as he appeared, he was no good at confrontations when it came to his feelings.

"all you know is running away. you ain't a man, arthur! you're a fucking child! a fucking coward!" she continued, louder and louder, finally harshly pushing his shoulder barely moving the giant of a man he was.

he slowly turned around, fuming. he licked his lips, his jaw was shut tightly as unmistakable irritation was plastered on his face.

"you don't get to shout at me, little missy." he warned, his tone severe and the volume of his voice considerably lower in comparison to her outburst.

[your name] scoffed.

"am i gonna end up like molly?" she resumed. "you just wanna use me for a quick fuck and leave me to rot on the side until you want to empty your ballsack again? ain't that right?" she spat back, reaching her breaking point. she repeatedly slapped him on the chest, pushing him and throwing dead leaves in his face in rage.

thank god she did not have her gun.

"the only thing rotting here is your common sense, woman." he retorted, grabbing her arms to halt her attacks. she was not hurting him, but she was gesticulating like a wild bird.

"all you resort to is insults. you're weak, arthur. the weakest of all!" she shouted, her throat beginning to hurt from all the yelling.

at this point, the entire camp could hear her, but were probably not able to make out most of what she was saying.

arthur did not want to continue their argument, he faced away from her and walked away with fast, long strides. [your name] stood in place, motionless, as she watched arthur leave her behind, getting on his horse and riding away into the trees.

did he really care this less?

she was not about to wilt yet; she would stand her ground until he explained himself for his sudden behavioural change.

she took a deep breath to calm her mind.

god had blessed him with the ability to get on her nerves.

she walked to her horse she was gifted by hosea a month after she joined the gang and tracked him down. the young woman was stealthy; she was a great thief, and managed not to be spotted by the cowboy. arthur was riding fast into the evening, his anger translated through the strides of his horse and the rough corners he took. he eventually stopped by a small pond and leaned on the biggest tree as he lit a cigar, taking a long drag.

"running away from your problems won't help." [your name] commented once she discerned his broad shoulders and sulking posture in the woods as she got off her horse.

"you followed me?" he asked in disbelief as he threw his cigar on the ground.

"of course i did." she plainly replied, closing the distance between the two of them.

silence.

awkward silence.

[your name] did not know how to resume their exchange.

before she could even think of a way to express herself, arthur straightened his back and pushed himself from the tree.

"you really don't get it, don't you?" he grunted, squinting, his hands holding his belt in his usual fashion. the woman frowned, about to speak up, but was interrupted by the disgruntled older man.

"you seriously have a death wish, 'cause it's all you're gon' get clinging to a fella like me." he revealed, his tone unexpectedly softer than earlier, his jaw still as tense.

he swallowed.

she was quiet.

too quiet.

she was done with him.

"then, protect me." she eventually uttered, taking a step towards him.

arthur was speechless.

mouth agape.

eyes widened.

shoulders tensed up.

heart palpitating.

he breathed out, shaking his head, eyes slowly closing.

"what if i ain't capable of that?" he doubted, more to himself.

"try. that'll be enough." she reassured.

she placed her hands on each side of his rugged face. he looked up, flicking back and forth from her eyes to her lips. she chuckled before delicately kissing him, feeling his chapped lips on her soft ones. his calloused hands quickly found their way on her hips, bringing her as close as humanly imaginable.

afterwards ensued another passionate night under the dark sky concealed by the secrecy of the forest surrounding them.

the following morning at dawn, a change in the way he gazed at her could be noticed. in fact, the hand fondly caressing her side had not left its place since they fell asleep.

DURING THE RELATIONSHIP

ARTHUR was not willing to help most people out, even at camp, outside of errands in towns, kidnappings or robberies. however, the moment he saw [your name] struggling, lifting a basket that seemed to be too heavy on her muscles (because as strong as she was, that man was twice as strong) or cleaning the members' guns, he would rush to her side and aid with what he could.

this would earn him some teasing from the members, especially sean and john, but he would quickly shut it down with a glare.

and if micah even uttered a word, he was done for.

ARTHUR was not keen on pet names. as we have seen earlier, he would call [your name] "sweetheart", that was the most he would do. previously, he used to refer to her as such to rile her up; now, it was to make her flustered. all that changed was the tone of his voice when using the nickname.

during more intimate encounters, away from the prying eyes of the gang, he would call her his "good girl". the moment she heard the nickname, she could not help but burst out laughing as confusion washed all over his face.

"what's so funny?" he grumbled.

"i ain't your horse, arthur." she answered, giggling, trying to soothe the pain in her cheeks from laughing by massaging them with her fingers.

TOUCH starved but will never recognise it. the first time the two of them cuddled away from any unwanted attention, in a hotel room in saint denis, arthur was the little spoon. his head was lying down on her chest, he could listen to her steady heartbeat soothing him to slumber.

he felt safe.

cared for.

loved.

ALL the gifts he had gotten her were either stolen, taken from a young woman during a train robbery, expensive objects he was given during not-so-legal jobs, random meetings with weird strangers or picked up on freshly dead bodies. he wanted to spoil her; she deserved it.

however, she picked up on the origin of the presents rather quickly. it bothered her. she knew it was his way of showing how much he cared for her, to make her happy and feel important, but these gifts were thoughtless and covered in blood.

arthur did not understand the difference and why it mattered. it mattered to [your name]. therefore, he made an effort to actually buy the next presents.

"for my best girl, 'cause you deserve more than some o'driscoll trash."

ARTHUR loved to pick up fights with drunkards who, according to him, were gawking at his lover inappropriately. it would begin with blunt threats; however, if a man went on to flirt with her, consciously disregarding arthur's warning, the cowboy would grab him by the collar and punch him until the fool's teeth were all knocked out of his gum and his face was unrecognisable.

"he is lucky i let him keep his eyes after looking at you like some piece of goddamn meat." he grunted, drinking his glass of whiskey, with his hat hiding half of his face, before ordering another round of drinks for both of them.

arthur would never kill in front of his lover, unless it was during a job or against a rival gang, but kill in cold blood out of the blue, never.

unless, she asked.

"one word and i'm on my way, sweetheart." he said, sitting on one of the logs, holding one of her hands in both his calloused ones.

"arthur, i don't need you to kill anyone for me." she answered, lightly chuckling as she looked away.

"uhm... actually, maybe there is one person who did me quite wrong."

arthur was already on his way, his messiest gun in hand. he did not need her reasoning behind her demand.

that motherfucker upset his lover, why should he live?

[YOUR NAME] could defend herself. arthur knew it, she knew it, the gang knew it. hell, strangers now knew it too. after all, she had the best gunslinger in town as a teacher. she definitely knew her way around a rifle and how to aim for a good and clean headshot. he was protective of her, but he would not stop her from going on a job without his supervision.

although, if anything happened to her, i would not want to be the poor bastard who harmed her.

if she had gotten abducted by a rival gang, arthur would not wait a second or hear out dutch to go save her. not even hosea (the voice of reason) would be able to stop him.

prepare for a blood bath.

[YOUR NAME] eventually began to feel somehow neglected. indeed, they had passionate intimacy moments, he gave her presents from time to time, but arthur did not talk, like actually talk. he was not here for her mentally when she truly needed him. this feeling resulted in an unconventional trio forming at camp.

molly, abigail and [your name].

friends.

the sad wives.

when they were done arguing with their partner, and jack was occupied with a stick and some wet mud far enough not to hear the vile words thrown, the three women would sit together under the shadow of a tree to cry their sorrows. abigail wanted john to pull his weight and act like a father instead of drinking all day long, that kid was not going to be raised on his own and it took two people to create him. molly just wanted love, to be listened to and for people to stop talking behind her back like she was stupid not to notice, the irish woman felt underestimated and taken for granted. as for [your name], arthur was rarely around camp, running errands for god knew who. when he would come back, arthur would rush to his tent to rest. he was a hardworking man and earned his alone time, she felt lonely nonetheless. moreover, the cowboy was not in touch with his emotions and open to talk about them, shutting down any attempt she would initiate (another reason for the women's newfound close bond).

"i'm sure he'd rather prefer comfort in-between the legs of some other whore for fifty cents." the young woman cried into her friend's shoulder one night, a night where arthur was once again nowhere to be seen.

"don't say that, [your name]. arthur may be an insensitive bafoon, but he ain't no cheater." abigail reassured, patting the devastated girl's shoulder tenderly.

"and how would you know that?" she retorted, sobbing.

"he is my friend, helped me with jack when his father couldn't give less of a fuck. he is a good man deep down." abigail continued, before laughing. "really deep down, but it's there." she joked, earning a faint chuckle from the crying mess her friend had turned into.

"i'll talk to him."

abigail was set on having a little discussion with arthur despite [your name]'s desperate pleas, claiming it was a disproportionate reaction, that she could deal with it herself. abigail was well aware of her friend's ability to handle her own business, but some support would not hurt. she had known arthur for years; he had been present when john bailed on his responsibilities as a father, and she was there for him during the whole mary gillis fiasco.

she was determined to make him see straight.

let's just say, the next time [your name] saw him, he looked like a kicked puppy expression, a bouquet he had obviously picked outside of camp and a written apology on a torn page from his notebook. it was clumsy, but it came from the heart.

arthur opened himself to vulnerability.

"i love you." he confessed. "it ain't ever gon' change." he grumbled, his forearms resting on his thighs.

to anyone else, it would have seemed to be a half-assed love confession, [your name] knew better. a pure profession of love. arthur was not the type of man to verbally express his devotion; his love language was acts of service and sometimes gift giving (items he had collected).

his words held power.

they were meaningful to her.

"she tore you a new one, ain't she?" she asked.

"jack better not rebel as a teen." arthur joked.

ARTHUR was slightly reticent at the idea of sharing a tent. it was his personal space, and it made everything a bit too real for his taste. [your name] was tired of paying for a hotel room anytime she yearned for his affection, for some cuddles. the two of them eventually settled on a compromise; from now on, they would sleep together at night, but [your name]'s belongings would remain in the tent she shared with karen, mary-beth and tilly for the time being.

it was a long process, but it would all be worth it in the end. all about respecting his boundaries, god knew he had many, and slowly breaking down the walls he had put up to protect his feelings.

ARTHUR would always save a seat for his lover during dinner. he wanted her as close as possible, scaring off anyone who got too close to her reserved spot. he would intently listen to her day, rarely chiming in unless it was to agree, to mock someone she mentioned or ask for details on a specific assignment she had been given. some people may have assumed arthur was indifferent to what his lover was telling, far from it, he adored the sound of her voice. music to his ear. he just was not a talkative man and thought his jobs and days were actually uninteresting.

"enough talking about me. what have you done today, honey?" [your name] asked, placing the cutlery down.

"same old song, sweetheart. rode my horse and fought some fools. saw a toy boat, actually... whatever. i'd rather hear what you have to say." he answered, shrugging.

ARTHUR was emotionally distant. call it toxic masculinity or struggles with past trauma, but to pry information out of him was a real headache. it would most likely end up in an argument. nevertheless, arthur was quick to come back to apologise, tail tucked between his legs out of embarrassment and guilt.

however, if his lover were to hide anything away from him, arthur would be furious. he was supposed to protect her, provide and care for the love of his life, yet she hid important things from him.

LATE night rides on his horse. his significant other would be sitting in front of him just to feel the proximity between them, her back against his muscular chest (she had a horse of her own as we previously established, but arthur insisted they only needed one to make the trip), which mostly ended up with intimate moments behind trees and stargazing in the plains of new hanover.

ARTHUR is an ass man. he would unapologetically stare at his lover's ass and even slap it when nobody was looking.

ARTHUR was an artist and in love; therefore, [your name] was his muse. he would ask her to pose for him, late at night, naked on the bed, to draw sensual pictures of her (he learned that from charles châtenay).

ARTHUR morgan is a man who has gone through a lot in his life. he did not believe in second chances anymore; he had been given too many, all ending in death and heartbreak. his childhood, the fate of his late family, unworthy of mary's love, he was one of the most searched criminals in the country, a murderer, a nasty man, now the downfall of the van der linde gang, he was abandoned by his only remaining father figure and so on. he should have died a long time ago, alone, no one to mourn his pathetic existence, regardless, his karma never caught up to. he was not a religious man, therefore, did not believe in a guardian angel looking out for him as he was dying on this moutain, and yet, here she was.

[your name] [your last name].

she ran to his side, heavily breathing, undoubtedly because she had run up that mountain looking for him.

"you ain't dying on me, arthur morgan. we're gonna go through this together." she shakily stated, helping him get up.

"you're a good man, you're gonna live."

she looked for him.

she saved him.

it was the end of an era.

but the beginning of a new chapter.

and maybe...

just maybe... she was his way to redemption.

#rdr2 x reader #rdr2 headcanons #rdr2 imagines #arthur morgan x reader #low honor arthur morgan #low honor arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2

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nevadancitizen · 8 months ago

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-> CH. 2: CHARLES SMITH, THE MAN THAT YOU ARE

synopsis: charles makes sure you're getting on okay as you continue to try to evade arthur (poorly, might i add).

word count: 3k

ships: Arthur Morgan/Modern!Reader, Van der Linde Gang & Reader

notes: i almost leaked this to my classmate when sending her a link. nearly shat myself but we're all good this is all still under wraps

TOSoA taglist: @one-green-frog (if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just ask <3!!)

THE OLD SOUL OF AMERICA MASTERLIST

Charles was right. Even though you want to help, there’s really nothing to do besides hunt – and the good Lord knows you’re useless when it comes to that.

For the last day or so, you’ve just been hanging around the garage-made-kitchen. Even though Javier told you you weren’t intruding (and that “everyone needs shelter”), you feel like you are. It’s not a good feeling. So you stayed outside, in the company of a man who introduced himself as Simon Pearson and the camp cook, Charles, and occasionally Javier when he found the time to swing by.

A fair few people have introduced themselves as well – Hosea Matthews, Bill Williamson, Lenny Summers, Reverend Orville Swanson, Leopold Strauss (who just oozed sleaze), Miss Karen Jones, Miss Tilly Jackson, Miss Mary-Beth Gaskill, and little Jack alongside his mother, Miss Abigail Roberts. Those who didn’t directly introduce themselves to you were pointed out by Karen and you were given a run-down on them.

So far, these are the people as you know them: Missus Sadie Adler is a grieving, skittish widow. Uncle is a lazy sack of shit. John Marston is better at being wolf food than being a father. Miss Susan Grimshaw is stubborn (but caring – somewhat like how neighborhood mamas care). Miss Molly O’Shea has a stick so far up her ass she spits splinters when she talks. The man tied up in the barn, Kieran Duffy, is an O’Driscoll (or ex-O’Driscoll, if what he insists is true is really true). Oh – and the blond man that punched Bill? That’s Micah Bell: a man with the eye of a viper tasting the air and the nose of a shark waiting for blood in the water. From what you’ve deduced, his general vibe is “I would take sexual relationship advice from Bill Cosby if given the chance.”

All in all, a healthily diverse group of people – even if the traits that make them diverse aren’t all that desirable. (Mostly Micah’s. Especially Micah’s.)

But Charles is nice enough. So you’ve stuck with Charles. Even if you need to hang around Pearson to hang out with him. Pearson isn’t an intrinsically bad guy, just… a little off-putting.

Right now, you’re able to put your hands to use by opening canned vegetables and putting them in the cauldron-looking pot Pearson has for rabbit stew. Across the table, Charles is butchering and deboning a rabbit as best he can with his injured hand. You try your best to keep your eyes on the cans of carrots and celery you’re opening.

There’s footsteps. You glance up. It’s Arthur. You look back down.

“I can’t believe it’s come to this,” Pearson gripes to no one in particular.

You watch Arthur approach the fire and he holds his hands out towards the coals in your peripheral vision. He shakes his head. “Ah, we’re okay.”

“We have a few cans of food and a rabbit. For, what – ten, twelve people?” Pearson gestures over to where you and Charles are working. “Even more with them and that widow.”

Despite yourself, you can feel the tips of your ears start to burn. What do you have to be embarrassed about? Needing to eat? If anything, Pearson should be the one feeling embarrassed for talking about you in front of you. Yeah… that’s it.

Pearson continues. “When I was in the Navy…”

Arthur immediately interrupts him. “I – I do not wish to hear about what you got up to in the Navy, Mister Pearson.”

And yet, he keeps going despite Arthur’s protest. “We were stranded at sea… for fifty days.”

“And you, unfortunately, survived,” Arthur drawls.

You glance up at him from underneath your eyelashes and smile. His eye catches yours, and your gaze drops, as does your smile. Instead, you work on getting your finger under the tab of a can of chopped onions – which is hard, considering the thickness of your gloves.

You feel Arthur’s eyes leave you and let out a soft sigh of relief that clouds in front of your face. Charles holds out his knife to you. You tip the top of the can towards him, and he wedges the (bloody – ew) blade of his knife underneath the tab and opens it.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. You clench your jaw when you feel Arthur’s eyes on you again – yes, very briefly, but still. You can count the number of times you’ve made eye contact with him on one hand, and you don’t want to add to that total.

Thankfully, Pearson seems ignorant to your plight and continues complaining. “When we ran away from Blackwater, I wasn’t able to get supplies in!”

“Well, when government agents are hunting you down, sometimes shopping trips need to be cut short,” Arthur snaps. “We’ll survive. We always have. And if needs be, we can eat you – you’re the fattest.”

You bite your lip to suppress a laugh and clear your throat to mask any noise you might’ve made. You pour the onions in the pot and glance at the rabbit carcass, now carved up and stripped of meat.

“Damn, there’s nothing left on that thing,” you say. “You’re good at that.”

Charles nods in response. “If you’re done, you can put it on the fire.”

You lift the pot with a grunt – it’s heavier than you expected, but nothing you can’t handle. You move over to the coals and hang the pot on a hook over the fire while Pearson and Arthur continue talking.

“I sent Lenny and Bill hunting, and they found nothing,” Pearson says.

“Well, Lenny’s more into book learnin’ than huntin’,” Arthur says. You perk up at that. “Bill’s a fool. Unless those mountains are full of game that wanna read, ain’t no wonder they haven’t found –”

“Enough of this,” Charles interrupts. Even though his voice is relatively quiet and deep, it still cuts through whatever Arthur was planning on prattling on about. “We’ll go find something. Come on, Arthur.”

“Well, take them.” Arthur gestures vaguely in your direction. “Since they seem so keen on helpin’ out, and all.”

“I, um…” You shake your head. “No, thanks.”

“They don’t even know how to hold a rifle correctly,” Charles says. (His bluntness stings a little, but it’s true. You know how to hold a handgun, but not these old-timey types.) “If they knew how to hunt, we would’ve gone already.”

Arthur sighs and shrugs. “If you insist.”

“Wait a second, hold on.” Pearson hurries over to the table you and Charles had been working at earlier. He pulls out a can from the small pile you had organized and tosses it to Arthur. “You’re gonna need something to eat out there.”

“Hm… “assorted, salted offal”,” Arthur reads off the label. He levels Pearson with a dead stare. “Starving would be preferable.”

You stifle a laugh and, again, clear your throat.

“Come on, let’s go,” Charles says, adjusting the bandage on his hand.

“You can’t go huntin’,” Arthur says. “Look at your hand.”

“I can’t stay here listening to you two,” Charles says. He gestures to you without looking at you. “The conversation they make is tolerable, but, again, they can’t hunt. Look, if there’s game in those hills, I’ll find it – and you can kill it.”

“You need to rest, Charles,” Arthur insists.

“You think this is rest?” Charles’ face twists into a scowl, then he turns and walks towards his horse with a “Come along.”

Arthur scoffs under his breath and his eyes flick to you. You do your best to suppress the temptation to duck away from his gaze, as piercing as it is. You win, and he looks away, following Charles to the hitching post. They quickly mount up and ride out.

You draw your shoulders up to your ears and shudder. When Pearson shoots you a questioning glance, you excuse it with “What? It’s cold.”

When a few seconds have passed, you roll your shoulders back. You settle down on the chair that’s inside the kitchen, just watching a few late, fat snowflakes fall outside.

After a good ten minutes of watching Pearson and playing with your hands, you figure he’ll be fine on his own and wander out along the footpaths in the snow. You find who you’re looking for quickly.

Lenny gives you a polite nod as you stand across from him, the fire on the ground separating you two. He has a rifle – the sight of which doesn’t surprise you as much as it first did – and he settles the butt of the gun in the inner corner of his elbow.

“You’re Lenny, right?” You try.

“Yeah. And you’re…” Lenny gives your name. You nod in response.

“I just…” You clear your throat and bat away the embarrassment and anxiety that’s creeping up on you – something that always comes with approaching strangers. “Arthur mentioned that you like books. I, uh… I read, too. Sometimes.”

“Really?” Lenny says. “What kinda books have they got out in the Mojave?”

You look down at the fire and think, trying to come up with some excuse and build your backstory. “We don’t have a lot of books – I live in a pretty isolated part of the desert. But there’s traders, and they bring medical books, and a few storybooks. I like the medicine books they bring. You?”

Lenny seems to hesitate for a moment. “Poetry.”

“Poetry?” You hum. “Huh. Poems are nice.”

There’s a lapse in conversation. You don’t know how to fill it. You say the first thing that comes to mind.

“Micah’s kinda a prick, right?” You blurt out.

Your eyes snap up to Lenny’s face. He’s surprised, but his face quickly melts into a smile and he laughs. You feel the coil of anxiety in your stomach loosen.

“Why, I didn’t expect you to come out and say it,” he says. “But your assessment is correct.”

“Yeah, sorry.” You laugh nervously, your eyes falling to the fire again. “I just get bad vibes from the guy.”

“Bad vibes?” Lenny echoes.

The coil is tight again. You think for a moment. “Uh, yeah. One of the tribes I live with believes in, um… vibrational energy, that kinda thing. When you look at someone and you get a bad feeling without knowing them that well, they give you bad vibes.”

“Hold on,” Lenny says. “Vibrational energy?”

You nod and continue to pull things out of your ass and curse Lenny for being scholarly. “Yeah. Life… um, well. I don’t remember the explanation too well. But I remember White Bird – the Sorrows’ shaman – saying…”

You tilt your head and look to the side and think for a moment. “He said, “All life is music – all music is rhythmic – all rhythm is life.” And that somehow relates to vibrations. I don’t know, you seem smart. Maybe you can understand what he was talking about.”

“Well, I don’t know what it means, but it sure sounds pretty,” Lenny says.

“They’re good people,” you say. “Maybe you’d like to meet them someday – if you’re ever so far west you’re in the desert, I mean.”

Why the fuck did I say that?! You curse yourself in your head. They’re not real! The Dead Horses and the Sorrows and Joshua Graham and Daniel are all made up! They’re fictional characters –

“I don’t know, maybe,” Lenny says. “For now, it doesn’t seem like we’ll be goin’ that far.”

You hum and pretend to act disappointed while you fight the urge to crumple in on yourself in relief. “That’s a shame. I’m sure you’d like them. They’re interesting people, especially the Sorrows. Though, Joshua…”

You trail off as you check over your shoulder. Hoofbeats, you’re pretty sure. And you’re right – Arthur and Charles are riding back into camp, a dead, snow-dappled doe on the back of each horse.

“Brought some food back, boys,” Arthur calls.

They both hitch their horses at the post and hoist the limp does onto their shoulders, carrying them over to the kitchen.

You look back at Lenny and jab a thumb over your shoulder at them. “Should we…?”

“I don’t think so,” Lenny says. “From what I seen, Arthur’s a butcher – a mean one, at that. I don’t think he’ll like it if his work’s disturbed.”

“That’s fair,” you hum. (Secretly, you want to thank Lenny profusely. You already know that Arthur’s a mean man – you don’t want to see him even meaner.)

You check over your shoulder again. From where you’re standing, you can see an old man has taken your seat in the kitchen, and you can hear Arthur giving him hell for whatever reason. What was his name again… Uncle, maybe?

Unfortunately, your staring caught Uncle’s eye. He beckons you over with a wave of his hand. You give Lenny a quiet, polite “See you later,” and head over, trudging through the thick layer of snow that’s settled on the ground.

“Yeah?” You nod at Uncle as soon as you step into the kitchen. You sidle up to the fire, warming yourself with the smoldering embers.

“Thought it’d do Arthur some good to see the…” – Uncle waves you up-and-down – “…wonders some modernity will do you.”

“What? Modernity?” You repeat back. You tell yourself to calm down – you haven’t been found out. (Not yet.) “I’m far from modern.”

“Why, you’re perfectly modern!” Uncle says.

“You don’t even know me.” You scoff and turn away.

Your eyes catch Arthur wrapping wire around the back ankles of one of the doe corpses. He pulls it taut, then hooks both legs to the deer hoist. He lifts it with a grunt and puts the hoist on the hook sticking out of the wall. You avert your eyes before he turns around.

“Well, I mean…” You shrug. “I guess I’m… sort of modern? But I don’t see any issue with what Arthur’s doing. He’s just hunting.”

Arthur’s eyes fly to you again when you say his name. You wish that the Spanish Flu had come sooner so you could wear a facemask to hide your pursed lips and clenched jaw. After a moment, he looks away.

“What a surprise,” Arthur drawls, “to find the camp rat loiterin’ around in the kitchen, chargin’ dimes for his thoughts.”

He pulls away from the deer hoist and walks over to the fire. He keeps a healthy distance, but you can still feel some sort of heat coming from him when he stands next to you. You guess a man that tall and broad would be a furnace in cold like this.

“Is that any way to greet an old friend?” Uncle asks. “I feel we haven’t spoken for days.”

“I do my utmost to avoid you,” Arthur retorts.

Charles approaches the fire, standing on your other side. He gives you a small look that says “Ignore them. They can, and will, go on for hours like this.”

Uncle looks over at you and laughs. “He loves me, really. It’s his… sad way of showing affection.”

“I doubt that.”

“No, it isn’t.”

You and Arthur turn to look at each other. You hadn’t meant to speak over him, and from the kind of-surprised look he’s sending your way, you think he didn’t mean to speak over you, either. You nod, gesturing for him to continue.

“It isn’t.” He turns back to face Uncle and waves a hand. “Now shoot, get lost.”

“Well…” Uncle shrugs and stands. “See y’all later.”

Pearson swipes a bottle from Uncle as he steps out. He then looks over at one of the deer. “See you got on just fine.”

Arthur nods toward Charles’ direction. “Charles is a wonder.”

“Have a drink, my friends.” Pearson holds out the bottle across the fire. “Ya earned it.”

Arthur takes the bottle after you wave it away. He takes a swig and sputters, coughing. “Jesus!” His voice cracks. “What is that?”

He passes the bottle to Charles, who sniffs the rim and takes a tentative sip.

“Navy rum, sir. It’s the only thing – the only thing!” Pearson laughs as Charles hands the bottle back. “Keeps you sane, it does.”

“Yes, seems to have done a treat on you.” Arthur glances at Charles and waves a hand in his general direction. “You go rest that hand, Charles.”

“I’ll be fine in a few days,” Charles says.

He makes eye contact with you and nods towards the cabins, indicating for you to follow. You do so while listening to Arthur and Pearson talk about skinning the deer. (And you hide a smile when Arthur asks Pearson if he gets to skin him, too. He’s mean, but at least he’s funny with it.)

“You settling in okay?” Charles asks when you’re in a somewhat secluded area. It’s not all that isolated, but it’s out of earshot for most people.

“Yeah.” You nod. “Thanks. For… y’know. Not being a massive asshole about everything.”

“You’re lost,” he says. (You notice he leaves out the very obvious “and scared” he could’ve tacked on the end.) “And you need help. It would be cruel not to give it to you.”

Yeah, totally! You think to yourself. You’re literally one of the kindest people alive and I’m… what? A scumbag that’s taking advantage of you? Oh, it’s so sweet that you’re ignoring the blatant lies I’m throwing in your face! Thank you, Charles! Thanks a fucking million.

“Still. Thank you,” you say instead. “You could’ve easily kicked me out in the snow and left me to freeze.”

“We could’ve.” Charles looks out at the horizon. The way he pauses almost makes you think he’s considering it. “But we didn’t.”

You let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah. You didn’t.”

Apparently, he doesn’t feel the need to reassure you or continue the conversation at all. After a few moments, you awkwardly hook your thumb over your shoulder.

“I’m gonna, uh…” You nod. “I’m gonna go. I’ll see you later?”

Charles is still looking out at the treeline, looking at the way the snow weighs down the leafless trees and the way even the smallest sound could disrupt everything.

“Yeah. I’ll see you later.”

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wileys-russo · 1 year ago

Text

the set up II l.wienroither x reader

"-yeah she said she'd be here at ten but she's probably still on australian time." beth shrugged as viv gave her a look and laura frowned a little in confusion.

"that is not how it works." viv sighed with a shake of her head as her blonde girlfriend grinned with a shrug. "who will be here?" laura asked curiously, engaged in a fierce game of tug of war with myle on the sofa.

"oh my cousins coming over! the one whose been livin in australia for a couple years." beth exclaimed happily, kicking a few pairs of shoes out of the way as viv hurried to put them away in their proper place afterwards.

"oh she is back now? cool, have you seen her yet?" laura asked, hissing a little as her focus slipped and myle teethed on her hand for a moment. "no!" laura remanded firmly as the puppy watched on unfazed, launching off the sofa toward one of her toys.

"yeah she's moved back here now, living with her best mate until she can find a place of her own. we went for dinner a few days ago and caught up, she's a girl with a lot of stories." beth chuckled, the door bell cutting her off before the conversation could go any further.

myle barked and sprinted off to the door, getting under beths feet as she scooped her up and swung it open. laura wasn't able to see much still sat in the living room by herself, now suddenly wishing she'd asked before inviting herself over like she normally would.

"urgh beth! i don't know where her tongues been." you whined as your cousin held myle up allowing her to lick all over your face before viv came to save you and gently tugged the puppy away into her own arms.

"welcome back!" you grunted as your cousin quite literally jumped on top of you, stumbling a little as your knees almost buckled but you caught your footing. "i saw you a few days ago you idiot." you laughed, squeezing her before she dropped back down.

"but i didn't see you for like a year beforehand so i win!" beth stuck her tongue out as you rolled your eyes. "she's so tiny." you grinned, viv handing you myle as you cooed at the small dog, craning your head away to avoid her licking you again.

"don't avoid her kisses thats rude!" beth gasped snatching her back as you hugged viv hello. "our friend laura is here as well." the dutch woman nodded for you to follow, beth already disappearing.

laura felt herself get a little tongue tied as beth quickly introduced the two of you, and unsure how to best greet you she settled for a friendly wave and a smile which seemed to suit as you did the same and took a seat beside beth.

"your accent is all sorts of messed up we'll need to work on that if you want to be accepted as a british citizen again." beth teased as you playfully rolled your eyes, shoving her and falling into conversation.

an hour or so later beth and viv stepped out to get lunch ready, inviting both you and laura to stay as the two of you got to know each other better, finding it almost effortlessly easy to speak with one another.

"so why did you move back now?" laura asked, the subject not really having been brought up yet as you shrugged.

"australia is beautiful and the people are wonderful but its expensive to live there. and my family are all getting older and i miss seeing them as often, my friends are all getting engaged or having kids and it just felt like the right time to come home." you answered simply with a smile.

"and it would seem like the perfect time since i get to meet you!" you cooed at the small puppy sat chewing on a toy in between you and laura.

"lau's been trainin her!" beth poked her head in as you looked to the austrian impressed. "really? hope they're paying you for your services!" you grinned which she reciprocated. "i am a dog whisperer who sadly works for free." laura sighed dramatically.

"we pay you in food you're almost here now more than when you lived here laura!" beth yelled out from the kitchen. "go on, show me your skills." you smiled, tucking your legs beneath you and shuffling around a little.

"okay. myle, pang!" laura made a gun with her fingers and mimicked shooting, the small dog just looking up at her unmoving. "myle, pang!" the footballer tried again with a frown, huffing as again myle clearly didn't do as she wanted.

"myle, pang!" you hid a smile behind your hand as laura manhandled the dog, slamming her onto the sofa with a huff. "she is normally more obedient." the austrian blushed with embarrassment as viv whistled and myle leapt down and raced off to the kitchen.

"no that was brilliant, she fell down all by herself!" you teased the blonde who knocked her leg against yours with a playful glare as the two of you fell back into conversation.

"viv! look at them." beth whisper yelled to her girlfriend who raised an eyebrow but shuffled over none the less. "lau likes her!" beth grinned excitedly as vivs frown deepened. "what is not to like? i think i like her more than you." viv shrugged as beth scoffed.

"not like that. like likes her!" beth tried again as her girlfriend returned to dishing up lunch. "like likes?" the dutch questioned with an amused smile as beth rolled her eyes.

"yes! look at the way they're looking at one another. they're both single, around the same age, both could use a little somethin." beth shrugged like it was the most obvious idea ever.

"beth." viv warned with a raised eyebrow. "they would be quite cute you know, and then if they got married laura really would be part of the family!" beth grinned happily.

"no! you do not get to meddle, leave them be. if they like each other they will figure it out themselves." viv warned, pointing a pair of tongs at beth threateningly who huffed. "what those two? not a chance! all they need is a little loving push." the blonde winked and yelled out lunch was ready.

"are you coming to the match tomorrow?" laura asked curiously as the four of you sat around the dining table after lunch. "football isn't really my thing." you admitted with a shy smile as beth let out a long and overly dramatic sigh.

"yes she's the black sheep and the secret shame of the family, we actually exiled her to australia but clearly it didn't work." your cousin shook her head in disappointment.

"you do know you are sitting with three footballers, yes?" laura laughed as now you were the one to blush. "i'm not a sports person okay! thats not illegal." you rolled your eyes and sank a little deeper into your seat.

"you don't have to be a sports person to enjoy and support the womens game, terrible feminist you are." beth continued to tease as you scoffed.

"i am not! that is so unfair i don't enjoy watching any sports men or womens, equality!" you rebutted, beth and you arguing back and forth as viv nodded for laura to help her clear the table leaving you both to it.

when they returned it seemed you'd reached some sort of agreement as the conversation had shifted topics. "she's comin!" beth sang out with a victorious grin as you puffed air out of your nose and sent her a scowl.

"she bullied me into it and i'm only going in hopes of beth getting smacked in the face with the ball." you shrugged as now it was her turn to gasp and scowl. "when i'm on the return from a very serious injury? insensitive little shit you are." your cousin shook her head.

"you can sit with me and leah!" laura offered with a happy smile, frowning a little as you groaned and threw your head back. "not leah!" making your cousin laugh. "ohh yes leah, perfect idea lau!" beth grinned as you banged your head onto the table.

"what is so bad about leah?" the defender asked still a little confused. "she doesn't shut up the entire game and she mansplains everything to me like i'm a toddler!" you dragged your hands down your face as viv chuckled and patted your back.

"good! you need a 101 in proper football appreciation and education missy, and lau and lee will make sure that happens."

"yes i know! you told me that ten minutes ago leah." you sighed deeply as once again the blonde explained why the offside was called.

"im just making sure you understand! stop looking so miserable mate there's worse places you could be spending a sunday." leah pinched your cheek as you huffed and pushed her away, subconciously shuffling a little closer into laura who was sat on your other side.

"now do you see what i mean?" you whispered to the girl who let out a quiet laugh. "do you want to switch seats? i am very used to her talking." laura offered as you nodded eagerly and swapped, though leah was too busy groaning about the ref to pay much attention.

now freed from most of leahs commentary you instead found yourself much more enamoured in laura's takes on things, smiling at the way her nose scrunched up in annoyance when she disagreed with a call, or the way her eyebrows furrowed together and the tip of her tongue would push out when a pass was missed or possession taken.

"one thing i'll miss about australia is the weather." you huffed, wrapped in about five layers but still chilled to the bone as you were struggling to adjust back to the harsh realities of a frosty london winter.

"here, keep your ears warm." laura grinned, taking her her beanie off her head and tugging it onto yours, dismissing your protests with a wave of her hand and quickly changing the subject.

leah turning to lecture you about throw in etiquette was a little surprised to see laura now next to her, even more so as she noticed the way you two seemed so wrapped in your own little bubble as if you'd been friends for years.

with a raised eyebrow the blonde pulled out her phone, sending beth a message she knew wouldn't be seen until later and instead subjecting poor kim to her commentary who was sat on her other side.

by the end of the game you really could have sworn you'd known laura for years, it was near scary how comfortable you felt around her. which is why when beth offered for you to join some of the team for dinner and laura encouraged you come, you accepted.

though as you showed up to the restaurant beth had messaged, right on time, your guard was back up as you couldn't see your cousin or any of her teammates anywhere.

waiting outside in hopes everyone was just running late you breathed a little easier as laura showed up, the austrian caught a little off guard now as you pulled her into a hug which she settled into after a moment.

"no one is here?" laura frowned as you filled her in and shrugged. "beth said it was under her name maybe they are in another room or something." laura headed over to the front and gave beths name, and sure enough the hostess nodded for the two of you to follow her.

but as soon as she showed you to a table very clearly set for two, things started to make a little more sense. "oh sorry no-" laura tried to speak with the hostess but she was gone before she could say another word.

hearing your phone go you pulled it out reading the message from your cousin. "what?" laura questioned as you let out a scoff, turning your phone so she could read the message.

from; messy beffy ohhh no we got the time and the restaurant wrong....guess you and laura will just have to get dinner together instead, sorry!

"i don't understand. they forgot where we were going?" laura questioned clearly confused as you chuckled. "no, beth set us up." you sighed knowingly with a shake of your head. "she what?" lauras frown deepened a little.

"like...like a date. she's trying to set us up on a date." you explained knowing your cousin all too well, cheeks tinted slightly pink as lauras eyes widened in surprise. "oh." she stated bluntly, eyebrows shooting upward.

"but we don't have to! we can just go home, beth is just very very nosy." you assured, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. "no! we can stay, if you want to?" lauras own cheeks flushed red as you both stammered around your words before eventually taking a seat at the table.

the first half an hour was painfully awkward, both of you clearly a little unsure what this dinner actually was and not wanting to be the first to ask.

but once your food came and gave you some common ground the awkwardness began to melt away a little, both of you slipping back into a more comfortable pattern of conversation like you had before.

by the end of dinner once again it was like you'd known her for years, laughing and smiling and chatting about anything and everything as you both really got to know one another.

as you stepped away to go to the bathroom laura pounced, paying for dinner which you told her off for once you returned but your protests fell on deaf ears as she waved away all your offers to split the bill.

"what are you doing?" laura asked, seeing the uber app flash up on your phone as the two of you stepped out of the restaurant. "my best friend dropped me here but she isn't answering, i think she's asleep." you laughed with a shake of your head.

"i'll take you?" laura offered sincerely. "really? that would be great, thank you." you smiled, following her to her car.

"you can pay next time then!" laura teased as she pulled up outside your best friends house, who didn't live all too far from where you'd had dinner as you continued to berate her for paying. "you'd want to go out again?" you asked a little surprised as laura realised what she'd said.

"yes." the girl confirmed before she could overthink it, a smile settling into your features.

"good, i would too."

"do my eyes deceive me or are you here willingly and even looking like you might have enjoyed it?" leah gasped as you hovered by the barrier with a roll of your eyes, waving to viv over her shoulder who was busy trying to shake off victoria who'd jumped onto her back.

"don't get used to it williamson, i only come now you can't send me to sleep with your horrendous ongoing commentary and rules and boring chat." you teased, ducking as the taller blonde swung at you.

"please. i know the real reason you're here all too well buddy and whose name is on the back of that jersey even if you think you can hide it behind that jacket." leah smirked, ruffling your hair as your cheeks flushed bright red.

"shut up. i already get it enough from beth!" you groaned, pushing her away halfheartedly as the blonde you were really wanting to talk to started to make her way over.

"so its official then?" leah grinned happily, perking up as you shushed her. "no, we're just...enjoying our time together. now go away! go pester someone else." you rolled your eyes as leah chuckled, pulling you into a hug before racing off to catch up with lia.

"hi." you greeted with a soft smile as laura now arrived in front of you. "hello!" she beamed happily, the two of you settling into a hug which lasted a few seconds too long, neither of you really wanting to let go.

"red looks nice on you." laura poked at the arsenal home kit adoring your top half, the top she'd managed to wrestle you into this morning after you'd spent the night, placating all your whining with an abundance of sweet words and kisses.

"don't know, think i'd rather it was blue. i do really like light blue!" you teased, arsenal having just beat manchester city five to three. "sehr lustig, liebling." the austrian retorted in german making you frown.

"you promised no more german unless you tell me what it means, im still learning." you huffed with a frown. "with your very strange accent i don't think you will ever learn." laura teased with a smile, eyes flickering down to your lips for a moment.

"hey! i've been back here for weeks now, my accent is very very normal." you shook your head with a playful glare. but your conversation was interrupted as a flash of red barreled into laura, pulling her into a half hug half headlock.

"well hello lovebirds!" beth beamed, laura pushing her off with a roll of her eyes. "go away bethany." you sighed, but hugging her none the less. "where did you get this then! a football fan finally, i'll make sure you start to get invited to the family functions again." beth grinned tugging at laura's jersey on your person as you flipped her off and smacked away her hands.

"i'll pretend it says mead on the back then, shall i?"

"come on tiny tank lift with your legs! you've got two good knees now, no excuses." you teased the blonde who shot you a glare, dropping down the boxes in her arms with the rest of the pile and collapsing onto your sofa.

"is that everything now?" the girl groaned, hand covering her face tiredly as her body shone with a slight sheen of sweat and you closed your front door, gently placing down the box of kitchenware on the dining table.

"everything for today!" you announced, rounding the sofa and collapsing on top of laura who grunted. "stop pouting! you're my girlfriend lau its part of the job to help me move." you teased, shuffling back to push yourself up on your arms.

"if i knew that i would not have asked you." laura sighed, squealing as you pinched her sides for the comment. "would you rather we go back to sneaking about with my roommates around all the time?" you quirked an eyebrow.

"oh god no, they are more nosy than beth." laura groaned, hands sneaking up the back of your top and pulling you to lay back against her.

"don't you mean cupid!" you rolled your eyes, both of you constantly subjected to your cousins endless boasting that without her you'd never have gotten together.

which might have been partially true but you weren't going to give her the satisfaction of agreeing with it.

now finally settled back into london you'd secured a new job and an apartment all of your own. you and laura had only been seeing one another officially for about eight weeks so you'd both agreed it was too soon to move in together.

"you know even though you're my girlfriend maybe i should pay you for all your hard labour today baby." you sighed, lazily kissing her jaw as she perked up a little. "i think that is what is fair schatz." laura agreed with an eager nod and a smile.

"for building the sofa." you softly kissed one side of her neck as she squeezed your hips. "for helping me carry the fridge." you moved your lips to show the other side of her neck a little attention.

"for walking up and down all those stairs." you sighed, kissing the corner of her mouth. "for carrying all those heavy heavy boxes." you drawled sarcastically with a pout, kissing the other corner of her mouth, purposefully missing where she really wanted you.

"and for being the best girlfriend ever." laura smirked, tapping her lips expectantly as you raised an eyebrow. with a playful roll of your eyes you leant in but stopped, lips ghosting hers with a smile.

"the best girlfriend ever deserves dinner cooked for her." you whispered, pecking her lips quickly and trying to stand but before you could even push yourself up laura had easily flipped your positions now hovering over you.

"lau!" you laughed as she interlaced her fingers with yours and pressed them into the sofa, hazel eyes ablaze with adoration as she stared down at you, lips curled into a smile before she pressed them eagerly against yours.

you melted into the kiss with a small sigh of pleasure, hands cupping the back of her neck as she let you up, hers tangled in your hair.

the defender shifted a little on top of you before deepening the kiss, her tongue flicking against the roof of your mouth before she pulled away, teeth tugging at your bottom lip teasingly.

"i think as the best girlfriend, furniture builder, footballer and mover ever i should get to choose my own reward liebling."

#woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #laura wienroither #laura wienroither x reader #woso blurbs #woso community

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alltheirdamn · 1 year ago

Text

Killing Me Softly | (Joel x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 5 Nevermore

Chp. 5 Summary: It's hard to understand why everything feels so right. Rating: 18+ Explicit MDNI Word Count: 5.5k Warnings: Pre-outbreak AU, language, heavy kissing, unprotected piv sex, semi-rough sex, creampie, praise kink, (kinda) size kink, aftercare, fluff and a LOT of angst, light banter, lots of emotions, mentions of past trauma, brief flashback of trauma, another cliffhanger (sorry) A/N: Well, if you're here, I hope you're prepared for what's coming. A HUGE shoutout to @loonmartell for helping co-conspire the trajectory of this story. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it as always <3

Masterlist | Ko-fi

I think he’s already falling in love with you. I think he’s already falling in love with you. I think he’s already falling in love with you. I think he’s already falling in—

“Miss Smith?”

Your head jerked up at the sound, and the pencil you were drawing circles with fell against your desk. Bradley, one of your students, was standing at the edge of your desk with his test in hand.

“Sorry about that, sweetie,” you smiled, extending a hand. “Thank you.”

Bradley eyed you curiously before turning and skipping back to his desk. You dragged a hand over your face, wanting to crawl into the furthest corner of the world and never be seen again. Beth’s words had been plaguing you for days since you called her. Over and over again, they annihilated your thoughts, a constant broken record that you couldn’t shut off. You still had your nightly calls with Joel, talking past midnight and falling asleep together, but you kept making excuses not to see him.

“I’ve got lesson plans to make,” you lied.

“I’ll help,” Joel had offered.

“You’re a distraction.”

“I ain’t that bad,” he huffed.

The next night, you lied and said you were going out with Maria, which was an even worse lie since you were avoiding her at all costs. Telling Beth the news was one thing, but telling Maria was another matter. She was nosey and a bit too loud-mouthed to trust. The last thing you wanted was for the entire faculty to know your dirty secrets. Joel had to remain a secret—at least for now.

It’s not like you wanted to avoid Joel; you were just scared. You were not ready for this new territory, and if Beth was anywhere near correct in her assumptions, it only made you want to shy away more. The only problem was parent-teacher conferences this week, meaning you’d have to see Joel and Sarah…together.

The class bell rang, and your free period between classes began. You dropped your head on the desk and took a few deep breaths, trying to wrangle some semblance of calm back into your body. The final class of the day would be Sarah’s, and you’d be lying if you said you were prepared to see her. The blaring reminder that her dad had fucked you sore over the weekend still hung over your head, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty for it. How was your fall break, Sarah? Oh yeah, mine was great. Your dad fucked me so hard I ended up having a complete breakdown.

Fuck.

You wanted the day to be over.

The free period went by much faster than you wanted, and as you watched the next slew of kids take their seats, you made a conscious effort not to stare at Sarah as she walked in. She wore her usual smile, the impression of her dimples digging into her cheeks. Some wild thought popped into your head that you had no time to recover from: if you and Joel went any further, God help you, you’d be Sarah’s step-mom one day. Your stomach rolled with nausea as you tried to will those thoughts away. Joel wouldn’t stick around that long; you were a lost cause. There was no chance that would happen. Right?

Clearing your throat, you rose from your desk and made your way over to the projector to set up the lesson for the day. Since the school year was nearing Halloween, you decided it would be fun to teach Edgar Allen Poe, completely forgetting you had chosen “The Raven”—which was about losing someone. This would have a bite to it that you weren’t ready for.

“Okay, everyone,” you announced. “Did we all finish the reading assignment this week?”

There were a few nods and murmurs of agreement, and you quickly shifted to the first few slides of your presentation.

“Alright, so who can tell me the overall theme for Poe’s ‘The Raven’?”

Georgia, one of your top students, shot her hand up without a beat.

“Yes, Georgia?”

“It’s about his grief for losing Lenore,” she answered.

“Good,” you smiled. “Can anyone tell me what other theme the poem contains?”

“Madness!” Another student chimed in, causing an uproar of laughter amongst the students.

“Okay, okay, settle down. Very good, you guys.”

You switched to the next slide, staring blankly at the words typed out. Lenore is gone forever. Something struck you as you silently read it, realizing you weren’t too far off from Poe in his grief. Although Bennett wasn’t dead, he wasn’t coming back. That fact hadn’t hurt as deeply throughout the last few weeks, especially with Joel around, but it still threw salt in the open wounds still scattered over your heart.

“In stanza two,” you cleared your throat. “In stanza two, Poe refers to Lenore as ‘nameless,’ which can imply that she has died, and he’s now consumed with grief. Where else did you guys find his grief prominent?”

Georgia quickly raised her hand again, and you motioned for her to speak.

“In stanza four, he talks about his dreams, which I think he means he’s dreaming of her to return to him. But if she’s dead, there’s no way she’s going to come back,” Georgia said.

Fuck. You felt the sting of tears rim your eyes and briefly paused to gather your bearings. Bennett left. He left, and you had spent years dreaming he would return.

“Good,” you choked out.

You glanced around the room, your eyes connecting with Sarah’s. It took all your strength not to break down and cry as she studied you with the same concerned furrow in her brows as her dad would do.

Clicking to the next slide, you exhaled, focusing on the following theme to discuss. Madness.

“Now, with the theme of madness, where do we see this begin? Obviously, the dreams can be interpreted as his descent into madness, but what else do we find?” You asked.

To your detriment, Sarah was the one to raise her hand.

“Sarah,” you sighed, nodding.

“It’s the raven,” she said plainly. “The raven is what drives him mad.”

“What does he do to drive Poe mad?” You questioned.

“The raven only says one word,” she explained. “And that word drives him mad until the end of the poem.

“And why does it drive him mad?”

Sarah shifted in her seat, looking around at her classmates before responding.

“Because it’s the answer Poe doesn’t want to hear. Poe doesn’t want to be reminded that Lenore is dead, but that’s the only response the raven will give.”

You were swaying in place, trying to hold yourself together as the memories started ricocheting back into your mind. Now wasn’t the time to collapse, not in front of twenty students staring at you, confused and concerned. You only responded with a nod and flipped the projector off.

“Good job, you guys. Now, does anyone have any questions on this unit? Any questions about the stanza format or the themes?”

Sarah raised her hand again.

“Did his madness kill him?” She asked.

“Who?”

“Poe.”

“Oh, um, no. Well, it’s a mystery, really. Some people say he died of delirium, so, I guess, madness. But other people speculate he drank himself to death.”

The class grew morbidly quiet, which made it harder for you to continue. No one else spoke up after Sarah, so you resorted to handing out the quiz and sinking back into your desk chair.

One by one, the students came up to turn in their quiz, and you averted your gaze each time with a nonchalant ‘thank you.’ When the final bell finally sounded through the room, you hardly had the energy to wave goodbye.

Sarah was the last to leave, and that same concerned look lingered on her face as she shuffled out.

That night, you didn’t pick up the phone when Joel called. You stared as it rang repeatedly, watching the light fade from the screen when the ringing stopped. You buried your head under the covers and tried to sleep, but then the nightmares started.

You woke up to your alarm, hyperventilating and drenched in sweat. Squinting at the morning sun streaming through the blinds, you grabbed your phone to check the time. Your fingers froze as you read the screen.

Seven missed calls from Joel

Two voicemails from Joel

With shaky fingers, you pressed play on the first voicemail.

“Hey baby, it’s me. I just wanna make sure you’re okay. I’m hopin’ you’re just asleep, but if you’re up, please call me.”

Then you played the next.

“Baby, it’s me again. I miss you, and I’m worried ‘bout you. Please don’t shut me out, okay? I just wanna hear your voice and hear ‘bout your day. If you don’t wanna talk, that's okay. I understand. Just please lemme know you’re alright. I’ll drive my ass out to you if I need to just to make sure you’re okay. Call me when you get this. G’night, baby.”

You dug your knuckles into your eyes to try and force the tears back. Last night, you had the worst of the nightmares: the memory of something you tried to forget. You hadn’t touched that memory in so long. It was just the brutal realization you were truly at fault for everything with Bennett. No matter how badly you wanted to blame him, it was always your fault.

Glancing back at your phone, you rechecked the time: 7:35. Fuck, you were running late, and you really didn’t want to call Joel back right now. At least not right now. You’d muster the energy and strength to do it later, but you needed to gather yourself and get ready for work right now. Tossing off the sweat-slick sheets, you rushed into the bathroom and quickly showered. You couldn’t bother to put makeup on, so you opted to go without it and found a simple dress to wear. It was still in the high eighties in Austin, and a dress was the easiest option for the day.

Scrambling for your purse and keys, you ran to the garage to start your car and head to the school.

It wasn’t until you pulled into your parking spot that you realized you left your phone on the nightstand.

“Okay, what’s going on?” Maria questioned, sipping her lukewarm coffee.

She had nagged you into spending your free period in her classroom, demanding that you tell her everything that you had been withholding. You sat on the edge of her desk, your dress flowing over your knees as you stared out her class windows.

“Nothing, Maria,” you lied.

She said your name sternly, forcing your eyes to snap to hers. Her usual chipper demeanor was replaced with that ‘mother’ look, her lips pursed and eyes narrowed.

“Something is going on,” she pressed. “Could have something to do with Mr. Miller?”

“Maybe,” you mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of your dress.

“You did it, huh?” She raised a brow.

You exhaled heavily, nodding your head—no point in lying now.

“We talked on the phone the entire break, and when I got home, he insisted on taking me on a date. Then one thing led to another… and yeah, we had sex.”

Maria squealed, clapping her hands and grinning wide. You stared at her blankly, unamused by her reaction to your words.

“This isn’t a good thing, Maria,” you said pointedly.

“Why wouldn’t it be? You’re finally putting yourself out there! Oh my god, was it good?”

“It was,” you sighed. “It was good—really good. He’s so sweet and caring.”

“I feel like there’s a ‘but’ in there somewhere,” she interjected.

“But I can’t let it go any further,” you finished.

Maria leaned forward and placed her hand on your knee.

“Does he make you happy?” She asked softly.

“So fucking happy, Maria. I hate it.”

“You deserve to be happy, sweetie. That’s all I’ve been saying for years, and now you have it! Don’t force it to fail before it even begins. I saw the way he looked at you at the father-daughter dance. You can’t fake that.”

“I know. I know. I just—ugh,” you slid off the desk with a groan. “He’s too good for me. I’m still trying to get over Bennett and everything that happened. He doesn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of all my misery. That’s not fair to him.”

You were pacing around the room, your eyes darting between the science posters hanging along the walls of Maria’s classroom. You heard her desk chair scrape against the floor as she approached you. She gripped you by the shoulders and leveled you with a heavy stare, but her eyes remained soft.

“He’s still around, right? I don’t think he’s going anywhere, sweetie. If anything, I think he’s in it for the long haul.”

You didn’t know how to respond, so you leaned into her, letting her wrap you up in a motherly embrace. She rubbed circles against your back, hushing you as you wept quietly.

The rest of the day passed by in a numbing blur. You packed your things quietly and headed to your car, ready to drown yourself in a glass of wine.

Joel’s truck was parked in front of your house as you turned the corner onto your street. His tall figure was leaning against the driver’s door; his eyes focused on your car as you pulled into the driveway. You inhaled sharply before putting your car in park, mentally preparing yourself for whatever anger he might unleash.

You barely shut the car door before Joel had his arms around you, tugging you into a warm embrace. You couldn’t make sense of it; why wasn’t he mad? He should be angry at you.

“Joel?” you whispered, your fingers twisting into his shirt. He smelt of cedarwood and smoke, the lingering scent of the workday still on his clothes.

“I was so fuckin’ worried ‘bout you,” he muttered into your hair. “Been tryin’ to get ahold of you all day.”

“I left my phone at home this morning,” you explained. “I listened to your voicemails from last night. I’m sorry I didn’t call back. I was just running late this morning.”

“Why didn’t you pick up last night?’ He asked, pulling away.

“I needed some space. I’m just trying to figure this all out. I want you—I want this. I just don’t know how to be fully vulnerable. I know that’s silly to say since I’ve cried every time I’ve seen you.” You laughed at the thought of it.

“You coulda just told me that, baby. I would’ve understood,” Joel sighed.

“You’re not mad at me?”

“Of course not,” he smiled softly. “Had me worryin’ like crazy, but I ain’t mad. I know this is all new, and you’re scared. Just don’t shut me out, ‘kay? I wanna talk to you and understand what’s goin’ on with you. I told you I wanna work on it with you.”

“I’m s—.”

Joel was pressing his lips against yours before you could say those two words. The kiss was all-consuming and tender, strong enough to erase every thought in your mind. Your mouths moved in unison, tongues intertwined and exploring. It was dizzying to be kissed this fervently; the first kiss couldn’t hold a torch to this moment. You tangled your fingers into the curls at the base of his neck, slanting your lips to open yourself even more to him. Joel’s hands twisted into the fabric of your dress that hugged your hips and pulled you tighter against his body. You whimpered at the feeling of his cock straining in his jeans, and he hauled you upwards until you were wrapping your legs around his waist.

Spinning you around, he pinned you to the metal of your car door, breaking away from your mouth to kiss down your neck. Was it possible to be branded by a dozen kisses? He left a trail of sweltering kisses over every exposed part of your upper body, and all you could do was pant and moan helplessly. To hell with the neighborhood and their lingering eyes; the world around you could collapse, and you’d still be clinging to his body.

“I told you I didn’t wanna hear those apologies,” Joel muttered against the hollow of your neck.

“What are you gonna do about it, Joel?” You moaned, his teeth grazing your collarbone.

“All I want right now is to hear you screamin’ my name, so you better invite me inside before I fuck you right here.”

“Jesus Christ,” you whispered.

“Wrong name, baby.”

With one strong arm braced around your back and a firm hand on your ass, Joel carried you out of the driveway and through the open garage. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the bare patches in his beard. Joel stumbled into the living room and sat you on the edge of the couch. You clung to him, refusing to lay back, too afraid to disconnect from his body. There was something so addicting, so right about being in his arms—almost familiar.

“Y’look so beautiful in this dress, baby,” Joel breathed. “Turn around.”

You unattached yourself from him, spinning until your thighs pushed against the leather of the couch. Joel’s hands roamed over your calves, dragging your dress up until it piled against your lower back. You gasped as his fingers tore apart your underwear, the scraps falling down your legs and piling at your feet. It was embarrassing how wet you were already, your slick coating your inner thighs.

“Joel,” you whined as he swiped a finger through your wet folds.

“Use your words,” he hummed, slowly pushing in two fingers.

“I need you, Joel.” He curled his fingers against the spot that left you breathless, coaxing you to speak more. “Need it rough—please.”

You needed to feel how bad he needed you; you needed to show him you wanted him, even if it meant doing it without saying it aloud.

“Y’want it rough, baby? I can do that. If it’s too much, you tell me, okay?”

“Okay,” you exhaled.

Joel pulled his fingers from you, bringing them to your mouth and smearing your arousal over your parted lips. You hummed as you tasted yourself, pushing your ass back into him. You heard the clang of his belt and the soft sound of his jeans hitting the floor before he swiped his cock across your slick entrance.

“Don’t be gentle,” you moaned.

“Anythin’ you want, baby.”

That was all he said before splitting you open, the fullness of his cock inside you robbing you of all the breath in your lungs. Joel kept his hips flush with yours, his fingertips drifting down the fabric of your dress covering your spine.

“Joel,” you whined.

You shifted yourself onto the tips of your toes, nudging yourself back until the tip of his cock rubbed against the right spot inside you. You mewled at the sensation, wiggling your hips to find some sort of relief from the pleasure churning inside your stomach.

“Impatient, baby?” Joel teased.

He moved against you slowly, letting you adjust to his size. You had been in such a haze last time you hadn’t realized how big he actually was, but now you felt every glorious inch of him inside you. You let out another frustrated whimper, and Joel responded with an onslaught of forceful thrusts. Your body shoved further into the couch, your midsection rubbing against the edge every time Joel snapped his hips against yours.

Joel’s hand snaked around your neck, drawing you back into his chest, the angle of his cock spearing deeper inside you. Your wails turned to sobs as you listened to Joel grunting harder behind you, his fingers squeezing rhythmically around your throat.

“That’s it, baby,” Joel crooned. “That’s it. Doin’ so well for me.”

You gasped for air as the desire coiling within your core became agonizing and all-consuming. Your fingers wrapped around his hand holding you up, clawing at his skin as his thrusts became erratic and determined. You were teetering on the edge of euphoria, your body buzzing with pleasure.

“Touch yourself, baby,” Joel whispered into your ear.

You fought against your dress to find your clit, the instant connection of your fingers causing you to cry out. Joel’s mouth ravaged your neck, sucking marks into the skin as you drew tantalizing circles over the sensitive bud. It was right there— that explosive pleasure bubbling under the surface.

“Don’t stop,” you begged, your voice strained under his grip. “Don’t—right there. Right there, Joel!”

Joel quickened the pace, your eyes blurring as your orgasm raced through your veins and set your nerves ablaze. Your sex clenched around his cock, forcing him to slow his thrusts as he groaned into your ear.

“S’fuckin’ good, baby,” he punched out, releasing your neck.

“More,” you heaved.

“Think y’can take it?” He asked, pinning you down onto the couch cushions.

“Just want you, Joel,” you said. Your words were muffled into the couch as you exhaled, “Want everything with you.”

You didn’t know if Joel heard you, and you prayed he didn’t. Your brain was lost in some euphoric haze, dizzying you and your ability to control your emotions. Joel knew every part of your body, like the back of his hand. He knew exactly what you needed and what you wanted, and it was so confusing.

But all your thoughts grew quiet as the lewd sounds of your arousal and his ragged breathing echoed around the house. Joel’s hand pressed into your hair as he pushed you further into the couch. Bent over this way, you were entirely at his mercy, putty in his hands, and helpless.

“Swear y’were fuckin’ made for me, baby,” Joel grunted. “You’re mine, baby. Mine.”

“Yours,” you cried. “I’m—.”

You couldn’t finish your sentence as Joel seized up, choking out your name as he spilled into you. His body slumped over yours, the weight of his chest heavy against your back. The hammering of his heart matched yours as you both recovered in silence, the house growing quiet aside from your labored breathing.

“Too rough?” Joel muttered into your hair.

You shifted your face to the side, rewarded by his lips pressing into your cheek.

“Perfect,” you sighed. “It was perfect.”

“You weren’t lyin’ when you said you weren’t a fan of vanilla, huh?” Joel chuckled, pulling out of you.

You slumped further into the couch, laughing softly.

“I was talking about cake, Joel. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Sure you were, baby. Stay right there, okay?”

You heard his footsteps disappear toward your bedroom, the distant sound of water turning on and off floating down the hallway. A second later, Joel was behind you again, the cool touch of a towel making you jerk away in shock. He gently rubbed the cloth over your inner thighs, taking extra caution of your sore entrance. You’d feel him everywhere tomorrow, and you didn’t hate that for some reason—you wanted the reminder of him.

“C’mere,” Joel urged, helping you stand.

He pulled you over to the couch, curling you into his arms and bracing you against his chest. Joel intertwined his fingers with yours, his breathing evening out as you shimmed further into his embrace. Maybe it was the sex, maybe it was just being around him, but all your doubts and worries seemed to fade away. It was just this moment; you and him with limbs entangled together.

“Tell me somethin’ no one knows about you,” Joel whispered.

“Only if you tell me something in return.”

“Of course, baby.”

You paused, considering all the possibilities of what you could share. You had forgotten pieces of yourself over the years, the layers of heartbreak and trauma suffocating the person you once were. You still weren’t sure if that girl you had once been was still inside you.

“I hate pancakes,” you said.

Joel laughed, his body shaking behind you as you buried your head into the couch.

“Pancakes? Really?” He teased.

“I just don’t like them!” You defended.

“Y’gonna tell me why?”

“I don’t know,” you grumbled. “They’re just too sweet.”

“So y’don’t like sugar in your coffee, and y’think pancakes are too sweet,” Joel mused. “What do you like?”

“Don’t tease me, Joel.”

His fingers prodded your sides, forcing you to shriek at the contact. You hated to be tickled and hated it even more when he kept you pinned to your chest with nowhere to go. You rolled toward him, squirming against his touch. Joel leaned in to kiss you softly, muffling your protests as you settled into his arms.

“Your turn,” you sighed.

“Hmm, well, I like pancakes.”

“Be serious, Joel,” you frowned.

“Okay, okay. I love watchin’ cartoons.”

You giggled, watching that grin stretch across his face.

“Been watchin’ them with Sarah since she was a kid,” he chuckled. “I still do sometimes, even if she ain’t home.”

“That’s cute,” you smiled.

You brought your fingers to his face, scratching at the stubble covering his chin and jaw. Joel’s eyes shut as your touch drifted over the patchy spots, your fingertips drawing circles in the places his beard disconnected.

“Tell me somethin’ else,” he said.

“I think you’re really handsome.”

It was a quick response—almost too fast—but you couldn’t swallow back the words. You glanced up at him, peeking through your lashes to see his brown eyes soften.

“Handsome, huh?”

“Well, I can’t call you cute,” you scrunched your nose. “It doesn’t fit you. I like handsome more.”

“I like it,” he smiled. “Call me handsome all y’want.”

You dragged him to your mouth, saying everything you couldn’t form into words. Joel moved with you, his head tilting and mouth molding to yours. He made everything feel so simple; maybe that’s what scared you. It was too easy with him—falling into this idyllic routine. Joel mumbled your name, pulling himself reluctantly from your lips. You chased one more kiss and settled back into his chest.

“Did you know it’s good luck when it rains on your wedding day?” You thought out loud.

Joel tensed up, his arms flexing around you.

“Superstition says it means your marriage will last,” you continued. “I’ve always thought it was funny, you know? I used to believe in that before my wedding, but after that, I figured everyone had lied to me.”

“Baby,” Joel whispered.

“No, it’s okay. There’s a point to this, I promise.”

“Tell me,” he urged softly.

“I think the rain was good luck. Maybe not in the way people think, but I don’t think Bennett and I were meant to get married. My sister hated me for going through with it. We didn’t really talk once Bennett and I got engaged. Everyone warned me about him; they told me he wasn’t who I should be with. I was so stubborn to make things work. He—he was there for me during a really awful time in my life. I thought I owed it to him to stay.

“But then here you are, and it makes me re-think everything. The rain? It’s still good luck, just in a different way. I wasn’t meant to be with him because maybe… maybe I was meant to be with you.”

Joel was painfully quiet, his eyebrows furrowing together as he closed his eyes. Oh, fuck. You had rambled out everything you were scared to say, and now it was biting you in the ass. This was why you were too afraid to acknowledge your feelings: the rejection. Joel didn’t see it the same way; he didn’t think of you in the same way, and you just made a complete idiot of yourself.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you muttered, trying to pry yourself out of his grip. You kept the tears at bay, trying not to let yourself succumb to the heartbreak shattering inside you.

Joel’s hands wrangled you back to his chest, his eyes leveling with yours. You inhaled sharply as his fingers brushed away the rogue tears falling down your cheeks.

“There ain’t a doubt in my mind y’were meant for me, baby. I’m thankin’ God every day for bringin’ you into my life,” Joel confessed. “I know this is all new, but I promise to keep provin’ myself because whatever this is between us, it’s real.”

“It’s real,” you echoed.

“Don’t run away from me,” Joel pleaded. “Gimmie all the good and bad stuff. I swear I can handle it.”

“What if you get tired of me? What if I’m not enough?” You rambled.

“I could never get tired of you, baby. If anythin’, I keep wantin’ more.”

You snuggled further into his embrace, inhaling his scent as you pressed your nose into his chest. Joel ran a hand through your hair, his fingers catching on a few knots left from earlier.

“What’d you mean when you said he was there for you durin’ somethin’ awful?” Joel asked after a beat of silence.

Flashes of the crash came back into your mind, or at least the ones you could recall. You squeezed your eyes shut as your nightmares began to see the light of day. It was a memory you never liked to revisit.

“Easy,” your mom whispered. “Easy, honey. Don’t move too much, okay? Take it slow.”

Your eyes fluttered open, the harsh lights above you burning into your retinas as you tried to adjust to the room fading into the forefront. You were tucked into a hospital bed, IVs and tubes sticking out of both arms. Your head was pounding, and everything hurt. That’s all you could focus on. Everything hurt so fucking bad.

“Bennett?” You croaked, searching the room.

Your mom, dad, Beth, and Stella were all grouped around the foot of the bed, their eyes glassy with tears. Bennett was nowhere to be found. Beth’s fear-stricken eyes shifted from your mom to your dad before she bolted from the room.

“I’m going to go get the doctor,” your mom announced, turning and leaving the room.

Stella shifted uncomfortably and promptly followed, leaving your dad alone at the foot of your bed.

“How’re you feeling, peanut?” He asked, rounding to the side of your bed.

“Pain,” you cried softly.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he assured. “It’s all gonna be okay.”

“Baby?” Joel said cautiously.

“S–sorry,” you mumbled. “I don’t know if I really want to talk about it.”

Joel’s brows scrunched together, his eyes staring at you with concern. You turned away from him, lifting yourself from the couch. Pacing the living room, you stared blankly at your bookshelf beside your entertainment center, still collecting dust after two years. You heard Joel shift against the couch behind you and glanced back to see him staring at you intensely. Anxiety was thrumming in your chest the longer you stood in front of him, too many thoughts reeling inside your mind. You never talked about the accident; you didn’t want to be reminded of what had been the catalyst in your relationship's failure. Because that’s what it was. You owed everything to Bennett for sticking by your side through it all, and in the end, you weren’t enough. Nothing you did was enough to salvage what had been your life with him before it all.

“Hey,” Joel exhaled. “C’mere.”

“I—I need a minute,” you cried.

You bolted from the living room and went down the hall, gasping for air when you reached the edge of your bed. The room was spinning as you dropped your head in your hands, the nausea surging up inside you the longer you stayed stuck in the memory. You needed out of it; you needed out. You needed—.

Joel rushed into the room, falling to his knees in front of you as he said your name over and over to coax you out of the trance. Nothing was working. Your head was throbbing in pain, and you couldn’t work around it.

“Breathe with me, baby,” Joel whispered. “Breathe.”

You heaved in a lung full of air, only to choke on it and gag back the nausea crawling up your throat. Joel rubbed his hands over your thighs, the sensation of his touch jarring you enough to make you cringe.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he crooned, a distant echo of your dad's words. “It’s okay.”

The shrilling sound of your phone ringing pulled you both from the moment, and you crawled over the bed to grab it.

Beth

“Fuck,” you groaned. “I can’t—I can’t answer it.”

“Give it to me, I’ll do it,” Joel offered with an outstretched hand.

You practically tossed it at him while you crumpled into the sheets with your hands clutching your head.

“Hello?” He answered with a brief pause before he said, “This is Joel.”

Silence.

“Fuck, okay. Gimmie a second,” he replied.

“Baby, she needs to talk to you,” Joel said.

You stifled your cries before taking your phone from his hand, already hearing Beth’s frantic voice on the other end of the receiver.

“Beth, what is it?” You asked, your body shaking.

“It’s dad, sis. You’ve got to come home, okay?”

#joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel x teacher #joel x f!reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miler tlou #tlou #pre outbreak!joel #the last of us fanfiction #fluff and angst #so much angst

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greynatomy · 2 years ago

Text

same name

alessia russo x reader

based on this request.

———

It was a normal Tuesday afternoon. You were standing on the grass field, watching all your children play a bit of football.

You teach the fourth years. Every Friday, you like to give your students to do what they want to do, and most of the time, they choose to play football.

“Miss! Miss!” You turn to your right to see one of the girls in your class running towards you.

“Hey, Ellie. D’you need something?”

“My mum bought me a Lioness jersey and I’ve just noticed it’s got your name on it.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, do you play for the Lionesses?”

The question made you laugh, but covered it up with a cough, not wanting to embarrass your student.

“No, I don’t Ellie. That’s Alessia Russo’s jersey. Do you know who that is?”

Henry, another one of your students, heard you as he was running past, quickly changing directions towards you.

“I know! I know!” This caught the attention of the rest of your class, everyone now formed a group around you. “My mum loves to watch football and told me she’s her favorite!”

“That’s amazing, Henry. Who here knows who the Lionesses are?” Most of the class raised their hands. “Wow, a lot more than I thought.”

“The girls are more interesting to watch than the boys.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, my dad said it’s because there’s less flopping, whatever that means.” A bit shrugs his shoulders, making you giggle.

Before you could say another word, the bell had rung.

“School’s over. Grab your bags, it’s time to head home.”

“Have a great weekend Miss.”

“You as well.”

Walking through the front door of your house, you were met with silence. It wasn’t a surprise as you didn’t see the white Mercedes in your driveway.

You decided to get started on dinner, so you’ve got dressed into something comfy and made your way to the kitchen. As you’ve placed the food in the oven to cook, you heard the front door open.

“Honey? I’m home!”

“In the kitchen!” You called out, washing the dishes.

Footsteps got louder as they walked closer, arms wrapping themselves around your waist, a head tucking themselves in the crook of your neck.

“Hi, Amore.”

“Hi, Lessi baby. How was training?”

“Same as always. How was your day?”

“Watched the kids play football, like every Friday.”

Alessia almost sounded like she was purring, trying to somehow find a way to be closer to you than she already is.

“That reminds me. One of my students brought you up, how her mum bought her your Lioness jersey then asking if I was a footballer cause we’ve got the same name.”

“That’s hilarious, really.”

“Then everyone gathered ‘round and we spent a few minutes just before the bell just talking about the team. Almost all of them are big fans of you lot.”

“You never told them who you were married to?” Alessia asks, not put off by you not telling her students, just curious.

“I just wanted to get situated with them for a bit. It’s only the second month of me being there. But if they ask, I won’t deny it.”

“Mmm. Okay. I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“Impossible.”

On Monday, Alessia arrived at the Emirates training grounds for another day of training. She greeted everyone she saw walking by, sleep still present on her face.

“Morning, Lessi. How was the weekend with the missus?” The morning was no longer peaceful. Katie’s loud voice cutting through the silence.

“Very relaxing. How was yours?”

“Very energetic.” She stated, wiggling her eyes brows suggestively.

“Stop that.” Caitlin slaps the back of her girlfriend’s head.

After training, the gunners crowd around each other, calming themselves down.

“Uh, could I ask you guys for a favor?” Alesia speaks up after catching her breath, pointing her attention to her Lioness teammates.

“What’s up?”

“Well, Y/NN’s class are really big Lioness fans and I was wondering if Leah, Lotte, Beth, you’d want to join me in surprising my wife’s class on Friday?”

“Oh, we’d love to!”

Friday comes around quickly. You were leading your class out to the field, bag of footballs over your shoulder. Getting closer, you see four figures standing on the field.

“Miss! It’s the England captain!”

Leah Williamson is indeed standing in front of you, as well as Lotte, Beth, and Alessia.

“What are you guys doing here?” You ask, giving them all a hug, Alessia’s lasting longer than the rest.

“Thought we’d surprise the kids. Play some football.”

“Hey! You’re the one with the same name as Miss.” Ellie points a finger at Alessia.

Alessia crouches down to her height, the other kids getting closer.

“She actually stole my name.” All your students gasped.

“What? No, I didn’t. She’s lying to you all. I got her permission.” You send your wife a look that she knows means ‘stop or you’ll sleep in the couch’ making her lift her arms in surrender.

“Lying is bad. Shame on you.” Alessia now has a look of embarrassment on her face, getting told off by a child.

“My mum has a crush on you.” The statement was directed at Leah. “I don’t know what that means. Why does she want to crush you?” Leah’s face goes bright red.

“Okay!” You get everyone’s attention. “Let’s play some football!”

They all split themselves into teams while you and Leah stay on the sidelines. Watching your wife with all the children is making you feel lots of emotions.

“She’s so good with kids.”

“Am I gonna get any godbabies soon?”

You snap your head towards Leah. “Who said you’d be the godmother?”

“I’m just manifesting. Don’t make me wait too long.” Leah walks away, seeing Alessia walking towards you.

“Hi, love.”

“Hey, baby.”

“What were you two talking about?”

“How my ovaries are bursting watching you with kids.” She wraps an arm around your waist, you looking up at her, chin on her chest. “You’d be such a great mum.”

“You would too.”

“You think it’s time?”

“I mean…” She’s looking down at you suggestively, a smirk on her face. “We can start trying once we get home.”

“Hate to break it to you, but none of us have the right parts for that.”

“Doesn’t mean that we can’t practice.”

“Lessi!”

#woso x reader #greynatomy #woso #woso imagines #woso imagine #alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #engwnt #engwnt x reader

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frillydolle · 2 days ago

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a bite of love and yearning　 ─　 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓱𝓾𝓻 𝓜𝓸𝓻𝓰𝓪𝓷

synopsis: no one has seen mr morgan for weeks, and yet work was still getting done within camp. the only person who knew what was going on was you.

tags ͡˚̣̣̣𓎟𓎟　 femreader　 chapter six time　 vampire!arthur　 slight angst at the start

he roamed the streets now. he did go back and forth between shady belle, but he wasn't strayed further and further away, almost never coming back until he was sure no one would be awake.

he was mourning. well, not really. he was only mourning that he couldn't see the sun kiss your skin anymkre, or he could never see your smile as his callous hand caressed your face, that the two of you couldn't take a stroll in saint denis while pretending you two were a high society couple.

it was strange. looking sick but not feeling sick, being physically strong like a bull, and feeling weak like a lamb. it was a foreign for him to feel such a way, to be in such a state. although it took a while for him to get used to. hell, it took him a long time he was now part of the story that mary-beth and karen were talking.

he was a vampire, now. he had to accept that if he liked it or not. it was like his self-loathing is now a lot worse than before.

he's watching you, hidden by the trees that surrounded the front of shady belle. no one has, but somehow, work got done overnight. there were pieces of wood that were ready for the fire, and more food was put down by pearson's wagon. arthur mustve still be around, right? but what happened to him?

only you knew. sort of.

he didn't tell you, but you didn't know what was wrong. it still sounded like a myth, like he was a mythical being. of course, you were open to it. more specifically, you were open to letting him drink you. drink you dry if he needed to. you would do anything for that helpful man.

“you need to drink or you'll─ y'know i don't mind, you've done it before.”

“sweetheart... alrigh', promise me you'll tell me if it hurts, okay?” he murmurs softly, pulling out your wrist and he takes it up to his lips and you wore you heard a sigh of anticipation.

“i promise.”

soon, your heart began to beat a little faster out of suspense. feeling his fangs caress your wrist, teasing you in a way to make what's about to come less painful. you felt his indec finger rub in a circular motion, comforting you before you felt his pointy teeth pierce your skin. he was delicate and fragile, like he was afraid that he'd break you in half with his new profound strength.

he looked up at you, and you looked down at him in return. the moment of intimacy was definitely in the air between the two of you, but that's something he wasn't sure if he wanted after his.. change. he was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he's.. really a monster, now.

recently, he yearned for you even more, hell, he craved you now, and he wasn't sure why. maybe it was because you didn't tell anyone about him, that he's changed, he won't be coming back to camp now. he surely did miss everyone dearly, but he couldn't bear anyone else to see him like this.

he just trusted you deeply.

#dolle writes ౨ৎ #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #rdr #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan imagine #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan fluff #rdr fanfic #rdr fanfiction #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr2 fanfic #rdr fandom #rdr2 fandom

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paintermagazine · 10 months ago

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‘Pennsylvania 6-5000!’

Artist: Miss Beth Belle (IG)

Photographer: Kevin Heap

#pin up style #pin up model #Miss Beth Belle #Kevin Heap #Phone #pinup #retro #1940s #RAF #WRAF #military women #monochrome

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historybunnny · 6 months ago

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Dear Gladys,

I have been home with Beth and my sisters for a little over a week now. Mostly, I have been working on my cross-stitch; Beth says I have some of the best embroidery skills for a girl my age that she has ever seen! I suppose this shouldn't have shocked me so much, since Ms Hoffman always complimented my skill, but it seems to mean more from Beth since she is so good herself.

Beth told me that when she was a girl, she was very poor, and she sewed all of her and her sister's clothes by hand. She says this is why she often makes mine and my sisters dresses; she calls it 'a habit she never grew out of'.

But even though I love my needlepoints, my hands grow sore and sometimes I just can't stand it anymore when the needle keeps biting my fingers! So, I cannot imagine how Beth does it for so long. If I was ever rich, I think I would buy a sewing machine instead.

Beth and I have worked in the kitchen together before, but now, she says, I should learn more since it will be good for me as a wife. She has been teaching me to bake all sorts of things, and of course, I thought of you and your family!

First, we started with bread, and she taught me to knead dough by hand, which I did not realise was such hard work! I think I will savor every bite of the bread from your bakery from now on.

After I mastered the bread well enough, we moved onto some pastries, and I liked that a whole lot more. She has taught me how to make Papanasi, which is my father's favourite dessert. Next week, we will make Kissel, since the big cranberry harvest is this Saturday afternoon. Though I am not too fond of them, I am still excited anyway.

Something to know about Beth, is that she is what my mother calls, 'very devout'. My mother says this is why she respects Beth so much, because Beth practices her beliefs everyday, not just on Sundays like some people.

And so, Beth and I have started to read the Bible together at least a little bit everyday. But reading with Beth isn't like it is in church at all; she actually makes it fun! When we're finished with our daily passages, she even lets me ask all sorts of things about our reading, and never, ever sighs impatiently. I think this is what my mother means when she says Beth practices everyday because most grown ups I know do not like it when you ask so many questions.

I think Beth might be the kindest woman in the entire world, and I must say, if we all must become grown ups someday, I hope that I am like her.

Goodness, I miss you so much; it feels like it's been years since I've seen you, rather than a week. I hope I receive a letter from you soon, and you simply MUST tell me what is going on with everyone in class.

Sincerely,

Flora Belle

Thank you again to @antiquatedsimmer for the bible pose pack who without this scene would still just be fever dream in my head. Be sure to check out my lovely friend's other pose packs here!

#she says she hopes she's like beth....#then starts reading the bible before bed 😉#ts4 historical #ts4 decades challenge #ts4 legacy #ts4 storytelling #ts4 gameplay #decades challenge #generation 01 #the baudelaire legacy #1890 #florence baudelaire #beth herbert

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pearlthedoll · 8 months ago

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Coven's Corner Antique Shop: Necklace

CW: Angels, Dolls, Witches, Loss of Divinity

An angel fluttered down from the skies and landed in front of a curious looking building. It wasn't as pretty as the ones she typically soared above, and for some reason, it had a big sign on top of it that read 'Coven's Corner Antiques.' Humans didn't typically put big signs on top of their houses usually, so the angel figured this must be what they call a 'store.'

The angel had never been inside one of these so-called 'stores' before, she wasn't supposed to interact with humans unless absolutely necessary of course, but this one, it called to her somehow. She could sense no human life within, and yet, somehow, she felt the resonance of a soul within the building. How curious.

Taking a step forward, the angel wobbled slightly on her feet. This was only the fourth time she'd ever felt the need to land in her existence so she wasn't really accustomed to walking, but she was able to progress anyhow, using her wings to balance herself.

It took some time with her uneven steps, but eventually the angel managed to reach the entrance of the building. She reached out a hand to knock on the door, but paused. Most often, she'd seen humans simply reach out and open doors when entering 'stores' and 'shops;' They seemed to save knocking for houses. With that in mind, the angel instead turned the handle on the door and pushed it open.

The angel's arrival was accompanied by a sudden jingling sound above her head. A small jolt of panic shot through the angel, worried she'd somehow done something wrong, but when she looked towards the source, all she saw was a bell.

Suddenly, something poked its head over a nearby counter, standing up and waving towards the angel, wearing a smile. It looked like a human, but it carried none of the presence of one. Upon further examination, the angle realized the thing was not made of flesh as humans were, but rather it looked to be made of some sort of ceramic.

The ceramic thing opened its mouth and began to speak. "Hello, there! Welcome to Coven's Corner! One's name is Trinket! May it be of service?"

The angel blinked and hesitated. She took a moment to remember what was proper manners at a time like this. Typically, she remembered, when one human mentioned its name to another human, the other one would do the same in kind. The angel didn't have a name, though; She never had a need for one. It wouldn't do to simply say nothing, though, she had to think of something to say. Perhaps she could just make up a name?

"Oh, I am... uhm... I am Mary-" No, no, no, that wouldn't work. She could not pose as Mother Mary. That would be preposterously rude, and Trinket would not believe her. "Er... B-beth..." That wouldn't work either, a human wouldn't take a name of a town like Bethany like that. That made no sense... Come on, come on.

"Hello, Miss Maribeth!" The ceramic thing chirped. "How can this one help you?"

Maribeth... By some miracle, Trinket had misheard her. That worked. Maribeth opened her mouth to speak again. "I... help me...?" Her voice came out as a quiet whisper, despite her efforts to match the Trinket's volume. She hadn't had need for her vocal cords in many, many years, and it seemed they'd grown weak with disuse.

"Is there anything in particular you're looking for?" Trinket tilted its head. "Or would you perhaps just like to browse for yourself?"

"Uhm..." Maribeth took a moment to think. If it were human, what would it shop for? Surprisingly quickly, something came to mind. "I would like... uhm... a n-necklace."

"Oh! Well, then!" Trinket turned and pointed. "Just go up those stairs over there and take a left! Miss, Miss, and sometimes Miss put the jewelry up there! Good luck!"

Maribeth nodded. "Thank... you."

Following instructions was something Maribeth was very good at, and doing just that allowed her to relax just a little bit. Soon enough, she stumbled upon the jewelry Trinket had mentioned to her and in the middle of the display, an arrangement of necklaces.

Most of the necklaces were hardly notable in Maribeth's eyes. Chains with meaningless gemstones and shapes built into them, but in a matter of seconds, one caught her eye. It was a simple design, a length of silver chain decorated with a small pendant shaped into the design of a pair of feathery wings.

Maribeth passed a glance toward the pair of wings on her back, messy and in dire need of a preening as they were, the wings reflected how she imagined they'd look if she ever managed to take proper care of her own. She pulled the necklace off of the display put her head through the loop of chain.

There was a mirror nearby which Maribeth passed a glance over to, curious as to how she looked with the necklace on. The shiny silver metal stood out brilliantly against her tanned skin and worn robes. The charm at the end of the chain had some to rest just above her chest, shimmering softly in the dim light of the antique shop.

An unfamiliar feeling stirred within Maribeth, an emotion she'd never once felt in her hundreds of years of life. It was a wonderful feeling, a warmth originating in her chest that spread to her whole body as she looked at the image of her reflection. She wanted this necklace. True, she wasn't supposed to keep possessions... but she wanted this. It made her feel... something.

Satisfied with her necklace, Maribeth decided it was time to return to the skies. She stepped back down the stairs and began to head for the front door of the shop. Before she could finish her journey, though, Trinket suddenly leapt over its desk, standing in her way.

"You wouldn't think of stealing that necklace, would you, Miss Maribeth?" Trinket asked in an aggressive tone.

"Steal...?" Maribeth tilted her head, confused.

"One knows you didn't walk in wearing that, it has an eye for detail. If you can't afford it, one is willing to negotiate price, but Miss told it to never let anyone steal anymore."

"Price..." Maribeth ruminated on the word. A memory occurred to her, humans used a thing called 'money' at 'shops' to 'purchase' the things they wanted. Maribeth would need to use 'money' to 'purchase' her necklace. That would be easy enough, but... "I have... n-no money. S-sorry." She bowed her head apologetically. She'd been rude despite her efforts to the contrary.

"Oh?" Trinket's voice softened. "Really?"

"Yes, sorry. Sorry. Sorry." Maribeth curled into herself, hiding behind her wings. "I'm sorry, so sorry. I'll put it back. I'm sorry." She'd failed. She'd been rude, bad, horrible, evil, useless, flawed. Maribeth was supposed to be perfect, as all angels were, and yet she'd been rude.

"Hey, wait..." Trinket's tone shifted once more, seeming to realize something. "Calm down, Miss Maribeth. Could this one ask a question of you?"

"Yes, of course." Maribeth spoke from within her feathered walls.

"One thought you were a witch who'd given herself wings. Is that not what you are?"

Maribeth hesitated once more. She wasn't supposed to openly discuss her nature. To be perceived at all was already enough of a crime, let alone to acknowledge her own divinity... but then again, to lie further would be to be even more rude. "N-no."

Trinket gasped. "Are you a real for real angel?" All at once, its voice swelled with a mountain of enthusiasm.

"I... yes..." Maribeth flinched, admonishing herself for yet another sin.

"Wow... a real angel..." Trinket mused. "Okay, okay! It has an idea! It has a price!"

Maribeth recoiled back. "I still have no money, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"No need!" Trinket chirped. "Miss and Miss have wanted to try a spell for years but angel plumage is so so so rare! If one gave Her and Her some angel feathers, they would give it so so so much praise!"

Peaking out from behind her wings, Maribeth looked at Trinket, puzzled. "You want my feathers? B-but without my feathers I cannot fly. Please, I can put the necklace ba-"

"Not all of them, silly!" Trinket made a sound. Was that what giggling was? "Just two or three feathers, and the necklace is yours. Deal?"

"I..." To trade away her feathers for a human keepsake... that would be sinful. Perhaps more sinful than anything she'd done already today. But maybe it'd be worth it... the necklace made her feel so... warm, after all. "Okay. Just three..."

Trinket cheered. "Alright! This won't take long at all. Just hold still, okay?"

"Okay..."

Maribeth winced at a short sharp pain in her wing, as Trinket forcibly pulled one of her tattered feathers free from her wing. The feather offered very little resistance, perhaps unsurprising given how many decades it had been since Maribeth had last taken proper care of her wings.

For a moment, Trinket stared at the feather in its hand, twirling it over in its fingers and admiring it. "Wow... a real angel feather. Okay, just two more. Are you okay, Miss Maribeth?"

She offered a single nod and shortly after, Trinket pulled another feather from her wing, and then one more, each one with a harsh pain that thankfully faded quickly. The pain of her feathers being plucked was the last thing on Maribeth's mind, though. She was far more concerned with her sin.

"There, all done!" Trinket sang, waving the trio of feathers in its hand. "That's the payment settled. Enjoy your necklace, Miss Maribeth!" It climbed back over its counter, flashing a bright smile and giving Maribeth a path towards the building's exit once more.

"Thank you..." Maribeth mumbled, beginning her stride for the door. Just before she made it outside, though, Trinket called out to her one last time.

"Wait... if you're an angel... where's your halo?" Trinket questioned, a tone of rising suspicion in its voice.

Maribeth frowned. It wasn't something she liked to think of very often... But to refuse to answer would be rude. "It broke... many many years ago."

"That... can happen?"

"Yes... it hurt a lot..." Maribeth shuddered, not at all enjoying the memory.

Trinket remained silent for a short while, staring at Maribeth with a confusing expression.

"Uhm, goodbye, Trinket. Sorry." Maribeth bowed slightly, then turned away and finally stepped back outside.

She took a few uneven steps back up onto the road, and readied herself to take off once more. For just a moment though, before she leapt back into the skies, Maribeth turned her eyes back down to the pendant hanging from her neck. The same feeling of warmth she'd felt when she first looked into the mirror returned to her. For just that second... it was almost like she could feel her halo again.

#dollposting #angelposting #not a person #empty spaces #microfiction

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cxyotl · 1 month ago

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i gotta study for a final but. kieran being blinded but surviving + epilogue kierabeth hcs, anyone?

(tw for eye gouging. obviously. and a little ableism thanks to micah bell being mentioned. FUCK MICAH.)

-The O’Driscolls tried to take both eyes at the same time. This is a self defense move my abuela taught me when i was a kid and its easily the most efficient way at removing an eye and making it hurt. You sorta take the head in ur hands and go in at the same time. The O’Driscoll was right handed, and had a better grip on Kieran’s left side, so the left eye was completely removed. HOWEVER. He only managed to damage the right eye.

-If you were to close your dominant eye completely and close your non-dominant eye until its barely open, thats pretty close to what Kieran can see with his remaining eye all the way open, making him fully blind but not unable to see completely. Absolutely Zero vision at night or in dark spaces.

-Kieran still fishes and works with horses he’s just extra careful around horses and needs a little extra help tying his hook to his line and baiting it. A lot more hooking accidents occur but that’s alright.

-He’s still capable of shooting a gun (albeit, blindly. so. stay out of his line of fire unless you’re itching to get shot). He tries to keep himself from shooting until he’s sure he knows what he’s shooting at, but if need be, he’ll start blasting at whatever moves. He cannot shoot at night at all. Not very useful for. well. Certain ambushes that happen at night.

-With his hearing being a little stronger to make up for his lack of sight, as well as him being even more on alert about whats going on around him than he was before, hes actually totally capable of working as a guard. This makes him particularly useful in Lakay, when Bill, Javier, Micah, Dutch, and Arthur are missing and after Lenny and Hosea are killed.

-Branwen obviously has military training, so out on rides, Kieran just cues Branwen follow a formation with the other horses they’re with. They’re literally best friends and trust each other more than Kieran trusts God Himself. They’re alright.

-Without proper cane training, and with nothing more than a big stick Arthur found, Kieran’s sorta just. figuring it out as he goes? He’s really just using his stick to balance himself out and to push people out of his way. In high stakes situations, or if he knows he needs his gun, he’ll ditch it. Not great, but whats an outlaw to do yknow. He does lose the stick in Beaver Hollow, which upsets him even more after the Events of ch6, because that was something Arthur was nice enough to give him without being asked.

-Mary-Beth learns how to properly guide a blind person so that they aren’t fumbling all over the place trying to get him from one side of camp to the other. She’s a very confident guide, so she has No problem pushing through crowds so that people get OUT of her and Kieran’s way. Kieran’s all apologetic about it at first, but then he realizes it’s way better for him than maneuvering around other people.

-Because Kieran is so much more sensitive to people touching his face, Mary-Beth started to ask him for kisses by asking if it was okay if she got close to his face first. After the first few times, Kieran figured out that “Can I get close to you right now?” meant “Can we please make out.” Of course, sometimes she’s just asking if she can adjust his bandages/eyepatch or something, but she’ll still give him a little kissie before she actualky does what she was meaning to do in those cases. THEYRE IN LOVE!!!

-Kieran’s tear ducts are fucked, and he’s a lot more prone to infection because there isn’t really a way to clean out whatever’s stuck in your eye if you can’t cry right. While his empty socket is usually covered by an eyepatch, he just has to deal with being extra careful about his damaged eye. Which doesn’t happen so he usually has to figure something else out.

-He was already nervous around dogs but Cain freaks him out bc he’s always gotta be aware of where Cain is. If he accidentally steps on Cain, he’ll walk himself right back into an O’Driscoll camp fr. Luckily, Cain’s a little smartie pants and learns to stay out of Kieran’s way or at least bark to warn him where he is. Kieran’s the first adult to actually notice Cain’s ‘disappearance’.

-Mary-Beth, being a writer at heart, always provides VERY elaborate descriptions of what’s going on around them. Sometimes Kieran will ask her to describe the room they’re in just to hear her describe it, because even if its the most mundane room in the world, it makes him fall in love all over again. In situations where he needs a quick summary of who is in the room and where they are, Mary-Beth is still the best at getting that information to him quickly and in appropriate detail.

-Micah’s a little biiiiiiitch. Obviously. While he’s still recovering, Kieran gets to hear a lot of very loud and pointed discussions about “certain people in camp being deadweight”. He tries to ignore it, but it does fuel his more self destructive tendencies and his attempts to prove himself as someone who is still useful. Mary-Beth hates it, because she thinks he’s just feeding into Micah’s philosophy that people can be “useless” at all. Kieran figures that out eventually, when he finally gets a break from Micah poking at him while the mf is stuck on Guarma.

(+bonus to that last point: in the version of this au where Kieran is stuck on Guarma with the others, he gets Worse about it. By the time they return to the mainland, Kieran is a complete mess and he’s doing more of whatever Dutch and Micah tell him to do just so they stop making his vision loss a problem when it really Isnt one. His own morals and his need to prove himself clash day in day out until he finally goes to Swanson for help. Swanson convinces him it might just be for the better if he leaves, too, and they leave camp together without a word to anyone. He and Mary-Beth do reunite in Saint Denis and start rebuilding their lives once they find each other. and everything is better for him by 1907.)

-After Mary-Beth and Kieran get out of the gang (and find each other, if we’re going the Guarma route), they do struggle a Bit. It’s near impossible for Kieran to find steady work. They gut out Six Point Cabin and stay there while getting on their feet. Mary-Beth writes her novels, Kieran stays home and tends to her while doing any work he can find in the Valentine stables. Uncle and Pearson actually stay with them for a bit, too, making their own money where they can and then occasionally pitching in to help their younger friends start a new life.

-They still move quite a bit, not being quite settled and Kieran being anxious as all hell about what their future has in store for them. Then in 1907, they’re in Strawberry to get Kieran’s eye checked for some infection that’s been bothering him and they hear about how a local rancher’s hand with an Awfully familiar name had just cleared out Hanging Dog Ranch entirely. And how, with Hanging Dog Ranch’s ‘reputation’ and all the blood in there and repairs that are needed on it, nobody is itching to buy the damn thing. It’s a long, back and forth discussion between Mary-Beth and Kieran while they’re eating dinner in the Strawberry hotel, and then finally, they decide. why the hell not. They can rebuild it into something brand new. So they purchase the land for themselves and the Laramie gang has to fuck on outta there. Kieran doesn’t have to worry about finding work as a blind man if he’s his own boss, Mary-Beth has a beautiful place to write from, and they form a little neighborly partnership with Pronghorn Ranch. And nothing bad happens ever.

#got carried away. erm.#kieran duffy #mary beth gaskill #kierabeth #rdr2 headcannons

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