#ask yer rump away !

[twola]

Defying Conventions II

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI, A/B/O

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link ➵ Previous Please be warned -cw: omegaverse, breeding kink, impregnation, pregnant sex, graphic birth. If those things bother you, then this is not the fic for you.

I feel like I am taking a big risk with this one. As someone who has recently gone through childbirth, it is definitely a traumatic thing, even when things go well. I write as a coping mechanism for trauma - so here it is.

It’s all going to shit.

Hosea. Lenny. Dead. John just busted out of Sisika. The bank robbery in Lemoyne gone completely south - and being marooned on that godforsaken island.

Not to mention Dutch and his behavior. Seems like Micah is in the man’s ear more than anyone else nowadays.

Beaver Hollow is miserable - damp, in these dark, dusty hills of Roanoke. It's stifling, the misery this place exudes.

“Arthur-” 

Arthur whips around, ready to snap at yet another person asking him to do something-

It’s you. Your cheeks are the slightest bit flushed. His hackles settle, temper calmed by the nearness of his other half.

“What d’ya need, darlin’?” He smiles as he raises his hand to welcome you into an embrace.

You don’t move, causing him to frown.

“I… uhm, I-” You stumble slightly, your hand unconsciously moving to your neck, where you have pinned a shawl to cover your skin.

Realization dawns on him, and a low, dull ache begins to burn in his gut.

“Y’ sayin’ we need to get away for a few days?”

You sheepishly shake your head, cheeks flushed. His smile returns and he takes the step to move closer. He wraps his arms around you, clutching you to him. You sigh and melt into his strong embrace.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble into his chest, shuddering slightly as you can feel your heat closing in on you. Tomorrow you’d be a blithering mess.

Arthur presses his lips to your forehead.

“Reckon that’s the best thing anyone’s asked me to do in a while.”

“You ain’t mad?” You look up at him, incredulous.

“Am I mad about my mate askin’ me to get away from this shithole for a few days and spend the hours ruttin’ away?” 

“I just hate being so… needy. Dumb omega shit.” You sigh, burying your head in his chest again. 

Arthur sighs knowingly, then grins as he pulls the shawl down to expose your neck and immediately buries his head against your clammy skin.

You yelp in surprise and arousal as you feel his tongue press against your mating gland - it’s a good thing that he has one arm strong around your waist, or else you would be stumbling to the ground.

Arthur groans quietly, squeezing you gently. “I’m yer alpha. Y’know what I need? I need to satisfy you.”

You try to push him back, afraid that you’re going to go into heat standing here in the middle of camp as he nuzzles at your neck. Alas, your lover is built like a brick wall, and it is only after quite a bit of fidgeting and you trying to yank your shawl back up that he takes the hint.

“Annesburg? Or d’ya want to go further?” He drawls as you try to collect yourself. 

You scowl up at him, “After that, we’ll need to go to Annesburg. Now.”

Arthur smirks, his eyes hidden under the rim of that old gambler’s hat. “Say less, darlin’ girl. Say less.” 

-

It’s a miracle that you can stand upright, there in the gunsmith’s shop as Arthur leans on the counter. While he had been in the foulest of moods earlier in the day, he’d found a second wind the moment you told him you needed him - suddenly acting full alpha - cocky and possessive and hell-bent on getting you desperate for him.

Christ, the whole ride down from Beaver Hollow was near excruciating - Arthur having dragged you onto the saddle in front of him, pressed against him completely, instead of pulling you up on his horse’s rump. Leaning over every so often and nipping at your neck. Groping your breast after passing another rider on the road. By the time the two of you had ridden into the dusty mine town, the flush that had dusted your cheeks before extended down your neck and chest.

“One room. ‘nd here’s extra to not bother us for a few days.”

The poor gunsmith blanches, completely understanding the threatening tone in Arthur’s voice. He nods, handing the alpha a key, muttering directions to the room, in the building next to the shop.

Arthur smirks, turning around and grabbing your arm, guiding you quickly to the room. Punching the key into the lock, he opens the door and watches as you stumble inside. A rumble, all alpha, punches out of his chest as you wipe at your brow, leaning against the wardrobe in the room.

“I’m just gonna get the horse straight. Be back in a minute.” Arthur calls back as he steps out of the room, leaving you to pant wearily as you survey the room that you’re going to lock the two of you in for the next couple of days.

You whine as you paw at the shawl hiding your neck, finally unlatching it and throwing it unceremoniously to the floor. Feverishly unbuttoning your blouse, you pull your arms out of it and toss it aside as well. You’re yanking the straps of your chemise down your arms and baring your breasts as Arthur re-enters the room. Your chemise hangs around your waist as your hands cup your breasts, your breath coming in short, fast pants.

“Need it that bad, omega?” Arthur purrs, pushing your hands away from your chest and placing his own atop your breasts, squeezing gently as you moan.

“Don’t - don’t be cruel- I’m…shit, I’m in heat.” You gasp out as his thumb traces over your nipple. Your knees shake as your hands grasp at him, and you feel your bloomers dampen as your slick begins to come.

One of Arthur’s hands moves from your breast to your waist and immediately starts yanking at your skirts, loosening the waist and pushing them down, along with your bloomers, to pool on the floor at your ankles, leaving you completely bare.

“I’ve got you, darlin’ girl,” Arthur grasps one of your hands and presses it against his massive erection in his pants, and you mewl desperately, craving the way he fills you.

“Go on, get on the bed.” He nods to you and you shakily follow his order, laying down on the bed and opening your legs, rubbing at your throbbing core, watching as your alpha undresses himself. Jacket and work shirt, denim and union suit, they are all shed as you watch, touching yourself all the while.

He goes to climb into the bed with you as you catch a glimpse of his eyes - the faintest red rim around those blue pools.

You groan, a pained cry from your chest, and he stops immediately. Your heat has fully set in, and your body jolts in furious need. You sit up rapidly, trying to gain some semblance of control over yourself.

“I.. you… you begin to rut, there’s a chance-” you suck in a breath against the cramping pain, “I’ll take.”

Arthur hovers over you. “Is that what you want?”

A pained gasp is all you can reply.

“It hurts-” you moan, crumbling forward in the bed, clutching at your lower abdomen. Arthur’s large, warm hands find your sides immediately and gently push you to lay fully on your stomach.

“Hands and knees, let me take care of you.”

You breathe heavily, labored, through your mouth, your fever making you weak. You let him maneuver you however he wants, having lost the strength to do anything else. Your limbs are drawn under you, and your head presses heavily into the old pillow. He positions himself behind you, grabbing your hips and hoisting them up. You moan throatily into that pillow as he takes one hand to stroke his cock into full rigidity.

Before he presses inside, it hits you. You push up on your elbows and he stops, rubbing your lower back. You breathe out against another cramp that shudders through your body. “You… you’re gonna…”

All of the hotheadedness of being an alpha vanishes.

“Honey we don’t have to - it’s what you want.”

You swallow. He’s in position to mount you, the most base and primal of ways to slake this biological need. The complete and utter submission of an omega to their alpha.  Some say it’s an old wives tale, but omegas know - they are taught very early on, that being mounted was supposedly the best way to breed - the surest way to conceive a child. That if they were caught out in the world by an alpha, to fight like hell to not be mounted.

“What do you want, Arthur?”

He leans over you and you feel his lips on your shoulder as one of his hands gently grasps the crest of your hip.

“I wanna spend my days wit’ you.”

“That don’t answer the question.” You suck in another breath against the pain.

He pets your cunt gently, making you shiver as his knuckle parts your folds. “I’ll be happy either way. If you wanna spend our days ridin’ as partners or raisin’ children - I’ll be there as your mate.”

“And… and if I want…?” You gasp out against the pain, your slick starting to run down his knuckle all the way to his wrist, “If I want to have your child?”

He groans loudly and removes his hand from your cunt, immediately smearing your slick all over his cock and he pumps it vigorously. His opposite hand clamps hard on your hip, yanking you up to align with his swaying pelvis.

“Omega-” he growls, all predator, with the blunt head of his cock pressed against the seam of you, probing against the rim of your cunt, raring to plunge into your body, “I’ll breed you right, girl.”

His voice is rough, his tone warning. Another sway of his hips and his cockhead slips in, you do your part and press your hips back to take him, to urge him forward. You moan throatily into the pillow as he presses inside - somehow his cock feels bigger, thicker in this position than at any other time. 

“Fuck, darlin’.” Arthur curses when he’s fully sheathed inside you, hands strong on your hips. On his knees behind you, he guides you on and off of his cock as he thrusts his hips in tandem. The bed squeaks with the movement of your bodies. You clench the pillow hard as your lover picks up the pace, fucking into you frantically.

With each powerful thrust of him into you, you feel his knot start to grow, stretching you with a pain that you crave. If you were able to turn around and look up at him, you’d see his eyes rimmed in red. But you could tell, with the way his hands clamp on your hips, the hardness of his cock - you know he’s gone into rut.

He slows, breathing heavily through his nose, reminiscent of a beast of burden.

“Darlin’-” his voice is rough and thick with arousal, “Last chance, omega. D’ya want me to put a baby in you?”

You shudder, hissing at the finality of his implication as you feel the trickle down your neck from your mating gland of that sweet, pheromone-filled oil. 

“Yes.” You whine, “Yes, Arthur, let me - give me, ngh-” you throw your hips backward to spear yourself on his hard cock, “Breed me.”

“Fuck-” Arthur groans, and almost immediately, his knot swells, stretching the rim of your cunt as he locks himself into you. You whine against the pain-pleasure of it all.

Here you are, on your hands and knees, alpha mounting you, waiting for him to breed you - oh, what a place to be in - what a situation you thought you would never be in. Arthur quickly leans over you, plastering his chest over your back, his strong arms caging you in on either side of your own. It’s terrifyingly intimate as he breathes loudly through his nose, nipping at the gland on your neck.

The world slows. 

“I love you,” he rumbles into your ear, and gives one more thrust into you, knot keeping him snugly in your cunt, “I love you - I love you -” He babbles before sucking one final breath in.

Every nerve of yours is alight. You’ve never felt so in tune with your body. For one final instant, you shiver, your womb ready to accept. One final cramp of need, lower than ever, and you know it is the way your body sings for your mate. Your heart stops. Your cunt clenches at Arthur’s cock, as if it were begging for him the same way you shamelessly are.

Splayed over you, his lips quickly find your gland and he sucks, you gasp, and then you can feel it - deep in your body, you feel the warmth of his seed, his cock pulsing in your cunt as he fills you. 

The sound he makes is beautiful, a moan that transcends physical need. No, this was more. This was your mate, this was breeding, this was the pinnacle of what you were born for. This was creation. The swell of emotion overflows as tears burst from your eyes. You let out a crooning moan of your own as you take him, you take all of him, every pulse of him into your womb. 

The moment seems to last forever. Heaving, panting, groaning, Arthur empties himself into you, locked at the hilt, your body shaking at the sheer implication of it all. For once in your life, your omegahood was not a curse. Your alpha, bent over you, mounted and pumping his hot spend into you.

Arthur gasps like a fish out of water once he’s done. The roaring of your heart in your chest seems to overpower everything. You sob loudly and he immediately sobers and moves the two of you to lay on your sides on the bed, still locked at the hips. He brushes back a lock of your hair, “Honey, are you alri-?”

“I love you,” you cry out, taking his hand and pulling it to your breast, over your heart. “Arthur I love you, I need you - you’re everything-”

He settles in behind you, his knot still locked strong within your body.

“Honey darlin’ girl…” You can feel him smile into your hair, “Mate.”

All of the fierceness, the rough possession, it all has faded as Arthur gently nuzzles the back of your head.  You pull his hand down to your belly, right to the cradle of your hips, to splay out over your womb. “Our child - Arthur.”

He presses against your hot skin, arms wrapped tightly around you, and the next thing you know, that overwhelming warmth shoots through your cunt again as he breathes out heavily.

“Gonna make sure I give you one.” He groans, voice rough as he shallowly pumps his hips against your rear, another round of spend coating your insides.

You mewl, accepting him, rolling your hips as you make another noise of desperation.

“Y‘okay?” He asks, his arm tightening around you.

You whine, wiggling your hips, testing the strength of his knot. He growls in your ear, one of his hands shooting down to your cunt and forcing your legs apart and the other wound under your ribcage, engulfing and squeezing one of your breasts.

Arthur sucks in a breath and nuzzles the back of your neck. His hips jut forward once again, and his cock swells within you.

“Got one last one in me - gonna, gonna g-give you-“

Your entire body quivers in anticipation, and you grab Arthur’s hand from your breast and spread it over your lower belly, holding your hand over his. Over where you will grow and create and swell with child, his child.

“Give me a baby, Arthur-”

Arthur grunts, cock pulsing, and you mewl as you feel the bleeding warmness of him exit his body and enter yours. Gentle waves of him, dripping down and over his knot, smearing across both his and your thighs. A physical sign that he’s filled your cunt to the brim with his seed.

Finally, as the two of you breathe heavily from near-exhaustion, Arthur’s knot recedes enough that he is able to pull himself from you. Arthur slides himself from your body gently, and you whine as his inches leave you. He leans over you and kisses your temple. “I’ll get us some food. Get some rest.”

You turn over in the bed to face him, rubbing gently at your belly. You smile, mischievously.

“I like you mountin’ me.”

Arthur scowls at you, “Jesus Christ, you can’t just say that. We’ll never leave this bed if you keep acting like that.”

You simply smile, leaning in and taking his lips with yours, throwing your leg over his hip, preventing him from leaving the sanctity of the bed. One of his hands rounds your hip to cup your ass.

Shivering slightly, you involuntarily clench as you feel another trickle of his essence leak from your cunt. You look down between you, Arthur’s eyes following yours. You unwind your leg from his hip and turn to lie on your back. 

Your dark hair has lovely drips of white coursing through it, and Arthur groans quietly when he sees it. He reaches, collecting that viscous rivulet on his finger, and you watch intently as he looks back at you, raising his brow as he trails his finger through your thatch of hair.

He lovingly, gently presses it back in, and you whine with oversensitivity at the feeling of his thick trigger finger slipping through the sore rim of your cunt. Arthur takes your lips with his, smothering your complaint.

After several moments, he extracts his hand, leaning back on his elbow. He nuzzles against your neck, the now-faded ring left by his teeth those weeks ago.  “When will you know if you took?”

You shrug, “I guess when my heat ends. Never really paid attention much to them omega lessons…What happens now?”

Arthur rolls onto his back, stretching himself out in the bed, looking up at the moisture-stained ceiling of the rented room. “Things are endin’ with the gang. As much as it kills me to say it…”

You move closer to him, laying your head upon his chest. “And us…?”

“You’re my mate. You’re hopefully carrying my child. Ain't gonna make the mistakes I’ve made in the past.”

You fiddle with a strand of your long, messy hair. “I know we’re mates and all but…” you trail off, eyes trained on the strand of hair instead of him.

“Let’s get Swanson to marry us,” Arthur says, winding his arm around you again.

A smile blooms across your face and you immediately sit up and kiss him, hard, dragging him back down to the bed.

You awaken the next day in the mid-morning, when the sun is already high in the sky.  Arthur’s already up, sitting on the side of the bed, half-dressed. He looks back at you as you stretch your arms overhead. Yawning, you run your hands down your body to rest at the cradle of your hips.

A warmth blooms under your hand. You don’t know how to explain it, but you’re sure you took.

His large hand covers yours.

“Thinkin’ so?”

You nod, looking back at him, unable to stop yourself from smiling. You push yourself up and crash into his embrace.

“But you know, can never be too sure.” You giggle.

A spark of amusement shoots through those river-blue eyes of his.

“Get on your knees, omega. Let’s make sure.”

-

Months Later…

“Absolutely not.”

You frown, pouting reminiscent of a petulant child. You have to stop yourself from stomping your foot on the old wooden floor.

“Ain’t no way in hell am I mountin’ you when you're this close to giving birth.” Arthur scowls at you, looking you up and down with a set jaw and exasperated tone.

“C’monnn…” You tease, taking your hands and running them down your ribcage to highlight your quite large belly under the fabric of your dress.

“No. Christ, it’s hard enough not to go into rut when you’re just sleeping next to me.” Arthur shakes his head, turning away from you, trying to distract himself.

“Gentle?” You wind your way around him, your hand tracing up his back.

“Woman….” He gives a warning tone, but you can tell that you are wearing him down.

“Please, alpha.” You press yourself against him suggestively, taking one of his hands and placing it over the swell of your belly, “You need to take care of your omega.”

His fingers pulse over your skin, and with a sigh, he gives in, “I ain’t knotting you, no matter how much you beg. Christ, I shouldn’t even be entertainin’ this.”

With a giggle, your fingers fly to where his suspenders are fastened to his black work pants, and before he can even react, you have one unclipped. He snatches your hands away from his waist and holds them up above your head.

“You are the most troublesome-”

You lean up on your and kiss him, effectively silencing his retort. When you pull away, you smile up at him, and he cannot help but give the smallest smile back.

“Like I was sayin’, troublesome. C’mon now, get in bed.” Arthur playfully swats at your hip as you grab his hand, pulling him toward the bedroom.

The small cabin could use some updating - but for the soon-to-be three of you, the small homestead tucked away in the hills of Ambarino is exactly what you never knew you needed. A small bedroom, a bed tucked over in the corner, a fireplace, and an old, beaten-up dresser - for all the time you’d spent running, sleeping in tents and on bedrolls - having a home with your husband was something you’d never think you’d have.

As you reach the bed, he stops you and spins you around, holding you upright all the while. Arthur leans down and presses his lips against yours, one hand pulling at your dress, gathering up the skirts, bunching them up, raising them up, up to your hips. With an awkward shimmy with your belly hanging low, your bloomers pool to the floor with a quick tug from Arthur’s fingers.

“C’mon - lay down,” Arthur taps your hip and motions to the bed.

You raise your eyebrows as he undoes his other suspender, about to comment on how dressed the two of you still are.

“No-” he warns, “You take everythin’ off and I’m definitely knotting you. And we aren’t doin’ that.”

You’re about to complain again but are cut off as he pushes you, gently, down onto the bed before shoving his pants and short drawers down his saddle-hewn thighs.

At that sight, you quickly lay down, rolling onto your side as you hike your skirts up to bare your cunt.

“Thought so, troublesome.” Arthur jokes as he slides himself into bed behind you, the skin of his pelvis and cock warm against your rear. 

It takes some awkward maneuvering - everything is awkward when you are this far gone, but finally, he slowly presses himself into you, and you sigh in contentment.

It’s everything he is not to slam his hips into you, to knot you, to claim claim claim. But he needs to be soft, to be gentle, to be careful. 

You moan appreciatively when he gives a shallow pulse of his hips. The sheath of your body feels like a live wire - primed and ready to snap at any time. The pace he finds is slow, but full and heady. You mewl, your body shuddering as you come, and Arthur is forced to pull himself from you and wrap his hand around his cock, hissing as he feels his knot expand around nothing.

You struggle to turn yourself over, but finally do so and wrap your hand around his knot, joining his hand around that swollen base of him. He unclenches his jaw and looks down at you as you squeeze at him, moving your fingers from his hard knot up his shaft, and downward again.

“Sweetheart you don’t-” he grits out as you begin to pump him.

“Hush-” you interrupt as you lay your head upon his chest, twisting your hand around him as you stroke up and down. It doesn’t take long for him to find his own end. Arthur growls, thrusting his hips upward as he comes, spurting white out of the head of his cock over both of your hands.

After catching his breath, he kisses the crown of your head, “You okay?”

You look up and smile at him, satiated.

-

Arthur tosses the last of the firewood he’d been chopping all afternoon in the pile under the overhang, wiping the sweat from his brow as he lays the ax against the outside of the cabin. Grabbing the carbine that he had been cleaning earlier, he shoulders it as he pushes through the front door.

“Darl-”

The bedroom door is closed. Warily, he grabs the door handle and slowly opens it. Arthur stops completely, eyes widening as he scans the room. The whole atmosphere has changed from even this morning, and he slides the carbine from his shoulder and props it against the wall. 

It’s dark, the curtains drawn against the midafternoon sun. Before his eyes adjust to the darkness, he can just barely make out your form, leaning against the mantle, your head on your forearms.

He closes the door again, recreating the safety of the nest. He realizes that’s what it is only after shutting the door. A nest. 

“Is it-?”

You nod as pain rips through you and you groan, clutching your belly. Arthur is on you in an instant, holding you upright. 

Immediately, a fierce agitation in his blood sings. Protect, protect, protect.

You breathe out heavily through your nose as you stand up to full height again. “C’n you make a fire? I need… I need-”

“Anythin’, darlin’. Here, how about you sit down-”

“No, no I need to walk.”

For the next hours, you pace back and forth in the room, wincing every so often, one hand supporting your belly. You’ve kicked your shoes off, and Arthur has as well, sitting in a chair next to the fire, knee bouncing as he watches you intently. The warmth of the room is nearly suffocating to him, but he would never dream of asking to open the window or put out the fire. He simply rolls up the sleeves of his faded blue work shirt.

You suck in a pained breath and a groan echoes through the room as you double over, trying to assuage the overwhelming feeling in your hips.

“I- I think it’s time… h-help me get undressed and onto the bed.”

Arthur nods, stepping closer to you and reaching for the laces of your dress, pulling them apart and helping you step out of the fabric. He continues, solemnly, pushing the straps of your chemise down your shoulders. Gently, your chemise falls away, your bloomers puddle at your feet. Arthur’s blood is on fire as he can see the rivulet of liquid trail down your legs. Your breasts heavy and full, nipples darkened, your belly low. Your body heaving.

He is in awe. Not carnally - though he always wants you - he is in awe of you gritting your teeth against a wave of pain. He is in awe at the movement he sees in your belly. He is in awe of what is about to come, what you are about to do. You groan and reach for him. He immediately places his hands around your waist to steady you. You murmur softly as you lean into his embrace.

“Let’s get you to bed, darlin’ girl.” Arthur gently leads you to the bed and helps you lie down in it. You groan, trying to get comfortable, but it is a lost cause.

The hours continue to roll by, punctuated by your body seizing in agonizing pain every few minutes. You whimper to the ceiling, jumbled syllables of prayers, of curses, of his name.

He wants to growl, he wants to go outside and tear something to pieces. There is an overwhelming need to destroy as he watches you writhe in pain trying to bring his child into the world. He wants to fight another alpha - to dominate - to provide some kind of placation to the inferno in his chest.

Another pained, agonized whimper from you brings him back to reality.

“Si-sit me up,” You grit your teeth as Arthur helps you up, he sits at the head of the bed behind you and you lean back on him for strength. He will give you it all, he would give you anything to take this pain away, if only he could shoulder this task for you. You spread your legs a little further as your head falls back upon his shoulder, a wail crawling out of your throat. Slick trails down your neck from your mating gland as Arthur helps to hold you in a reclined position.

Spiced, warm, rich- with just a hint of the sweetness you usually smell like. It’s different, and instead of driving him wild with the need to rut, it’s making his heart pound with anxiousness and protectiveness. He’s sure if someone were to encroach on the area he would tear them to shreds with his bare hands right now.

“Doin’ so good.” He murmurs against your temple and you moan again in response, your head lolling forward as you hoarsely cry out.

“A-Arthur, its- it’s comin’, the baby-” You pant, and your hands move from clutching the bed sheets hanging between your legs.

“I’m here, I’m here.” Assurance is all he can do at the moment.  Blood begins to stain the sheet underneath you as you breathe heavily out your nose. Red smears your thighs as the end draws near. Your back tenses and your fingers clutch at his. Your nails dig into the back of his hand, but his pain be damned. Your head turns into his chest, squeezing your eyes shut, searching for some sort of comfort.

A rumble, deep and strong, claws up from his chest. His free hand spreads out over your belly, pulsing, cramping, hard - he can feel the ordeal your body is going through beneath his fingertips. Moments drag on as you breathe heavily through your nose.

With a gasp, you grab his hand from your belly and draw it down between your legs, against your cunt. Tears stream from your eyes as you wail loudly, the final moments having arrived. 

“Y’can do this, sweetheart, you’re doin’ so good-” He murmurs into your temple as you pant, another cry clawing up from your throat.

“Arthur-!”

Taking in a measured breath, you shudder in against him, a hoarse shout filling the room as you deliver the child. In a rush of blood and fluid, Arthur finds himself cupping the baby’s head as it slides into the world. A final scream pierces the room as you push again, the child’s shoulders and the rest of its body leaving you and into the waiting hands of its parents.

You immediately are lucid, and bring the child up to your chest, and the newborn’s piercing cry fills the room. The white-blue cord from the child’s belly pulses against your own, the blood connection between the two of you still strong. 

Arthur is struck dumb. He can barely comprehend what has just happened as you coo gently at the wailing babe, sticky and bloody. 

“L-lie us down, and get that linen blanket o’er there.” You whisper as you rub the child’s back, and its cries slowly quiet. He is jolted back to reality, and slowly, gently lies you down in the bed, standing up and grabbing the aforementioned blanket and bringing it back to you.

You’re able to wrap the babe loosely upon your chest and belly. You look up at Arthur, but his gaze is trained on the rough swaddled babe. The tufts of dark honeyed hair peaking out from the linen. Those blotchy red cheeks.

“Your son, my alpha.” You whisper.

Arthur gapes up at you, seemingly unable to comprehend your words, until something clicks and he immediately leans over and places his lips upon yours in a desperate, emotional kiss.

“Oh, sweetheart - you - you-”

You chuckle softly.

“You’re perfect, he’s perfect - my darlin’ omega girl.”

The child latches to your breast and begins to slowly suckle. The warm spice of your scent from giving birth recedes, and a sweetness replaces it. It’s new, this scent, the tang of milk and notes of comforting vanilla. Arthur breathes in deeply, resonating deep in his bones that you are no longer just his mate; you are mother to his child.

The boy’s scent - a combination of yours and his, invades his nostrils. Of sweet vanilla and leather. Of that tang of milk. He wants to nuzzle against the child and breathe in deep. The only scent he wants to be bathed in forevermore.

In those quiet moments after the ordeal of birth, you open the swaddled linen to give him access to cut the cord between you and the child, a quick flick of his hunting knife above the child’s abdomen. He holds you, kissing your temple and murmuring sweet nothings as you clutch at the child, delivering the afterbirth with a soft, stifled whine of pain.

Things start to slow. He’s got a new purpose now. As you drift to sleep, cleaned and in a new chemise, upon fresh sheets, his gaze moves to the basket next to the bed, where in a fresh swaddle of linen, his son also sleeps.

It's murderous, the things he would do to protect the two of you. This nest, the newborn child, and you recovering from birth. His blood sings- not in the need to fuck, but in the solemn duty he now has - as alpha, as husband, as father. It's fierce, the protectiveness he now feels. Like a snarling wolf defending territory. Alpha, protector. Head of the family.

He sits down in the chair opposite the bed, carbine in reach, beginning his watch.  The watch that would consume him for the rest of his life. 

But he’s content with this new calling. 

[daisyblinder]

Hey lovely! I adore your writing 🥹😍! I’m so happy you’re asks are open!! I’d love to request an Arthur x Reader where they are married & he is super possessive/ worried about her all the time. I know Arthur would be such a simp for his wife and so worried about every little thing she does 😩💔 I’ll leave the details to you!

Thank you so much, darling! 🧡

Arthur definitely would be so doting, I hope you like what I’ve come up with xx

Everything you don't / Arthur Shelby x fem! reader

🦋 Warnings: Cursing, violence

Covering shifts in Garrison was a pleasant job for Y/n, when the day was peaceful. This happened to be a calm day with a decent amount of patrons but not enough of the party rascals to make it overly loud and busy.

Y/n used to work in the Garrison as a barmaid but then a certain Arthur Shelby had sweeped her off her feet and her days working as a fulltime barmaid were over.

Not by his order, though he did make it clear what was his opinion about letting her try and work herself around drunken men with little to no manners.

The sound of the door has her snapping her head up from wiping the counter. A wide smile spreads to her face as she meets her husbands eyes.

”Hello, my love”, he says loudly before even making it to the counter, making sure everyone hears. Y/n shakes her head with a faux frustrated expression but she cannot wipe the smile off of her face.

She did not mind his posessive nature, she liked knowing she was a treasure to him. He still never treated her like she was an object, he listened to her, he gave her a louder voice she ever could have thought of posessing.

”Hello, darling”, she says with a soft smile before leaning over the counter for a kiss. Once they pull away Arthur remains leaning over the counter to talk to her in a hushed voice.

”Has everyone been behaving? No wandering paws? No scrapping?”, he asks quickly. Y/n shakes her head bringing a hand to his rough cheek.

”No scrapping, no problems today”, she answers still smiling. He always worried himself sick when it came to her.

She could not hide any harm from him nor did she ever have to worry about not having someone to come look for her if she didn’t come home in time. Even in the beginning of their relationship, he’d always been there to make sure she got home safely.

Arthur squints his eyes before nodding and smiling too. ”Have ta make sure me wife is alright don’t I, love?”, he says eyes shining with pure adoration.

Y/n could never get over the look he gave her, it always managed to make her heart stutter and legs give away. She still remembers the first time he set those eyes on her and she would never forget it.

Arthur taps the counter twice before sauntering to the other side of it. Y/n follows his movements with her eyes but gently closes them in contentment, when he comes to her side and reaches a hand to rest it on her hip. Thumb drawing small soothing circles against her through her skirts.

She lifts a hand to rest it over his, now opening her eyes to look at him with an expression that could only be described as love.

Their moment is broken by a man sauntering over to the bar with an empty bottle of irish whiskey. ”Another one”, he says simply setting the bottle on the counter before reaching for a cigarette.

Y/n goes to get one but she hears the sleazy laughter that leaves the man.

”You did good Arthur”, he starts speaking. ”No wonder you come here so often when she is working, anyone would for that rump, and a good fu-”

Before she can turn back around, she hears a sound of a sickening wheeze. Turning around, she sees Arthur with his hand wrapped tightly around the smaller man’s neck. Reaching her own hands to try and ease Arthur up, she goes to speak:

”Arthur-”

”Listen good, you dumb bastard, before I snap yer neck and feed ye into the gutter: You don’t speak of my wife like that, you won’t look at ’er like that, you won’t even breathe if you’re closer than 3 feet from ’er. Now you’ll say ’Apologies, ma’am, goodbye Mrs. Shelby’ and fuck off before I feed you that bottle”

Arthur’s voice is low and menacing as he finally lets the struggling man go. The man starts coughing to breathe. Quickly he collects himself, wheezing out a ”Apologies, Mrs. Shelby- MA’AM! Goodbye ma’am” before staggering out.

”Everyone back to yer business!”, Arthur booms as some customers still stare at them. With his command they turn back to their conversations.

Y/n still has her hands on Arthur’s arm as she looks around to see if anyone needs a drink. Turning back to Arthur she wraps her arms around his waist loosely. ”You shouldn’t have done that for me”, she whispers nuzzling her cheek against the fabric of his shirt.

”I don’t want you to have be afraid because the bell-ends are giving you grief. I won’t have me wife hurt, disrespected or lusted over”, he mutters kissing the her hairline. Y/n hums and leans up to kiss his chin.

”I’m yours to see, yours to kiss, yours to touch and no one else can have me in their hands and in their mercy like I want to be with you”, she whispers knowing how much Arthur liked hearing her say the words, even if they already were plain to see.

”And mine to protect, mine to take care of”, he mutters back. ”I will give you everything and anything”

”You already have, darling”, her words make Arthur smile as they pull away from their embrace so that the people won’t become uncomfortable. One of his arms remains at her waist as she holds onto the hand resting there.

”What do you even see in a bastard like me?”, Arthur asks more from himself than from her, the question sounding joking but she knew a part of it was genuine.

Squeesing his hand, she does not skip a beat before answering:

"Everything you don't"

[bokutoslittlebird]

miya twins and their 19 year old virgin little sister, samu probably caught you trying to fuck yourself and let your dildo be your first since a lot of your friends are teasing you for being a virgin and then atsumu caught you red handed, watching porn. and what would happen if one of them got you preggo? too horny to even think about anything, sorry birdie-san ㅠㅡㅠ

DIVINE. DELICIOUS. you know that audio with the cats? That was me when I read this

Warnings : pregnancy, cunnilingus, f. masturbation, porn video (briefly), a pink dildo, dubcon, incest, manipulation

It’s your nineteenth birthday and while you had a wonderful party with your family, you still feel so young and small. Your brothers are both attending colleges for their own career paths, but you’ve just got out of high school and have no idea what you want to do! You’ve been babied by your brothers, so you don’t have a clear view of the future for yourself that doesn’t include Atsumu and Osamu by your side.

One thing bothered you though: you were still a virgin. Thanks to your brothers, boyfriends were a foreign concept to you. All your friends lost their virginities before their birthdays, but your last friend lost her virginity on her birthday, a present from her boyfriend. You were slow to coming to the party and you told them you’d have lost it by the time your birthday came around, even getting a boyfriend!

A boyfriend quickly discarded by the brooding brothers of yours. A sneer from Atsumu and a glare from Osamu had his tail between his legs. Truly, a shame. You knew your friends would tease you again for the lack of a boy in your life, so you decided to, uh, pretend. A dildo was similar to a penis, right? That’s why they existed.

You didn’t know it’d be so hard! You have to have an orgasm to properly lose your virginity, that’s what your friends said. Pumping the silicone piece into your tiny cunt was harder than expected, only fitting half in before you started to pump it. It sent a tingling down in your tummy, but it was more effort than expected. Noises or frustration mingled with your forced moans, whining as your wrists started to hurt.

Osamu was doing his homework when he heard you make a noise of frustration, huffing and puffing. He didn’t pay too much attention to it, but then you made a similar noise. So, time to investigate. He wouldn’t want you to exert so much energy, you’re his baby sister! He expected to see you trying to get something off a high shelf, your shirt riding up to show your smooth stomach or you to be under your bed, shorts-clad— even better, panty-clad rump in the air. He did not expect to see you on your bed, legs spread and pumping a pink silicone dildo into your cunt. If only that was his—

“‘Tsu- ‘Tsumu,” you moan out, biting on your lower lip. Osamu’s mouth drops into a frown, growling at his twin’s name dropping from your mouth. You turn to look at the door, suddenly opened only to be slammed shut.

A startled gasp makes him stop in front of you, eyes burning with an unknown desire. “‘Samu! What’re you doing?” He just looks at you, eyes glancing at your hand still between your legs. Your eyes go down, shame burning in your face. “I’m trying to be a big girl. I wanna lose my virginity,”

“Why didn’t ya ask me?” He asks, putting his weight on your bed. You panic and close your legs, moving the dildo out of you. “And why ya callin’ out ‘Tsumu’s name? Huh? Am I not good enough?”

“N-No! That’s not it! ‘Samu, you’re scaring me!” You cry out, his large hands spreading your legs. Your puffy pussy is fully on display for him, his eyes noticing the lack of slick. “Don’t hurt me!”

“I’m not gonna hurt ya. I’m gonna help. Wanna be a big girl? I can help,” he says. He doesn’t move, though, waiting for your permission. Even though you’re hesitant — he’s your brother! You’re nodding your head, fingers soon finding themselves in Osamu’s darkened hair. He stopped dying it, so it’s completely natural again. His face is buried in your cunt, lapping at your folds as your moans aren’t forced, head thrown back as Osamu tongue fucks you. When he sticks two fingers into you, he doesn’t expect you to be so wet, a drastic difference from moments ago. He moves to wrap his lips around your clit, walls tightening as you finally release on his fingers and face.

When Osamu comes up, he’s licking his lips while you pant. “Did.. did I lose my virginity?” You ask him, tears clinging to your lashes.

“What d’ya mean?” You explain what your friends told you, all while he strips off his shirt and peppers kisses on your stomach, rising your shirt up as he does. “Nah, I gotta cum inside if you wanna lose it. You gonna let me do that?” The no hesitation in the nodding of your head has him grinning, straightening himself as he rubs his hardened cock through his pants. Today, fantasy becomes reality. “Alright, I’ll go slow,”

Even with his slow sinking into you, you’re gasping and clinging to his biceps for dear life, tears staining your pillow as he splits you open. He’s far bigger than the dildo, but the slick from your orgasm makes it much easier for him to slide in. He kisses your cheek, telling you how good you are. It’s the little praise that has you encouraging him to keep going, and he does. He keeps pushing in until he’s bumping against your cervix, almost completely inside of you. Your legs tighten around his waist, keeping him locked against you.

“Don’t worry, lil sis. I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he shushes, brushing your tears as he stays still. An occasional hiccup has his heart hurting, but he knows you’ll feel good eventually. Well, even if you don’t, he’ll start. When your legs loosen, dropping back to the plush bed, he starts moving. He’s still slow, spreading your walls for his thick cock as you continue to adjust. It’s not until you’re begging him for more does he pick up the pace, slamming his hips against yours. He has to cover your mouth so you don’t alert the whole house he’s fucking you, your screams of pleasure coming out. They’re muffled, but he can hear how much you’re enjoying it. It urges him to go even faster, grunting as he chases his own high.

Another screams rips from you, walls tightening as you cream on his fat cock, eyes rolling as toes curl. It’s enough to send Osamu over the edge, groaning as he buries himself even deeper inside, pumping you full of his cum, you milking every drop. He kisses you, your panting mouth perfect for him to give you a passionate kiss, staying deep inside you. He breaks the kiss, “I love ya, little sis,”

“Love you, too, nii-san,” you smile, kissing him again.

It’s all you ever wanted, to be a big girl. It also brings you and Osamu closer together, you often bouncing around the idea to help him in his shop once he gets it set up. When you go into his room, the door locking behind you, you miss the way Atsumu glares. He has a feeling you’re not studying with Osamu, but there’s nothing to suggest otherwise.

Well, when Osamu is late from coming back from college, Atsumu is the only one home. It’s a small breath of fresh air, relaxing his tired muscles after a long practice match. When he hears small grunts and moans from your bedroom, he goes to investigate. You shouldn’t be home, let alone have anyone with you. The creaking of the floorboards doesn’t stop the noises from your room, Atsumu’s curiosity spiking. Peeking into your open door, he sees you on your back, legs spread open as your laptop plays an obscene video, the moans and grunts coming from the speakers. Your occasional moan is muffled by the shirt hem in your mouth, but it’s dropped when you moan out Osamu’s name, eyes rolling back as your fingers work on your clit.

Atsumu glares at the mention of Osamu’s name, shutting the door that has you jumping and struggling to explain yourself. “Ya think ‘Samu’s better than me? Is that it?” They’re so similar, it’s striking. The hungry eyes, full of anger and lust, they look so much like Osamu’s, but the light blond hair reminds you it’s Atsumu. “What’re you- Yer watchin’ sibling porn? Thinking of your big brother? ‘S that it?”

“No, it’s not what you think, ‘Tsumu!” Unlike Osamu, Atsumu’s one to take what he wants. He moves the laptop off the bed, spreading your legs as you squirm and struggle. “Lemme go!”

“Brats like you need to be put in place, don’t’cha know? You’re fucking soaked, getting off on your big bro that much?” You’re crying and still trying to kick him off, but it just turns him on even more. You’re still innocent and so naive in his eyes, it’s nothing for him to just take that from you. His cock is already hard, begging to sink into your warm depths. “You gonna let me fuck you? It’ll be like that video you were watching,”

You’re shaking your head, pushing at his chest as he leans down to press kisses to your neck. “C’mon, lil sis. I’m not gonna hurt ya. You trust me, right?” It’s a question that has your movements stopping, glossy eyes looking at Atsumu. He’s smiling, your big brother not showing any hint of malice. You sniffle, his thumbs swiping away the silver droplets on your cheeks.

“As long as you promise not to hurt me, okay ‘Tsumu?” You ask him, big doe eyes of innocence as you look at him. He grins and kisses your lips, licking your bottom lip. A whispered breath of ‘wouldn’t dream of it’ is all you hear before his mushroom head is pushing at your entrance. He’s just as big as Osamu, but it’s still hard to take in. You’re nice and slick, though, Atsumu notes. All from watching some incest porn, it’s almost funny to him how all you had to do was ask, no reason to hide it! Him and Osamu have been dreaming of keeping you all to themselves, there’s no reason for you to hide your desires.

Once he’s bottomed out, he doesn’t let you adjust, immediately pulling out to thrust back in. It’s sharp and rough, knocking the air from your lungs as your head gets thrown back. Atsumu’s quick to attach his lips to your neck, sucking the flesh and digging his teeth into the skin. It’s a way to show he’s claimed you, as if he doesn’t plan on coming inside. That’s his goal — mark you inside and out. With your arms above your head, grasping the pillows, there’s no reason for him to not. Licking his thumb, he presses it to your clit and flicks it, sending shockwaves through you as you scream and cream around his cock, thighs tightening around him. He’s not too far behind you, rutting against you as he paints your insides white, sending you into another orgasm, juices spraying against his abdomen.

“Lookie there! You just squirted all over me,” he chuckles, rubbing your shaking thighs. You’re overstimulated, so he doesn’t push another round. There’ll be time for that later.

A week later, you find yourself in a dilemma when your clothes won’t fit. Worried about gaining weight, you confide in your big brothers who give you a test. “Just pee on it. It’ll tell you if you’re overeating,” they said. They’ve never lied to you before! When those two lines pop up on the plastic tool, you show it to them, confused. They tell you you’re pregnant, but then comes the question. Who’s the dad? Really, does it matter? They have a lot of love to give you and they’re twins. Your child is gonna look like both of them no matter what.

[fanfiction-inc]

May I please request headcanons for hosea x reader who sees how Hosea and Jack interact and mentions wanting a baby of their own? Love your works and hope you’re doing well!

You've been with Hosea for a while now, having met during one of the robberies he had planned with the Van Der Linde gang.

You, the paid off "hostage" who would get a cut of the money if you just played along.

And him, the scary gentleman with a gun to your head, ready to shoot if anyone makes a sudden move.

Of course he was a wee bit younger in those days, but you still looked back on them with the same fondness you feel for him now despite his age taking hold.

Watching the man over the years, it was evident how much love he had to give, how strong the gang felt like a full fledged family to him.

Arthur and John, the unruly sons.

Jack, the sweet grandson.

The boy and Hosea's interactions always make your heart swell to see, watching when they are fishing together.

When they collect flowers to bring back to Jack's mother.

How Hosea teaches the lad everything and anything he may need to know and have for an education, should he ever wish to learn more besides how to read and write.

It began to make your mind swim with the idea of having a child with the man, but you knew how he felt about such things.

He always worried about his age, about being unable to give you what you wanted with him.

Plus the risk of the lifestyle he brought you into.

The gang, and Dutch himself in the recent months.

The O'Driscoll boys.

The Pinkertons.

But this didn't stop you from asking when the time seemed right, and right now watching Hosea sit with the boy on the dock, telling him old stories from Arthur and John's youth only made you want to push more.

"And that boy was soaked from the tip of his head to his rump when that fish pulled 'im in!" The boy laughed sweetly at Hosea's story. "That's how your pa learned he was no good at fishin'."

"Do ya 'ave another story?"

"Oh, I think that's enough stories for one fishin' trip, Jack. Yer ma will want ya back home soon before it get's dark out." Those beautiful eyes of the man looked back at you, catching your gaze as you peak over the book you had disregarded in exchange for your daydream about how fatherhood would suit hi with an infant. "Ready to go, my love?"

"Oh, yes, of course darlin'." You rise, watching the boys pack up and Jack's hand instinctively moving to take Hosea's, walking with a bounce to his step as you three make your way back to camp.

Along the way, Hosea turns to you, curiously glancing over your form.

"What were you thinkin' about back there?" He questioned softly, suddenly, startling you momentarily.

"What ever do ya mean?" You question in turn.

"I know when you're deep in thought, my dear. So what was it that had ya so distracted?"

You pause, pursing your lips in contemplation. Was now the right moment to ask in front of Jack? "Fatherhood suits you," you finally admit, shrugging to your lover, "just as I find motherhood appealin'."

"You'd make a good ma, Miss. (First name)!"

A giggle left your lips. "Ya think so, darlin'?"

"Yeah!" You turn your head to Hosea, grinning to the man.

"It seems the boy agrees." Hosea sighs, a smile sneaking to his lips as he shakes his head. He had his worries, and you knew his worries were valid but dammit if you didn't want this with him. You were willing to take all the risk.

If John could have Jack, why couldn't you have a child in this life with the man you loved?

It was as if he heard every word of deliberation, able to spot the thoughts the moment they appear and see the gears in your head working away.

He knew how stubborn you were, and his smile only grew when Jack pulled away to run into camp the moment it was in sight and your arm looped with his in the boys absence. "I can't promise ya a child, but if you're insistent, I'm willin' to try."

You look up with joy to the man, smile bright and eyes even brighter, kissing the mans lips with all the love overflowing from your heart.

Overjoyed, you were so happy he finally agreed,

Finally you could try for a baby with the man who stole your heart just like he stole the money from the bank you two met in.

RDR2 TAG LIST:

@lise-soontobemarried  | @imtootiredforreddit | @morgans-cowbaby | @btsloversaregreat | @sokkasdarling | @the-internet-ruined-me

[thetaoofzoe]

Fic: Sy vs The Kitten 1/1

Title: Sy vs the Kitten (tm) - Round One

Pairing: There is an established coupledom between Sy and The Wife (that’s You! 💕💕) and it is mentioned, but the main showdown is between the Beard and the Claws. Captain Syverson x You

Rating: Fluff fluff fluffity fluff. You want it, I got it for you. 💖💖

Summary: A kitten, a frosty morning, and a gruff green beret with a heart of gold.

Word count: 1975

@angreav​ and @angelicwolf98​  as promised :)

also @thelastsock​ and @wolvesandhoundshowltogether​  I JUST saw your exchange regarding a feral reader/Sy. This isn’t it, but it’s close ;)

Want to read more? Click for my Masterlist

In Mid-November, it was expected to be cold in the mountains of northern Montana, but, when he awoke to a murky Friday morning, it wasn't just cold, it was down right freezing. With his eyes closed, he lay in warmth and security of his bed thinking how easy it would be to merely turn over and go back to sleep.

But, there was work to be done and with a sigh he sat up, pushed aside the heavy quilts and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Scrubbing both hands through his closely cropped hair and feeling his sleep warmed skin prickling in the chill, Sy stayed there a moment longer and mentally ticked over his to-do list.

Behind him, hidden under the mound of quilts, his wife groaned, clenched into a tight ball and he received an ear full of muffled complaining telling him to either get back into bed and put that furnace he called a body to good use or get up, but damn him for letting out the heat!

Chuckling, he nearly lay down again, desperate to do the former, but as he had to start his day, he reluctantly chose the latter. He got up, spread the rest of the bed clothes about his wife's already buried form and then fondly whacked her bum with an open hand, earning an incomprehensible string of words that may or may not have been  a promise of bodily harm.

Specifically /his/ body coming to harm.

Amused by her idle threat, he left her to sleep and quietly went into the adjoining bathroom.

Sy showered and dressed and followed by his rescue dog, Aika,  who met him on the stairway landing, he descended to the lower level where the scent of coffee greeted him.  The previous night, his ever thoughtful wife had programmed the coffee maker to ensure that hot coffee was waiting for him when he got up and even as he poured a cup for himself, he longed to go upstairs, get into bed and pull her back into his arms.

He grumbled to himself,  as the want of his sweet-smelling wife rose like a aching knot in his throat.  He was halfway between putting the cup back onto the counter when the big shaggy Alsatian bumped expectantly against his legs, distracting him.

'Right, right, Aika. I remember,' he laughed and he gave her, her morning snack.

No use wasting more time, he thought.

A stiff dark brown canvas jacket hung from a hook by the back door. Shrugging into it and pulling on a matching hand knitted beanie (one of many homecoming presents from his wife)  he opened the door and stepped out into the cold, crisp morning.

Cradling the steaming cup of coffee, Sy stood on the wide back porch surveying the stretch of land and the forest beyond. He  loved spending his downtime at the family ranch as it was so far and away from his normal chaotic hell. The air was clean and fresh and the only gunshot he heard was the occasional crack of a distant hunting rifle as someone took down their dinner. He found clarity and serenity at the ranch and the quality time he spent with his wife there was sufficient to keep him sated and strong enough to face going back into service.

His thoughts drifted to the woman in his bed again and a contented smile curved his lips. He was definitely going to finish up his chores quickly and spend the rest of the day worshipping her luscious body. That would certainly warm her up.

Sy really had only one job that morning before breakfast and it was  to ensure that the corn silos were all buttoned up and that the paperwork on their contents was properly filled out. That meant getting into the truck and driving the half mile of dirt road to the edge of the ranch where the trio of silver silos stood.

He put his now empty coffee mug on the the narrow table sat between two rocking chairs by the back door and whistling softly to the dog, he trotted down the stairs and walked towards his truck.

Aika, who had been curled on a soft handmade dog bed at his feet, busily smelling whatever Alsatians could smell between porch deck boards, snorted and pushed up and to her feet. She yawned, squeaked and shook her lanky body, but remained standing on the top step looking down at him.

Sy looked back at her and she regarded him placidly. He knew that Aika loved being in the mountains and was becoming very accustomed to the luxurious life he had been able to provide for her. But sometimes she just wanted to laze around and be spoiled.

'Aika,' he said gently, patting his thigh. 'C'mon, girl. We'll get this over with, ok? Then breakfast.'

The word 'breakfast' perked her up and her long tail shot into the air behind her. She wagged it furiously but instead of following Sy down the stairs, she turned and went to sniff around the back door. She pawed it a little and barked to be let in, for breakfast was only served inside.

'Aika!' he laughed. 'Come on now, girl. C'mon.'

She whipped into a circle and looked longingly at the door before sighing and bouncing down the stairs.

Sy fished his truck keys out of his jacket pocket and walked up the gravel path to where he'd parked the truck. Aika followed and then alerted by something,  stopped suddenly, and frantically sniffed the air. She hunched to snuffle at the front grill of the truck before dropping flat to wedge herself beneath the chassis.

'Aika!' Sy snapped going  to see what had captivated the dog so much. 

He crouched, reaching for her collar to try to drag her out from beneath the truck. 'What's goin' on with you.'

Aika didn't give up.

She continued to bark and bark until he relented and popped the hood. He used a small Maglite to quickly scan the top of engine for the thing that had whipped his dog into a frenzy. Not seeing anything out of the ordinary and about to slam shut the hood again, a small noise caused him to pause.

Aika heard it too and barked once, inquisitively. Sy glanced down at the dog who tilted her head up to meet his gaze.

Sy stepped up on the chrome front bumper, ducked under the raised hood and leaned in for a closer look. He wove the torch's beam in and around the engine parts and he huffed out a noise of surprise when the stark white circle of light fell upon a small grey furry lump.

Said furry lump promptly lifted big watery eyes, squinted in the bright light and meowed.

This barely audible sound sent Aika into another frenzy of barking and she attempted to clamber up onto the bumper and into the engine.

'Stop it! Sit!' Sy chided her glancing back at the house and hoping the noise hadn't disturbed his sleeping wife. With a huff Aika obediently plopped her rump onto the gravel and waited.

'Damn,' he muttered, thinking that if Aika hasn't alerted him to their stowaway, he would have had a mess on his hands later.

Sy reached into the engine and tried to curve his big hand about the tiny kitten body but his heroics were immediately rewarded with the violent wrath of teeth and claws. With a startled yelp of pain, he snatched his hand back and involuntarily jerked up and banged the back of his head against the underside of the hood.

He bit down hard on another swear and rubbed the back of his throbbing head. Sy glanced down at Aika who whined with apparent sympathy. But, it was probably more amusement than sympathy.

'Yeah, thanks,' he grumbled in response. 'Aw right.'

Clearing his throat, Sy trained the light on the kitten again who now glared up at him with as much kitteny menace as it could muster.

He tried again to fish the fuzzball from its hiding place but unable to get a good grip, he drew back again.

Need two hands, he thought.

He slid the tail end of the Maglight into his mouth and using one hand, he corralled the kitten into his other and managed to squish it gently into a hissing ball between his lightly cupped hands. Sy held the kitten against his side, stored the torch in his back pocket and then rearranged the kitten to get a better hold on it.  Nose up in the air, Aika tore circles around him, wanting to get closer to the dew wet and shivering kitten.

'Now, where's yer mama?' Sy asked the sad, big-eyed face.

The kitten meowed pitifully, made an attempt to escape but decided instead to nestle into the heat of the man's comforting hands. And, with a sigh, he tucked the ball of fur and claws into the breast pocket of his over-shirt to help keep the kitten warm with his body.

'Anybody else?' Sy asked Aika and nodded to the truck.

The dog stared up at him, much too interested in the pocket hitch hiker to answer.  Sy stepped back up onto the bumper and not only finished his investigation of the engine from the top, but also from the bottom.

Nothing. All clear of sheltering fur balls.

'Right,' he said to both animals now in his protection. 'Let's go.'

He helped Aika jump up into the tall cab and slamming the door, he walked around the truck to the driver's side and climbed in. Rescuing kittens aside, there were still chores to be done.

**

There was a woman in the kitchen when he returned with the kitten and Aika in tow.

She looked up from from her coffee and circular needles and when he finished hanging up his jacket and stuffing the beanie into the jacket's pocket, she put aside her unfinished work.

'I promised you a beating,' she teased with a bright sunny smile.

Sy looked at her a moment, hand protectively cupped about the lump in his plaid shirt's breast pocket.

'What?'

He'd forgotten about her sleepy threats.

'For this morning.'

He thought a moment and then laughed a dirty little confident laugh.

'Oh,' he replied and supressed a grin.

He approached her and leaned in to kiss her forehead. When she lifted her face, he kissed her lips.  'Whenever you want to throw down,' he said, grabbing her chin between his fingers to keep her head up. 'I'm ready.'

She smiled with interest before she was distracted.

'What's that?' she asked, tapping the back of his hand still cupped against his shirt.

Sy drew back, gently extracted the sleepy kitten and presented it to her.

'It was hiding in the engine of my truck,' he explained and smiled a little when she reached both hands out to accept the kitten with a soft coo.

Sy poured another cup of coffee and leaned against the counter to watch his wife walk around the kitchen to find appropriate materials to clean and swaddle the kitten. She opened a can of tuna and they both watched the animal eat its fill.  

Once the kitten had fallen asleep in its new warm cocoon, she handed the bundle to Sy. Kissing his bearded cheek, she smiled.

'Once you save a life...' she said and left him alone in the kitchen with his new fluffy responsibility.

Aika sat before him and watched the exchange intently. Sy leaned down and presented the bundle to the dog who sniffed it excitedly and then immediately began licking the tiny head.

'Aw right, aw right. Take it easy.'

Sy straightened and continued to drink his coffee as he studied the little pointy face.

'I'm responsible for you now. I'll take care of ya, don't worry.'

-end :)

[flyinghome-againstthewind]

In honor of wee Faithie’s birthday...

I’m reposting an excerpt from chapter 6 of my fic The Best by Far is You when it’s Faith Fraser’s first birthday. Sweet bb angel deserved the whole world so here’s some happy headcanons to cope :) 

A soft thump landed on Jamie’s chest and woke him suddenly from his sleep. He breathed in sharply and raised his head, taking in the sight of a half-awake Faith before him. Her hard head was resting on his chest and her little feet were digging into the mattress to try and propel herself further onto him, leaving her diapered rump wagging in the air. She did all this with her eyes screwed shut against the morning light and her head trying to burrow into him. 

“What are ye trying to do, wee lass?” He laughed. Faith grunted and squirmed, trying to get comfortable. Upset that she even had to be awake and trying her damndest to rectify that, it seemed. “Ye dinna like mornings much, do ye?” Jamie helped scoot the baby up so that she was draped over him. She let out a big yawn and looked to be almost asleep already. “Just like yer mam.” 

His gaze flicked over to his wife and found his comment had gone unnoticed by her. If any two souls ever loved an unhurried morning to sleep as late as they liked, they were his lasses. But while the baby was working at falling back to sleep, Jamie had been woken in the process. It wasn’t as easy for him to drift back to sleep once the sun was up and the day could begin. It also wasn’t the first time Faith had done this since she had become too mobile to be left in her wee crib. They only needed to see Faith pull herself up and flip herself out and over the shallow wall of her cradle one time before they decided to bring her into their bed at night ‒ a decision they knew was safest, but had thus far taken some adjusting to.

But this day was special and the weight of the baby keeping him in bed was exactly how he would have this morning go. 

Jamie sat up slowly, scooching back against the headboard. He cradled Faith against him and shifted her head up onto his shoulder once he was upright. He felt her sleepy huff against his skin. His precious, wee bairn. His and Claire’s.  

His hand still cradled the back of Faith’s head and the other helped steady her fidgety body as her legs kicked and wiggled for a moment longer. At last, she settled in against him and he turned his face into her little head where it rested on his shoulder and kissed her hair. 

“Tha gaol agam ort, a chuisle.” He kissed her hair again, unable to help himself. She was warm and snug against him. “I do love you. Happy birthday, my wee lass. I canna believe‒” He swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat as he was confronted with memories of this day last year. The day he believed he had lost Claire and their baby. 

But the baby in his arms was very much alive, against all odds. And though he’d had a late start in being a part of Faith’s life, he had never let a day pass since then without telling her every morning that he loved her, and praying protection over her sleeping form every night. And he dedicated his time in between just trying to be worthy enough for the life he’d been given with Claire and the family they were building together. He didn’t often allow his mind to drift to those first three months for the sake of the dark memories that haunted that time for him. But with his child’s birthday came a natural desire to reflect and look back.

“No, I truly canna believe you’re still here some days. Ye’re a strong wee thing, that’s for sure.” He rubbed her back in slow circles, feeling the baby go completely lax with sleep. “I’ll never forget the first time I held you. Ye were the smallest bairn I’d ever seen. So delicate and pale. I was so scared of losing you still, even though you’d survived that long already. Ye broke my heart open wi’ how much I loved you, a leannan.” 

He became aware of Claire’s waking presence before her hand reached out blindly for him, her head still buried in her pillow. She caught his thigh and, not expecting that to be level with her, lifted her head to squint at him in the morning light. He watched her take in the sight of him and Faith, and caught her sleepy smile before her head dropped back to the pillow. His hand left the baby in favor of brushing aside the wild curls that had fallen over Claire’s face and obscured her from him. She hummed at his touch and he smiled widely, though neither of his lasses noticed. His touch lingered on Claire, tracing the slope of her cheek until she abruptly captured his hand with her eyes still closed and brought it to her lips for a kiss. 

He couldn’t reflect on the beauty of Faith’s life without the immediate swell of gratitude for Claire. She had changed his life so completely and set it on a path he never dared to dream of. 

“Good morning, my beautiful wife.” 

He was rewarded with another sleepy smile from Claire as she stretched like a cat and propped herself up on one elbow. 

“What does that look mean, Sassenach?” 

She startled slightly as he called her out and she scooched closer so she could join them. Her arm slung around his waist just below Faith’s little feet and her head came to rest on his shoulder. “I was remembering that first night you came home and waking up to find you sitting up like this with Faith asleep on your chest.” She turned her face into his shoulder, as she had done that night as well, and kissed him there softly. 

“She was frightfully small then.” 

“Yes, she was,” Claire agreed. She reached out and covered his hand with her own, both of them now resting on Faith’s back. Jamie let out a sigh as something eased in his chest. He pressed a kiss to Claire’s temple and then met her gaze when she tilted her face up to him. They didn’t speak further on the subject. They didn’t need to. The fear and the gratitude and the absolutely overwhelming love for Faith that Jamie felt was echoed in his wife’s eyes. They’d almost lost Faith once and there wasn’t a day of her sweet life that they didn’t feel exceedingly grateful to still have her with them. 

Perhaps it was the sound of both parents’ voices that woke Faith from her brief sleep. After a moment, Jamie and Claire, with their palms still resting on her back, felt her breathe in deeply and then let the air out in a long, slow sigh. Her head popped up from Jamie’s shoulder, one hand rubbing furiously at one still-closed eye. 

“Well, good morning.” Claire’s voice had a soft lilt to it, and Jamie tore his eyes away from the baby to see the radiant smile on her face. “Happy birthday, my darling girl.” 

 She leaned over Jamie and kissed Faith’s round cheek, still flushed from sleep. Jamie felt his breath snag at the sight. It didn’t matter that it was a moment he’d been privileged to see a million times over; he never loved anything more than bearing witness to the bond between Claire and the child they’d created together, the living testament of their love. 

Faith leaned sideways, chasing after Claire with her lips almost in a pout and her face tilted up expectantly.

“Ye want tae give a kiss, a leannan?” Jamie asked softly. 

Claire pressed a kiss to Faith’s pouty mouth, coming away with a bright smile. “What about for Da? Does he get a kiss, too?” 

Faith turned immediately to Jamie at that suggestion and jutted her lower lip out in the only way she had sorted out how to give a kiss. He obliged that sweet, upturned face with a kiss and then ducked his head to mockingly nibble at her neck. She let out a burst of giggles and squirmed away, her shoulder pressed up to her ear in reflex.         

“You love your da, don’t you?” Claire gently stroked Faith’s cheek.

Jamie felt his heart fit to burst at his wife’s words and Faith’s bright-eyed gaze back at him at the mention of “da”. It was the strangest, most wonderful feeling ‒ to love this child with everything that he had and to then realize, as she grew, that she loved him, too.    

“Ah Dhia,” he murmured reverently. “Ye dinna ken how much I love you, M'annsachd.”

[Read the whole chapter on ao3]

[mowulf]

You Gotta be Kitten Me

CH 2: It's only a flesh wound

A note on cat breeds, because I don’t feel like spending an absurd amount of time describing them. (Also only Spy would have any idea what the different breeds are because he’s fancy like that.) From largest to smallest:

Heavy - Blue maine coon. He’s the largest by weight and length and has the cat equivalent of resting bitch face.

Sniper - Savannah cat. He’s the tallest, but he’s lanky and not nearly as long as Heavy.

Demoman - You know those cats that are so black they’re basically walking black holes? Yeah, that’s him.

Spy - Tuxedo cat. Primarily black with white fingers, white chin, and a white triangle on this neck and chest. When he sits up straight he does, indeed, look like he’s wearing a tiny, furry suit.

Soldier - Siamese. He’s loud. He’s obnoxious. And he makes sure you know he’s there.

Scout - Egyptian Mau/DSH mix. Egyptian Maus are the fastest domestic cat breed, reaching up to 30 mph, and can leap absurdly high. While he’s got the build of a Mau, the DSH shows in his calico coat.

Pyro - Ruddy Abyssinian. They look vaguely burnt and, like Scout, are quite small. Yes, they wear a sock on their head. No, you won't be able to convince them to take it off.

-----

“Gentlemen, we have a situation,” Spy said as he looked around the room. The other cats stopped what they were doing and approached. No point delaying the conversation.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Scout said as he trotted over to shove Spy. “How come y’all get ta be so much bigger ‘n’ me? ‘S not fair.”

“That is beside the point, Scout.”

“That is exactly the point!”

”Scout.” Spy planted a paw on Scout’s head and pushed him away. Sniper got the hint and gently but firmly shooed Scout to the opposite side of the forming circle.

Demoman took a seat next to the awkward pair while Sniper attempted to figure out a way to gently pin Scout without accidentally crushing him and casually curled his tail around his paws. “It’s not all that bad,” he said casually. “We’re smaller, so we’ll be harder to hit. Pro’ly faster, too.”

Spy folded his ears and sighed deeply. “Really? Really? That’s what we’re going with? ‘It’s not so bad.’ Are you listening to yourself?”

Sniper flicked his tail and snapped, “Yeah, mate, we heard him just fine. What’s your problem?”

“My problem is a distinct lack of thumbs. Or did you forget?” The group fell silent as everyone examined their hands. Once he was satisfied that enough time had passed, Spy continued, “We didn’t just lose a few inches. Sniper is, at best, as long as his rifle, I can’t even hold a knife let alone stab anyone, and I’m reasonably certain the intelligence is twice Scout’s size.” He straightened up and settled a glare around the group. “We’re useless at best. Hell, Medic and Engineer would likely have an easier time in the next mission if we all just stayed at base. Especially if they have Heavy.”

A heavy silence descended on the circle. After a few moments Soldier stood up and yelled, “That’s still no excuse to not fight! We have claws! We have teeth! We’ll just have to fight them the old fashioned way!” His tail lashed as he spoke and at the end he reared back and swiped at the air.

Sniper was quick to shut that down by yelling, “That’s assuming we can even get close to anyone!” He puffed up and growled, high and deep. “We’re too small. We might catch someone off guard the first time, but then everyone will know to look out for us. Alone we stand no chance. As a group, we’re too obvious!”

“‘Sides, we need to get their intelligence back to base. Mission doesn’t end until someone has someone else’s briefcase,” Scout snapped, ready to jump up only to be pressed back into the floor when Sniper stepped on him.

“Those are the words of a coward! There are no cowards here! Or do I need to remind you maggots of that?” Soldier took a step forward, legs stiff and tail lashing in anger.

Sniper lowered his head and curled his lips in a snarl. “If you think I’m going to just throw myself into enemy fire with no hope of walking away, you’re a fool.” Scout squeaked as Sniper stepped on him to approach Soldier. Scout wanted nothing to do with the fight that was about to break out. While Sniper had the upper hand in terms of size, Soldier more than made up for that in crazy.

On the sidelines, the other mercs chimed in trying to break up the fight before it began, but no one was willing to actually get close. Even human, Soldier was not a force to be reckoned with. Once Sniper was no longer standing on him, Scout joined the rest in the safe zone.

Sniper and Soldier approached each other stiffly until there was only a few inches between them. Soldier’s tail continued to lash dramatically while Sniper’s only twitched at the end. For a long minute the pair simply glared and growled.

Soldier made the first move. Sniper flinched back when Soldier lunged forward, allowing the smaller cat to latch onto his neck and shoulder, back legs tearing at whatever they could reach. Sniper shrieked, swatted a couple times at Soldier, before running toward the nearest wall and throwing himself Soldier-first into it. Yelling broke out from everywhere, a combination of cat howls and human shock.

The impact didn’t knock Soldier loose and only seemed to make him more aggressive. The cat twisted and sank his claws deeper into Sniper’s shoulder while pulling with his teeth until he felt something give. Sniper responded by slamming into the wall three more times in quick succession, finally stunning Soldier enough to make him start to lose grip. That was all Sniper needed to finally stick his foot under Soldier and rip the other cat off.

He stumbled back a couple steps before lunging forward with a yell, only to be slammed into the ground by Medic. One hand grabbed the scruff of his neck and the other a fistful of loose skin near his rump and hauled him back, spitting and screaming. Engineer scooped Soldier before he could launch back at Sniper.

The two spit curses and profanities at each other until Demoman leapt between them and bellowed “SHUT UP!” Silence. “Soldier,” he turned to face, “this is not cowardice or abandonment. Think of it as a tactical retreat until we can figure out how to get the upper hand back.”

“That’s true,” Spy said. “We’re at a disadvantage. We need to figure something out.”

“But-” Soldier flinched when Demoman trotted up and bopped him on the nose. “We can’t-” Another bop. “Would you-” Bopbopbop Demoman stopped and hopped away when Engineer waved him off.

Once he was sure that Soldier had shut up, he turned his attention to Sniper. “And you!” Sniper bristled but remained silent. “If yer gonna fight, take it outside. You know th’ rules.”

More silence. Everyone waited tensely until Sniper finally sighed and Soldier relaxed. A collective sigh was released and the tension finally drained from the room.

“I’m going to need the medigun,” Medic announced. “I’ll be right back.” With that he released Sniper and left the room.

Soldier wriggled out of Engineer’s grip and the man made another grab for him but stopped when he saw the cats regather into the circle. Scout made a couple laps of the malformed circle, chirping in distress until Sniper finally dragged himself into their original spot, at which point he tucked himself firmly into the larger cat’s side. He made a few more distressed chirps as he eyed the mauled fur and flesh but was silenced when Sniper lay a paw across his back.

“Establishing communication should be our top priority,” Spy said once the circle had been properly reformed. “We can’t do much if Medic and Engineer can’t understand us.”

The other cats nodded and made various sounds of agreement only to fall silent when a deep voice rumbled, “Da.” Everyone turned to see an absolutely massive maine coon staring down at them. Even Pyro did a double take before scooting to the side to make space. There was a moment of reshuffling before Heavy finally took a spot and lay down, careful to tuck his lugs beneath him. “Doktor is dangerous. Keep distance and avoid his room.” He paused for a second, then added, “Avoid medbay, too. Anywhere he keeps birds.”

The circle gave another chorus of agreement. If Heavy was giving the warning, then extra caution needed to be used. Right as Spy was about to resume the conversation, Medic reentered, paused, and said, “Heavy?” Heavy looked up, flicked his tail, and then pointedly looked away. Sniper looked between the two before deciding they needed space. “I’ll be back,” he muttered before pushing himself to his feet and limping over to Medic.

Spy coughed to draw everyone’s attention. “As I said before, we’ll need to establish some form of communication. Does anyone have any suggestions?”

“What about morse code?” Soldier asked.

Spy hummed. “Not a bad idea, assuming either of them know any. I know a little, but not nearly enough.”

“Do you know enough to get food?” Scout whined, stretching and rolling onto his back dramatically. “I’m dyin’ over here!”

“Scout-”

“No! Shut up!” He hopped onto his feet and puffed. “I didn’t eat supper on account of I wasn’t feelin’ good, and we ain’t had breakfast. I can smell bacon an’ I’m starving!”

“Mmph! Mr hnng trr,” Pyro chirped, also jumping up and circling in place. Spy smacked his face and groaned, knowing that there was no hope of getting the impromptu meeting back on track. Not with Scout and Pryo now feeding each other’s energy. Best to get them both fed before they worked each other into a frenzy.

“What’d I miss?” Sniper asked as he returned to the circle.

“Somethin’ somethin’ marsh code an’ Spy’s gonna get us food,” Scout announced before anyone else could speak. Pyro hopped over, muffled chattering displaying their excitement over the prospect of finally getting to eat something. The rest of the mercs were eagerly discussing breakfast as Demoman took the lead toward the cafeteria.

Medic and Engineer watched as the cats all began filing out of the room. As Heavy passed, Medic leaned down to try and grab Heavy, only to jerk back when the cat whipped around and snapped at him. Heavy gave an angry huffed before ambling after the rest.

“Well,” Engineer said slowly, “That was… interesting.” He stood up from his spot on the floor and stretched. “What do you recon they’re up to now?”

Medic ran a hand through his hair, sighed, and hefted the end of the medigun off the floor where he’d set it after treating Sniper. “Don’t know. Don’t care. Keep an eye on them. I’m going to call Miss Pauling.”

“Good luck with that.”

Engineer trailed after the small army of cats while Medic heaved another sigh and made his way back to the medical bay. The medigun was easily put away and he took a moment to pet Archimedes before he left in search of the base phone. If he was lucky, Pauling would be free enough to swing by the base. She could wrangle everyone under control and figure out what to do next. Or at least give him some pointers on how to take care of cats. Then he’d have to run to town and get cat food.

Fun.

[abloomntime]

A Bloom In Time Ch27 Welcome To Mafia Town

You know. It feels a lot better sleeping on something soft than it was sleeping on a hard cold wooden floor. Also much better to wake up with having sore muscles for a third time. Slowly waking up, blue eyes peered out awake to the world, blinking away the blurry vision that came with it. Where was she again? The first thing she saw was a very dark purple and she blinked. Was it still dark? Well, yes. It was still dark and other than a blue light filling up the attic making it clearer to see for her.  ......And slowly she started to remember what happened last night. Groaning, the grown woman slowly sat up on the bed and reached a hand up to push the long bangs out of her face, she felt so tired even after sleeping. But strangely relieved in a way. The memories of last night poked through the morning fog and Poppy groaned, rubbing her face more remembering the nightmare and talk the two had last night. Man. And here she thought her new life adventure wouldn't get any weirder than what it already was. Poppy paused feeling something soft bump against her hand and a grumble that was deeper than her own voice. Pulling her head away from her hand she blinked over and saw Snatcher of all people laying curled around her like some giant shadow snake, his head resting on his claws as he laid there just a foot or two away from her. He looked rather peaceful. Was Snatcher here the entire night after she drifted off back to sleep? Did he fall asleep too? Could ghosts even sleep? Do they even need it? She thought the whole 'Rest in Peace' thing was always just a nice way of showing respect for those who had passed on, but now she wasn't too sure how literal it might've been at this point. Meeting a ghost like Snatcher was definately an eye opener, he wasn't like the usual descriptions of ghosts at all she had heard. Ghosts were supposed to be white as sheets and yell 'BOO' all the time, or stay invisible and silent. Snatcher wasn't white OR invisible, and with his loud mouth he definately wasn't silent either most of the time. But she felt an odd gratitude upon seeing him right there after she still fell asleep. He had cleared up a lot of the mess for her and she couldn't have been happier. Yellow eyes opened up once he felt the floor shifting next to him and he stared right at her.

"Oh. You're awake," he said pushing himself up with his arms and stretching his long body out similar to a bushcat before his body as usual floated up into the air, looking at her. "It looks like you had a nice nap."

"Uh. Yeah.'' She gave a small tired smile yawning again and stretching her body out, stretching her arms out and looking behind her. A part of Snatcher's tail was behind her and she guessed that must've been the super soft thing she was sleeping against. She had no idea ghosts could be solid or so soft, another surprise she guessed. Poppy slowly pushed herself to her feet. Weird dark blue dress still on her and the fake rubies around her collar shining in the dim blue light, her long braid already messy from her sleep. Smiling, Poppy looked back up to him. "Were you really with me all night?"

Snatcher stared at her for a moment before frowning a bit. "Well didn't you ask me to? I'm not completely heartless you know. I make sure all my employees are situated well. "

"I did kinda ask that didn't I?" She yawned and walked over to one of the shopping bags when she saw it. Oh yeah. She still had a few things to put away from yesterday didn't she? "You mind leavin'?"

"What for?"

"So I can put on somethin' else besides this dress reject." She gestured to her dress.

"Oh." Of course she would want to do that. With a cough he turned away and started to melt through the floor. "Right. You get on that."

***********************************************************************************************

Poppy was feeling great! Better than she had been feeling in a whole while! After a brief moment of switching clothing and putting her newly aquired tools and clothes away, Poppy appeared in the control room riding the orange platform down from the attic. Hair retied back in a neat long braid and her wearing one of the new dresses she had bought for herself. The white one with purple flowers, she felt good enough to wear one of her favorite things today. FLOWERS!! And of course the glittering gold bracelet on her wrist. Oh. And the heavy duty leather apron around her shoudlers, she never left home without it. The small bag of pons sitting in the larger of the two pockets of it. When she rode down she found Snatcher frowning, arms crossed, listening to the two children babbling on about something and stuffing their faces with those take out things Cookie ordered for them to go, she thought Cookie said they were called 'Hamburgers' if she remembered right. Like some kind of fancy greasy sandwhiches. But he looked up when he saw a blur coming towards them from the corner of his eye, said eyes blinked in surprise a bit in the cute purple flower printed dress she wore. Well this was different from her usual blue attire he was used to her wearing, but he had no right to judge someone's clothing.

"Fancy new clothes. It-...I-It looks nice on you,'' he complimented.

She smiled in thanks making her way down the ramp heading towards the two children and Snatcher. Both were now staring at her silently eating. "Thanks! I bought it just yesterday. And I see ya two are already up and ready to cause trouble ah presume." Both nodded with big smiles and she noticed they were wearing the same kind of outfits again but with different patterns again. Hattie's whole outfit and hat were a pink minus the pants she wore which was a beige color, and bow was wearing a light blue dress with a white jacket with purple buttons, light blue cat pockets, and a pink bow on the back, another pink bow in her hair, and purple boots. These kids must really like the same style of clothes. "You two look hungry huh?"

"Better than apples!," Hattie mumbled holding up what looked like one or two bites remaining of her burger.

Poppy chuckled. "Well lucky for all of us I aim to change that today! Cookie mentioned how they sell a lot of human food in ..Mafia Town right? Well, that's where I'm headin' today!"

"What?!," Snatcher asked bewildered, "You want to go there?! Bad idea! Very, very bad idea! That place is full of foul men who'll rob you for a single corn chip! I thought you already had enough excitement yesterday!"

Poppy just smiled triumphantly back. "Well, yeah. I did have a rough start, but now I'm all fired up and ready to see where the day takes me. And right now it's tellin' me ta get these girls and myself some food!" Both girls happily threw their hands up with a loud cheer at the mention of yet another trip out together for the three of them, but Snatcher looked slightly worried.

"Now? Don't you even know what kind of people live in a town like that?!," he argued back shaking his head, "It's asking for trouble to happen AGAIN if you go there. Aren't you dealing with enough stuff?"

"We can protect her!," Bow happily said before tossing the rest of the burger she ate for breakfast into her mouth.

Snatcher didn't look the slightest bit convinced. "Yeah because that worked so well last time."

This time Poppy frown one hand on her hip the other pointing at him. "Ok purple onion. If you have a problem with mahself goin' out and gettin' food for YOUR kids and taking care of them while yer galavanting off haunting whatever forest ya want, then please. Feel free ta get off ya rump and go buy them food yerself if you have a problem with ME taking care of their needs like YOU wanted. If not shut her trap! I'm not a pet bird you can just keep in a cage. I'm a human and we need food!" Snatcher stared at her silently for a moment, stunned at the sudden berauge of sass thrown his way...but he frowned at the children who giggled at him being put in his place.Poppy waved a hand. "If you're so worried 'bout what happened yesterday, you're more than welcome to join us. I'd appreciate the company and help you'd provide, but otherwise ya'll can go back to your fore-"

"OH ALRIGHT!!" He scowled and recrossed his arms like a pouting child. "I might as well since someone has to keep you out of trouble!" Actually it was because he was worried about her. The kids can hold their own against the mafia, and to him they were nothing but pesty mice. But he LOATHED the idea of Poppy being around so many men especially ones like the mafia. So it would be better to do, besides. His head minion could handle things without him for a little while longer.

Poppy nodded smiling again and waved a hand at the girls. "Go wash off those greasy hands of yours and we'll leave ok?" Both nodded and ran off towards the kitchen, Hattie shoving the rest of her food into her mouth as she did.

"Shouldn't you eat something too before we head out?," Snatcher asked her raising a brow.

"Nah. I'll be fine. Not the first time I'd skip breakfast-" She was cut short when Snatcher literally grabbed her by the shoulders, turned her around, and pushed her towards the kitchen. "Hey! What gives!?"

"Fat chance. You go eat something before you leave right now. I'm not going to be following a growling stomach all day."

She protested but relented after Snatcher said he wouldn't teleport them easily to this Mafia Town, and she STILL wasn't fond of the kids' version of travel, and it'd be easier with Snatcher teleporting them. So reluctantly she agreed but just grabbed an apple out of the small basket in the fridge. Taking notice that there was only a few eggs left in the carton after Cookie's omlets, only a few apples left, and half a wheel of cheese. How could these kids just eat these all the time? Following the children out of the kitchen back to the waiting Snatcher, while also carrying a giant woven basket she found as it'd be easier to carry the food in, he sighed again and held out his hands to the small giggling girls, who both grabbed onto his large clawed hand with ease, and he held out the other claw to her.

"When someone hangs onto me it's easier to teleport them and saves energy for me. Since I'm teleporting long distance I suggest you hold on so we're not seperated in town."

Well that was certainly something she didn't want happening so she grabbed onto his hand and he curled his claws gently around her before summoning the magic to transport them all down there.  The teleporting worked as quickly as any other time he did it. Purple energy completely took over the world around them like the many times he's done this before and swallowed them all whole. He's done this plenty of times before teleporting himself places or taking the girls home against his will when they fell asleep in his forest. Poppy closed her eyes when purple invaded her vision out of habit. One moment of dark black-purple later the four of them ended up somewhere much more warmer by how Poppy felt the air suddenly shift.

"You can open your eyes now."

And she did. And blinked at WHAT she saw now. They were on a beach! A literally sunny beach with the sun beating down on them and in front of them was a small lot of sand, filled with palm trees and picnic table with umbrellas sticking out from the top of them. A blue and white striped tent was set up to the far right end of the sand lot and a giant stone building of some sort in front of them. Snapping her head behind her, the sparkling reflection of the vast ocean met her confused gaze with the gorgeous view of the morning sun making the soft waves sparkle as they rolled by. Directly in front of them all was a giant pair of red doors and two men standing guard on either side of them. In fact there was a lot of men in fancy blue suits and aprons walking around where they were, most gawking at them from the sudden apearence of a grown woman and two children in a flash of purple.

"Wow." Poppy said breathlessly staring out at the ocean. She could see some kind of land in the distance, a bouey, and some kind of ship slowly passing by. "Look at that view! I've never been to the ocean before!"

"Yes, yes. Very pretty," came the annoyed voice of Snatcher making her snap outta it. "Don't we have something to do?"

She blinked. "OH! Right I-" She paused...looking around but not seeing the giant sixteen foot ghost anywhere. "Hey. Where are you?"

"Look at your shadow."

She did and humped a few steps back seeing two yellow eyes from her shadow staring back up at her. "Snatcher??"

"Who else?," he asked and she saw his glowing yellow mouth as he spoke from her shadow. "You think it's easy to be walking around in the open for someone like me? It'll be easier for both of us if I remain in the shadows unless nessasary."

Well...It might be easier for her to walk around freely without drawing a bunch of attention to her being followed by by a giant ghosts babysitting her like she was a little girl herself, and if this place was as dangerous as he said, she's appreciate the extra help. He had a couple good points.

Nodding she looked around, basket in hand. "Ok. Now let's see. Where do we go from here?"

"This way!," Bow called from over by the blue and white tent before running up a large pair of stairs behind it.

Poppy followed across the sand lot with Hattie running past her and joining Bow up the stair case and waiting for her at the top of the stairs. Around the tent she went looking around and up the stone stairs she went. At the top was a cobblestone floor and more tables. The two continued to lead Poppy down a cobblestone pathway and all the while gave her a wonderful view of the ocean, seeing a couple boats and rocks sticking out of the water. A couple times they would pass another blue suited man and they would either walk past or gave them a passing look but nothing else. Didn't seem so bad so far. But she was curious about all the contruction and spray painted walls as they passed. When she asked, Hattie said 'This place is always being rebuilt' and explained the graffiti was done by Mu before Cookie took her to live with her away from this place. She saw a bunch of 'Down With The Mafia' sprayed on walls, some kind of man with a giant mustache and red hat, and few of MU herself. Guess Hattie was telling the truth about all that.

"So where are we supposed to buy food around this ..Uh.. Rebuilt place?" She asked them glancing at all the incomplete buildings they passed.

"Past the docks," Bow answered slowly down her pace from in front of her to walk next to Poppy. Gazing up at her with a neutral gaze before staring at her free hand not carrying the basket before reaching up and grabbing it. Poppy without giving it much thought curled her hand back to hold hers making the small girl light up light a firework as they both followed Hattie skipping a few yards in front of them. Snatcher smiled with glee at the sight between Bow and Poppy.

They continued along the cobblestone pathway until it collided with an actual docks. A large building that looked like a giant seafood resteraunt was on the left side of the docks with blue tables was there and on the right side was a pair of docks, with a few more strong looking men there  unloading fish from a ship stationed on one side of the docks as they passed, passing then some kind of giant barrels on their sides and then back up yet another cobblestone path leading up to what looked like a town square to Poppy. Cobblestone everywhere. With three Green, red, and orange-tan giant buildings on the right side of the water fountain that was smack dab in the middle of the square. The green building had a giant sign saying 'Blooming' but looked dark inside, the red building had a hamburger with the words 'Spicey Buns' on the signs but was blocked off by yellow rope, and the only one that seemed open was the tan building who was currently being manned by a single man with the sign reading 'Juice'. The left sight of the square was just a giant brick wall and clock tower, showing it was nine thirty four in the morning. Still an early day. She continued to follow Hattie until she stopped in front of another pair of stairs leading up to another level of the stone wall and she pointed. Of course Poppy followed her holding Bow's hand and up the slightly bigger steps they went until meeting another cobblestone floor and the first thing she saw was a stand with another one of those blue suited men behind it.

"Here it is!," Hattie said standing next to her and pointing down the left where it turned into a street like market.

Guess this was the market of human food Cookie spoke about and Poppy smiled. Well at least now she could be able to get what she needed now. The only stand to the right seemed empty so Poppy went right up to the first stand in front of her already catching the man's attention as he sat behind it and looked at her as she approuched. Looking at the products on the shelves behind him and next to him was a bunch of cheese wheels. The entire area was kinda dark being in a closed in area and torches ran down the length of the market area. Poppy stopped in front of the stand as the man looked at her.

"Mafia sell finest cheese aged by Mafia. Would red haired lady like to buy?," the man spoke in a deep voice as she looked around.

Eventually stopping at one cheese wheel that looked pretty good and pointed at it. "Yeah. That one there please."

The man smiled and grabbed it. "Mafia enjoys sells. Mafia will sell it to red haired lady for fifthteen pons."

Poppy blinked at him for a moment raising a brow. "Fifthteen pons for one cheese wheel?"

"Mafia make good pure chedder. Take it or leave."

"....." Well considering things were a lot more expensive than when she was alive that she remembered, then she guessed it was a fair price and she had over twenty five thousand of the small things. Reaching into the front pocket of the apron she pulled out a handful of those small green emeralds and counted out fifteen before dropping them into the man's outstretched hand. She also noticed that he was wearing an apron, that said 'Kiss The Cook' with a small red lipstick kiss mark. How odd.

The man took the pons and counted the ones in his hand with his eyes for a moment before smiling. "Mafia thanks lady for purchase. Here is cheese." He held out the cheese to her and Poppy happily took it from him.

"Thank you." Placing it into the giant basket she carried and started off towards the other stands, children following.

"You know you shouldn't have paid that fool such a large amount." Snatcher whispered out from her shadow that barely showed in the dim torch light. "I can be very persausive."

"The last thing  need is you scarin' off the people I'm trying to buy from," Poppy shot back tossing a quick frown over her shoulder at him before she continued. "As a fellow storekeeper let me do my own business and hush up." Snatcher grumbled but hushed up much to her pleasure. She didn't want to explain why she was talking to the ground behind her to strangers. The next stand was just a couple yards from the first and this one looked like it was selling fruit, mostly bananas and apples. Poppy breifly wondered if this is where the girls originally got their apples back on the ship before stopping in front of it and admiring the bananas. She had only seen a couple of them once. When the royal food wagon was making it's way to the Queen's summer home she visited whenever the prince did. They were tropical plants and as her father said tropical plants and fruits were impossible to grow where they were due to the fall and winter seasons. So seeing the oppertunity to obtain some she happily smiled and pointed at a couple bunches that looked ripe to her. "How much for three bundles?"

"Mafia sells Mafia island bananas for pens pons each,'' the man explained and Poppy blinked at him for a moment looking exactly like the other men she'd seen but shrugged it off.

"And those apples?"

"Mafia sell those same prince as Mafia Island bananas."

"Oh." So about thirty or forty pons. Seemed a little expensive for bananas but she wasn't going to complain about getting food she could actually eat. To cut losses she decided to only buy two bundles of bananas and one bundle of apples instead of the three bundles of bananas and into the basket they went. The kids giving dirty looks to the mafia men around them as they went. And FINALLY she found something she was hoping to find around here. A meat market...Or a stand what sold fish in this market. A bunch of fish were hung along the stands wall and the man manning the stand had his sleeves rolled up currently deboning a fish but looked up when Poppy stopped in front of him gazing up at the fish hung around. "Hello. Can you tell me how old the fish are?"

"Mafia caught fish from ocean this morning,'' the man explained pulling his hands away from work and wiping them down with a damp towel next to him. "Straight from docks. Super fresh."

She smiled at that glancing around and setting her eyes on two very nice looking bass on the right hand side and pointing. "How about those two bass there? Those looking mighty juicy."

"Mafia needs thirty five pons for fish."

.....She blinked. "Hold up. You want thirty five pons PER fish?" He nodded and she frowned. "Back in my day in was ten per fish! That's ludacris!''

"Mafia want paid is what mafia is owed. If lady won't pay price, lady no gets fish," she stated back firm,

Poppy could feel her eye twitch as her annoyance spiked a bit but took a breath to cool herself down. Just remember. This wasn't her time. Things were different now. No use getting upset over a thousand year difference she couldn't control. "Ok, I'll pay. Just please get me those two fish."  Reluctantly and much to Snatcher's silent annoyance she did end up paying another seventy ones for two fish. Poppy was starting to think her choice to accept Mr. Grooves offer was the right one after all. She needed the pons for this definately. They all watched as the man took some kind of paper from under the stand and pull the fish down to wrap them all in....after he carefully counted all the pons she gave him of course. And she took them with a 'thanks' tho it did come off a bit annoyed as she moved along the last few stands now in just a slightly more sour mood. And slowly the basket filled up with just a few more things. Some eggs one man claimed to be taken from the birds that morning, she found someone trying to sell what looked like slightly spoiled milk but managed to find a whole bottle of it that was pretty fresh, and bacon stri-......Bacon? How the peck did that get there? .....Snatcher snatching bacon from Cookie's dishes suddenly flashed across her mind and she shot a look over her shoulder to Snatcher who still remained hidden as the girls boredly/curiously walked around near them and looked around. By the time they got to the end of the stands(where the market ended in a dead end meaning they'd have to turn around and go back the way they came to exit), the basket was heavy with a giant cheese wheel, a glass bottle of milk, one carton of eggs, two bundles of banansa, a bag of apples, two large fish, and a mysterious pound of bacon that just appeared out of no where. Usually the basket would've been heavy for someone but considering her less than normal strength, it was pretty easy to carry without tiring. The last stand didn't look like it sold any kind of food items like the others but a man sitting there noticed her curious look at it and he pointed behind him at the white shirts Saying 'Mafia #1' hung up near him.

"You like Mafia? Buy clothes supporting Mafia! Mafia is number one!," he gladly stated.

Oh. He was selling clothing? Well she already saw what everything else had to offer, might as well see what this had to offer her too. And too Snatcher's protests of lightly tugging her dress to get her to stop, she walked over to him. The stand on closer inspection sold the same blue suits and aprons all the men here wore along with OBVIOUSLY spray painted gold statues of said men and those white t shirts. ......Not really things she was really interested in or needed....Except maaaybe that one thing right there-

"I can't BELEIVE you actually wasted ten pons on that!," Snatcher's rasped out as they walked along the cobblestone back towards the town square.

"Oh shush. I could use one of these for regular house work," Poppy muttered placing the newly aquired 'Kiss the Cook' apron neatly into her larger leather apron pocket to keep it off the food. She could use an apron just for cooking and other things besides her work apron. "Besides, why are you complaining about me buying an apron? You couldn't even pay for the bacon ya'll snuck into mah basket."

"Hey! You have no proof it was me firstly! Secondly even if I did do that, what purpose would I have to do it? I'm DEAD. It's not like I could eat it if I wanted too anyways. I can't even taste anything if I wanted to," He argued back from her shadow as Poppy walked back down the steps towards the square holding Bow's hand again as the child happily smiled at her. "I bet it was one of those two."

"No it wasn't!," Hattie retorted back sticking her tongue out at Snatcher.

"Guys. Please, ya'll are out in public. Act like civilized people will ya-....." Poppy stopped at the last step down before stepping back onto the cobblestone streets of the square she had passed before, Hattie running into her leg and falling onto her behind on one step, her hat falling over her face. Shaking her head, Hattie pushed the hat back up from her face and asked Poppy what was her big deal but the grown woman just stared at something. Beinf on the flat ground, Snatcher couldn't see what was going on either and was about to bark at Poppy demanding what she was staring at when the red head suddenly scowled. "HEY!" Her eyes narrowed at the sight of two of those big burly men corning a poor little old man back against a brick wall, but she had shouted when one of them pushed him down gaining their attention and began stomping her way over to them. Bow grabbing and pulling back on her hand to try and get Poppy to stop.

"Wait, Poppy! Don't!"

Poppy didn't listen to Bow's words and instead pulled her hand away before placing and big basket into her arms. "Hold this for a sec." And then stomping her way back over to the men and stood before them, hands curled into fists on her hips and deep scowl present on their and her faces. "HEY! What the bloody PECK do ya think yer doin' to that poor old man!?" Old man? Huh. Well compared to Poppy's age that old man was probably a baby, but never mind that now.

"Shoo! Mafia can't have lady witness while Mafia teaching lesson!," one of the two men sternly said back but Poppy remained unbudging.

"You'll got one chance and I'm only askin' nicely once. Please leave that man alone," she spoke as calmly as she could despite the annoyed tone on her face and in her voice.

"What do we do with eye witness?," the mafia man asked the other mafia man.

The other man looked at Poppy like she was a harmless flower raging at them. "Teach lesson to those who interfere with Mafia!" He reached a hand out but it was quickly smacked away with a loud WHACK sound making the man recoil and cradle his hand to his chest.

"Do. NOT. Touch me!," Poppy warned in a low and slow voice. "I'm only going to warn you once."

"Mafia won't bow to small lady!!," the other one suddenly bellowed looking at her with anger but Poppy just rose a bored brow when he raised a hand to punch.

"POPPY!! LOOK OUT!!"

"Prepare to feel Mafia's Wrat- GAH!!"

That was it. How it all ended. As soon as the bigger man went to punch her, Poppy grabbed a hold of his arm and in an impressive desplay of speed, turned on her heel and literally threw him over her body by his arm and slammed him quite hard to the ground with a very loud thud. Everyone stood there for a moment quietly stunned from what just happened, except for the man who was laying on the stone ground groaning with the face of Poppy looming over him scowling as if she had the fury of a thousand burning suns....Before blowing the bangs from her face and snapping her scowl over her shoulder back to the other man who flinched at the sudden blue eyes flashing at him.

"Ya'll got somethin' to say 'bout this?" The man still cradling his hand shook his head no furiously with a look of fear on his face and Poppy nodded still scowling. "Good. Now take your buddy here and scram!" The mafia man had just run off without another word as his pal just remained unconcious on the ground. Not that she really cared and turned around to the little old man who through all of this just flat out leaned against the wall slack jawed. But Poppy gave him a soft smile down at him. "Hey there, Mister. Are you alright?"

"Uh-...I-..Y-Yes! I am!," he answered back in an old but happy sounding voice. Smiling behind that white mustache of his, he slowly got up and reached a hand up to readjust his glasses. He couldn't have been a foot or two taller than the girls. Such bullies for picking on a poor defenseless old man like this. Dusting himself off he smiled at Poppy. "Thank you very much young lady. You won't believe how many times a month this happens."

"What did they want?"

The old man sighed. "Money. I've been saving all my pons to move out of this pecking town to go live in a nice quiet neighborhood, but every week they harass me for 'protection' money. But I never give in."

"Oh wow. That sounds aweful." She thought she heard Snatcher give a small 'mmhm' like he was right all along, but didn't comment on it. "I'm very sorry for that."

He waved her off. "No. Don't be. Just two more weeks and I should have enough to get out of here for good." He looked her over again and frowned. "You're a young  one. If I were you I'd get out of town while the getting's good. You don't want to get caught up in a place like this."

Poppy nodded in understanding. "Well, I'm glad you're ok." She held out her hand. "Do you need any help?"

He shook his head. "No, no. I'll be alright getting my way home. Not the first time this has happened and probably won't be the last before I leave."

"Alright. Be careful on your journey now.''

Hattie looked at the long shadow pertruding from Poppy and the yellow eyes blinking up from the ground. "Why didn't you do anything?"

"You ever heard the metaphor hell have no fury like a woman's scorn?" The raspy voice of Snatcher asked the child and Hattie shook her head. "Well it means a woman's anger is something you don't want to get the reveiving end of, Kid. And that saying happens to apply to this situation."

Poppy continued to stand there and waved the little old man good bye with a smile on her face sighing as a wave of calm came over her and she turned back around to look for the basket. She found it on the ground by Bow, who had been standing there watching the whole thing with one hand on the basket's handle patiently waiting for her. Poppy still smiling walked over and reached down to pick up the basket from Bow and pat her on the head...When another shadow fell over her. Poppy paused seeing the long shadow come over her. The head of the shadow was pointy and had a wide brim obviously some kind of hat and Poppy looked up towards the maker of the shadow over her, blinking at the sun's gleam blocking her veiw of the smiling pink wearing woman right in front of her.

"Well, well. Is THIS the famous woman he spoke of?," asked an obviously female voice.

"HAZELLE!?", Snatcher suddenly blurted out in shock blinking his yellow eyes out from the shadows....And immediately wanted to punch himself when the witch's copper orange eyes shifted their gaze over to the ghost attached to Poppy's shadow laying on the ground. But it was too late to stop the smug look on the witch's face as she seemed to quickly putt two and two together right in front of him.

"Well, I guess so! Hello, Snatchy.~ Fancy seeing you out here in broad daylight. Was the forest finally too gloomy for your tastes?," she asked in a calm manor that made the ghost growl.

"YOU WISH, WITCH!! WHAT THE PECK ARE YOU DOING HERE-" His question was answered immediately.

"TIMMY!!"

Hattie and Bow had run up to a small boy who looked maybe one or two years older than them in a hug and Poppy slowly stood up staring at the new comers to the party, the boy(Timmy as she heard) hugged his friends back and gave Hattie a friendly shove to her shoulder which she giggled and pushed back playfully. But Poppy still stared at the witch as she went back and forth with the ghost like she did it every day.......A witch?....A REAL WITCH?! Like the kind who rode on brooms, cooked up potions, had black cats, and did magic willy nilly!? HOLY PECK!! And there was one right here right in front of her. Poppy couldn't help but stared wide eyed at her. She didn't look like a typical witch like the tales she was told about. No green skin. No warts or black robes. Nothing. In fact she looked like a regular person. The only way one could really tell she was a witch was the pointy witch hat on her head which was a pink and white color, along with the rest of her clothes. Really bright  girly clothing if she said so herself.

"Can't a respectable witch and her apprentice go out and about practicing our trickery spells on all these meatheads?", she replied calmly back. "How was I supposed to know you all would be here too?"

"HMPH! Strange coincidence." Snatcher narrowed his eyes in annoyance with a scowl from her shadow.

"I'm sorry...Who are you?,'' Poppy asked confused to Hazelle.

The witch looked over at her and Poppy had to admit, she was very pretty for a witch. She thought they were all supposed to be ugly old ladies. The witch bowed tipping her hat at Poppy politely. "Oh sorry. How rude of me. My name is Hazel but with an extra L E at the end. Exactly how it's pronounced too! Nice to finally meet the lady behind my dear old friend's-...." She paused giving the scowling ghost a sly smirk. "...'New helper' he spoke about."

"Hazel?....You mean like Witch Hazel?"

Hazelle waved a hand. "Yes, Yes. The famous Witch Hazel. Yada yada. It's an old family name passed down to every man in the family in one form or another, but since the next generation was a girl they just decided to slap an extra L E at the end to add that feminine variation. It's complicated I know."

"Oh wow! I've never met a real witch before!" Poppy gawked wide eyed like a puppy. "Can you really do magic?!"

"Absolutely. But I don't think you've told me your name, Miss."

.....Poppy blinked. "OH!! Oh. How rude of me!" She smiled and stuck out a hand in polite greeting. "Howdy! Mah name's Poppy. Poppy Rose Bloomington! Nice ta meet ya!"

Hazelle smiled and shook her head besides Snatcher's grumbles before turning her head over and to the ground and the groaning mafia man on the ground raising a brow. "Well I must say, Ms. Bloomington, you really did a number on those goons. I like your style."

Poppy chuckled nervously and reached her free hand to rub her neck. "Well...I couldn't just let stand by and let them push around that poor old man could I?"

"What a coincidence! Timmy and I were just about to try out his new slime rain summoning on them! But then he noticed his little friends over there and stopped to watch the fireworks." She nodded her head over towards the children moving towards them.

"Timmy?," Poppy asked looking down to the little boy with strange blue markings on his face and a brown cap on his head. "Oh. Is this your son?" She flinched when Hazelle suddenly released a few high pitched giggles.

"Him? Oh no! It may look like it at first glance, but in reality I'm more of a teacher. He IS my apprentice after all. Gotta make sure those magical powers of his develope properly."

"Oh." Poppy looked down to the young boy smiling up at her and she smiled back. "Hello, there lil guy!"

He reached over to her and she blinked in surprise when he grabbed her hand and pulling his hat off his head before kissing the back of her hand like a gentlemen. Before smiling back up at her again. "Hello, Ma'am. A pleasure to make your aquiantance."

SNatcher all but bristled in sudden anger behind her and Poppy giggled at the adorable sight. "Well aren't ya a lil gentleman? Such nice manners!"

"Yes, Ma'am. My father taught me everything I know," Timmy said proudly letting go of her hand and placing his hat back on his head.

"Well he must be quite the gentlemen too raising such a polite young man."

Hazelle smirked again. "OH! Moonjumper's quite the nice and friendly guy. I'm sure he'd just LOVE to meet you too-'

"DON'T YOU HAVE PECKING HOCUS POCUS TO FILL YOUR HEADS WITH?!," Snatcher demanded in an angry voice already sick and tired of this ridiculous encounter.

"Oh. I guess you're right," Hazelle smiled down at Snatcher with a wink and turned. "Then I'll chat with you later, Snatchy dear.~ See you back in the forest." Throwing a look over her shoulder she tossed Poppy a smile and motioned for Timmy to follow her. "And I'll definately be seeing YOU later too, Red head. "

Snatcher growled as she left with Timmy trotting after her, and could feel anger oozing off of him like a building volcano would. He WOULD talk with Hazelle later, and she was NOT about to go flapping her gums to Moonboy and blow his cover!!!!

"You have a witch friend?," Poppy asked looking down to the shadow curiously waving bye and he growled.

"Unfortunately!.....She has her uses with her magic and potions, but she has absolute foolish behavior when it comes to personal boundaries," he huffed, "Are we done here? We better leave."

Poppy just rolled her eyes but agreed with Snatcher it was probably better to go before they all got in more trouble. Considering what she saw  with the poor old man and the unreasonable prices in her opinion, She figured it was better to leave while the getting was good. Beckoning the girls behind her, Poppy turned and started walking off back towards the way they came, leaving the man she flipped who was just now starting to push himself up. It'd be easier if Snatcher took them back the way they came right? While walking she thought she saw some of the men looking over at her when they passed but they quickly looked away when she snapped them a glare that could crack a diamond. She guessed the fella who ran off gossiped about what just happened to his pal by the water fountain, ok. Not that she cared. Let it serve as a warning to anyone else if they tried any funny business now. The small group went back the way they came. Back down the cobblestone path onto the docks and slowly making their way across it, some men on the docks still unloading some shipment from the ships there. Poppy took a glance or two at the ocean and admired the pretty blue scene. One mafia man walked out of the seafood cafe with a frowning face and turned in their direction. Absolutely freezing once he saw Poppy calmly walking along admiring the ocean, and his eyes became wide with fear.

"B-BOSS!! SCARY LADY IS AFTER MAFIA!! HELP!!," The man yelled at the top of his lungs before running back through the open doors of said resteraunt slamming it behind him with a bang.

......

.......

"So. We meet again Kid With The Hat!"

[aj-the-cat]

Lawless

(Fuck it, a week early then when i had originally scheduled it to come out)

~ Chapter 1 ~ Masterlist

Word count: 2096

Scorpion’s Roost

Solidarity, Texas

"My god Shawn, do you ever sit still?"

Shawn Michaels squirmed on his horses saddle, itching to get up and move around but the man on the other horse was not having it. "It's uncomfortable, Hunter! You know I can't do long rides. And besides, the dude in El Paso was so rough in me, it felt like he was going to-"

Hunter made a retching sound. "I don't want to hear about your sex life!" Shawn let out an offended gasp.

"But I'm your best friend!"

"That doesn't matter!"

Shawn remained silent as the horses continued on their path. They trotted through Ginger's Plain, observing a fence around a certain area and the very little vegetation. Shawn broke the silence of the place. "Why'd they call this place Ginger's Plain? I see no red anything, and I certainly see no ginger's runnin' around." Hunter shook his head. "I don't have any clue. C'mon, lets hurry up. We can get to the next town a little past noon if we keep going."

The sun beamed brightly overhead as the two bandits finally made their way to the town sign. "Thank god! My ass is killing me!" Shawn hopped off his horse, staggering a little but still remained on his feet. Hunter shook his head and got off his horse as well, claiming his trusty sledgehammer off his horses rump and sheathing it on his back.

The two bandits walked their horses into town, earning stares from some townsfolk. Shawn looked around, examining every building until one caught his eye. "Sweet! This town has a horse stable, we can leave our horses there while we drink in the saloon." Hunter quickly shot that idea down. "And waste our money? We can just leave our horses outside the saloon for free, and if we need an escape, they're right there." Shawn groaned, but complied with Hunters words.

They walked to the saloon and tied their horses on the poles outside.

The saloon wasn't too flashy, but it did stand out. Everything was quiet inside. "Shouldn't there be a piano man or somethin' in there? Seems dead." Shawn whispered. Hunter slapped him on the back of the head. "Not all saloon's are the same, idiot. If it's quiet, it should stay quiet." Hunter put a finger in Shawn's face. "That means no flirting with the patrons." The shirtless bandit rolled his eyes.

They walked inside and noticed the place empty, except a single table with people playing poker, a shadowed man drinking in the corner and the bartender cleaning a glass. When she heard the bootsteps, she looked up from the glass at the two bandits in the doorway. "Y'all just gonna stand there or am I gonna pour you a glass?" She called out.

Shawn, ever the giddy drinker, quickly walked over to a seat at the bar. "A beer my fine lady." He tried to put on his best charm, winking at the bartender, but she wasn't fazed. She poured his beer and set it down in front of him, ignoring the immediate gulps from him. "What what about you, Nosey? What'll you have?" She called out to Hunter.

Hunter went to grab his nose but stopped midway. "Uh, I don't drink. I think a water is just fine for me, thank you." He sat down beside Shawn who had already finished his glass. The bartender set down the glass of water in front of Hunter and asked, "Never seen ya around here, Nosey. What your name?" Hunter politely set down his glass and replied, "Hunter Hearst Helmsley. But just Triple H or Hunter if fine. Thats Shawn Michaels-" Shawn let out a very unpleasent burp and waved -"My best friend. What about you?"

The bartender smiled. "Call me Chyna. You two seem very interesting, where do y'all come from?" Hunter choked on his water and Shawn snorted. Chyna's eyes twinkled in amusement as the shirtless one of the two beat the other on the back, and the other sputtered and coughed.

Laughing, Shawn replied, "He HATES getting asked that question. Never been good at telling his background so I will tell." Hunter flipped his head around to face Shawn. "SHAWN! Don't you *cough* d-dare!" Placing his finger over Hunter's lips, Shawn cleared his throat and lifted his other finger up.

"You see, this man was born with a silver spoon so far down his throat that it was impossible for him to be seen outside his mansion up in Conneticut. All his life he was a spoiled little rat-" Hunter glared at Shawn, still having his finger on his lips- "Hell, by the time he was 12 he already owned a couple acres of land and a couple slaves. He was so miserable. I found him by hopping a train that led to where he lived and I broke him out of that hell hole. We've been best friends ever since."

Shawn removed his finger from Hunters lips and smiled innocently. Chyna giggled as Hunter fumed, wringing his hands in attempt to not strangle his friend. "Thank you for that, Shawn." He growled. Shawn tipped his cowboy hat. "No problem, ol' friend of mine."

Hunter facepalmed and sipped a bit of his water. "I come from Dallas, bein' a bandit is all I ever known. My parents got shot while I was 13 and I learned to shoot a gun at 14. Been hittin' the roads ever since." Shawn smiled and looked at Chyna expectantly. Her eyes twinkled in amusement at the two idiots in front of her.

Chyna grabbed the men's ears and pulled them to her face, Hunter almost knocking down his water. "I'll tell ya what. You two seem interesting, and nothing ever interesting ever goes on here. I wanna join you two on your adventures." She let their ears go and their eyes widened.

Shawn grabbed Hunter's shoulders and turned both of them around on the bar seats. In a low whisper, he talked to Hunter. "Ya hear this?! We can start a group like we always wanted! And nobody would expect a woman!" Shawn looked back at Chyna and she winked.

"She is pretty, and she seems smart too. We could definately use her on heists." Hunter replied. Shawn smiled wide. "This is our big break! We'll be known all across the nation!" Hunter shook his head. "Don't let your ego get in the way." Shawn let go of Hunters shoulders and placed a hand over his heart. "I do not have an ego!" Hunter snorted. "You so do."

Shawn opened his mouth to retort back but was interrupted by the sound of spurs and bootsteps, as well as a heavy accented voice yelling. "I'll wring that stack o' dimes you call a neck someday, Vince! Don't you forget that!"

Both Shawn and Hunter froze at the voice. "Austin." They both said. Shawn climbed over the bar counter and grabbed Chyna's leg. "Hide me! Please!" Using her other leg, she kicked open a hidden cabinet and Shawn climbed inside. Hunter was about to climb over the bar but Chyna stopped him. "Only room for one. You'll have to face this rattlesnake alone." She pointed to the door just as Austin was walking in.

Austin whipped his head around from looking at something and his blue eyes narrowed as he saw Hunter. Hunter gulped as he saw Austin's hand clench into a fist. "Helmsley." He growled. Chyna put on a bored expression and walked to the other side of the bar, where the shadowed man sat. "I don't see yer partner. Come to MY town alone?" Hunter nodded slowly.

Austin chuckled and quickly whipped out his gun. "Well too bad for you. By order of the town of Scorpion's Roost, you are under arrest for your life of crime as a bandit. Any last words before I shoot you?" Hunter slowy shrugged. "Uh, beer sucks?"

"Wrong answer!"

Hunter ducked just in time for a bullet to shoot right where his head was, making a bottle of tequila explode. He crawled on the floor and between Austin's legs to the door. He stood up and yelled, "I got places to be! See ya!" And hightailed it out of the saloon.

Cursing, Austin ran after the blonde and yelled after him.

Hearing that the coast was clear, Shawn emerged from his hiding place and slowly looked over the bar. No bald-headed bounty hunters. All was clear. Sughing in relief, he climbed back over the bar and settled in a chair. "Thank god that's over. He scares the bejeezus outta me." He reached for his beer glass and found it empty.

Shawn looked to the other side of the bar for Chyna and saw her pouring shots for the shadowed man he saw earlier. He smirked and got out of his chair, sauntering over to where the man sat.

Leaning against the bar, Shawn made sure to puff out his shirtless chest and put on his best charm. "Hiya, Tex. Nice set of legs ya got there. What time do they open?" The shadowed man downed his last shot and set the glass upside down on the bar. Shawn got a glimpse of piercing green eyes and midnight black hair as the man got up from his seat. His heart raced as the man walked away, but he stopped.

"Put it on my tab, Chyna." He growled out and walked away, heavy boots clunking on the floorboards. Shawns heart was racing a million miles a minute and butterflies found their way inside his stomach. "Who was that?" He whispered out, still staring at the door.

Chyna picked up the glasses and put them under the bar. "Nobody knows. Everybody just calls him The Undertaker. He works at the local funeral parlor and comes in here once a week." Shawn's imagination fired up as he remembered the large frame of the man, now known to him as The Undertaker, and imagined his large hands gliding across-

"SHAWN!" Hunter burst through the doors of the saloon, making Shawn snap out of his day dream. Hunter's sledgehammer was out of its sheath and in its owners hands, making Shawn wonder what had happened to make his friend pull out his hammer. "We gotta hide for a while. I managed to lose Austin, but not for long."

Hunter ran over and grabbed Shawn's arm and pulled him towards the door. Chyna waved at the two bandits and set up a tab for Shawn and Hunter, and put The Undertaker's shots on his existing tab.

Outside, the sun was falling towards the horizon. Hunter and Shawn ran to the hotel across the street and burst in their doors. "We need a room. Now." Hunter said, very breathless. He put his sledgehammer on the counter to make a warning to the lady. Shawn had his hand on his gun and was surveying the surrounding area. The woman at the counter shakily pointed upstairs. Top floor, last one on the left." Hunter nodded and both bandits went upstairs.

Going to the room and locking themselves in, they sat on the floor and Hunter caught his breath. "We made it, oh thank god." Hunter thought about his safety in the room. Meanwhile, Shawn's mind wandered to The Undertaker and his green eyes. He usually could forget people and what they looked like, but this man had a hold on his mind.

Shawn usually had his mind hardwired on sex, alcohol and his mischevious antics. But this time things were different. His cheeks burned as he thought about the man more and more. 'God what is happening?' He thought to himself.

Hunter noticed his friend looking a little sick. "Shawn, buddy, you ok?" He snapped his fingers in front of Shawn's face, making the other man jump. "Hunter what the hell?!" Hunter noticed Shawn's pink cheeks but ignored it. "Shawn, you ok? You spaced out." Shawn waved off Hunter. "Im fine."

Hunter nodded and layed on the ground, not even bothering to tour the room. Shawn followed suit and looked up at the ceiling and was lost in thought. 

Eventually, the sun went down fully and the half moon glowed brightly in the sky. Hunter had fallen asleep, but Shawn was still wide awake and deep in his thoughts.

Who was this man Shawn's mind had grabbed on to? Shawn had to find out. Closing his eyes, he decided that in the morning he would find out. Sleep soon took over him and cast him away to a dream-filled night.

[palettepainter]

Overworked

Wanted to do a quick story with Taiho since he’s the least developed of the Higari siblings. 

Taiho is the worry wort of the family, he does all the paperwork for the family business so that causes him to stress a lot. Thankfully big brother Higari is there to lend him a hand, and tell him when to go take a nap you dumb idiot

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taiho murmed in his sleep at the unpleasant feeling of something hard and cold jabbing his cheek. 

He tired to turn away, rolling his head in the opposite direction, but that only got whoever was poking him to shake his shoulder. He grumbled and tried to shake them off with a roll of his shoulder

“Taiho. Tai. Wake up!”

Taiho finally stirred awake and, with effort, sat up at his desk, one hand brushing his fringe out of his eyes “Mmnnnrr?”

Higari, his older brother, stood at the end of his desk - and though his fringe hid most of his face, it was clear in his crossed arms and tone he wasn’t impressed with the state he found him in “You’ve been overworking again haven’t you?” He said while glancing towards the messy pile of paper on his brothers desk

Taiho blinked slowly, like a bear waking from winter “Whuzzah?” Taiho observed his desk for a long moment, looking at all the bills and paper forms scattered across it. He waved his hand “No no, I’m fine! Really, this doesn’t happen as often as think Higari”

Higari rose a bold brow and then pointed to Taiho’s face, where a piece of paper was stuck to his cheek “You’ve drooled all over your work”

Taiho hummed and then lifted a hand to his cheek. So he had - an old payment form from a car repair they’d done last week was glued to his face “Uh..” he sheepishly pulled it away, quickly placing it down onto his desk and trying to ignore Higari’s piercing stare

Higari sighed “Go to bed Taiho”

“Higari I’m fine, really“ Taiho attempted to bargain, but he should have know that Higari would not be deterred so easily. Higari rose his brow higher, and tapped his foot - Taiho gulped “S-Seriously, I’m fine!“ Clusmily, Taiho scrapped his arm over his desk in an attempt to shove all his paperwork to one side, but that only made him knock over a pen pot and then his half empty cup of tea, which had gone disgustingly cold hours ago. Higari watched as Taiho then scrambled to pick up the mug and pens “I just- We’re a little behind on paperwork, that’s all! I-I mean-” he did a rolling motion with his hand “With Chikara and Suru actually doind the repairs and Hono with his demolition job, a-and Ma takin’ care of the house-”

Higari sighed and shook his head “Alright, do me a favour” Higari held both of his arms out infront of him “Hold out your arms like this”

Taiho hesitated, sensing an ulterior motive “U-Uhm, I don’t really w-”

“Do it” Higari repeated strenly

Taiho made a noise of discomfort, looking almost embarrassed as he shyly raised his arms out like Higari had shown. His arms where shaky

Higari once again, sighed “You can’t keep workin’ Taiho ya need rest”

Instantly Taiho drew his arms back to him and turned in his chair away from Higari, who didn’t falter despite his brothers whinny, childish behaviour. “I’m fine” Taiho gritted, cheeks turning pink at the fretting “Theres just been more..paperowrk then usual this month” he tried to defuse the situation, shrug off the problem, his attempts where futile as - with stupid ease - Higari yanked Taiho’s chair away from the desk with one hand, drawing a startled yelp from his brother who’s hands grabbed onto the arms of his seat to prevent him from falling out 

“Yer a real stubborn piece a work ya know that?“ Higari said while making his way towards the desk, scooping up handfulls of the scattered forms and placing them into a pile. Taiho went to stand “Ah, Higari, you don’t have to-”

“Sit down, or I’ll make you“ Higari half warned, still cleaning up the paper.

Taiho knew better then to test Higari’s patience, and without a word, promptly sat his rump back into his chair, lips pressed together into a thin line

Higari turned to him briefly, then looked back to his mine field of a desk, one corner of his mouth turned up into a grin at how easy Taiho had been put back in his place. Once you could see the desk again and the paper and pens had been put back in their rightful places, Higari looked back to Taiho, who was slouching and rubbing his neck, looking guilty.

Higari’s tone was softer when he spoke “You know you can’t keep doin’ this to yourself right? Yer not gonna be able to help if you’re contantly burnin’ yourself out. Ya gotta remember to takes breaks every now and again”

“I know..“ Taiho replied quietly, looking far more interested in the floor “It’s just...I dunno“ he shrugged lazily, hands pulling back through his hair “Chikara and Suru are so busy with doing the actual repairin’ and such, and with Hono and his job I-..I-I’m the only one who can really do this stuff“ Higari, sensing Taiho had more to say, simply kept quite and offered Taiho the chance to continue. Which he did: “And if it’s not done, we don’t get the payment through or- o-or the right parts ordered, or the machine part delivered back to the right person! A-And- And then EVERYTHING becomes a mess!“ He threw his arms out for exaggeration, Higari leaned back to avoid getting smacked

“A-And...and...“ Taiho deflated, letting out a long sigh that ended in a groan, his hands cushioned against his face as he rubbed them over his fave, muffling another long groan.

“Hey..“ it was Higari’s turn to talk as he reached forward to put a hand on Taiho’s shoulder. Taiho didn’t pull his face away from his hands, but did peak out to his brother through the gaps between his fingers “Don’t get yourself worked up over what if’s and maybes. You’re smarter then that, heck, you’re probably the smartest kid outta the family!“ Here did Taiho pull his face up from his hands, up close Higari could now see clearly the dark circles under his eyes and how his beard look more scruffier then usual “The town is pretty small, everybody more or less knows each other and their neighbours - has anyone ever gotten mad over a mistake before?“

“No..” Taiho answered, scratching his neck

“Then why would anyone start now? The communicty knows you, Chi and Suru are all runnin’ the business by yourselves, you guys are all good but yer still three people“ Taiho glanced to him and then looked away again, obviously still ashamed at getting so burried under his work load. Higari was unsure what to do, but had an idea pretty quickly “Sides, if anyone gives you trouble, I’ll give em something to really kick up a fuss about”

Worry suddenly overcame Taiho’s face, Higari couldn’t help but snicker “Please..d-don’t do that” Taiho said with a wave off his hand, unsure if Higari had been joking or not.

“Hey, you guys are still my little brother and sisters.“ Higari held a hand proudly to his chest “Only I get to yell at you“ 

“I’m not that little anyone“ Taiho joked lightly, the tiniest of smiles coming to his face as e gestured to, even sitting down, the height difference between the two. Higari gave a dry laugh, rolling his eyes playfully - the short jokes where an easy pick he thought, but he’d let his family and Ecto get away with them. 

“Har har, yeah yeah, you’re a goddamn beanpole“ At the drop of the silly nickname, Taiho let out a light chuckle, which Higari was hoping for “But that’s what big brothers do...and they also tell their little brothers to go sleep“

“Ah..I was kinda hoping you’d forgotten“ Taiho admitted, peering behind him towards the doorway and then back to his desk, hesitant to leave work unfinished. Higari peered back towards the pile of paperwork, compared to the world load he’d had and seen Ecto do, Taiho’s work load looked like a walk in the park. 

“Okay, look-“ Higari pulled Taiho from his chair with strength only Chikara could rival, hoisting Taiho to his feet as he pulled the chair back round to the desk “I’ll finish up your work, and you go and rest. I’ve done this kinda paperwork a hundred times over at UA, so just and goes and rest up for a few hours“

“W-What?“ Taiho blinked down at him “No no! That’s MY work, you don’t have to-“

“Tai, I really don’t mind“ Higari jumped up onto the set, already grabbing at a pen and the first piece of paper of the pile he’d made “You’d offer the same if our roles where reversed, and this way you don’t have to worry about working when you get up“

Taiho looked ready to argue back, so while popping the lid of his pen Higari used his ace card “Ooor I could tell Ma you’ve been over-workin’ again - your choice”

The smugness in Higari’s smirk was grossily obvious as Taiho seemed to freeze up at the mention of their mother. His mother would have his head if she found out he’d gotten in such a state over work, she’d probably ban him from being near a work desk for a week till he was well rested

“U-Uh- N-No no!“ Taiho cracked a nervous chuckle under the pressure “T-Theres no need to get Ma involved“

That’s what I thought, Higari thought, but chose not to voice it. Instead he jabbed a thumb over to the small office sofa “If ya want you can always snooze ‘ere, you ain’t even gotta leave the room if you’re that nervous too”

Taiho eyed the sofa, and then the hallway, before he shuffled over to the red furniture piece on the other side of the room. Taiho laid down, hands on his chest, feet slightly hanging over one arm with his head propped up with one pillow . “Are you SURE you’re okay to do it?” Taiho asked again, sitting up as if preparing to stand up again

“With the amounta paperwork I’ve gotta work through and send off at UA, this stuff I could do with an arm tied behind my back“ Higari finished over the first piece of paper, typed some things up onto the computer screen, then reached for another form “Now stop worryin’ you muttonhead. One nap won’t ki-“

Higari stopped mid sentence at the sound of light snoring

He looked over to the sofa with a hum, and then snickered. Taiho was fast asleep, mouth open in snores, one arm and leg drapped off the sofa with the other leg hanging off the armrest. His hair was sprawled like strings of hay over the cushion behind him, and a small string of drool dribbling from the corner of his mouth. Everyone now and then he’d mutter something incoherent in his sleep, or make a weird expression, but he was thoroughly and utterly fast asleep

With Taiho at last alseep, Higari turned back round to the paperwork

..after he took a very quick picture of course

[catboysimulator]

Story Three - Learning

A roar resounds through the training grounds, before a loud scream and 'thud' follows after along with the sound of a body rolling. A choir of 'OOH...' can be heard afterwards as a crowd stares down at the body of, none other than, Azhi'li. 

"Come on, primo! I taught ya better than that!" Tani taunts with a chuff, their tail whipping to and fro behind them. "Let's go, up an' at 'em!" 

Approaching Azhi'li, she reached down and lifted him on his two feet by pulling him up under his arms, staring at him with a quirked brow and pursed lips.

The red Seeker seemed a bit out of it, his head lolling back a bit, yet he was fine. Tani huffed once again and rattled her cousin like a maraca. "Oye! Despiertate! Wake up!"

Azhi'li groaned and whined, pawing at their arms and kicking a bit so she could put him down. Once he did, the younger Seeker plopped back onto his rump with a grunt, panting lightly. "G-gimme a bit, Tani--," he stammered through his ragged breath, before the older one sighed and simply sat in front of him, cross-legged. "Alright, take yer time. Need yer inhaler?"

"Nah, I'm-- I'm alright. Jus' need a moment. Gods, bein' smacked 'round by an axe hurts."

A loud bark of laughter came from Tani, causing him to grin toothily from ear to ear. "You're tellin' me? C'mon, what's goin' on? Tell me so we can work on it, primo."

Peering up at Tani through his lashes, he sighed and lifted his head a bit while his shoulders slumped. "I jus' dunno how ta deal with someone wieldin' an axe. Hells, I don't even know how ta wield one, m'self!" he exclaims, gesturing over towards the wooden axe he had long dropped before he was tossed.

"An' that's alright! Y'jus' gotta tell me, see? All ain't lost, nothin' is hopeless, it's just a matter of takin' the time ta learn, okay?" she assured, patting his knee with a hefty paw. "What do ya know, hm? Have ya fought against other folks?"

"Well, aye, a'course I have. Many times. In fact, Toadie's th'one who trained me ever since I knew him, practically."

"Okay, an' what did ya learn from him?"

"A lot."

"So then let's go through everythin' he taught ya all over again. From th'start, up until now. An' what better way ta do that than trainin', hm? Don't beat yerself up, man. Shit like this takes a certain kinda person, 'nd ya got it, y'jus' need more patience with yerself, b'cause y'get frustrated real easy, real quick. Y'know that, don't ya?"

"... Aye."

Huffing, Tani gives him a firm poke to his forehead. "Don't be like that to yerself. When y'have no one else around ya, ye're gonna be all ya got left. You're kind t'everyone else but yourself, and I'm sure ya've been told this many times before, hm?"

"Aye."

Smiling warmly, Tani stood right back up with a heavy plap to her knees, extending out a hand towards Azhi'li. "Up, Zizi. You're alright. You have so much time ahead a'yerself, so do not punish yerself for not gettin' things right away. Y'don't punish th'kids when they don't get it right away, so don't do that to yerself. Ye're no different, an' ya deserve no less patience from others," he states, firmly, yet not unkindly.

Azhi'li takes in a deep breath and nods, smiling lightly before grunting when his back is given a hearty SMACK from Tani's paw. 

"Now! Cuffs are off, weapons set aside! S'jus' you an' me, primo! Let's get down to th'basics!" they state, stepping away from Azhi'li before putting their axe down and stancing themself with their fists held up to their chest.

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

CW: talk/discovery of sexuality and gender. possible dysphoria triggers.

For five suns every sennight, Tani and Azhi'li trained together. Sometimes uncle Sena or Maryn would join in and show their nephew of what they knew with a blade and shield or magic. Every day there was something new for Azhi'li to learn, new lessons to keep close to his heart. He never thought he'd ever be able to do any of these things back then, but now he has gotten so used to it that it's almost as comfortable as his fists. Of course, nothing could ever feel as comfortable as that, but he can at least safely say he can wield an axe and blade now, as well as do some magic.

Yet, all of this physical training wasn't the only thing he learned about.

One evening at the circle, everyone was enjoying dinner and sharing stories, laughing and joking amongst themselves. Azhi'li and Tani were sitting together, snickering and sharing food and drinks with each other, the Seeker having gotten a better hang of alcohol thanks to Tani. He learned from the best!

And still, there is even more left to learn. Leaning back on a paw, Azhi'li rested his other arm upon his knee as he swirled the mead in his flagon idly, staring out towards the fire in front of them. 

"So, Tani... If y'don't mind me askin', uh... can I talk ta ya 'bout identity stuff?"

"... Identity stuff?" he inquired with a quirked brow, looking towards Azhi'li with a side-eye while popping a jocote into his mouth.

"Like... gender 'nd sexuality?"

"Oh. Yeah, what's up?" She grins towards him, her round ears perked and pivoted towards him as she suddenly became interested. Azhi'li huffed with a roll of his eyes before rubbing at the nape of his neck, leaning forward a bit. 

"So, like-- I've never really explored anythin' regardin' gender 'nd sexuality stuff all too much, I jus' know th'type a'folks I'm attracted ta."

"Which is?"

"More... masculine? types a'folks?"

"Hm, alright. Go on."

"Gods, why do I feel like I'm bein' judged super hard right now?"

"I ain't judgin' ya, primo, I'm just tryna figure out where ya stand on all of this. Haven't really spoken to cityfolk for this long, so I'm jus' pickin' at yer head, y'can say."

"... Okay, well, I know that there are lots a'identities 'nd ways people can feel comfortable callin' themselves, but I jus'... I dunno, never really had th'chance ta explore that fer m'self."

At this, Tani grows even more interested, quirking a brow and dropping the pit of the jocote into a bowl. "So, are ya sayin' ya wanna explore?"

"-- Aye. I do."

Grinning, Tani nods and moves to stand up, taking the bowl of jocote seeds with her to place on a table for them to either be discarded or planted.

Wrapping an arm around Azhi'li's shoulders, she jostles him a bit before gesturing for him to follow. "Come, primito, for I shall enlighten ya."

They make their way to Tani's home, where they're then met with squealing from children as they swing the door open and cry out, "Papa!" before flinging themselves at Tani. They catch their kids within their strong arms, laughing in delight and placing kisses upon the three young miqo'te's heads. "Buenas, bebecitos. Did ya have a good day?" he asks, the children chiming out, 'si!'

"Hello, tio Zizi!" they then say, and Azhi'li grins down at them and chuckles, ruffling their little heads and big ears. "Buenas."

Smiling, Tani nudges Azhi'li gently before gesturing for him to follow again into her room. Making it to a chair, she plops herself on it with a grunt while relaxing back into it, gesturing for her cousin to join her. He does just so, sitting across from her on another chair while the children clamber up on their parent, and one on Azhi'li. 

"So, Azhi'li," he begins, his tone gentle, before canting his head to the side as he holds onto a child in each arm, "What do you know 'bout yerself?"

"-- Well, what do y'mean?"

"What makes ya comfortable, an' what doesn't? Th'way you an' I operate are completely different. I don't feel th'same way you do, nor do you feel th'same way I do. So I wanna know 'bout ya-- but first, I think you should know 'bout ya. Y'said y'know 'bout 'identities' 'nd stuff, pero... what is it that y'know?"

"Um... I know that-- not everyone identifies th'way they're perceived? Like... someone who is normally seen as a 'woman' may not be comfortable bein' identified as such."

"Mm, alright. It's a start."

"Huh?"

With a laugh, Tani shook their head and grinned toothily. "Not everythin' is all that meets the eye, primito. I understand that...cityfolks, t'use a lighter term, tend t'have this notion that a lot a'stuff is black an' white, when it really ain't."

"I don’t understand..."

"A lot a'cityfolks believe that if ya look a certain way, ya gotta be a certain way. Gotta be addressed a certain way, behave a certain way... We don't work like that here. Some folks are comfortable fitting within that binary, an' that's alright. Most a'us here don't do that," she explained, gesturing to herself afterwards. "Y'heard th'way people talk ta me here. El, ella, elle. Him, her, them. I don't give a rat's ass 'bout gender or sex. I jus' live th'life I want for m'self. Here, we call that volado. Flown. Think th'people outside of the Sankres call it non-binary or somethin' akin ta that. We don't exist within th'binary, 'nd that's th'way we wanna keep it, y'know? We ain't 'man' or 'woman', we're jus' our own person. That don't mean that volados is its own binary either, b'cause that ain't th'damn point of it, y'know? We ain't a 'third gender'."

"... Okay. I think-- I understand a bit more. Is there-- a way to know who's part a'that--... uh. Category..?"

"First of all, don't say that," he chastises with a huff, shaking his head. "Secondly, no. There ain't. It's never really a topic a'discussion ta be brought up, b'cause why would it be? S'jus' normal fer those folks, they know what they're doin', 'nd if they wanna tell ya or bring it up, then they will."

"Sorry. So-- how do I know if--... I'm someone like that?"

Tani shrugged, smiling lightly. "S'different from person ta person, primito. There ain't one decided way someone needs t'feel in order to consider themselves such. That's fer you to decide, no one else."

"... Well, I don't think I'm that-- I mean, I probably would'a known by now, right?"

"Hells no, y'wouldn't have. Zizi, there is somethin' y'keep missin', 'nd it's that everyone goes at their own pace. That includes you, too," she informs, firmly, giving him a pointed look. "Some folks know when they're a kid," they begin, patting one of their children's backs, "'nd other folks don't find out 'till they're old 'nd grey. In the end, they still find out 'nd are able to do whatever they want with that new knowledge. Everyone operates differently. It's never too late t'learn more 'bout yerself."

Azhi'li then grows silent, staring down at the floor between them while still holding onto his sobrine. They look towards Azhi'li curiously, smiling and papping at his cheek, causing him to blink and look over to them.

"It's okay, tio. You just do what makes you happy. That's what everyone says."

With a smile, Tani nods, looking back towards Azhi'li again. "At one point, y'jus' gotta think for yerself, primo. 'nd if ya discover that ye're happy with th'way y'call yerself 'nd identify yerself with, then that's all that matters, y'know? Be happy with yerself, jus' how others are happy that you're who ya are, too."

Locking eyes with Tani, Azhi'li grows silent once again before smiling a bit, nodding. "... I think I wanna at least learn more 'nd explore. Can I do that?"

"Always. There is never new knowledge fer those who don't seek it."

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

With Azeyma finally at rest and Menphina shining over Her Sister's watch, Azhi'li makes it back home-- Sena's home, where his uncle lovingly offered him a room to stay in. 

Parting the tapestry, he steps in and blinks at the sight of his uncle whittling before he spots his nephew, smiling warmly with a wiggle of his ears. "Welcome home, Dhezi. Did you have a good day?"

"I did, thanks tio. -- Hey, can-- can ya do me a favor?"

"Anything, sobrino. What's wrong?"

"Nothin', jus'-- can y'cut m'hair?"

Record scratch.

Sena blinked owlishly, glancing up at Azhi'li with widened eyes. Almost as though he was in disbelief. Well, no, not almost-- he was. "... Ah? I assumed you did not want to cut your hair since I thought it was something special for you?"

"It is. It always has been. I never cut it 'nd refused t'let people cut it b'cause... I kinda used it as a way t'hold onta y'all; t'hold onta m'brother, Zisi. But, now that I'm here with y'all, 'nd now that I am ready t'move on... I'm ready t'start lettin' go of th'past, too."

The older Seeker stared at his nephew in awe before smiling lightly, standing up slowly as he nodded. "Then it would be an honor. Come, sit down. Forgive your tio, though, because I may not do the best work..." he warns with a nervous chuckle. 

"Hey, it's fine, s'long as it grows back!"

"Oh, I'm sure it will with how long you've had it without maintaining it regularly," he quips with a chuff, causing Azhi'li to laugh.

After bathing, Azhi'li sat in a chair with his towel-dried hair over his shoulders. Sena rounded behind him with a pair of scissors and a comb before asking, "Now... Are you sure you wish to do this, sobrino?"

"Si, tio. I'm ready."

"Bueno."

Snip.

[scapegrace74-blog]

The Beginning

A/N  Here’s the latest fic from the Metric universe.   I woke up this morning thinking about how Metric Jamie and Claire might have met.  A word of warning: it definitely isn’t a meet-cute.  Previous ficlets are available on my AO3 page.

August 12, 2012, The Pride of Spitalfields, London, England

The pub throbbed with the revelry of dozens of thirsty patrons.   Jamie grinned at the irony that their arrival had probably thrust the establishment past its occupancy load.   He’d just finished a ten hour shift, he was thirsty, and he wouldn’t be filing a fire code complaint anytime soon.

As the rookie at his station, Jamie drew all the short straws.  He made the coffee at the start of each shift.  He climbed the tower with heavy wet hoses draped over his shoulders.   He was on call every night of the past seventeen, as London swelled to bursting with Olympic athletes and spectators.   And now that the Games were over, so was his enforced prohibition, but he was still responsible for getting his coworkers their chosen drinks first.

Jamie was blessed with an uncomplaining disposition that made these petty hardships easy to bear, but after three trips between the bar and their overflowing table, having his elbows jostled, ale spilled on his shoes, and, on one notable occasion, his rump squeezed a lewd hand in the heaving crowd, he was more than ready for his long-awaited drink.

“Waddaya mean ye’re out of lager?!”

“Sorry, mate.  We’re inside the security zone, so our distributor can’t get ‘is lorry in.  I jus’ pulled my last pint for this young lady here.”

Following the barman’s casual hand gesture, Jamie observed the woman on the barstool next to him.  She was turned away, chatting with whoever sat beside her, so his first impression was of riotous dark curls, slim shoulders, colt-like legs wrapped in a jean mini-skirt, and an untouched pint of Tennent’s sitting on the bar by her elbow.

He tapped her shoulder.  No response.   Tapped again, and added a loud but polite “Pardon me,” in order to be heard over the crowd.  A pale hand lifted in dismissal was the only indication she had heard him.  He was starting to get pissed off, but short of grabbing the beer and making a run for it (both beneath his dignity and having a low degree of probable success, given the close confines of the bar), he was out of options.

Just as he was about to order a whisky instead, the woman finally turned in his direction, and the cacophony all around blurred to nothing.  A delicate face, transformed into something fierce by the intensity of her gaze.  She was looking imperiously down her nose at him, and it brought to mind a childhood visit to the Edinburgh Zoo; the lioness gazing out of her enclosure with piercing golden eyes.

“Wot?” the lioness demanded, and he dropped back into his surroundings.

“Are ye gonna drink that pint, lass?”

“I beg your pardon?”  He had never before considered himself a meek man, but she was putting that hypothesis to the test.

“Yer lager.  I asked if ye planned tae drink it.  I’d like tae buy it from ye, if no’.”

She spun her knees in his direction, ignoring her companion entirely to focus on him.  She wobbled a tiny bit on her stool, and he got the impression she wasn’t entirely sober.

“Let me get this straight,” she pronounced with a faint slur that bordered on a lisp.  “You want to know whether I intend to drink my beer?  Is that it?”

He nodded, tongue-tied for once.

“For what purpose do you think I purchased it, if not to ingest it?”

He couldn’t tell if she was secretly laughing at him, or furious.  He was accustomed to using his dashing good looks (an ex-girlfriend’s turn-of-phrase) and Scottish charm to talk his way into or out of any situation, so her prickly demeanour posed a unique challenge.

“I dinna mean tae infer ye’d only bought a pint for decoration, lass.  Only, tis the last lager in the whole place, and I reckon I need it more than ye.”

He recognized his error as soon as the words left his mouth.  This was not a woman who took kindly to being told what she did and did not need.

Instead on pouncing on him, she flashed a feline grin and proposed terms for their stand-off.

“That’s an interesting propo-prop-proposition, lad.  That you need this pint more than I do.   Here’s what we’re going to do.   My friend... Geil, get over here... is famously impartial.  Now you, sir, are going to plead your case as to why you deserve this pint.  I will do the same, and to the victor go the spoils, as it were.  Are we agreed?”

He felt very much like a mouse being toyed with by a particularly malevolent cat, but his inherent competitiveness refused to let him back down at this juncture.  He sensed he was about to be bested at his own game, but he was looking forward to finding out exactly how.

“Aye, agreed.  Ladies first, if ye please.”

“Oh, I bloody well think not.  This all started with you coveting my beer.  You first.”

Jamie grinned and ran his hand through his hair, trying to collect his thoughts.  From across the bar, he could see his mates watching his exchange with this vexing woman, their laughter muffled by the din.

“Aye.  Alright.  Weel, I’m a firefighter, ken?  A probie in my first six months o’ service.  My uncle Dougal is my captain, but tae show there’s no favourtism, he gives me all the shitty tasks, the worst shifts.  Which means I’ve been on call since the Games began, cooped up inside w’out a drop tae drink an’ a flatmate who snores like a congested hippo, while the entire world ran riot o’side my window.”

He paused here to see if his tale of woe was having any effect, but the lioness merely raised a finely arched eyebrow, as if to say ‘is that all you’ve got?’  He dug his heels in for the long ride.

“An’ when I did get a call-out, twas always some daft drunkard who forgot his beans on the hob watchin’ Mo Farah’s race or somesuch.”

Nary a muscle moved on her face.

“An’ I stubbed my toe somethin’ fierce the o’er night when my flatmate...”

“The congested hippo?” she clarified.

“Aye, the congested hippo. The bastard dragged our couch against one wall sae he could, and I quote, do justice tae Bradley Wiggins.  I walked inta it on my way tae take a piss.”

He might have been imagining things, but there was a slight twitch at the corner of her mouth.

“An’ when I was a lad, my big sister convinced me twas a fairie livin’ in my clothes press tha’ stole my socks, an’ since then I canna grab my trousers wi’out crossing my fingers first.”

He wrapped up with his most winning smile, the one usually reserved for his mam and first dates.  His adversary observed him dispassionately, but at least her friend, the purported judge of his performance, looked suitably amused.

“That’s it, then?  A three week dry spell, a boorish flatmate, and lasting childhood gullibility?”

“Thas’ about it, aye,” he admitted.  He supposed, if nothing else, it spoke well to his life thus far that he hadn’t been able to surface any more sympathy-worthy incidents.

The woman raised the controversial pint, and for a fool-hardy moment he thought she was going to hand it to him.  Instead, she raised it in mock salute.

“I’m deploying to Afghanistan in the morning,” she said, and took a long drink, her leonine eyes never leaving his over the rim of the glass.

**

Several hours and a couple whiskies later, Jamie stepped out onto the pavement and breathed the relatively cool midnight air.  His mates had a good laugh at his expense when he’d returned to their table empty-handed, with neither lager nor the lass’ number. 

The door behind him opened, and the woman in question staggered outside, leaning heavily on her much-shorter friend.

“If it’s not the lad who believes in fairies!” she exclaimed upon noticing him.  Of all the details for her to remember.   He tipped an imaginary cap in their direction.

“An’ how was yer lager, milady?”

“Dee-licious,” she proclaimed before stumbling sideways and nearly pulling her friend down in a heap with her.

“Can I help ye, ladies?  Per’aps call ye both a taxi?” he suggested, worried about their ability to navigate home without coming to ruin.

“T’won’t be necessary, lad,” the shorter, red-haired one said.  He realized belatedly she was Scottish as well.  “We live jus’ down the way.  Although... I could use yer brawn to get ‘er up the stairwell, if ye wouldna mind.”

The brown-haired one with the uncanny eyes started to sing to herself.

“I’m so happy I could diiiiiiiiiiiiiiie...”

“Is she always this macabre?” he asked her friend, draping a slack arm over his shoulder and trying to steer her slight weight in the right direction.

“Wouldna ye be, in ‘er shoes?”

“She’s really a soldier, then?” he asked, mystified by this singular creature.

“Army nurse,” her friend clarified, and he found himself relieved.  At least she wouldn’t see active duty.  Although why he should care was beyond him.

“I canna imagine...” he said, mostly to himself.

“Weel, one man’s combat zone is another woman’s escape route, ye ken?”

He didn’t, but it wasn’t any of his business, and they had already arrived at the door of their building.   After a great deal of maneuvering and cursing during which their burden remained only marginally conscious, they finally got her settled in bed with a towel, a basin, a tall glass of water and three paracetamol.  Jamie got only a vague impression of her room, but it was surprisingly feminine with wispy drapes and an elaborate print of an ancient city on one wall.  He didn’t know what he had been expecting.  Camouflage linens, perhaps?

“Thank ye sae much for lending a ‘and, lad,” the redhead spoke as he returned to the tiny living area.   “Ach, I dinna even think tae ask yer name!”

“Jamie.  Jamie Fraser.  An’ twas nae bother.  Except fer the lager.  Tha’ was blatant cruelty,” he jested.

“Ye didna stand a chance, but ye acquitted yerself admirably, Jamie.  Can I offer ye a beer now, as a consolation prize?”

She was looking at him in the particular way that women did, when what they said they wanted wasn’t what they were asking for at all.  He considered the situation.  It was just past midnight, and he was off the next day.  His flat had nothing to recommend except Rupert snoring and passing gas.  Her roommate wouldn’t be waking anytime soon.  And while she was no lioness, her friend was quite pretty, in her own elfin way.

“Whas’ yer name, lass?” he asked as she handed him a cold bottle.

“Geillis.  Geillis Duncan.”

***

January 1, 2015, The Royal London Hospital

His eyes refused to open, so he relied on his other senses to understand this new world.  There was heat so intense that it froze.  Mechanical bleating.  The smell of antiseptic and stench of vomit.  An alien rasp that, after countless repetitions, he realized was his breath.

“I need a main line for electrolytes, right now!”  He thought he recognized the voice.  The whirlpool of sensations was making him nauseous, so he focused on its familiar pitch and cadence.

“...third degree burns extending across sixty percent of his back... Christ, where is that fucking trauma resident?”

A creeping chill started near his elbow and sent icy needles towards his heart.  He wanted to panic, but couldn’t draw air into his lungs to scream.  The mechanical bleating grew violent.

“It’s alright,” the voice soothed.  “Here, take a deep breath.”  A pressure around his nose and jaw, followed by the blessed rush of oxygen into his lungs.  The hammering of his heart slowed slightly.

“That’s it, soldier.   Deep breaths.   Can you open your eyes?”

He fought against the heavy weight that seemed to press on him from every angle.   The overhead lights were blinding, and he squinted against tears.  A blurry smudge hovered above him.  Blinking furiously, the smudge resolved into dark curly hair pulled back from a face half-covered in blue surgical garb.  Between the horizon of the mask and the heaven of her curls shone the most intense pair of leonine eyes he’d ever seen.

His last conscious thought was that he was happy she made it back safely.

[belligerently]

walk with me 'neath the rising sky, we will make a choice for love and joy

pairing: bernie/serena rating: pg-13/light m summary: written for Jess Appreciation Day, this is for @ktlsyrtis because she deserves all the good things, and because there’s literally only one person i would have written this for, and it’s her.

s(he) was a stableboy, she was a girl, can i make it anymore obvious?

noble/commoner au (what time period is it in? how old are they? these are questions you don’t need to ask)

read the fic below the cut or via google doc

Horses are the thing Berenice loves most, in all the world. She makes any excuse to take her mother’s old mare out to the pasture, to the town center. She sits in the blacksmith shop while he shoes the horses that come in, keeps the horses calm, holds their faces with her hands, nuzzles against them.

“A shame yer a lass,” the blacksmith says one day, when she’s helping with a beautiful black yearling a calming hand against his neck, dark eyes staring into dark eyes. “Them up there at the manor are looking for a stableboy.” 

“I’m not trained,” she says, her heart speeding up at just the mention of the position, at just the idea that she could work with horses. 

“Not much trainin’ needed to shovel shit,” he says, holding the horse’s foot in one hand, hammer in the other. “All right, just hold ‘im.” Berenice presses her face to the horse’s cheek, breathing deeply the smell of hair and hay, lets herself live in the world where that’s all she has to think of. 

She feels restless after the conversation, not ready to go home, feels like everything is jangling inside her, a plan half-forming in her mind as she walks. Without realizing, she finds her way to the edge of the manor property, right to the edge of their fields. She can see three horses grazing, one shaking its mane, a soft whinny carrying across the grass. Then a colt runs in front of the older horses, all gangly legs, whickering and circling, then stopping next to its mother. 

Berenice could stare at them for hours. But the sun is setting, getting low in the sky, and her mother will be expecting her. Bread and stew for dinner, no doubt, Meager portions from her father’s salary, a few coins sent every month for guarding the borders. But it’s enough, and her work with the blacksmith, the occasional odd job around town, pay enough to supplement, to occasionally get sugar for cooking, or a new book to read aloud by the fire late at night. Her mother makes sweet rolls on Sundays, almost the same as the bread, in the end, but made all the sweeter by their rareness. 

She fidgets in her chair at the table, an idea taken shape. There’s a bit of sadness tugging at her, the idea that this might be her last meal with her mother for some time, But there’s also a potential for her mother to live better, for Berenice to help, to do more. So she eats slowly, carefully, takes in her mother’s face, the wrinkles at her eyes, and she puts the bowls in the bucket, takes them out to the pump with her for rinsing, a scrub brush to get the flecks of stew off the sanded wood. 

She also takes her mother’s shears from where they sit in the kitchen, used to cut vegetables, to do any number of household tasks that Berenice has never bothered to learn. She fills a pail with water, cold and crisp, and bends over to see her reflection, a long plait of hair spilling over her shoulder. Before she can change her mind, before she can think it all through, she takes the scissors to the nape of her neck, the braid falling to the ground, wisps of hair around her chin. 

Her head feels lighter at once, almost bobbing up as the weight of her hair is lost. She doesn’t know if she looks like a boy anymore than she did before. With the scissors, heavy and indelicate, she tries to chop away at it, short enough there’s no way to tie it back. Good enough that someone not paying very much attention could think she was a member of the opposite sex.  

-

It turns out to be surprisingly easy to get the position, once she turns up to the estate stables. The fact that she’s able to calm a horse with a quick pet to the nose, a soft whickering sound from her lips, that’s enough to impress the stablemaster.

“You look awful puny, but you’ve got a way about you, I’ll admit,” he grunts, and Berenice bites back a smile. She tells him her name is Bernard, and he just huffs. “Bernie’s good enough for the stables. You’re not a lord up there in the manor.”

Her first nickname, really.

The routine is simple. She wakes early and opens the stable doors, lets the horses out to the pasture. She mucks the stables for what feels like hours, her back sore, her arms getting stronger. New hay to lay out, bales to roll down from the loft. The same loft where she sleeps, a blanket and a pillow handed to her on her first evening. It’s warmer than she thought, the sounds of horses breathing telling her it’s safe, they’re all safe.

The stablemaster watches her push a bale out to the fields, sun high in the sky, and she knows she’s sweating through her thin shirt, that her breeches must smell foul. But he doesn’t say anything except, “There's more muscle to you than I thought.”

It’s as much of a commendation for her work as she can expect.

Occasionally members of the manor family come down for horses, and then Bernie is shooed away, told to bring the horses in from the pasture and then hide in the loft, or go back out to the field. She only sees the lord and lady from afar, their daughter joining them on a rare occasion. Sometimes she’s called in to help prepare horses for visiting guests, brushes them until their coats shine, saddles them up and then disappears. 

The first time she meets one of the family is when the daughter comes to the stables unexpectedly, in the middle of the morning, when Bernie is still working with the rake, pulling mud and feces out of the stalls. She hears a delicate cough, straightens up, very aware of the streaks of mud on her face, of the odor that must be emanating from her. 

When she meets the daughter’s eyes, she sees the slight wrinkle of the nose, the only sign that she’s not entirely comfortable in her current environment. Her skirts drag against the ground, and Bernie can see the hay stuck to the fabric, the mud encroaching on her clean shoes. 

She almost curtsies, but catches herself in time to turn it into a low, awkward sort of bow. “Milady,” she says, gruffly, pitching her voice low. She almost hits her head on the wall of the stall, uses it to push herself back up, to hold onto as she feels nerves course through her body. She hasn’t had to talk to anyone, really, beyond another stableboy and the stablemaster. It feels like a test.

And the daughter is so pretty. 

“No need for that, when it’s just you and me,” she says warmly, with a smile. “Serena is my name and it’s hardly ever used.” Her eyes are bright, dancing around. “Who are you? I haven’t seen you before.”

“Bernard. Ah, Bernie, ‘round here.” She props the rake against the stall door, stuffs her hands in her pockets, scuffs her foot against the floor. “Can I get your horse for you?” She feels like her whole face is on fire, like the scrutiny of this beautiful noble might make her explode. Serena nods, her lips still tipped up in an impish sort of grin, and Bernie runs a hand through her hair, aware of the ragged ends, the disarray. She never would have made a good impression, not even when she was dressed as a girl, well-washed and hair flowing over her shoulders. 

At a half-trot, she makes her way out to the field, Serena’s horse in the far distance. She puts her fingers to her mouth, whistles, and every horse looks up, ambles towards her. Serena’s horse is beautiful, a pinto mare with a long brown mane and dark eyes that look human in their understanding. “There’s a girl,” Bernie says, when she’s close enough to touch. “Come on then, Elinor.” She wraps a few strands of mane around her fingers and leads her towards the stables. 

Most of the stalls are clean, and that’s where she puts Elinor, brushing her out while Serena watches quietly from the other side of the door. Her head is tilted, her long brown hair touched by the occasional breeze, and Bernie steals glances whenever she can, notices new things every time. The cleft in her chin, the silver necklace at her throat, the sparkle in her eyes, the deft fingers plucking at a splinter in the wood next to her. Every little thing makes her heart clench, and Bernie doesn’t know what to do with it, has never felt it before. 

When the blanket and saddle are on, everything buckled into place, Bernie hands Serena the reins, their hands grazing. 

“Would you help me up?” Serena asks delicately, but Bernie can’t help but feel as if she’s being teased. She kneels down, makes a cradle from her hands and allows Serena to step on them, lifting her until she’s comfortably seated sidesaddle. 

Bernie doesn’t miss that, enjoys the freedom the breeches give her, straddling a horse. She can go faster, longer, feels closer to the horse beneath her. She doesn’t know if she’ll ever go back. If she’ll ever want to. She doesn’t even know what’s next, after this. Will she stay in these stables forever? Will she be discovered? Punished in some unseemly way? There’s so much she doesn’t know, she just tries to think of the horses, of the present, of the life she has now. 

Serena’s looking at her a little oddly, and maybe she’s been away with the fairies for too long. Bernie forces a smile to her thin lips, knows from her mother that she’s far from beautiful, and feels even less so in the presence of Serena, but her smile gets one in return, and that’s not nothing, as far as she’s concerned. 

“Have a good ride, mil-Serena,” Bernie says, correcting herself at the mock-glare on the other woman’s face. With a gentle pat to Elinor’s rump, she helps guide Serena and her horse toward the open stable doors. 

She hides when she sees Serena coming back, doesn’t know if she can take another encounter with the beautiful daughter of the lord of the estate. There are so many differences between them, a vast chasm that divides them. And it feels dangerous to let someone in, to be close.

She can hear Serena moving about in the stables below the loft, but doesn’t come down. Then she hears Serena’s soft sigh and a few moments later, sees her walking back up towards the manor, brown hair practically glowing in the sun, a halo shining against her tresses.

It becomes a bit of a pattern. Somehow Serena seems to know when Bernie is alone in the stables, always appears when the stablemaster is otherwise occupied, when Bernie’s alone with her work. There’s always a little edge to their conversations, like Serena has a joke she’s not telling Bernie, a laugh behind her eyes, a sparkle.

It makes a jolt run along under Bernie’s skin, like a bolt of lightning crackling down her spine. She looks forward to and fears the interactions in equal measure, feeling like she’s teetering on a knife’s edge and doesn’t know which way she’ll fall.

Serena tricks her, in a way, and they become friends without Bernie even realizing. Serena leaves books at the base of the loft ladder, when she learns Bernie can read. She asks how Bernie is doing, how she’s feeling, and seems to really care about the answer. Her fingers trail along Bernie’s arm when she’s moving past her in the stable. They are friends and they are something else, and Serena doesn’t know who Bernie really is.

That’s what worries her, underneath it all, that she’s lying to Serena, in a way. What Serena will think if she learns. And the only way Bernie knows to solve this problem is to shut off communication, to put distance between them. She spends an evening saying goodbye to all the things about Serena that she appreciates.

She says goodbye to Serena’s cleft chin, to those shimmering eyes, to the gently curling tresses. She says goodbye to the fluttering eyelashes. She says goodbye to her soft chuckle, to the way her lips quirk when she speaks with a double meaning. She bids farewell to Serena and hopes her thoughts may carry up to the manor, because she could never say goodbye to Serena’s face.

When Serena appears one afternoon, Bernie anxiously wipes her sweaty palms against her stained breeches. Serena makes a joke, and Bernie forces herself not to laugh.

“Mud in your ears?” Serena asks, craning around Elinor’s neck to see Bernie’s face but she just sucks her head away, gets the tack ready in silence. “Is everything all right?” she asks, moving closer to Bernie, and Bernie takes a step back, drapes the reins across Elinor’s saddle.

“Just fine, milady,” she says, and doesn’t meet Serena’s eyes. But she doesn’t miss the hurt look on the woman’s face, the way she hooks the stool with her foot rather than asking Bernie for help with mounting the mare. And then she rides off in silence, doesn’t even look back once.

It hurts, but it’s what’s right, and that’s what makes her heart ache all the more.

-

Serena doesn’t come back to the stables. Bernie doesn’t see her, even from afar. Weeks go by, and her life goes back to what it was when she came to the manor, a mundane routine of rote tasks, the same for one day as the next, little conversation to pass the time, no surprises at all. 

On a warm day in the spring, Serena and her parents arrive at the stables, and, as is always the case, Bernie is shooed outside, away, too grimy to be seen by people in fancy clothing, too uncouth for the people who live in the manor. These moments are nice, though, for as few and far between as they are, moments where Bernie can enjoy the horses, enjoy the nature around her, unclouded by tasks and to-dos. 

She nuzzles her nose against Dom’s forelock, breathes in the scent of him, and he exhales softly, her hair fluttering in the breeze. She hears a whinny, a little in the distance, and looks down towards the stables, sees Serena standing there, looking at Bernie, a gloved hand shading the sun from her eyes. She hasn’t seen her in so long, and the time apart has not made her any less lovely. 

She half-wonders if Serena will call out to her, but there’s nothing, and Bernie can only think of how much she misses the sound of Serena’s voice. Someone must say something inside the stable, because Serena turns, goes into the dark interior, and doesn’t look back. Dom nudges Bernie with his nose, a push against her shoulder, velvety soft and gentle. 

“Yes, yes, I didn’t forget about you,” she murmurs to him, pressing her lips to his face. She pulls an apple from her pocket and holds it out, fresh-picked that morning, and his lips and teeth are wet as he takes it from her hand. 

She only leaves the field and Dom when the family have left on their ride, sauntering down the manor path, to the forest, and Bernie tries not to think of Serena’s sun-dappled hair, of the way she sits so tall and proper, never wavering in the knowledge that she is everything she should be. 

It’s later that day, when the sun is setting, and Bernie is closing stall doors, lining them with fresh hay for the night, that she hears the footsteps she has come to know instinctively as Serena’s. She turns at the sound, and sees her there, a lantern in hand, hair loose about her shoulders, her nightgown and shawl pale and stark in the darkened barn. 

She’s about to bow, to curtsy, something, because of the shock of seeing Serena has overtaken her senses, the word “milady” already forming on her lips, when Serena speaks first.

“You saw me.” It’s the first time she’s heard that voice in ages, and she tries not to feel staggered with relief. It’s still so husky and lovely, the way the blacksmith’s wine feels slipping down her throat. Serena says the words without a question, they both know what happened.

 “You were the one watching,” Bernie answers gruffly, patting Raf’s head, brushing back his mane, hears Fletch whickering to him from the next stall over. Serena’s hand on Bernie’s shoulder makes her movements halt, makes her freeze in place. It’s the first deliberate touch, real and true, without the guise of reins or tight space, or whatever they were fooling themselves by thinking. 

Serena’s hand tips Bernie’s face towards her own, her fingers so delicate. She seems all the more lovely for the flickering candlelight on her face, her skin warm, alight in the dark, her eyes all the more sparkling. She doesn’t say anything else, just looks at Bernie with those brown eyes for a long moment, something Bernie can’t quite fathom dancing behind them. 

And then she leans forward and presses a kiss to Bernie’s lips. It’s chaste and short, but for all that, it still sets Bernie on fire, blazing on down through to her fingertips. “Oh,” Serena says, seemingly as poleaxed as Bernie feels. It seems she’s about to lean in again, but Bernie steps back, her heel hitting a water pail, a clanging noise halting the quiet horse murmurs.

“I, uh, there’s something I have to take care of,” she says, the words sounding unconvincing to her own ears, her cheeks bright red, and she knows they’d be warm to the touch, forces herself not to think about Serena touching her face again, those delicate hands, free from callus and wear, gentle against Bernie’s sun-soaked skin.

She climbs the ladder, fumbling in the dark because she doesn’t have her wits about her enough to take a lantern of her own, just Serena’s bobbling light from below to guide her. Bernie leans against a hay bale, head tilting back, straw poking against her neck. Trying to slow her heart, slow her breath, she closes her eyes and tells herself to be calm. Tells herself not to be afraid of this, even though it’s the very thing she feared most. 

She doesn’t move again until she hears a soft, “Good night, Bernie,” from below, and the sound of Serena’s retreating feet, the barn left in darkness once again.

-

Only a week passes before Serena appears again, this time in the afternoon, when Bernie is alone in the stable. Apparently still in possession of the gift for finding the time when no one else is about. She acts as if they never lost time, leaning against the door of an empty stable and watching Bernie. She tells her a story of her tutor trying to woo the newest maid, of how he tripped and nearly got the tap from the water pump outside the kitchen stuck in his rear. 

She makes Bernie laugh so easily, and that sound is so foreign, even to her own ears, except in the company of this woman. She thinks of Serena’s bravery, of the way she leaned forward, and it’s enough to spur her into asking:

“Why’d you kiss me?” 

Serena’s smile deepens the brackets around her mouth, and her eyes look like they’re lit from a light source of their own. She stands, moves toward Bernie again, and it’s all so familiar and still heart-wrenchingly new and Bernie feels as if she’s been rolled from a turnip cart, ass over tea kettle, not knowing which way is up. Serena is close enough that Bernie can feel her breath, those soft exhalations. 

“Because you’re handsome,” she says, her fingers ghosting against Bernie’s hair, shaggy and unkempt, “because you make me smile. Because my horse likes you. Why’d you run away?” She presses forward, some unimagined rid of steel at her back and Bernie would never want to argue with her, knows she would lose in an instant.

She swallows, tries to find the words to say, and all that comes out is an ech of Serena. “Because you’re beautiful. Because you make me nervous. Because I like your horse.” Her smile is small, and there’s the unspoken tenor of her worry about employment, about the coins she’s given once a month, the coins she sends to her mother. “I don’t want to have to leave,” she adds quietly, ducking her face down, wondering if a true man would ever voice these hidden fears, if perhaps her mask is already slipping.

“You won’t,” Serena promises, and she sounds so sure. Bernie envies the conviction in her voice, threaded through with the same steel that runs down her spine. When she steps forward this time, Bernie knows what to expect, and this time, when she kisses Bernie, Bernie kisses back.

She’s been kissed by boys in the village, alternatingly gruff and teasing, but never real, and that’s what is different, the wanting that makes Bernie slide her tongue between Serena’s lips, that makes her push Serena back up against the stable door, that makes her hands tangle into Serena’s hair. 

It’s just as silky and soft as Bernie might have imagined, slipping through her fingers. She feels as if she’s gasping for breath and Serena is the air she needs. It’s like the time she fell through a hole in the ice on the lake near town and her fingers scrabbled and clawed at anything, trying to get a firm hold on something that would help her. 

That’s how kissing Serena feels, like the only thing that will save her.

When they part, Serena’s cheeks are flushed, pretty and pink, and her tongue darts out to lick her lips, her eyes dark and full of want, and maybe even need, and Bernie feels a monster uncurl in her stomach, desire rearing its head.

“Lady and a commoner. Doesn’t seem like a good match,” she says, casting her eyes downward, because if there were ever a time to protect herself, it should have started months ago, but now is as good as ever.

“It’s the only match I’m interested in,” Serena says, reaching for Bernie, those slender fingers touching the sleeve of Bernie’s tunic, but she steps away from her grasp, backwards toward the center of the barn.

“We can’t,” she says, and Serena tilts her head, looks as if she’s considering something, making a decision and Bernie isn’t even sure what the options are.

“Don’t shut me out,” is what she finally says. “I’ll live like a nun in your presence, chaste and pure, only let me still be your friend.” The words are a plea, and Bernie can hear the quiet desperation, thinks for the first time that while she has the horses and the whole of the outdoors as her home, Serena has none of that, a lonely existence inside a stately home.

“Friends,” Bernie says, offering her hand to shake, resisting the impulse to spit on her palm, the way she did years ago with the boys she grew up with, trading buttons for shiny stones.

Serena’s hand slides along Bernie’s, and her touch is deliberate, her face serious, and she clasps Bernie’s hand tightly. Bernie thinks she’ll remember Serena’s expression for as long as she lives.

And they’re both true to their word. Serena still visits, as often as she ever did, maybe more. She says she’s still almost running out of excuses to disappear from the house in the afternoons, that when the weather turns cold, it will be even harder to escape. “Imagine, I tell them I want to do my sewing outside and I can see my own breath. I’d come back an icicle.”

Bernie is tempted to offer to keep Serena warm, but she thinks that’s against their agreement, against what’s good for them both. So she just smiles and says, “I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

Serena starts bringing Bernie books again, and then starts reading aloud while Bernie curries the horses. Her voice carries through the barn, and Bernie even notices one of the boys that’s in charge of fetching and carrying for them lingering to listen to the stories. It makes the day go by, makes the world seem larger and more wonderful.

When Serena can only escape in evenings, when dinner is eaten and the sun is disappearing, she comes with a lantern and climbs the ladder to the loft, skirts gathered in her hand. Bernie’s there to help her up the last few inches, to hold the light as a guide. She drapes her blanket over a bale of hay to keep Serena’s skirt clean, and thinks that she looks a pretty as a painting, perched upon the hay.

It smells sweet and clean in the loft, and Bernie boasts that she can tell which horse is which, just from their snores, their exhalations of breath, and Serena laughs at that, says she’s going to test Bernie some time.

Her face is relaxed and open, carefree, and when her laugh mingles with Bernie’s soft chuckle, the small smile that’s become wider, more brave, over the last few months stretches across her face. And because she wants to, because she can’t help herself, she leans in and kisses Serena, kisses her smile like she might capture that joy for her own.

Relief washes over her when Serena kisses back.

It’s a novel experience, to do this while seated next to each other. She has more leverage, she has more to hold herself up when her limbs feel weak from pleasure.

Serena, too, seems to feel a certain freedom here too, her hands traveling along Bernie’s neck, her shoulders, into her golden hair. Bernie feels a pang when she thinks of a world where Serena could have braided her hair, run her fingers through the long blonde strands. She hasn’t seen herself in anything but the reflection of water in the horse trough, knows how shaggy her hair is, how unkempt, and she’s been using a bit of leather to tie it back, thinks perhaps she needs to find some scissors in the storeroom.

All thoughts fly from her head when Serena’s teeth bite gently against Bernie’s lower lip, when her tongue slips into Bernie’s mouth. It’s heavenly, like the softest velvet, and she wants to bury herself in feeling. She’s lost in sensation, in action, logic and reason gone from her mind. Serena’s hands slide underneath Bernie’s tunic, her fingertips warm, but leaving goosebumps in their wake.

And then she freezes, stops, pulls away, and Bernie flushes beet red, can’t believe her carelessness. Serena’s hands found the binding around Bernie’s breasts, the strip of cloth she took from her mother’s house and has worn every day since. 

“Were you injured?” Serena asks, tentative, unsure, like she wasn’t being gentle enough, like perhaps she thinks she’s made an injury worse. Bernie shakes her head automatically, before she can even think of a lie. This evening that began so innocuously now feels of paramount importance. 

The friendship they’ve built, the companionship, this bond. Bernie can’t lie any longer, can’t go a moment more without telling the truth. Her face still pink, from exertion, from nervousness, from embarrassment, she pulls the tunic up over her head, lays it aside on the floor of the loft, baring herself in the candlelight.

Serena looks at her questioningly, her fingers twitching like she wants to touch, from curiosity or desire, Bernie isn’t sure, has to quell the feeling that rises up at the thought of their bare bodies pressed together. Slowly, Bernie begins to undo the wrapping, shame fading away in the face of the gravity of the moment. She’s never shown herself to anyone, only her mother and any horses that happened to be watching while she swam naked in a pond in the forest.

“You’re. You’re not a man,” Serena says, her voice not tinged with disgust, as Bernie feared, but wonder, a tentative excitement. And butterflies begin to take roost in Bernie’s heart, a feeling like hopefulness. And then Serena reaches for Bernie’s pale skin, still untouched by the sun, even for all the days spent in the field. Serena’s delicate, gentle fingers touch just below her breasts, touch the space in the center of her rib cage.

“I’m not,” she says, her hand coming up to hold Serena’s hand against her skin. The air feels warmer, like it’s holding more weight for them in this moment.

Serena doesn’t say anything, just looks at Bernie with that considering look that Bernie’s come to know so well in the last year. 

“You’re not,” she says again, finally,, and this time, she leans forward to kiss Bernie, her hands purposeful and sure as they travel along Bernie’s bare skin. And she is sure as she lets Bernie pull at the ties of her dressing gown, and she is sure as Bernie lays her out against the hard floor of the loft.

Neither of them are sure about what they’re doing, neither of them experienced with a man, much less a woman, beyond what they know of their own bodies. But Bernie discovers the warm wetness between Serena’s legs, and sees the way her head tilts back, her eyes glassing over in pleasure. It’s a sight Bernie will never forget, as long as she lives.

The late night visits become commonplace, and they learn what is good, what stokes the fire best between them. When Serena decides to try placing her mouth on Bernie, right there, beside her thigh, Bernie feels as if her head might burst from the sheer magnificence of it. Her tongue is wonderful in Bernie’s mouth, and Bernie will never tire of it. But her tongue between her lower lips is another sensation entirely, and Bernie thinks a new galaxy will be born from the feeling that exploded inside her.

Serena finds other ways to help, appearing one afternoon with scissors from her dressmaker, and stands behind Bernie, her breasts grazing Bernie’s shoulders, and trims her hair, wisps of blonde catching in the breeze and floating away. She whispers to Bernie that she’s going to cut a lock of her hair to put in a necklace, to keep her always close.

Along with the scissors, Serena brings more fabric for Bernie to tie around herself, softer material, lighter, even helps her wrap it on occasion, when she’s spent too much time in the loft.

She also tries to think about what’s next, coming up with solutions, endless ideas of how they might be able to live out their lives together. Perhaps Bernie could disappear for a month, come back as a prospective lady in waiting. But they both know that’s not the life for her. She just wants to work with horses and to be with Serena, the only two things in the world that matter to her. She tries to reassure Serena that they can meet in the stables, that this is enough, that it can be enough. She thinks she’s trying to reassure herself, too.

“We could just...ride away,” Serena says one night, the flame from the candle casting shadows about her face. She reaches out and tucks a short strand of blonde hair behind Bernie’s ear. She never seems to get her fill of touching Bernie. “We take Elinor and we go.” 

It’s tempting, so tempting. Her words are lined with hope, and Bernie can imagine the press of Serena’s back as they ride together, their bodies moving with the horse. “You couldn’t leave your family,” she says, because for all that Serena escapes to the stables, Bernie hears the love for her mother, for her sister, threaded through her words and in her stories.

“I would, for you,” Serena says earnestly, pressing her lips to the hollow in Bernie’s collarbone. 

“We have this,” Bernie says softly, “and it’s good.” And she thinks, perhaps, that they have a someday. When Serena takes over the estate, when she can live the life she chooses. There’s a future for them, in this world. She can feel Serena’s eyelashes flutter closed against her chest and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

She’ll wake Serena before morning, and they can watch the sun rise before she leaves. They have this.

[dopescotlandwarrior]

A Hero Among Us-Chapter 2

On AO3

Chapter Two

A month had come and gone with no workers showing up from San Francisco. Claire chewed her nail as she rocked on the front porch. She should count her blessings she wasn’t feeding men that came early. Please come, she thought. Misses Crook came out with a basin of cold water for Claire to put her feet into. It was getting quite warm and she was not accustomed to this kind of heat.

“Misses Crook why are you limping that way, what has happened?”

“My ankle is swelled up and painful. No mistress, I’ll be alright.”

Misses Crook was stepping away from Claire trying to lift her skirt to see her ankle. She had suffered from this affliction for a month and could no longer hide her limping.

“You need to go to your room and rest. I will not entertain argument about this misses Crook. I will bring your supper soon. Now go.”

When misses Crook didn’t move Claire walked to the front of the porch and dropped to her knees.

“If you won’t listen to me then I shall stand on my head where all can see my skirts fall over my face and my private places will be on full display.”

To misses Crooks horror, Claire dropped her head to the floor of the porch and started throwing her legs in the air with skirts and several under layers going in every direction.

“Misses Randell, please get up! It is not proper what yer doin. I will lay down if ye promise not to do such a thing again.”

She was pulling on Claire’s arm and looking at her red face with concern. When Claire started to go back to the floor misses Crook limped away as fast as could bear. Claire sat down and put her feet back into the cool water with a smile on her face. Misses Crook was easy to manipulate once she threatened her own well being. She rocked and picked up her book.

Before making dinner, Claire went out to check her garden and dribble water on the thirsty vegetables. With no rain in months, the new plants were struggling and she needed them to grow so she could feed the workers. Jamie insisted the garden be bigger to provide the needed food but Claire had stood her ground. Now she wasn’t sure.

Behind Jamie’s cabin, he toiled in his secret garden that ran the length of the cabins and was almost fully planted with carrots, peas, lettuce, cabbage, potatoes, onions, celery, radishes, cucumber, and rhubarb. Running alongside the garden were three long rows of sweet corn, two feet high. All contributed by other farmers in the area who had sacks of seeds, easily accessible to someone who cared to look. The farms were giving way to the coalition who wanted to convert the land to vineyards. Thankfully, enough remained to provide for Jamie’s vegetable garden.

Shirtless, on his hands and knees, he pulled weeds, pinched back certain plants, and thought about Claire. He wanted to go home, he needed to go home to Lallybroch where he knew his place and women were stout and strong from farming and the surviving the cold of the Highlands. There was no one like Claire there. Soft and refined like a china doll he had seen once at a fair. He worried about Claire’s ability to run the vineyard when he left but he hoped one or more of the workers would stay on and help her. He would handpick from the men who came, when they came, if they came. He looked up at the blue sky and cursed it for no rain in two months. It better come soon or they would have huge losses.

“Mister Fraser?”

Jamie’s head snapped up and he threw his shirt on and brushed the dirt off his pants before going to meet her.

“There you are. I am looking for you but afraid to go much further with all the snakes.”

Jamie hung his head and felt shame for telling her there were snakes behind the cabins. It was the only way to keep her from finding his garden. The very garden she insisted they didn’t need.

“What do ye need mistress?”

“Will you please see if you can find any of these items? If you know how to ride you can take Brimstone.”

“Thank ye, but I will walk and be back quick as I can.”

Claire handed him two dollars and a list of items and he left. Jamie covered a lot of ground when he walked alone and he was jolted out of his daydreams by a loud horse in distress. He made his way to the horse auction that was crowded with buyers who were voicing their disappointment with the quality of the horse. Jamie had never seen such a beautiful animal, pure black and still a stallion. The poor horse was dripping blood where he was hobbled brutally, snorting and stamping his feet as a warning to anyone who approached him. Jamie watched the buyers turn their back on the wild horse.

“How much?”

All heads turned to Jamie and there was much snickering coming from the experts. The man in the ring shouted back two dollars, includes saddle and bridle. Jamie jumped the fence and walked toward the animal keeping himself looking ignorant.

“What do they eat?” More snickering.

“I dinna care for walkin so I want to buy this horse.”

Jamie bent down to look under the horse because that is what a novice would do and the horse tried to bite him. The crowd was laughing about the idiot in the ring and Jamie did everything he could to fuel that assumption.

He turned to the crowd, “any bets I can break him in an hour?”

“Can you cover my bet?”

“Well, I would have to lose, which I won’t, but if I did you get these for seven days.” He pulled his shirt sleeves up to his shoulders and flexed, pushing up the volume of the murmurs. One by one the men laid down their bets which were handed over to the auctioneer for safekeeping. Jamie had no idea how much money was bet against him or how many months of work he had committed himself to. He wouldn’t lose and that he was sure of.

He asked to use a long rope on the auctioneer’s booth and then he set the animal free as the men were slapping each other on the back and laughing. As soon as the horse stopped Jamie whistled through his teeth and threw one end of the rope at the horse's rump. The stallion ran as Jamie continued to throw the rope end, wind it back, and throw it again. After ten minutes he held the rope and let the horse stop. He turned his butt toward Jamie and got smacked with the rope for another five minutes. This continued until the horse finally stopped with his head pointed at Jamie. He spoke quietly in Gaelic and scratched his face. The horse was covered in sweat and breathing hard. Jamie walked back to the auctioneer to return his rope and the horse followed.

Another two minute speaking to the animal and Jamie swung up into the saddle as the crowd was hushed by this brave, soon to be dead, man. When Jamie’s seat made contact with the horse’s back it’s head came up in alarm, not sure what just happened. In that moment of confusion, Jamie hunkered down into the saddle to wait for the ride of his life. The auctioneer watched with huge eyes as the horse made it his mission to kill this rider and no holds barred. The horse was big, the biggest Jamie had seen and he anticipated some hard bucks but he held on for five continuous minutes of wicked bucking from a homicidal horse. It takes energy to kick your back legs into the air, especially with two-hundred pounds on your back. The horse finally gave up so he could breathe.

When the horse was completely spent he was kicked by the rider but could do nothing but walk forward. For that he received a kind hand on his neck, a soft voice of encouragement and the painful metal in his mouth was released. The horse dropped his head and when the heels touched his sides he kept walking.

Jamie approached the auctioneer who handed him a bundle of dollar bills and Jamie walked his new horse out of the ring thanking God silently, over and over again.

“Yer name will be Donus. Do ye like it? It’s a good name for a stallion. If ye mind yer manners and dinna kill anyone I will let ye stay a stallion. If not it will be yer own fault.”

Donus was put into a stall and fed while he rubbed noses with Brimstone who squealed and stomped her feet at the handsome stallion.

“The lady flirts and shows interest in ye. Don’t be an idiot and make her sorry. Goodnight my friend, we will do battle again tomorrow I’m afraid, but one day ye will know I wilna harm ye and I will protect ye and keep ye fed.”

Jamie walked to the small outbuilding for a rope to use tomorrow. He saw something in his peripheral vision that moved when he opened the door. He said nothing but walked through the building grabbing supplies.

“If ye come out, no harm will come to ye, ye have my word. If I have to come find ye, it’s gonna hurt.”

“Well?”

To Jamie’s surprise, an oriental man came around the corner and bowed but would not look at him. He was emaciated with sunken eyes and gray skin. Jamie approached him and spoke the same as he did to Donus.

Claire had supper ready and rang the bell for Jamie who came around the corner holding an oriental man by the neck. Jamie’s face looked highly irritated.

Claire stepped forward and asked what was going on and heard misses Crook gasp behind her. She ran to the older woman who was sitting on the floor after falling from paid. She held her ankle and howled.

Jamie released the oriental man’s neck and pushed him toward the road. “Go, yer free, don’t come back.”

The slight man looked at misses Crook’s ankle and offered to help. Jamie launched at him to physically remove him from the property as Claire was saying “thank you, please do.” Jamie stood down and watched the carnival show as the little man gained misses Crook’s trust. He felt all around her ankle and then said he could fix it if she could remain very still.

Jamie decided the man was a step up from snake oil seller and again prepared to remove him when he heard misses Crook say “thank ye, please do.” Again he stood down.

The man turned his back to the ladies so he could work on the ankle without being seen. He removed a small leather packet from his pocket and rolled it open revealing twenty or so long needles that looked like serious weapons. Jamie grabbed the small man’s throat and promised to snap it if misses Crook felt any pain.

“Please, I must move my head down to see.”

Jamie moved menacingly close to the man and released his neck watching in horror as the needles were inserted into the ankle at different angles. Misses Crook did not seem to notice or mention any pain and the oriental was quick and practiced with the needles. They were removed and put back in his pocket before he stood and asked misses Crook to stand up.

Jamie watched Claire struggle to help the older woman up and lent his assistance by lifting her to her feet. She put her foot tenderly on the floor adding a bit of weight as her eyes grew big as saucers.

“I have no pain, I have no pain!” She walked several steps and turned around. “I dinna ken this magic but my ankle feels normal. Thank you sir!”

An hour later there were two very happy ladies serving plates of food to one starving oriental healer and one surly Jamie. He thanked the mistress for the meal and beat it away from the house where he could breathe. He found several halters in mister Randell’s equipment and chose the biggest one for his new horse. He pulled a carrot from his garden and offered it to stallion quickly slipping the halter over his head and clipping a rope to it. Jamie turned his back to the horse and spoke quietly.

“I need to show ye around the place so when ye get lucky and unseat me ye’ll know where home is. Ye are the most impressive horse I’ve ere seen and I respect that ye are a newcomer to our world so I wilna force ye and cause ye to be scared. Trust me and I will look after ye. Regarding yer enormous bullocks remember what I said, don’t kill anyone and ye keep em.”

Jamie pushed the stall open and walked forward holding his breath and feeling delight when the rope remained slack because the huge horse was following him.

“Thank ye for the trust.”

They walked all over the vineyard while there was still light. Donus was curious about everything and Jamie gave him time to investigate what he wanted. He talked about Claire the entire time, unloading his crush and emotional neediness to the animal behind him. Donus startled at something when they were up in the terraces. Jamie could imagine a gigantic black horse rolling down the hill, breaking every leg, and scaring the piss out of Claire. Sheer will kept him from looking back as he continued with the same voice and gate he had been using. He put his trust in Donus and prayed the horse would not bolt forward and run him over. He went back to talking about Claire and finally put the horse up for the night.

Jamie laid down on his bed and wanted sleep to take him far away from this place, where the air is cold and the fields are snow-laden for six months of the year. As soon as his eyes closed…

“This is mister Fraser’s cabin and you may have any of the others, just pick one.”

“I prefer outside.”

“What? You cannot live outside sir. Why do you reject my cabin, is it the snakes you worry about?”

Jamie groaned inwardly and continued to eavesdrop until he was pulled into a much-needed sleep.

Claire was struggling with the intense heat of California and when the house became unbearable she and misses Crook would sit on the porch and read or sew. Claire watched Jamie whenever she could see him and today she saw he was followed by an enormous black horse. She stood and watched the animal put his nose on whatever Jamie touched and then followed him again until he touched something else. She was enthralled watching this educational stroll take place and wondered where the beast came from. Her curiosity won and she marched toward the terraces until halting abruptly at the cabins. She would have to walk through the snakes to get up there and felt herself backing up and watching her feet. When she returned to the house she picked up her mending and decided to ask Jamie another time.

Claire was drifting in and out of a dream state and felt the vibration of something heavy hitting the ground. She peaked out and sat up when she saw Jamie. Behind him was the biggest, blackest, horse she had ever seen.

“Mister Fraser, did that beast follow you home one day?”

He explained how he purchased the animal and then bet his life to cover the wagers. He handed her a wad of dollar bills, and with a hanging head agreed to vacate the property if she could not forgive him.

“How bloody sure were you that you could break that horse?”

Her irritated tome cut right through him. “One-hundred percent mistress.”

“So I gave you two dollars and you return with thirteen dollars and a horse. I really don’t know what to say about that mister Fraser.”

Claire retired to the inside of the house and the conversation was over.

“This is all yer fault ye big idiot. I wouldna done it for any other horse so it has to be yer fault, c’mon.”

Claire looked at the money in her hand with a pounding heart and felt liberated from the fear that was breaking her back. She now had the means to feed the men, if they came. Please come, she thought.

Deep in the night, Jamie’s eyes flew open and he held his breath trying to hear the noise that woke him. It almost sounded like voices, maybe two men. He continued to listen and realized the voices were moving toward him so he waited. After five minutes he heard them clearly. Two men arguing about some lass with a flat nose. I’m dreaming, he thought and closed his eyes to sleep again.

When Jamie woke the next time he jumped out of bed and pressed his ear to the door. The arguing men were right outside! And still arguing! He threw on his clothes and boots and pulled the door open to see two men sitting around an unlit fire, and of course, arguing.

“On yer feet gentleman,” he barked

Both men jumped to their feet. “Who are ye”.

“Angus MacKenzie, Rupert MacKenzie.”

“Brothers?”

“Cousins.”

Jamie asked a dozen questions to which the men gave brief or one-word answers. The two of ye double up in the cabin at the end and learn to whisper yer arguments or stop havin them. I need to sleep a couple more hours or die breakin a horse tomorrow. If ye wake me again, it’ll be you that climbs up that monster tomorrow. Goodnight gentlemen.

The two men were eyeing each other like children who could not wait to brawl but they made it to the end cabin without a sound. Jamie laid down and dreamed of Claire. She was on Brimstone galloping out of the vineyard toward him. The wind billowed her thin white skirt up her legs and he could see one bare hip as well. He was very turned on by seeing the forbidden parts of her body but as she came near her face looked startled and scared. She halted Brimstone just a foot in front of him. She had a large bunch of red grapes that she handed him and said, “they fall.” Then she handed him a bunch of white grapes and said, “they burn.”

Jamie jerked his eyes open and sat up, covered in sweat. Ah dhia! The dream felt like a warning of some kind and it seemed so real. Jamie started his day and tried to shake it off but it returned to his mind over and over again.

Jamie walked back to the garden and found Yi Tien Cho squatting low next to the plants. He pulled the plant matter through his fingers, he smelled the leaves and he tasted the dirt before walking toward the barn.

Jamie shook his head and wondered if he would make it to the harvest with his mind intact. He looked at the sky and caught a faint scent that quickened his heartbeat. He sniffed again and ran to the front of the property to see the deciduous trees and watch the leaves. They were starting to curl at the edges, trying to turn over but not quite the right conditions yet. He ran to the house to find Claire.

Misses Crook opened the door with a sour face. “Do ye love to argue mister Fraser? I tell ya every day to just come in and ye insist on knockin the very next mornin.”

Jamie looked down and shook his head quickly, “I canna misses Crook.”

Claire came breezing out and took his arm to pull him inside to the table.

“Please eat and let me tell you about my dream last night.”

“Was it about grapes on fire?”

“What? No, it was two chickens who argued with a Scottish accent.”

“Oh, those are the first two idiots who showed up to work. There are more comin accordin to them.”

“That is wonderful news mister Fraser!”

Jamie inhaled his porridge and excused himself to his chores.

Jamie explained to Donus just what they needed to do today. So far the horse seemed stand offish but wasn’t breathing fire yet. Jamie brushed him to gleaming and slowly pulled the bridal halfway up his head before giving him a handful of sugar cubes. As Donus chewed them with delight Jamie pulled the bit into his mouth and secured the bridal. He spent the next five minutes talking about Claire in Gaelic but all Donus heard was the soft sound of his voice.

Next came the saddle and suddenly Donus was fully aware of the torture that was coming. He pinned his ears and tried to bite Jamie getting a smack in the mouth for his efforts. When the saddle was secure Jamie tried to calm him down and by talking some more.

“Ye see Donus, she is the most beautiful lass ever made but I canna have her. I’m not high born as she is and it’s breakin my heart. Misses Crook wants me to stop knockin on the door but I won’t give up the chance to have her take my arm. She does that a lot…” “This went on for so long the horse got bored and started chewing on his feeder.

“Okay, let’s go.”

Jamie crossed himself and swung up into the saddle. He was ready for another fight to the death and Donus just stood there. Jamie pressed his lower leg lightly into the horse's sides and Donus morphed into Diablo, screaming and leaping into the air, putting his head down and bucking with fury.

“Ah, is that all ye have my friend!”

The horse was making such a ruckus the two new Scotts were running toward them. Donus snorted and took off at a gallop covering an impressive amount of ground Jamie noticed. He would stop just long enough to try again to throw his rider only to feel a sharp heel in his sides. Jamie didn’t try to steer, he just wanted to hold on. So Donus galloped from one end of the open space to the other. Claire heard the commotion and walked out to the porch in time to see Donus screaming and bucking across the expanse of the front year while Jamie held on for dear life. Two strange men chased them laughing and telling Jamie to raise one arm in the air like the bronc riders.

Claire’s mouth hung open as she watched Jamie’s last moments on earth and she nearly came apart at the seams. When Donus bucked across the yard in the other direction Jamie caught a glimpse of Claire’s face which looked stricken and white as snow. He let Donus assist with a flying dismount and landed on his feet, reins in hand. Peering around Donus he saw her stomping toward him looking like she might kill whoever was in her way. Jamie felt a million sparklers go off inside him because she really did care for him and she was comin to tell him so. He thought he might faint from happiness and his smile was radiant.

“Have you lost your mind mister Fraser? You promised to help me with the harvest and then try to kill yourself on this beastly animal. She turned on her heel and huffed away to the house. Jamie’s smile fell off when he heard the word harvest. That is all he meant to her and his heart broke as he walked Donus to cool him down.

“I’m a fool and yer just a wee devil idiot, this is all yer fault.”

Jamie was in a funk for the rest of the day. More men came so he showed them around and got an idea of everyone’s experience. These men were from the Scottish Highlands, his home, they shared the same experiences. At night they would sit around the fire and tell stories. It was a salve to his aching heart and made him yearn for home.

Soon, he thought, in eight weeks I will be headed for home.

[thetaoofzoe]

Fic: You, The Boy, and The Golden Shoes 1/1

Title: You, The Boy, and The Golden Shoes

Pairing: Henry Cavill X YOU (AU)

Word Count: 1890

Summary: Girl you are a fucking mess. How you managed to keep a top tier lad such as Henry, your sanity and a flagging perfume company is beyond me. 

Rating: Nothing you wouldn’t share with mum. Slice of life, fluff, reality, tiny bit of angst, but it has a happy ending. :)

Note: This is a bit different than my usual fare, and of course AU, so I hope you like it. 

You knew that if you stood there one moment longer, sodden in the cold drizzle, bare knees scraped and bleeding, face illuminated by the sickly pink neon Girls Girls Girls sign, and staring drunkenly at the plump old ladies eating ice cream inside the sweets shop, you’d likely start screaming.

What else was there to do on a wet Friday night, but scream into the void?

‘Show us yer tits!’

A man’s ugly voice jerked you out of your despair.

It took a moment to force focus from the ice cream ladies to the window’s watery reflection in time to see the raggedy white car crawling along the edge of the kerb, slow enough so that the equally as raggedy man in a splotchy tie dyed shirt could give you a right old shouting at. The driver behind him leaned on the car horn and with tires hydroplaning on the wet road the white car moved on.

I deserve it, you thought, and tried to push your wig upright on your head again.

The synthetic strands were waterlogged and the entire thing had begun to make its migration down one side of your head as if searching for dry refuge.

You are a fucking mess, girl, your mouthed to your reflection.

Making a sour face, you tried to use the edges of your dirty fingers to clean up the oozing mascara. But you only succeeded in smearing the sticky water proof khol down your cheeks and ended up looking as if you were preparing for some concrete jungle camouflage.

Maybe becoming one with the macadam was a good idea. It was the perfect time to just disappear and never come back, especially considering how you’d just ruined your life. The strap of your shiny gold dress slithered off of your shoulder and with a growl of frustration you hooked it with your thumb and dragged it up again.

You then glanced down at your dirty gold lamé pumps. The sudden shift of your booze heavy head caused your stomach to roil unpleasantly and wanting to prevent seeing those 5 whiskey sours and cherries make an encore appearance, you looked up at the ice cream ladies.

They seem to be enjoying themselves, you thought, miserably. I hope they rot. 

In the reflection you could see yet another car slowing and coming to a stop directly behind you.

‘Oh fuck me,’ you muttered, when you saw a tall dark haired man get out and pop open a clear plastic umbrella to shield himself from the drizzle.

A vague thought drifted like a fluffy cloud across your drink addled brain.

Looks like the same umbrella that I have. Really, similar… hmm I wonder where I left it.  I really liked that umbrella.

The man walked close and a painful tension clenched between your shoulder blades. You hoped he was either heading for the candy shop or the porno house and not about to harass you.

‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you!’ he shouted.

The anger was clear and sharp in his voice and mingled with an overlay of concern. In the window’s reflection you watched him drag a hand through his curls.

Henry. 

‘Why did you run off like that?’ he asked, quieter this time and moved close to hold the umbrella over you.

You watched the old ladies abruptly burst into laughter over something. Then the one with her back to the window suddenly turned round to look you directly in the face. They had obviously been talking about the nutcase who was watching them through the window and embarrassed, you turned to face the man behind you.

‘How did you find me?’ you asked him and messily palmed the rain from your face.

Henry sighed and looked heavenward as if asking for deliverance from your special brand of crazy.

‘You’re not hard to miss,’ he said gesturing to your ruined and mud splattered evening gown.

You looked down at yourself and self consciously dragged the slipping strap back up onto your shoulder again.

‘Well, that’s what happens when you go crawling through the hedge.’

Henry gaped at you a moment then one-handed, shrugged out of his evening jacket and draped it about your shoulders. His hand drifted to your lower back and it was such a familiar gesture that it couldn’t be more of a Henry-move if he tried.

Mmm, he smells good though, you mused, catching his scent from the jacket and clutching the lapels of the jacket tighter.

Although you were grateful for his chivalry, you didn’t allow him to exert that soft, manly pressure against your back to hurry you along to the car. You wanted to wallow for a moment longer.

Henry stopped trying to guide you to safety and just stood there, observing you sympathetically and fortunately, silently. He had a tendency to talk every problem to death until he felt better about the situation, no matter how you felt about it. But, he was getting better about that and you put a hash mark on his side of your mental scoreboard.

Wanting to explain yourself and your outlandish behaviour, you spread your hands and tried to speak. But you couldn’t find a coherent explanation for why you did what you did.

‘I’m sorry,’ you said finally.

‘Why did you run away?’ he asked, jumping at the chance to get the conversation rolling.

Looking up at him, you scoffed with disbelief.

‘Why did I run away?’ you sneered in response.

The fundraiser had been a disaster. You had been a fucking disaster.

All you needed was for the earth to open you up and swallow you up to your neck, leaving your head free for birds to perch on. But no, you had to deal with the ramifications of the worst moments of your life. 

It all started at the beginning of the year when a recluse aunt dropped a strange and failing fragrance company into your lap. Did she give you actual ownership where you could reap the benefits of being a company woman? 

No.

 She’d made you the figurehead who did all of the work to keep the business afloat whilst she did whatever recluses did in the south of France.

So, who could blame you for taking a little credit here and there as your hard work began to increase market shares. Who could blame you for slipping into her vacated persona and eventually into her name? It helped the business, for Christ sakes!

It definitely helped to have a face with the name so that people could deal directly with you, rather than by carrier pigeon, of whatever archaic method of communication your aunt liked to use. You never understood what she wanted anyway, so you ran things the way you saw fit.

From that point everything had proceeded swimmingly. You had a flourishing career, a bright future and a handsome lad. Henry was amazing and the sex…oh Jesus.

That was, until your reclusive aunt decided that the reclusive lifestyle just wasn’t for her any more. She’d turned up at a fundraiser you’d organised, in order to steal your spotlight once again. Word had spread like a raging grease fire that you were a fraud and you had tried to swindle a poor little old lady out of her fortunes. When in truth, it was you who saved the drowning business with its foul scent combinations and turned it a healthy, popular and thriving company.

So what did you do? When all accusing eyes were pinned on you?

You ran. As usual.

It really didn’t help that the house where the fundraiser was being held, was on a steep hill surrounded by thick hedges. It also didn’t help that you’d tried to leave through a balcony door that dumped you right out at the apex of that hill. It was a long way down and your rump became acquainted with every rock and bump and mudslide this side of the Mississippi.

You ripped your dress, muddied your 5000 quid shoes and dislodged your fabulous wig. And it was only later that you found refuge and solace on a high street off shoot road that boasted curries, candy and naked girls.

And that’s also where Henry found you.

‘If this is about what your aunt said,’ he began and you stiffened, waiting for the blow of his disapproval and eventual breakup. ‘It… doesn’t make sense.’

You looked up to meet his unbearably fond gaze.

‘You did all of the work. If it weren’t for you, there would be no business. You are the rightful head of it. Not her.’

‘Henry,’ you sighed, relief choking off your words.

You cleared your throat.

See? Amazing lad, isn’t he.

‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t more honest. I–‘

‘You didn’t lie to me,’ he said, smiling a little to reassure you, his hand sliding about your waist to pull you close. ‘If you had to stretch the truth a little to succeed well…’

He shrugged lazily as if it all didn’t matter one whit to him.

Holding your wig so that it wouldn’t slide forward, you leaned in to kiss him, grateful that you still hadn’t ruined everything. At least in his eyes, for Henry always saw the best in you.

‘Thank you. But… I still trashed my reputation.’

And in business, reputation was Queen.

Henry was about to say something, but the soft ring tone of the beginning of the 80s song ‘Take on me’ interrupted him. 

It was your publicist.

‘Hello?’ you asked, defeated and hesitant, bracing for the fury.

Henry righted your wig and mashed it down on your head to prevent it from shifting like an awkward cake.

‘Why did you run off?’ she laughed. ‘I saw you! You took a swan dive out of the window! Are you coming back?’

‘Coming back?’ you asked, looking at Henry.

He pointed to himself with brows raised as if asking, /me/?

You shook your head.

‘Well, yes. This is your company and your fundraiser, right? We can’t make the final toast with you.’

You were flabbergasted. Surely you weren’t welcomed back after what had happened.

‘But, my aunt,’ you began. ‘She… I… I shouldn’t have said that I was–‘

The publicist cut you off.

‘Look, honey. It’s true, her name is on the deed, but we all know who’s the star. You can write it off as a publicity stunt and come out with a new perfume called… Escape or something. With notes of tobacco , mud and whiskey. They’ll love it.’

You stood in stunned silence and the knot in your chest slowly unravelled as the realisation that you hadn’t ruined your life began to dawn.

‘I can’t come back now. I’m a mess. I’ll leave you to do the toast for me. Just tell them something. You’re good at that.’

‘Ok, honey. I’m going with the Escape thing, ok? So you’d better come up with something amazing.’

You disconnected the call and stood there, leaning against Henry and contemplating this peculiar turn of events.

‘All right?’ he asked and you nodded.

‘Can I at least get you into the car?’ he continued gently. ‘You’re shivering. Let me take you home.’

‘I’d rather have some ice cream, if you don’t mind.’

You saw him look through the window behind you and smile.

‘I could go for some as well,’ he replied and together you walked into the shop.

Suddenly life wasn’t quite so bad.

-end

[thewanderingknight]

Aside the Outlaws, Ch. 3

Life with your newfound family among the Van der Linde Gang is pretty rough and tumble, but your modest skill of riding sidesaddle could benefit the gang while infiltrating a wealthy Lemoyne estate.

Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III | Chapter IV | Chapter V

The day of the con looms closer and closer. Your family helps you stay calm as you prepare to step over the threshold as a true outlaw. 

Arthur Morgan & Reader Warnings: too many kisses! Word Count: 2,497. A big boi.  Notes at the end!

A sticky slow morning kissed your eyes awake, warm sunlight making the tent canvas glow. Your chemise was damp with sweat. Arthur groaned next to you, “it’s too goddamn hot.” You hummed your agreement, voiced hardening as you stretched out, shoulders and hips popping.

Arthur guffawed, “what was that!”

You laughed and sat up, sprawling across his chest, head tilted up. “Oh, you know all too well, mister!” His chuckle rumbled your chest. “If I’m showin’ my age it only means I’m catchin’ up to you,” you muffled into his chin.

“Serves you right, fallin fer an old bastard,” he barked a laugh, and let it slide into a sigh.

“Hmm,” you considered him for a moment, dragging your nose over his cheekbone, “I fell alright. Handsome bastard swept me off my feet. Can you blame me?”

Arthur scoffed, peeked an eye open to gaze at you from under gauzy lashes, “For someone like you, he better’ve pulled out all the stops.”

Your smile widened at his jest; you cupped his cheek with your palm and continued your sleepy roving. “Oh, yes. He knew exactly what to do. Musta been his experience comin’ from old age,” you mused, making sure he saw you return an impish stare. He rolled his eyes closed again and groaned, tightening his arm looped over your waist.

“Only cos you deserve it, darlin’.”

“And so does he,” you whispered back, placing a deliberate peck straight on his lips. His brow furrowed, but he didn’t protest.

The growing warmth lent no rush to disturb the sheets that had been kicked off feet during the night. You continued your slow sweep across his face, peppering featherlight kisses. Nose, cheek, scar, forehead, brow, covered by your lips.

“You mind this at all?” You paused between gentle pecks. Arthur remained still, one hand resting on his stomach, the other limply hanging on your hip.

“Mm, no. ‘S’nice,” he mumbled.  A small smile lifted his lips; if he hadn’t responded, you might have assumed he was still asleep.

“Jus’ checkin’. Can’t help myself sometimes.” You shyly pressed your smile to the corner of his mouth. He opened both eyes to stare at you, and you tilted your head in return. He lifted his hand to bring your forehead to his, holding it for a moment before shifting his body.

“Alright, time to get dressed, sweetheart. I’m fixin’ to take you shootin’ today.”

“Why? I know how to shoot.”

“Will you just give yer old man some peace of mind an’ accompany him today?”

“Yes, sir,” you groaned as you rolled over him to climb out of the cot, whining into his neck. He gave your ass a playful slap. You squeaked and stumbled out of the cot. You reached back to grab hold of his hand, laughing, “let’s go, you handsome bastard. Up you get.”

After a cup or two of coffee, you sat with Dutch and Hosea, hunched over notes and maps of the Pilot Plantation, and your role in the repossession of bonds that belong to a one Amos Pilot.

You were to ride up on Godiva and enter the party, mingling and riding with the other guests. Trelawney was working on providing an invitation for you. Javier, Bill, John, and Sean would be slowly riding along the road that snaked just next to the property line, keeping an eye on the party. Arthur and Micah were to stay back in the treeline across the way, with a sniper rifle for a closer view, should any problems arise. When night fell, you were to sneak into the house, locate the bonds, and carry as much as you could, signaling to the boys to follow you in and help should you need it. You would be covered on all sides, and Mr. Pilot would be none the wiser, according to Hosea.

“There’s no need for you to carry a weapon,” Dutch had said, slowly reaching his arm around your shoulders and guiding you away from his tent, “If somethin’ should happen, and people see a lady of society with a gun in her hand, well, they’ll know she ain’t workin’ alone. It’s all to protect the camp. We don’t want more people lookin’ for us, even if they don’t know it’s us they’re lookin’ for. Understand?” He gently pushed you towards Arthur’s tent and started in the opposite direction before you could voice your concern.

You blinked down at Arthur, perched on the edge of the cot, oiling his revolver.

“You hear that?” your voice pinched, pointing with your thumb over your shoulder.

“I did,” he spoke camly, arranging his piece and sliding it into the holster. “‘Bout time we get some practice in. C’mon.”

“But, Arthur--”

“I know,” he turned on his heel, searched your eyes. “Let’s get on outta here for a bit. Okay?”

You sighed, hands on your hips. “I getchu, Arthur.”

“Atta girl,” he smiled, lifting your hat off the table and tossing it your way. You grab it and press it on your head, following Arthur to the horses.

Godiva and Arthur’s mare, Britomartis, were grazing on the other side of camp by the wagon. Godiva lifted her head at your approach, ears perked forward, and lazily stepped towards you and Arthur. Her silhouette almost looked unfamiliar in the late afternoon sun. The curved leaping pommel looked too bulky compared to your old McClelland, that was now horn-down at the foot of your cot. He reached out and gave her a sturdy pat on her neck, then handed you the reins. He went to fetch Brit as you tightened Godiva’s girth. Arthur led Brit over, then wordlessly knelt down to help lift you into the saddle.

“How’s it feelin’?” He asked as he walked around to tighten his own girth and swing into the saddle.

“Like I’ve been ridin’ like this all my life, if’n I’m being honest,” you replied, adjusting the reins. Your right leg no longer stiffened when bending Godiva through turns, and you were getting better at rollbacks. You idly wondered about riding like this after the heist was over as you smoothed your cotton skirt over your legs.

Arthur jerked his head and started for the trail. You weaved through Lemoyne with Arthur, letting the wind fill your ears as you rocked with Godiva’s swelling canter and stared at the fringes of the lake you could see from the road. Arthur’s whistle caught you, and you followed him off the trail and over a gentle knoll, stopping by a crop of young oak trees.

“What’s got you?” Arthur asked, walking around to Godiva’s side.

You stared back at the road, then turned to him, brow furrowed.

Why’s Dutch sayin’ I don’t have to carry a weapon? It’s not like they’d be checkin’ me for chissakes. This ain’t Saint Denis.”

Arthur sighed, resting a hand on your knee. “I’m sure he’s got his reasons…”

“Well I’d love fer him to share. Arthur, I told him I would carry one, when I volunteered for this. I don’t get it. I’ll still be safe, right? Don’t he care?”

“I do.”

“‘Course the Van Der Linde enforcer cares!” Arthur threw you a stare. “Oh, I know you do. But what about him? Them? How many times has Dutch said he’d walk into hell itself knowin’ you’re watchin’ over him? But it ain’t him at this party, Arthur. It doesn’t feel right. What if somethin’ happens? What if I can’t protect myself?”

“I always do my best to keep them safe. You know that.” Arthur lifted his arms to help you dismount Godiva. You lifted your right leg over the pommel and reached your hands down, pressing on his shoulders. He caught you round the waist and put you down. You lifted your hat and let it rest on the leaping pommel.

“Arthur-” you started, catching him in the eyes, arms still reaching held out for each other. “I hear how Dutch speaks to you, don’t think I don’t. I know how heavy it must feel, his guard dog affection for you,” he lowered his eyes. “I hope...I will try not to be a burden to protect. I won’t let you down.”

His eyes flicked back to you. “Darlin’,” he pulled you closer, weaving his fingers at the small of your back. The edge of his hat tapped your forehead. You lifted it off his head and held it behind his back, arms loosely hanging off his shoulders. “You will never be a burden, I can promise you that. I can’t see you lettin’ me down, neither. And Dutch, well, don’t you worry ‘bout him. Someone’s gotta look after these fools. But you? You’re my girl. I’ll always protect you.”

Your chest tigthened. You leaned closer. “Say that again?”

“My girl,” he rumbled, closing the spaces between your lips. His simple declaration had you yearning for more, pressing your face as close as you could. Arthur’s muffled chuckle had you pull away, looking down and breathing out a shy laugh.

“Let’s focus first, darlin,” he said, reaching into his saddle bag and presenting you with a sawed-off shotgun, stock-first. “Yer gonna practice with this. Can’t be too careful. An’ we’re not gonna tell Dutch about it. He don’t need to know.”

“He doesn’t?” You tilted the gun down, opening the barrel and checking the ammo.

“No.”

“He doesn’t need to know as in, he won’t know this is what I’ll be hidin’ under my skirt?”

“Yes.”

“Well okay, then.” you smiled at him, grasping the polished wood, feeling its weight in your hands.

*****

At dusk, the two of you made your way back to camp. Noise and motion stirred around the fire. Arthur offered to water and grain the horses, and led Godiva towards the lake. You gave her rump an affection pat as she walked away.

“She’s a real good mare, that one.”

You turned to see Kieran walking from the scout campfire. “Oh, thanks, Kieran. She’s definitely taken a shine to you. You’re good with her.”

He keened, “oh it ain’t nothin, miss. Here,” he handed you a small bottle. “I made this tincture for Godiva. Should keep her spirits up, day of the mission.”

“Thank you, Kieran! You didn’t have to do this, you do a lot for her as it is.” You walked towards the shore and settled on a large log, and he followed. Cain trotted over and settled next to you.

“As I say, it’s really not that much. I like bein’ with the horses.” He eyed you for a moment. “Say, Miss, where’d you learn to ride like that, anyway?”

You paused a moment, gave him a half-smile. “My pa. He raised cart horses when I was a little girl. Shires, Suffolks, you name it. Even carriage horses for the families in Saint Denis and up north. That’s how he met my mother, selling carriage horses to her family. They both taught me, really.” You paused. Cain sighed as Kieran sat up straighter. “Then, everything just... fell apart. I know it’s the same with most of these folk, but... you always feel yours. The barn caught fire and--” you wavered, “I weren’t too young to not understand. I remember it all. Remember all that was left when Godiva an’ me rode up and… we could smell…” You sniffed, steadying yourself. “My folks. All them horses. The damn dog and cats. Gone.” you gently thumbed Cain’s ear.

“My uncle took me in, but that didn’t last very long. He took to drinkin’, and one morning I walked into the barn and Godiva weren’t there. Said he sold her for a case of moonshine. I tracked her down, galloped her right outta that stable, fast as I could. Nearly trampled Hosea. That’s how I ended up here. Never looked back after that. Godiva’s more family to me that my own rotten uncle ever was...And all you asked me was how I learned to ride side saddle.” You breathed out a laugh and turned away, quickly swatting away threatening tears.

Kieran shifted a little in his seat, unsure, a smile falling on his face. “Does, does Arthur know?”

“Yeah, he does. All too well.” You sighed, not knowing how many times you’ve woken him up, startled awake by nightmares. “Anyway, you seem to have a gift with horses, Kieran. I admire that, like my Pa. It’s invaluable.

“Oh, it’s nothin’, Miss.”

“Stop sayin’ that. It ain’t.”

He paused for a moment. “You can tell a lot about a man in how he keeps his horse. A horse has gotta have a lotta trust in his rider, see? It’s all about trust, ‘bout taking care of one another. If you ride ‘em hard, that’s all he’s gonna think about every time you get on. But if you tend to him, he’ll push til he’s hobblin’ into the ground, just for you. It’s trust, and loyalty, and maybe a bit of faith, too.”

You laughed, “that sounds like Dutch.”

“I guess it all connects, ma’am,” he smiled. “Guess that’s why I put up with them all bullyin’ me. Callin’ me O’Driscoll. I just get this feelin’ that’s why Mister Arthur does it. They just need time to trust, like the horses do. At least, I hope.”

“I know that’s why Arthur does it,” you reassured him, “That man’s stubborn as a mule, but he means no harm.” “Really?”

“Oh, yeah. Trust me. Don’t tell him I told you, but he’ll always prefer to bark instead of bite,” you whispered.

“O’Driscoll!” Arthur’s voice boomed from the edge of camp. “You botherin’ my lady?”

“Speak of the devil!” You cried back, getting up from your spot on the log. “No, love, I was pesterin’ him,” you stopped in front of him and placed a hand on his chest. You spoke softly, “He’s taking care of Godiva, and she takes care of me. Be kind.” He rolled his eyes and sighed but squeezed your arm before you moved around him and back towards your tent.

You stood for a time, arms wrapped around yourself as you thought back on your past. But that’s all it was now. Just the past. You heard Arthur duck into the tent, and turned to him, wrapping your arms across his waist and pressing the side of your face into his warm chest. He pulled you in close, laying a heavy hand on your head.

“Hey,” he whispered. You lifted your head to his call. His eyes searched yours.

Of everything on your mind, the only thing you could speak clearly was, “It’s silly. I just like bein’ close to you, is all.” You smiled and pushed your face into his chest, lightly squeezing him in your arms before pulling away. “Okay. I’ll see to fetchin’ some dinner.”

“Darlin’--” He started, and you turned around halfway through the tent flap. “Don’t you be embarrassed by nothin’ with me, understand?”

Your eyes met his. “I do, Arthur.”

Notes: I tend to imagine a slightly *older* reader. Late 20s, but a bit younger than Arthur. 

This chapter is definitely an exercise in having a few pieces previously written, and then writing around them to make them fit, and I am too lazy/too in love with what I had already written to alter them, lol! 

Thank you for reading!