#and hosea reminding him that he a grown fucking man

[youngdutchishot]

A conversation I imagine Hosea and Dutch having at camp:

Dutch: That ain't stopping me!

Hosea: Dutch..

Dutch: in mocking tone DuuUtchh..

Hosea:

Dutch:

Hosea: turns to the members at camp

Hosea: 44 year old man right here, everyone.

[irishmacguirefucker]

Meeting Tilly Jackson

A.N: (So originally this was going to be for my au but I realized that if I wanna write Tilly in my AU i need to properly understand her background. We don't have a lot of specific details in the game, so i wrote this. Essentially its how Dutch found Tilly and took her in. She’s 14 in this. I will probably have a part 2 soon. Its a little dialogue heavy)

(TW: Sexual Assault of a minor is mentioned but nothing happens, blood)

Wordcount:  3110

-

Tilly Jackson has a family. They may be a little odd, different than what everyone else might consider a family, but a family nonetheless. Dutch and Hosea her father figures, Susan Grimshaw a motherly presence. Sisters in Karen, Mary-Beth and the other women of the camp, brothers in Arthur and John and most of the other men. The titles don't matter so much as the feeling of safety and comfort and appreciation among them. She missed her late mother of course, but she hoped on some level her mother would be happy with how things turned out for the girl in the end. Being kidnapped at the age of 12 was nothing short of traumatizing, and for a long while, things only got worse. The Foreman gang was the opposite of a family. They were nothing to her but the people who stole her away from her mother claimed to own her. The ones who tried to take advantage of her. The night that Malcolm Foreman tried to make advances on her and she killed him was the night she would consider herself grown. 

She's not sure exactly how long she was alone, it must have been under a year. She went to find her mother only to hear of her death, and with nowhere else to go she just kept running. The further she made it the less likely that Anthony Foreman would find her and pay her back for what she did to his cousin. She knows that it was early spring when she left. The snow had barely been off the ground, she supposed that no longer being wrapped in a ratty cloak and scarf was the reason that gang member thought to make his move. 

Dutch found her just when it was beginning to get cold again. 

Despite considering herself grown, her body disagreed. The shoes she ran away in were already ill-fitted, and by that autumn they were practically falling apart. Her toes stuck out the front. She had done her best to steal clothing off people’s clotheslines, but they rarely fit.

Dutch caught her doing just that. He had been watching the property of some well off folks, planning on casing it with Arthur later that week. He watched as a girl no older than 14, snuck out from the tree line in a torn-up blouse and a too-long skirt.

She was clearly not experienced in stealing as she tripped over her skirts up the property, but she made it to the side of the house mostly successfully. She quickly tore down a long dress and an undershirt and quickly started back to the tree line. She stared wistfully at the property's large orchard and nearly turned her course towards it before hearing the owner of the house open his front door and stealing away into the forest. Even from a distance, Dutch knew what that hesitation meant. She was hungry.

Dutch was hardly one to let a promising little thief like her starve in the forest, so with a passing glance at the house he stood from his hiding spot up the hill and mounted the Count.

Tracking was never one of Dutch’s strongest abilities but she made it rather easy, with footprints in the mud, a scrap of fabric where her clothing caught a branch, etc. Eventually, he reached a spot where she seemed to trip and fall, and then there were a few drops of blood here and there as he followed. He knew he was getting closer, the blood wasn’t dry. He dismounted his horse and began leading him forward when suddenly she jumped out from behind a tree wielding a large rusted hunting knife. 

“Don’t come any closer! You can take your clothes back, here.” She kicked over the items he had just watched her steal. “Don’t tell the law, and I’ll disappear. I don’t have anything more to offer you.”

Dutch grinned, she was strong-willed. But he also observed that her cheeks were sunken in, and her skin was dull. She was visibly malnourished, and there was blood dripping from one of her small hands. He hoped it was a branch she cut herself on and not that dirty knife of hers.

He put his hands up in a friendly gesture.

“I’m not the man you robbed earlier, don’t you worry. I watched you steal that dress, you’re quite the little thief.” 

She was doing a damn good job of hiding her fear, but Dutch was experienced in seeing past such facades. She didn’t seem scared of the weapon she was holding, as the young and inexperienced often were when they wielded such an item. She just seemed scared of him. 

“Why did you follow me, it ain’t your things I stole. I have nothing to give you, so you best just leave me be.” She didn’t stutter, her high pitched voice remained unwavering and strong. Dutch tried his best to look unthreatening, something he didn’t find himself having to do often. 

“Well, I myself was planning on robbing that house myself later with a few of my friends, perhaps I just wanted to see if you had any advice for me as a seasoned visitor of that property.”

She didn’t believe him and didn’t lower her knife, but she didn’t run either. Good. “Now if I reach for something in my saddle bag here are you gonna come at me with that big old knife?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

Dutch smiled. “Well if you and I are gonna talk business I thought that maybe I could pay you for your time, little lady.”

She finally lowered the knife a little, seeming less afraid but very suspicious. “You wanna pay me for information on that house?”

“I do. Information is worth a lot to us outlaws, you should know that well Darlin’” He slowly turned to the horse. Even if she did attempt to stab him, she wouldn’t get to him before he could turn around, so he wasn’t worried. As he was digging through the saddlebag she spoke up behind him.

“Don’t call me Darlin.” 

He smiled at her bravado but kept looking through the bag. “Well, you’ve yet to give me something else to call you Miss. Ah! Here it is!” He turned back to her holding a small stack of cash and a wrapped parcel. 

“Yeah, well neither have you!” There’s that reminder that he’s talking to a child. They’re always so petulant. John had been just the same, though a little more rabid. “Well, I’m Dutch, Dutch Van der Linde.”

He studied her face for any sign of recognition, but there was none. Good, less reason for her to be afraid of him. She didn’t give her name just yet. 

“Are you with the Foreman brothers?” She asked boldly. “I won’t let you take me back, I’ll kill you before you get me back there.” That would explain her fear, she wasn’t just a thief. She was a runaway from another gang.

“Now I’ll tell you right now Miss, I’m not with Anthony Forman or his little gang. The only gang I’m with is the Van der Linde gang, and I promise me and mine won’t bring you any harm.”

“You...You lead a gang?” She was shaking, it was starting to get colder as the sun was setting. 

“I am, but we aren’t like those bastards you knew. We’re just good people, looking to live free.”

Then he did something bold, a gesture to help her feel safer in the presence of a gang leader. Hopefully, she would be a little more at ease. “Do you mind if I sit down Miss-” 

“Jackson. Tilly Jackson.”

He smiled. “Miss Jackson. Do you mind if I sit while we talk? Tracking you was quite a little adventure.” 

“Go ahead, I guess.” 

“Thank you, Tilly.” He sat down on a log just to the side, and she lowered her weapon fully but gripped it tight. “Now, go ahead and take this.” He took a couple of bills and tucked them into the string around the parcel. She stared at it suspiciously.

 “I didn’t tell you nothing yet and I ain’t stupid mister Van der Linde, why are you giving me this.” 

He smiled and leaned forward to place the parcel on the ground in front of him, between them. 

“As I said, you’re quite the thief and I think you could help me out. Doesn't hurt to butter up the informant. There's some food in the package, I thought you looked a little hungry.”

She seemed to stare at the parcel longingly and something clenched in Dutch’s cold heart. The poor girl must be starving.

 “I…I don’t have no info for you, Mister Van der Linde. I just needed the clothes.” She seemed disappointed to be saying it, but she didn't lie to him like he thought she might.

“Well...maybe you could just keep me company then Milady. Good company is hard to find among us outlaws, as I’m sure you know.”

In a flash, she was back two steps and her knife was raised once more.

“I ain’t that kind of girl. you can keep your fucking money and go pay a real whore for your damned “company’”

This was the opposite of the outcome he was looking for, and entirely at the fault of his own poor word choice. He should have known better, there are only a few things that can happen to a young girl in this country to put her on the run and make her fear good company. 

“Now listen here, Miss Jackson. I am not that kind of man, I wouldn’t take advantage of you like I’m sure the bastards in Foreman’s gang tried. It’s like I said it, my gang is just good men looking for freedom and money. You can leave right now if you want and I won’t stop you, or you can stay and eat some, and I promise I won’t even look at you funny.”

She stood frozen, knife gripped tight. She seemed to be weighing her options. Dutch had yet to pose a threat to her, his weapons remained holstered. He hadn’t even tried to come close to her. She steeled her nerves and spoke again. 

“Then...Give me one of your guns. If you really ain’t gonna try nothing then give me one of your pistols and if you try and do anything bad I’ll shoot you.”

In any other circumstance, he wouldn’t have even considered it. But this wasn’t some criminal who he was wringing for information. This was a terrified little girl who was too afraid of the man in front of her to even eat food when she was starving. He slowly reached for his left holster and pulled out the pistol. He made a big show of flipping it in his hand so that his finger stayed away from the trigger as not to scare her, and he placed it beside the parcel. Gently he pushed them both over with his foot and sat back on the log with his hands beside him. 

She stared at him, and quick as lightning she grabbed the items from the ground. She backed up to her spot and slowly sat on the ground. The pistol was too big for her hand, and her other hand was getting blood on the side of the wrapped meat. Slowly she unwrapped the piece of dried venison, not breaking eye contact with the man sitting before her. “Why are you being so kind to me, I ain’t never heard of a ‘Good’ outlaw, we’re all just killers and thieves.”

He took note of the word ‘we’ before killers and thieves. Perhaps there was a reason she was so steady holding that knife. “I suppose no truer words have been spoken Miss Tilly, but I was never the type to watch a young lady suffer…You know, I found my son Arthur when he was about your age. The boy was just starving in the streets, stealing what he could. Quite like you are now.”

She didn’t respond, just stared at him a moment longer before taking a large bite of the meat. He hadn’t seen someone eat so ravenously since he fed John for the first time.

It took a lot of talking to get her to let her guard down. She didn’t reveal much about herself, other than that her mother died and she wasn’t part of the foreman gang, she was just there. Though the tension in her shoulders slowly sapped away as she filled her stomach and let herself calm down. They spoke for a few hours and he tried his best not to treat her like a child, god knows they hate when you do that. He couldn’t help but notice that she just seemed so sad. Once all that fear subsided and she spoke more freely, it was clear that she was lost. She mentioned her mother’s death with deep sorrow, her eyes going glassy before she seemed to catch herself and move on. 

Eventually, her hand stopped bleeding, and he tried to catch a look at it as she gestured. The sun was nearly set and he would have to get back to camp before they went looking for him.

He told her as much and he watched that deep-set sadness seep back to her features. 

“Oh… well. It was nice to meet you Dutch.” She used his first name for the first time. He stood up and she did as well, wincing as she used her injured hand to push off the ground.

“You know... you could come back with me and let our doctor take a look at that hand. Well...she ain’t exactly a doctor, but she can fix it. We wouldn’t want that getting infected, it’s far easier to be an outlaw with both hands.”

She wanted to go with him, he could see it in her eyes. Good friends are hard to come by when you’re a child with no home. 

“And perhaps, you could stay awhile. Learn how to be a real outlaw instead of a dress thief.” She seemed offended at the comment, a funny little scowl crossing her features. She was thinking about the offer, and he hoped it sounded at least a little better than sleeping alone in the forest. 

“If I come to your camp….nobody's gonna try and touch me?”

 “Absolutely not my dear, if they try I’ll cut off their hand myself.” She seemed to giggle a little at the notion, a sound he would take pride in. She sobered up and asked; 

“And I can leave whenever I want? I ain’t gonna let anyone try and say they own me ever again.”

“If you come to camp, Tilly Jackson will remain a free woman, but you’ll have a home to come back to if that’s what you would like.”

He watched her hesitate a little longer. Some coyotes barked in the distance and she shivered.  “Maybe just for a little while. Just to try it.” 

“And you can leave whenever you want.” he reassured.

“And I can leave whenever I want.” She repeated it back like she was convincing herself. He turned his back to adjust the Count’s saddle and give him a sugar cube, and he heard small footsteps come closer to him.

“Um. Can I give him one? He’s real pretty.” Dutch turned and she was at his side, staring at the large animal. She was even smaller up close, and he could see that her bones stood up against her dark skin.

“You know, I think he would like that. Now here, take just one of these and put it in your hand flat. Don’t worry, he won’t bite you.” She went to take it from his hand before realizing her hands were full with the knife and Dutch’s gun. 

“Oh. Here you go, Mister Dutch.” She tried to hand him back the gun. Bravely he thought, to give up her best defense, but he didn’t take it.

“I’ll tell you what my lady, It’s gonna be a bit of a ride to get back to camp and I don’t want you feeling like you can’t hold your own. You hold on to that one just until we get back, alright? We can put your knife in the bag safe and sound.” She obliged, putting the hunting knife gently in the saddlebag and holding on to the pistol. Then Dutch gave her the sugar cube and she held it out to the horse gingerly. The Count had no such hesitation and stole the treat from her hand quickly, the softness of his nose near her fingers making her giggle.

“Now, I think we might just be ready to move! Can I help you up milady?” He said, with a ring clad hand extended like a butler. The gesture made her giggle more and Dutch was happy to see the sadness put aside for a little while. She took his hand in her much smaller one and let him lead her to the side of the saddle.

“Now, can I lift you or do you want to go stand on the log over there?” She could read the underlying notion. The hidden meaning of ‘Do you want me to touch you’, ‘is it okay if I lift you’, etc. He was being more considerate than anyone she had ever met. She took a deep breath and put a little trust in him.

“You can lift me if that’s okay.”

“It would be my honor milady.” He lifted her onto the horse’s rump and tried not to think about how light she was. How he could feel her bones through the layers of her shirt. Once she was settled, he climbed up himself. Before they got going he pulled out his canteen and an apple from the bag. 

“Here. Dinner will be done by the time we get to camp and there’s no reason you should go hungry back there, that just wouldn’t befit such a distinguished young lady.” She accepted the food, and he set the Count into a walk to get them out of the underbrush. Once they were on the path he pushed into a more brisk pace, but he wouldn’t risk trotting with her back there, the count’s trot could be rather rough and she’s so thin she would just be thrown off.

It would be a long ride back to camp at this pace, but it just gave him more time to get to know her and tell her about camp. 

[xihaveaplanxx]

Happy Birthday Jenny ^_^ (Short Story)

As promised, your birthday gift, well part of it, a story! I hope you enjoy it and enjoy your day too <3

“Jenny, Happy Birthday!” Erandur walked into my room at midnight on the dot. I was often so lonely moving from my family but he always made me feel just as loved as his own family. I wiped the sleep out of my eyes and sat up on my bed to be presented with a huge box. “You don’t need to open it now, but I think you’ll like it. Teldryn picked it up yesterday!”

“You guys didn’t have to get me anything.”

“You have been a good friend to my daughter for years and you are practically family. I’d be remiss to not have gotten you something. Today is your special day. Whatever you want, you got...so long as it’s legal but you aren’t like other people Dreama seems to hang out with. Especially that .... man.”

“Dutch?”

“Don’t even say his name. I fear she likes him and the very idea makes my skin crawl. She did always like wayward men. You remember Anders.”

“We all remember Anders. If he didn’t get locked up they’d still be together”

“I know.” Erandur sighed “But enough about that. Today is your day. I’ll let you get back to sleep. Got a surprise planned”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, but you didn’t hear it from me.”

In the morning

“Happy Birthday, Jenny!” I was greeted by Dreama running up to me holding a giant Chimmy plush with a bow on it. I could tell Teldryn probably tied it on him because she wasn’t the best at tying things around things. “I hope you like this!”

“I love it” I smiled as she placed it in my arms and then hugged her. I was meaning to thank Erandur too. He got me a few BTS albums, and some cards. He wrote me a sweet letter too. He truly was like a backup parent and I adored him for it. He had gone to work though and so did Teldryn leaving me with Dreama and giant Chimmy of course “Thank you so much!”

“You’re welcome! We are planning something. Well, I’ll tell you we are going to Burger King! I got Bull to uh....maybe threaten Cullen ot let us hold it there”

“Dreama! You didn’t need to have him threatened so we can hold a party there!”

“He deserved it.” She crossed her arms. “Besides, it's your special day. We are going to keep it special which reminds me, wash up, we are meeting Dorian at the mall”

“For what?”

“Well today is your birthday, you have to show up as the princess you are! I’m even going to let you wear one of my tiaras”

“I feel honored because I know how you are.”

“I know but you can wear one since it is your day and you are my best friend. I can part with...one for one day.”

“Well thank you, I feel special”

“As you should! Now, go get ready. We have to meet him in an hour!”

“Right! I’m so excited”

“Good, you should be. You deserve to have a great day!” 

At the mall

“Happy Birthday, dear!” Dorian walked up to me, handing me a Gucci box. I opened it and saw a pair of big Gucci sunglasses, just like the ones Dorian was often wearing or had sitting on his head or hanging off his shirt. “Nothing is too good for one of my closest friends. Go on, try them on!” He encouraged me and I put them on. I felt they took up most of my face but the cheers from both he and Dreama made me feel like maybe I didn’t look as odd as I felt wearing them. “Oh now don’t you look cute!” 

“Well thank you!”

“You are so precious. Time's a wastin. We need to get you a new outfit and all for your party. Dreama don’t get distracted. Flirting with JAvier will make your dusty boyfriend upset.”

“Dutch isn’t my boyfriend!”

“Yes he is. Or something like that. Maybe he’s more of a hit and run.”

“He's nothing. He’s annoying.”

“Yes, and I know how you are when people annoy you. Cullen annoyed you so bad you dated him for a whole year. You think we forgot, we didn’t.”

“Shut up Dorian!”

“Fine, I won’t bother you, not on Jenny’s birthday but tomorrow, it’s free game.”

“Fine.” She rolled her eyes. “Let’s start at Hot Topic.”

“That’s where you want to go. What about where Jenny wants to go?”

“No, Hot Topic is good with me.” I told him. “Let’s go there”

“Perfect!” Dreama clasped her hands excitedly. “Then we can go eat a little bit then go home and get prepared for later.”

“Yes and maybe you’ll wear an outfit that covers your boobs. You don’t want your not boyfriend to be in some sort of stupid frenzy when he sees you.”

“Dorian, I.....”

“You don’t need to explain it to us. We know how you are.” Dorian shook his head. “But I do know one thing, we will be the best looking people in that Burger King. No one will be ready for us.”

“Damn straight.”

“You better be careful or Bull might knock you over and want to bang you on the counter.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time”

“WHAT?” 

“Nothing.” Dorian turned red and now I had questions. A lot of questions. “Let’s just go shop and forget I said anything.”

“I don’t think we can just forget that, Dorian.” I told him. “But....for today...we will but later....”

“I know I know...i’ll explain then... I promise.”

At Hosea’s house/Arthur’s pov

Whoever said money can’t solve your problems.

Must not have had enough money to solve em.

They say which one, I say nah I want all them.

Happiness is the same price as red bottoms.

I very much liked Dreama, but I just couldn’t find it in me to forgive her for introducing John to Ariana Grande’s music. All he did was dramatically sing along and pine over Farkas, this boy that lived a town over that he had a thing for ... sometimes. I don’t know. Shit was too complicated for me and frankly I didn’t care. John was as dramatic as Dreama so I understood why they liked to hang out and what not but still. All that drama, that just ain’t for me. John was always little to the left, but now more so. And he wasn’t the most intense person in that house, that honor went to Dutch. He was always in some kind of thing. Hosea honestly kept us all together. He had been getting better after getting treatment and honestly I was glad because the idea of him not being here, I knew John and I would be fine but Dutch, he’d go off the rails and he was barely on the rails as is. Then him and Dreama were another issue entirely. I didn’t know what the hell they thought they were but it wasn’t normal and they were both grown as adults which made it more concerning.  I think she drove him crazy and he just pissed her off and yet they liked to be near each other a lot. Once again, shit like that don’t make no sense to me. Love don’t make much sense to me especially seeing all the examples I got around me, I’m doing just fine in my own lane. 

“Farkas viewed my story on snapchat!” John came over to me to show me his phone. I didn’t know what the hell that even meant. I saw the little icon and John jumping up excited in front of me. Frankly I wanted to throw myself down the steps but that would be bad. I’d miss Jenny’s party if I did that but I think she’d understand my pain dealing with John like this....all the time....most our lives. “Maybe he’ll call me.”

“Aren’t you the one that made things...weird?”

“No. He did.  It wasn’t my fault. I....he’s so stupid.”

“Then why do you like him?”

“I don’t! I just .... you don’t get it Arthur.”

“You’re right, I don’t nor do I want to.” I sighed. “You getting ready for the party later?”

“Yeah, I was about to. I got her this cute shirt. I think she’ll like it! What did you get her?”

“A keychain. I know she collects those. Got her one of that BTS group guys, got them on it. I think she’ll like it.”

“That’s so nice!”

“Hosea is baking the cake to bring there. He’s so excited. Dutch is bringing his thoughts and prayers I guess. Didn’t see him pick up anything.”

“He’s probably not going for her...just to see Dreama.” John said honestly and he was probably not wrong. If Dutch was coming with us, he was probably going just to see Dreama and be pure chaos. “I don’t even know why he bothers her. She’s so on and off about him, mostly off.”

“I could say the same about you over Farkas.”

“That’s different! Farkas is a stupid guy. Dutch is a stupid man. It’s different.”

“Marston I.....nevermind.” I didn’t even have time to comment on this. John was so dumb....not even sometimes...all the fucking time. This was the tip of the stupidity iceberg with him. “I guess I’ll just finish getting ready.”

“So will I. I want to get there early and get a crown.”

“Course you do.”

“Oh come on, you know you want one.”

“I don’t.” I crossed my arms. “I’m going to finish getting ready. Also can you keep your bad music down. I don’t want to hear all that mess when I’m trying to be in my thoughts.”

“You need to have fun, Arthur. You never wanna have fun.”

“ I do have fun, y’all just don’t see me have it and that’s fine. I don’t need y’all in my business.”

“Party pooper.”

“You can think how you want.”

In the living room/Hosea’s pov

“This is Jenny’s birthday. Don’t you dare act up. I am upset I need to tell you this. You are 41 years old , Dutch. Acting stupid because of her friend is not what w need. You know better than that. You know a lot better than that. I know you can be dumb when you get in your feelings but this is Jenny’s birthday. This is her day so you keep your feelings to yourself. You didn’t even get Jenny a damn present . Just showing up empty handed after she got you a hat for your birthday and you got nothing for her. I’d chastise you more but I know how you think. You just want to see Dreama and for what? That girl don’t like you. At least I don’t think she does. Let it go. She don’t like you .”

“Oh Hosea. You don’t understand. She’s a tricky one. She can say she don’t like me but I know she does. I’m going to bring her something.”

“So you are bringing her a present on her friend's birthday..wow.”

“No. I got Jenny something too. I asked Arthur about things she likes and I got her a little wallet with them little characters on it she likes. I even wrapped it. She’ll like it. As for Dreama...I got something really special for her.”

“I swear to God if it involves you guys naked in a Burger King bathroom, I’m going to ask you stay home.”

“No! Not that. That’s disgusting Hosea. I just want her to admit she likes me. I’ll make her do it.”

“You can’t make her do anything.”

“That’s what you think.”

“Don’t ruin Jenny’s party please. I swear...”

“I’m not. Gee Hosea, you always act like I’m the problem.”

“You are. Usually. I love you like family, you know that so dearly but sometimes, your idea, your thoughts are off the rails. I just want you to for once, FOR ONCE to have all your ducks in a row.”

“They are in a row. I just.....they’d be more in a row if she stopped playing these games.”

“Or if you both just ignored each other.”

“That’s an option but you know that won’t happen.”

“I know, I just accept it now.”

That night at Burger King/Jenny’s pov

“SURPRISE!” The smile on my face when we walked in and I was faced with all of our friends and Hosea holding the cake. I can tell he worked hard on it. I saw all these presents along the counter and food on all the tables. They really did plan this out. It was so thoughtful. Everyone was even wearing a crown. John had two because of course he did, he had to feel extra special always. “Happy Birthday, Jenny!” They all said in unison as Hosea placed the cake on the table.  I truly did feel loved. In my new outfit. Dreama and Dorian helped me pick it. A cute red top and comfy black pants and one of Dreama’s tiaras with the Gucci shades, he more than insisted I wear them. Everyone seemed so excited, hugging me and what not. 

“Jenny, you might want to grab food. Your large friend has been eying those nuggets. Might not be any left in a second.” Hosea said pointing at Bull who already had a plate full of nuggets. “I hope you like the cake! Arthur helped me with it!”

“It was nothing. Really.” Arthur said. “Anything to help with your special day.”

“Thank you.” I smiled at them both. “This is all very lovely.”

“You look adorable. The sunglasses. Mr. Pavus idea wasn’t it?”

“Yes, yes it was.” I nodded my head. “They aren’t too bad.”

“Probably cost as much as a house but he does like the expensive things.” Hosea shook his head. “Javier is setting up the music. This is going to be a fun time. Glad we were invited. Even more glad Dreama somewhat kept it a secret....kind of I guess.”

“She didn’t say all of you were going to be here but yeah she kind....kind of told me.”

“Course she did.” Hosea shook his head. “No matter. Have a great birthday!”

“Thank you. With all of you here, I think that I will.”

Outside of the Burger King/Dutch’s pov

“You know you are really annoying. Like so much. You are what 40 and fucking stupid. I can not stand you. Ever. I don’t even see why we invited you. You aren’t even Jenny’s friend. You are Hosea’s stupid friend with the stupid face who does stupid things and has stupid plans and is a shitty maanger at the shitty Walmart!”

“Gee, tell me how you really feel.”

“Oh you don’t want that! You’ll probably cry.”

“No I won’t. Not over you. If you think you’d make me cry, you must think you are something so special.” I shook my head. “You know I could have any woman I want.”

“Then go to them”

“I said I could have any woman I want. I don’t want them though. I want you.”

“No.”

“I do. Believe it or not, I like you. Even though you are mean to me. Violent, rude but you are also brilliant, smart, intriguing.  You remind me of me.”

“That’s an insult.”

“And you only hate it because it’s true.” I reached in my pocket “John told me you like these weird things. It’s a keychain. Hello Kitty I think he said it was. I don’t know but I thought you’d like it and you can keep it if you give me a chance.”

“How about I take the keychain and you fuck off.”

“Now you and I both know that you don’t want that. If I fuck off then who will you chase around the Walmart. You know we can’t have non-employees in the back and yet...”

“Dutch....”

“I dont think your friends want to know what happened there a few weeks ago. Oh, they’d really know how much you hate me, especially that day.”

“Don’t....”

“Oh no, not you climbing on me, the lowly Walmart manager in the back room. You surely showed me how much you dislike me. I felt that....clearly.”

“I hate you”

“I bet you do.” I laughed at her and she reached in my hand and snatched the keychain. She broke the keychain part so I guess she was going to sit it on her desk or something. She glared up at me and she was angry, oh so much but also, I know she was considering my offer. I wouldn’t really tell everyone what happened.....unless she pushed me to it. Part of me felt she wanted people to know in some sick way. Like me, we had pride in the things....in the people we did. Why keep it such a secret ? But also like me she was complicated. It’s why she pissed me off as much as I liked her. “You broke it.”

“I don’t need it as a keychain.” She told me simply. “And I do not need you as a boyfriend.”

“Then what are we?”

“Nothing. You got lucky.”

“Lucky?” I arched my eyebrow. “So I’m what a rebound because of the crazy guy you were with? You know he’s not getting out of jail any time soon”

“Don’t talk to me about Anders. Your friend is in jail. That dusty ugly blonde dude.”

“I didn’t fuck Micah, you fucked Anders and you fucked me!”

“DUTCH!” She looked at me like her entire soul escaped her body. I doubt anyone heard us but even if they did, would anyone in there have been surprised. “Please, do not!” 

“But you did! Not even just physically, but mentally too. You just like broken guys. Anders was broken and you want me broken too. Maybe it’s why you are like this to me? Because I refuse to let you do that to me. I won’t worship you like him and it pisses you off.”

“Fuck you, Dutch.”

“I already have and if you keep this up I’ll do it out here and it would be a real shame for everyone in there to come out and see you bent over a Burger King dumpster! And by someone you hate oh so much! THat would be awful.”

“I hate you.” She tossed the little figure from the keychain at me and stomped into the Burger King. Maybe I did really piss her off ? Maybe but I doubt it. I could tell she wasn’t 100 percent mad because she waited for me to come in after her, even holding the door for me. Was it bold to reach down and hold her hand, maybe but she didn’t pull away like I thought either. She just let me hold her hand. “Maybe I don’t hate you....as much.” She told me as we were walking towards the food. “Or...maybe not at all.”

“It’s not much of a secret.” I told her, giving her the little Hello Kitty that was in my other hand. “Maybe we can be something.”

“Yeah...maybe.”

Over at the table/Jenny’s pov

I had just blown out my candles and was surprised to see Dreama and Dutch walk in, calmly. They were usually at odds but this time, they were holding hands. I heard Dorian comment about how he knew this would happen. He was never truly wrong about these things. The cake was being served and honestly, Hosea really did outdo himself. It was delicious. Bull was eating Dorian’s slice. Dorian barely even got to get any on his fork before Bull decided, his slice also belonged to him. Dorian’s face as he was eating it was priceless.  John was being relatively calm, talking to Farkas. I wish Vilkas would have come but since he and Dreama broke up he had kept his distance. Especially since he felt it was Dutch’s fault they broke up and the very idea of seeing him made him want to torch the entire town. He did send Farkas with a card for me which was very sweet. Farkas seemed quite confused most the party mostly because John confused him. John was a lot like Dreama and was just not good at expressing how he felt. When he and Dreama hung out it was always some kind of mess and often ended with them running from the police. They were the definition of sharing a brain cell. 

“Jenny, I got you this. I didn’t get to wrap it but...” Sean walked up to me holding a giant plush cat. “I got him at the arcade! I won it for you actually!”

“Aw, thank you” I smiled as I held it. “That was very sweet”

“I can be sometimes.” He told me. “This beena good party and I didn’t even drink!”

“You don’t need to be drinking Sean.” I told him remembering at Dreama’s party he got wasted and was screaming in the bar about fucking someone with a glass lamp. It was quite intense. “Being sober isn’t the worst thing.”

“Aye, I suppose but it was fun the last time....given I don’t remember”

“The rest of us do though.”

“Did I really threaten to fuck someone with a glass lamp? That’s what Lenny said I did.”

“Yes you did. It was...alarming.”

“Well..I didn’t actually do it did I?”

“No, because there were no lamps around and also you passed out a bit after”

“Well then there was no cause for alarm” Sean chuckled and I shook my head. He soon disappeared within the party and Dreama came up to me and jumped in my arms as she was prone to doing.

“I hope you enjoy your party!” Dreama told me, clinging to me. 

“I really am. Thank you.” I smiled as I set her down. “Thank you for everything. You guys didn’t need to go through all this.”

“Oh it was nothing at all. We wanted to do this for you. I mean you’ve helped all of us in a lot of ways so we wanted to show you how much you mean to us.”

“Well I do feel very loved so thank you.”

“Thank you for being there for all of us.” She hugged me once more. “We love you, never forget that.”

“I won’t. Thank you for everything. I really truly appreciate it.”

[victoodles]

Cruel World I’m Gone (Chapter 4)

Be sure to follow the series on AO3 and to read part 1 / 2 / 3 

The breeze that kisses your face feels different. Warmer. This time in the morning at O'Creagh's Run there’s a bitter chill in the air. It’s a cold that reaches down to your bones and leaves your fingers numb. This, however, is a gentle gust that invites you to wake up instead of demanding it.  

Grass is plush beneath your deerskin pelts in contrast to the cotton sheets from Annesburg that you had grown accustomed to. Shelter comes in the form of a simple roof of canvas, sunlight lazily creeping in. 

Gone is your homestead of a six months. All the work, meals, and rebuilding a mere dream as you pull back the tent and find yourself back at Clemens Point. 

Jack is running through the rolling grass with Cain yapping at his heels. Abigail awaits them and their impending mess back at her tent with crossed arms. 

Sean flirts with Karen. Kieran tends to the horses. Miss Grimshaw scolds Mary-Beth for her apparent “slacking”.

It’s all back to how it was. Before things…

Before…

You can’t seem to recall what this supposed “before” is. It all fades away, as most dreams do. Locked away in the depths of the subconscious. But when you see Hosea pass by, an indescribable ache in your heart has tears streaming down your cheeks. An emptiness wracks you. You’re running before you can register why. 

If you’re too slow…

Too late…

He’ll d-

Hosea seems bewildered about why you’re so exasperated. A wry smile graces his face.“Well good morning to you too, my dear. Are we that eager to see me?” He teases, lighthearted in nature. 

You’re rendered speechless from his casualness. Hosea looks vibrant, jovial. Just how you remembered him.

Alive.

Does he not know what happens? In Saint Denis. When…

When what?

The Pinkertons. They...

What about them?

Again, you don’t have answers. Just a jumble of confused thoughts that feel painfully heavy in your head. So you wrap your arms around his waist and hold him close. You need a tangible reminder that he’s here: a man, a leader, a friend, a surrogate father. 

Hosea is taken aback again but he returns the affection, chuckling to himself. “What on Earth is going on with you, girl?” 

You squeeze tighter, burying your face in his chest. He smells of tobacco and ginseng, the familiarity puts you at ease. “I had the most terrible nightmare,” you say quietly. “But I can’t seem to remember it.” 

It’s all painfully blurry, growing even heavier in the back of your mind. 

Get him out of here.

Run.

Go where? There’s nowhere safer than camp. 

Dutch will protect everyone. 

“Oh? Well don’t worry-“

Hosea goes eerily silent as the barrel of a gun fires, cutting through the morning air like thunder. Droplets of warm liquid splatters across your face, trickling down your forehead. A sickeningly familiar hangs heavy in the air, nauseating. Blood. 

Trembling, you dare to look up to find a fresh bullet wound in embedded in Hosea. A single shot, burst through his shoulder, blooming into a hideous flower of flesh and bone. He stares at the wound blankly, fingers twitching slightly. Death has him in his embrace and Hosea doesn’t seem to feel it. 

You’re panting, a scream burning in your throat as Hosea grows colder by the second. The sounds refuse to come out. Blood drips from the corner of his mouth as he slumps against you, wheezing his last words.

"It was just a dream.” 

The ground crumbles beneath you then, dirt deteriorating into nothing. You desperately clutch Hosea, terrified to lose him again. But no matter how tightly you hold on, he still slips from your grasp as you eventually lose your footing. 

You pathetically reach out into the abyss for him, for anything, but bring back nothing.  

Falling further and further, it all comes back. It hits you all like that same gunshot. 

Sean, Kieran, Susan.

Hosea. 

They’re all dead.

And Arthur…

You’re running again on Roanoke Ridge. Chest heaving, lungs burning, muscles aching. Running and running and running, but you make no progress. 

Arthur!

You burn through all your energy in an attempt to go faster. It hurts - excruciating. Ligaments feel like they’re tearing apart tendon by tendon, but you don’t care. Arthur is just out of reach, eyes glazed and arms limp at his side. 

Please, he’s right there!

You try to call his name, but the sound is locked in your throat. The syllables don’t form no matter how much you try. All you can do is pathetically try to move forward - to be with him. 

The poppies surrounding him rustle violently the more virtuously you push yourself to every limit. Their leaves caress Arthur’s face as if to mock your plight.

Your heart threatens to rupture from over-exhaustion but as the distance finally begins to close, you can't bring yourself to care.

Just when Arthur is an arm out of reach, so tantalizingly close, your muscles go rigid. 

It all hurts, everywhere at once like wildfire.

Then it doesn’t. 

Nothing has never been so terrifying.

An arrow pierces your chest, finding its way through your heart and out through your ribs. You’re brought to your knees. 

You sputter, trying to bring any air in to alleviate the pain. Bring life to thwart the impending end. 

The alleviation never comes. Just more agony and some blood. 

You wonder if this is how the game you hunt feels. Teetering on the precipice of life and death after your arrow hits it’s fatal mark. They cry out for mercy that goes unheard. 

Irony is a miserable bitch. 

You fall forward, face in the dirt a mere inches away from Arthur. A familiar voice whispers in your ear as you struggle to find the energy to merely crawl. Blood - your blood - seeps into the ground; bloodied mud cakes beneath your fingernails in your desperation.

“Have faith,” it sneers, “you’ll be with him soon.”

The world turns darker and darker the more you try to reach for him. The flowers have ceased their shaking. 

Now...nothing.

~

You shoot up in bed, a sheen of cold sweat clinging to your skin. A silent scream burns in your lungs. You’re hyperventilating and you desperately try to compose yourself, heart hammering wildly against your ribs. 

Focus, focus, focus.

Your eyes dart around the room, taking in your surroundings. 

Reminders.

The quilt blanket beneath your fingers. A partition in the form of a sheet next to the bed. The skull of a moose hanging over the mantle. A dwindling fire in the hearth. 

And Arthur. Sleeping soundly next to you. 

Arthur. 

You reach out to him with shaking hands, running them over his cheek. Reaffirming reality. 

The prickle of his freshly shaved stubble tickles your hand. Hair soft from a recent bath. Lips chapped.

He’s here. Actually here.

As much as you want to kiss him, have him fuck the fear away, you don’t want to wake him. Not now when he’s finally started sleeping soundly again. Arthur shifts slightly in bed but he isn’t roused from your touching, thank goodness. You find the energy to smile, and you plant a delicate kiss against his temple before sliding out of bed. Sleep won’t come anytime soon. 

Silently slipping out into the night, the wind’s chill nips at you clad in only a chemise and Arthur’s coat. It’s a welcome sensation to quell the heat enveloping you. 

Signs of spring sleep within the surrounding forest. The birds have flown back north and nest in the trees. Bears have awoken from slumber and meander through the hills as they please. Wildflowers are just beginning to bloom, even more bulbs bursting through the dirt to count. 

New life. 

For you and Arthur too, in a sense.

That should make you feel better, but it doesn’t. Not right now.

Now that things have settled down, the grief has been gnawing at you gradually. There's more time for you to focus on it since Arthur had fully recovered. It comes back in waves, varying in intensity but painful all the same. And the nightmares they brought were just as vivid. 

Shaking the most recent from your mind, you regard the full moon hanging just over the lake. Brilliant white rays reflect on the water’s surface, dancing in tandem with the ripples of the water striders. It puts you at ease and you find yourself drawn to the scene. 

You stand barefoot at the shore, letting the waves roll over your feet as you look up to the sky. A blanket of stars twinkle faintly against the darkness. A variety of constellations shine proudly above, clear as day.

You feel so small under their gaze 

Ursa Major, Leo, Hydra. 

Memories of nights spent up late with Hosea playing dominos resurface. You would constantly tie with one another, intellects too matched. Sometimes the two of you wouldn’t sleep until the wee hours of the morning unless the streak was broken. Stubborn, the both of you. 

During those long, long games, Hosea would regal you about each and every starry arrangement, right down to the name’s origin. Astronomy was never on your curriculum growing up, instead focusing on the drier parts of a lady’s “education". Etiquette, needlework, piano. All you knew of the stars above was from outdated books pilfered from your father’s library and nights spent camped on forest floors.  

Almost every night Hosea would teach you, properly. Disregarding your dominoes in favor of creating your own constellations from unused clusters of stars. An interstellar game of dots and tiles. He had even made one especially for you: The Huntress. A brave woman who vanquished all foes before her with nothing but her bow and her quick wit. 

It’s the last Earthly possession you have of Hosea. Everything else had been unwillingly abandoned during the destruction of Beaver Hollow, dead and gone. All you have now are these faint lights, watching silently over you.  

The frigid pinch of O'Creagh’s Run interrupts your musing. So distracted, you hadn’t realized just how far you had waded into the lake. Now in up to you knees, the bottom of your chemise soaked. What should be a shock, or at least an inconvenience, doesn’t seem to phase you. You just relish the softness of lakebed silt between your toes. And love how the water’s chill reminds you just how alive you truly are. 

You fiddle with the hem of your chemise. As the lace slides between your fingertips, you regard the celestial eye above. The moon is your only witness on these vast mountain trails. 

The veil drifts upward. 

Nothing can see you out here. Nothing can get you out here.

Let the moonlight be your guide and the water be a cleansing. 

Arthur’s jacket is discarded and a chemise with it over your shoulder. It lands with a gentle thud; the barrier between you and the elements now lays in a heap on the shore.

Take the plunge.   

[angelarthurmorgan]

❛  protector |  when you’re taken for months at a time, things change. but there’s only one man that you can trust.

    ❛ warnings: physical fight, blood

    ❛ genre: angst, fluff

     ❛ word count: 2.6k

You were a girl who could handle herself, somebody that wasn’t afraid to be independent. You had many positive aspects of your personality, and many admired those traits; you were strong-willed, bold, independent, confident, and always prepared for the worst.

But, every human-being has their positive and negative traits. Even though you were somebody many others looked up to or tried to be, you had traits that made you not so good. Hot-headed, jumping into things without thinking things through, you sometimes cared too deeply for the wrong people.

Although you acted as if you didn’t need anybody to lean on, Arthur Morgan could see right through it. He understood that you wanted to do things alone and prove your own worth, and he let you, but he was always there to step in when you overstepped your boundaries. Most of the time, you would throw fits and spew insults and curses right his way, saying that he didn’t trust you enough to be alone and do things on your own, but deep down the both of you knew it was for your safety.

That was something you despised about yourself; you’d get frustrated and beyond pissed when people tried to protect you and keep you out of harm’s way. The self-hate you had for yourself only grew stronger when you realized you had adapted the trait of not being able to trust anybody anymore, not even the men and women you had called a family. It was hard to speak to them, even to look in their direction as it only triggered harsh moments you didn’t want to relive.

You tried not to dwell on the past and what had happened to you, but sometimes it was hard not to at least think about it, especially since every damn time you saw one of your gang members it just flooded back into your head. It was tough on you, it was tough on everybody else and especially Arthur.

A part of you thought that Arthur carried the guilt ten times more than the others carried. After you had been taken and had been gone for around a month, he must’ve felt partly responsible, even though it truly wasn’t his fault. You never blamed him for the position you were put in, maybe the others slightly, but you could never bring yourself to put anything on Arthur. You knew he was struggling with his own past, and struggling to even get through what was happening currently, and he only continued to carry every bad thing that had happened to him on his back. Arthur wasn’t and isn’t the type of man to just let those type of things go, and you knew he blamed himself for all of it.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you looked at the body length mirror in front of you, tears welling in your eyes as you observed your entire appearance. Small scars had been engraved in your rosy cheeks, burn scars were around your wrist and on your stomach, cuts that still hadn’t healed were scattered everywhere on your skin. The bruises had faded, but you could only imagine the blue-purple marks as you stared at yourself. It was hard for you to let go, especially when you were reminded of it just by seeing your own skin.

Usually, when you were upset before you disappeared, any of the guys would check up on you. John, when he truly felt the need to, he’d approach you and do his best to be as kind as possible when confronting you but it was difficult for him, but you appreciated it and talked to him sometimes. Javier, someone you had bonded with when you had spare time in camp; you always sang songs with him, attempted to play the guitar which always ended in laughs and giggles, you even tried to learn a few phrases in Spanish just to get closer to him. He’d usually know when something was up, so he’d do his best to comfort you. Lenny, the boy that was like your younger brother, someone who knew exactly when you were having a bad day and he would always talk to you and try to brighten it with jokes or drinks, always a fun person to spend your time with. Dutch, someone who didn’t think much of your state until he realized deep down that everything wasn’t alright, and being the fatherly figure he was he would question you, trying to be as gentle and sweet as possible as you were like one of his daughters. Hosea, who was similar to Dutch in a sense, but noticed it much more quickly and would approach the situation much more gentle and caring, using his wiseness to help you out through whatever you were struggling with. Charles, he spent some of his spare time with you, the two of you would go hunting together and talk about your past lives, he was always so humble and calm you had grown to admire him. He usually was there for you and would let you know he knows what’s up. Even Uncle and Bill would sometimes converse with you about your issues, and they weren’t quite as helpful, but the support was all the mattered — but now when they even noticed that something was wrong, you’d turn them away, leaving them worried and concerned.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss the relationship you had with them, as most of them were like brothers or fathers, but you couldn’t bear to even be in a five-foot radius of them. After what they did to you, you couldn’t possibly forgive them. Some of them, like Dutch and John, didn’t seem to get the message about staying away, and that’s when the only man you trusted had to step in. Once you had told Arthur only a little of your story, he made a vow to himself that he’d protect you. He was protective before, but now if one little thing triggered you in a bad way he would be right there to get whatever it was away and spend the rest of his time with you until he made sure you were okay.

Loud yelling could be heard outside your cot in the camp, and you couldn’t help but listen in on it. Acting as if you weren’t eavesdropping, you crawled into your bed and buried yourself in the covers, pretending you were sleeping. It would be believable since all you did was lay in your bed when you didn’t want to deal with any of the camp members, especially since mentally you weren’t strong enough to even leave the camp.

“She really has the audacity to ignore us? It’s not like she can do it for fucking ever! Shit happens, that’s what happens when you run with a god damned gang with people constantly up your ass. We’re always there for each other, she needs to be there for us as well. Whether it be hunting, donating camp funds, whatever the case.”

That voice belonged to no one other than a hot-headed John Marston, who must’ve been angry about a whole ordeal, and seeing you must’ve frustrated him even more greatly.

You narrowed your eyes, clenching your fist and digging your fingernails in the palm of your hand, leaving some deeper marks than you wanted. Anger engulfed your whole being as you hopped right out of the bed, stalking over to where John was standing. Many other members observed from afar, knowing not to get between something so heated. You felt your chest grow heavy as you looked John directly in the eyes for the first time in forever; your intense stare could’ve burnt a hole right between his eyes. Without even exchanging any words, your fist flew right to his face as he stumbled backward in shock. You took this opportunity to leap at him before straddling him and holding him down, your fist meeting his face repeatedly as you punched with all your strength. “You fucking left me to die! You fucking deserve this, all of you fucking deserve this.”

In a matter of seconds, you felt someone roughly grab you by your shoulders, ripping you off of John instantly. “(Name), calm down and breathe. Look what you did.” It was a familiar voice, a voice you knew all too well; it was Arthur’s and you couldn’t help but listen to him. Hesitantly, you rose to your feet and there it was. There you saw his bloodied face, scratches and bruises on the right side of his face. Once you saw the aftermath, you couldn’t help but feel regret and sorry, but you refused to show that you cared for somebody that didn’t give two shits about you.

Arthur leaned close to your ear, his voice barely above a whisper. “I think it’s best ya go to your cot, I’ll take it from here, alright?”

You gulped. Half of you wanted to protest, argue that you had the right to fuck John up, he had it coming when he felt the need to badmouth you to the entire camp. Yet, the other half of you wanted to give into Arthur’s request, not only because you trusted him but because you were slowly falling in love with the only person that actually gave a damn. You turned heel and slowly walked back to your camp, but not without shooting a few dirty looks in John’s direction. Fucking asshole.

An angry Arthur was something nobody wanted to deal with, but now everybody was paying the consequences after the stunt both you and John had pulled. Arthur stalked over towards John and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, yanking him onto his feet, their eyes both narrowed. “I don’t know what the hell was going through your damned head, those wolves ate all of your god damn brains and common sense. You left her when she needed ya the most, you all left her when she needed ya most.”

“You wouldn’t have done anything differently if you were in the situation like the rest of us were. Maybe you should have been there, Arthur.”

Arthur held back the urge to punch John square in the jaw when he was in such a vulnerable position. It would’ve felt so nice, teaching him some type of lesson, but he didn’t. “You damn well I’d risk my life for that girl, unlike you cowards. I’d protect her with everything I had. I’d be the men you couldn’t and can’t be. Hell, you probably wouldn’t even save Abigail and your son if your life depended on it.”

John opened his mouth to spit back an insult, a remark, but Arthur quickly cut him off.

“I ain’t gonna fight you, Marston. Just know that none of y’all have any place to say shit, because y’all made her this way and she needs support from her family, not some damned people who are gonna knock her down a couple more pegs when she’s already low enough. If y’all ever hurt her again, I promise you there will be consequences.” Arthur threatened, his voice dangerously low as he refrained from lashing out on everybody and John specifically. He dropped John to the dirt ground with no hesitation before leaving the scene, heading towards where you currently were.

Once he entered your small cot, he noticed you were sitting there with your head in your hands. Your right fist was covered in blood, and he wasn’t quite sure if it was John’s or yours. “L-look at me Arthur, I’m a mess. What he said was somewhat true, I’m useless. How am I gonna be in a gang if I can’t even leave the camp, or pick up a gun and shoot a couple guys?”

Arthur hushed you by bringing his finger up to your lips, wiping away a couple tears with the thumb of his opposite hand. “Nothing that came out of that idiot’s mouth is true; he’s just angry and hurt. Just like you are, (Name). You’re like a sister to him, a sister to the rest of ‘em and a daughter to Dutch and Hosea. One day you’ll be able to trust ‘em again, maybe a little, but for now, you have me and you always will.” Arthur stated, trying to make you understand how the rest of the gang felt.

With nothing else to say, you curled up next to Arthur, resting your head in his lap while he played with your (hair color) locks as a way to calm you and keep himself occupied.

The room was quiet for a while until your hoarse voice broke the silence. “Arthur, I trust you with my whole entire being, I hope ya know that. I mean it.”

Once Arthur processed this information, he only felt guilty. Everyone knew that he beat himself up about his past and about himself, and this was no exception. He was a bad man, he knew it, you knew it, the whole United States knew it and he hated it, and that’s why he felt that this was wrong. “I’m a bad man, (Name). You shouldn’t trust me with nothin’, and you shouldn’t trust me with such a thing, ‘cause if I lose ya it’s gon’ be my fault and I ain’t trying to deal with losin’ somebody I care about again.”

A frown adorned your features as you looked up into his emerald green eyes. You brought your hands up and cupped his cheeks, forcing him to stare straight at you. “When are you gon’ learn that you ain't-a bad man? That you’re just tryin’ to survive, and get through this life and get this country back to what it was ‘sposed to be? Maybe them lawmen think you’re a bad man, but you sure as hell ain’t to me. Look what you just did for me out there, just to protect me and make sure they knew that it wasn’t my fault I’m this way and that is was theirs. I can’t even explain how much of a good man you are to me Arthur, and everyone that doesn’t think so is blind.”

“That’s the most I’ve heard ya say in weeks.” Arthur chuckled, lightening the mood and you shoved him playfully, rolling your eyes. “Thank ya, (Name).” he whispered softly.

“Of course,” you responded before returning back to your previous position, cuddled up with Arthur on your bed.

One day, you would be able to leave this camp and return back to your daily duties. One day, you’d also be able to walk up those who betrayed and look them right in the eyes and smile. One day, you could prove those who thought you were weak wrong. And one day, you would surely get back at those who did those dirty disgusting things to you, but for now, you had somebody to loved and cared for you; and that’s all you needed to get back up on your feet.

Arthur Morgan’s love for you kept you going, kept pushing you forward and you were forever grateful. Even though the two of you had your negatives and issues with each other, you would always come back to him because he’s the reason you were a semi-functioning member of society currently.

Words couldn’t explain your thanks, but you knew he knew, and that was enough for you. All you needed was Arthur Morgan.

That’s all you needed and would ever need.

[redemptionbaby]

So I finally heard Dutch flirt with Mary-Beth and he sounds so creepy! Like he reminds of this grown ass man that came on to me when I was 16. He literally reminded me of a man that scared me so bad when I was younger. Yikes! Poor Mary-Beth she couldn’t do shit if he pulled something.

I’ve never heard it, and I’m not gonna go searching. I fucking hate old guys who hit on young girls and make them so obviously uncomfortable. Not to mention with Dutch, it’s an abuse of power. But I do think it would depend on what he pulled. Yes, a lot of people are loyal to him and respect his decisions, good and bad, but there are also some people who respect women in camp. I think Hosea and Arthur, maybe Charles and Javier too, would be like come on man what the fuck if like he started getting physical in broad daylight